In her office in the southern Illinois community of Pinckneyville, population 5,005, Tammy Kellerman worked as a bookkeeper for the rural fire protection district that answers calls outside the 6 square miles of the town. Between 2004 and 2013, she stole more than $440,000 by using checks drawn on the fire district’s account while falsifying entries in the district’s accounting software. Not far away in the 1,500-person community of Zeigler, City Treasurer Ryan Thorpe — whose duties also included being dog catcher — was elected in 2013 and soon launched into a four-year scheme embezzling $321,399.22. Thorpe used the money to buy real estate, motorcycles, commercial-use ATVs, a diamond ring, a tandem-axle utility trailer, a portable “log cabin style” building, four AR-15 rifles and 22 other firearms, court records showed. Chicago may be justifiably notorious for its government graft as nearly 40 aldermen, a city clerk, a treasurer and countless City Hall employees have all ended up behind bars over the past 50 years. But public corruption in Illinois knows no partisan or geographic bounds. That’s in part because there are just so many governments in Illinois in the first place — thousands of them, more than any other state in the nation. They range from counties, cities, villages, townships and schools to park districts, airport authorities, and agencies overseeing mosquito abatement, street lighting and even cemetery maintenance. Behind those government entities are tens, hundreds and sometimes thousands of elected officials or public employees. By simple math, more officials mean more opportunities for graft. But Illinois’ glut of governments — long blamed for high taxes and bureaucratic inefficiencies — also makes it more difficult for authorities to exercise oversight and for citizens to hold their leaders accountable. All of it has contributed to the problem the Tribune is exploring this year in the series “Culture of Corruption,” examples of which exist at nearly every level of the thousands of small governments that blanket the state. Most infamous is the case of Rita Crundwell, who, as comptroller and treasurer of the small north central Illinois town of Dixon, perpetrated the largest municipal fraud in U.S. history. Crundwell embezzled $54 million in city funds to pay for a lifestyle that included expensive quarter horses, jewelry, vehicles and properties while city services went lacking. A welcoming area and trophy room at the horse ranch of Rita Crundwell in Dixon on Aug. 3, 2012. (Alex Garcia/Chicago Tribune).John J. Kim, Chicago TribuneFormer Dixon Comptroller Rita Crundwell walks into Judge Ronald Jacobson's courtroom Oct. 31, 2012, at the Lee County Courthouse in Dixon for her arraignment on felony theft chargesAlex Garcia, Chicago Tribune"Good I Will Be," a performance stallion, is expected to draw the most money at the auction of Rita Crundwell's assets.Former Dixon Comptroller Rita Crundwell exits the Lee County Courthouse after her arraignment on felony theft charges, Oct. 31, 2012, in Dixon. (John J. Kim / Chicago Tribune)Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneA chandelier made of guns and spurs adorns Rita Crundwell's personal home in Dixon. Her possessions are being auctioned and her home will be sold in a forfeiture sale.Stacey Wescott, Chicago TribuneRita Crundwell, former comptroller for Dixon, is led away by her attorney, Paul Gaziano, after Crundwell pleaded guilty Nov. 14, 2012, in court in Rockford.Stacey Wescott / Chicago TribuneHundreds of trophies won in equestrian competitions by convicted felon Rita Crundwell sit inside a Rockford warehouse Nov. 16, 2015. They will be up for auction by the U.S. Marshals Service.Former Dixon comptroller Rita Crundwell exits the Lee County Courthouse after her arraignment on felony theft charges, Oct. 31, 2012, in Dixon. (John J. Kim / Chicago Tribune)Alex Garcia. Chicago TribuneAuctioneers Chris Staley, top, and Gary Wessels, right, look for bids for barn equipment on the second day of the federal auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon, Ill.Phil Velasquez, Chicago TribuneRita Crundwell, center, comptroller and treasurer for three decades in Dixon, leaves the federal courthouse in Rockford on May 7, 2012. Crundwell allegedly took almost $54 million from the small city in a decades-long scam to finance her Dixon ranch.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneTwo horses reside in a stall of the horse ranch of Rita Crundwell in Dixon. The ranch, which housed almost 270 horses, was primarily used for breeding.Stacey Wescott/Chicago TribuneRita Crundwell, former Dixon comptroller, turns away as her attorney speaks with reporters Nov. 14, 2012, after Crundwell pleaded guilty to fraud in federal court in Rockford.John J. Kim, Chicago TribuneFormer Dixon Comptroller Rita Crundwell stands in front of Judge Ronald Jacobson at the Lee County Courthouse during her arraignment on felony theft charges Oct. 31, 2012.Alex, Garcia, Chicago TribuneA picture of Rita Crundwell was among hundreds of awards on display at the horse ranch of the former comptroller in Dixon.Chicago TribuneAuctioneers sell ranch equipment on the second day of the federal auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon, Ill.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneA heated and air-conditioned dog kennel is part of Rita Crundwell's home in Dixon.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneBuddy Martin, left, an auction company worker, talks to potential buyers during a preview of the upcoming live auction.Stacey Wescott / Chicago TribuneRita Crundwell trophies that sit inside a Rockford warehouse Nov. 16, 2015, will be up for auction by the U.S. Marshals Service.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneA baby grand piano at Rita Crundwell's home will be sold at auction.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneHorses that will be sold gallop inside their pen during a preview of the upcoming live auction.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneUnforgettable watches a potential buyer during a preview of the upcoming live auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneA view of the horse auction on the second day of the federal auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon.Armando L. Sanchez, Chicago TribuneA prospective buyer reclines a couch in Rita Crundwell's motor home at the Oak Creek Police Department in Oak Creek, Wis.Armando L. Sanchez, Chicago TribuneA prospective buyer takes a picture of Rita Crundwell's motor home at the Oak Creek Police Department in Oak Creek, Wis.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneHorses on the ranch of Rita Crundwell in Dixon. The Dixon ranch was primarily used for breeding.Stacey Wescott / Chicago TribuneHundreds of trophies won in equestrian competitions by convicted felon Rita Crundwell sit inside a Rockford warehouse Nov. 16, 2015. They will be up for auction by the U.S. Marshals Service.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneA 5-foot-wide television and a bed are part of the master bedroom area of Rita Crundwell's home in Dixon. Her possessions are being auctioned and her home will be sold in a forfeiture sale.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribunePotential buyers inspect and photograph horses in a barn during a preview of the upcoming auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneGold-plated show harnesses are laid out during a preview of the upcoming live auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon.Chicago TribuneGood I Will Be, a horse that sold for $775,000, is walked way by his trainer, Leonard Berryhill, to a waiting trailer on the second day of the federal auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon, Ill.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneAwards on display at the horse ranch of former Dixon Comptroller Rita Crundwell.Armando L. Sanchez, Chicago TribuneRita Crundwell's motor home sits in the parking lot of the Oak Creek Police Department in Oak Creek, Wis. The motor home owned by Crundwell, accused of stealing almost $54 million from the city, was decked out with "no expense spared."Chicago TribuneAuctioneers scan the crowd for buyers on the second day of the federal auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon on Sept. 21, 2012.Armando L. Sanchez, Chicago TribuneJeanne Kuhn sits behind the wheel of Rita Crundwell's motor home at the Oak Creek Police Department in Oak Creek. Wis.Chicago TribuneU.S. Marshals' tape blocks many doorways on the second day of the federal auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon.Alex Garcia, Chicago Tribune"Good I Will Be," a horse that sold for $775,000, sits in a trailer on his way to his new home on the second day of the federal auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneThe shower floor in Rita Crundwell's home in Dixon is adorned with a horseshoe.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneU.S. Marshal for the Northern District of Illinois Darryl McPherson, left, and Chief Inspector Jason Wojdylo of the U.S. Marshals Service Asset Forfeiture Division, watch the second day of the federal auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneA horse trailer parks during a preview of the upcoming live auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon. The vehicle will be auctioned along with other trailers.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneThe bathroom in Rita Crundwell's home is a mix of wood, glass blocks and animal hide.Alex Garcia, Chicago TribuneA multihorse trailer is parked during a preview of the upcoming live auction at the Rita Crundwell ranch in Dixon on Sept. 21, 2014. The vehicle will be auctioned along with other trailers. Crundwell is charged with stealing almost $54 million from the Dixon city coffers.Stacey Wescott / Chicago TribuneHundreds of Rita Crundwell's trophies, won in equestrian competitions, sit inside a Rockford warehouse Nov. 16, 2015. They will be up for auction by the U.S. Marshals Service.Phil Velasquez, Chicago TribuneThe Meri-J Ranch in Beloit, Wis., owned by Rita Crundwell, produced more than 50 world champions, according to the American Quarter Horse Association.Show Caption1 of 43A welcoming area and trophy room at the horse ranch of Rita Crundwell in Dixon on Aug. 3, 2012. (Alex Garcia/Chicago Tribune).Expand But the list of government positions tied to public corruption is practically exhaustive, from an assistant clerk in a downstate water department who stole tens of thousands of dollars to mayors, school leaders and the elected officials who oversee township governments and roads. Illinoisans can’t even count on law enforcement to stay on the straight and narrow. One sheriff in a tiny southeastern border county ran a marijuana ring out of his county-provided SUV. Another, from Woodford County near Peoria, fed his gambling habit with more than $200,000 from county credit card cash withdrawals, which he also used to pay for personal items such as guns and motorcycle equipment. Townships, a form of government that dates back to the pilgrims and took root in Illinois in the mid-1800s, have come in for particular criticism in recent decades. With almost no oversight from citizens, watchdogs or, apart from a few high-profile examples, the press — township officials have repeatedly found themselves on the wrong side of the law. Numerous supervisors, for instance, have been caught embezzling tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of dollars from taxpayers, and township highway commissioners across the state have been convicted of corruption, including one who used the township credit card to purchase items for himself that included live chickens. Another accepted kickbacks related to contracts for maintaining roads and bridges in unincorporated areas. Questions about whether townships’ services could be handled more efficiently and ethically by others, such as at the county level, have gained renewed energy with the federal investigation into Tiffany Henyard, supervisor of Thornton Township and mayor of Dolton, over her spending of taxpayer funds. Henyard has not been charged with any wrongdoing and has announced her bid for reelection as mayor, but Dolton trustees banned her use of a village-issued credit card after she spent tens of thousands of dollars on luxury travel. Efforts to eliminate or consolidate units of government have largely failed for a century, thanks in part to politicians’ instinct for self preservation, but also a fear, particularly among many in rural downstate areas, of losing their civic identity. The last major municipal consolidation in Illinois occurred along the Mississippi River near St. Louis in 2020 when voters in three towns dealing with money troubles — Cahokia, Alorton and Centreville — agreed to become Cahokia Heights. The large number of overlapping governmental units makes it daunting for average citizens to understand or even care how government functions, said Joe Ferguson, who served 12 years as Chicago inspector general before becoming president of the nonpartisan Civic Federation government research organization in 2023. “What we’re talking about with the multiplicity and numerosity of units of government in Illinois, which far outstrip most other states, is that it makes it almost impossible — and raises the barriers to entry to near insurmountable heights — for the ordinary person to actually understand how government runs in the first instance,” he said. “And that, in and of itself, could be assumed to have an effect of having people just avert their eyes, turn away, with lots of other things to worry about.” He also said officials in the smaller governmental units often are inadequately trained and receive little outside scrutiny. “All of these things together add up to a scenario in which, literally, the field has been plowed specifically — if you were to sort of reverse engineer — specifically for the purpose of being vulnerable to corruption,” Ferguson said. The more the messier There are so many units of government in Illinois that people can’t even agree on the total because of differences over what technically qualifies as a government body. The U.S. Census Bureau says 6,930, while the Illinois Department of Revenue, which tracks governments authorized to levy property taxes, reports 6,042. The state comptroller’s office lists 8,529, and a study by the Civic Federation tallied the number at 8,923 as of 2019. Regardless of the exact answer, the number of governments in Illinois outpaces that seen in bigger states, including Texas (which has 5,533, according to the Census Bureau), Pennsylvania (4,851) and California, a state with a population three times the size of Illinois but half as many local government units. Much of this multiplicity is owed to the state’s previous constitution, written in 1870. That constitution placed borrowing and taxing limits on many municipalities and counties, which elected leaders in those communities got around by simply creating new units of government with their own taxing and borrowing authority. The new governmental bodies often had specific purposes, from building and maintaining roads and bridges and running parks and libraries to laser-focused responsibilities such as maintaining a cemetery, lighting the streets or even forming tuberculosis sanitariums, of which Illinois still has four. When Illinois rewrote the constitution at a 1970 convention, delegates tried to discourage the proliferation of government entities. But the byzantine structure of local government in Illinois has largely stayed the same since then. Today the state has more than 5,700 special-purpose governments, including 851 school districts, 861 drainage districts, 838 fire protection districts, 376 library districts, 348 park districts and 320 multi-township tax assessment districts, according to the state comptroller’s office. Many of the state’s nearly 1,400 districts dedicated to roads and bridges have boundaries overlapping its 1,425 townships. Most of these governments are outside the Chicago region and represent only a sliver of the state’s population. Nearly two-thirds of Illinois residents live in the six-county Chicago metropolitan area. Meanwhile, 51 of Illinois’ 102 counties have fewer than 25,000 residents, and 15 of those have a population under 10,000, according to a 2021 Civic Federation report. About two-thirds of Illinois’ school districts have fewer than 1,000 students enrolled, and there are 26 school districts with fewer than 100 students. With so many units of government, it can be next to impossible to make sense of how the state is run or track how public money is spent. “The way that we go about funding so many units of government renders our revenue structure and people’s tax bills almost impenetrable,” said Ferguson, whose Civic Federation has long pushed for government consolidation in Illinois. Corruption also can easily flourish under these circumstances — and it has, with public officials across the state repeatedly embezzling taxpayer funds for personal use, taking kickbacks on public contracts and the like. There are countless examples, but to name a few: • Pinckneyville: Just before Kellerman in 2016 was sentenced to 33 months in federal prison for her fire protection theft, Tonya “Dee” Morgan was sentenced to two years’ probation in state court for stealing more than $70,000 from the city of Pinckneyville while serving as an assistant utility clerk in the water department. She was ordered to pay restitution to the city. Tammy Kellerman, former bookkeeper for the Pinckneyville Rural Fire Protection District, emerges from the federal courthouse in Benton after pleading guilty in 2016. She had stolen more than $440,000 from the district, one of thousands of special-purpose governments in Illinois. (Perry County Weekly-Press) • Mascoutah: In 2021, the former water treatment manager for the city of Mascoutah was sentenced for accepting 10% kickbacks on contracts for chemicals and services. Richard Lowell Jones was sentenced to three years’ probation, with the first six months on home confinement, as well as restitution to the city of 8,500 totaling $27,232.70. • Massac County: Christopher Thompson, assistant director of the far downstate county’s Emergency Management Agency and IT director for the county board, pleaded guilty in March 2022 to using county accounts for personal expenses totaling more than $52,000. To pay restitution, Thompson was ordered to serve 40 consecutive weekends in jail so he could work jobs during the week. • Boone County: Attorney General Kwame Raoul’s office filed a 26-count indictment last year against Clerk Julie Bliss alleging that while serving as clerk and recorder she stole tens of thousands of dollars from the county and used a Boone County credit card to pay for personal expenses, including buying groceries and tires for her personal vehicle and paying off personal debt. Bliss has pleaded not guilty. Julie Bliss, shown in 2022 in Belvidere, has pleaded not guilty to a 26-count indictment alleging she stole money while serving as Boone County clerk and recorder. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune) • Williamson County: Justin Maze announced this year on Facebook that he was stepping down as circuit clerk because of an upcoming one-year overseas military deployment. Then the U.S. Justice Department announced his resignation was a condition of avoiding prosecution in a mortgage scheme to get hundreds of thousands of dollars through the sale of commercial property at inflated prices. The county’s former state’s attorney, Brandon Zanotti, was sentenced along with a bank president to two years of probation, a $5,000 fine and 20 hours of community service. Maze also agreed never to seek public office again. One of the most brazen corruption stories comes from tiny Gallatin County, population 4,800, where Raymond Martin had a 20-year career as sheriff until federal agents arrested him in 2009 for running an illegal cannabis distribution operation out of his county-provided SUV. Martin didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform to engage in sales, and some of the cannabis he sold came from the evidence locker, having been confiscated by the sheriff’s office from competing illegal cannabis distributors that Martin had busted. Gallatin County Sheriff Raymond Martin is transported in 2010 to the Jackson County Courthouse in Murphysboro. He was convicted of running an illegal cannabis distribution operation out of his county-provided SUV. (Steve Jahnke/The Southern Illinoisan) At Martin’s home, authorities found a safe hidden in the basement that contained $107,387, mainly in $100 bills, and included $2,610 in cash that authorities had marked in a sting operation against the sheriff. Once in jail awaiting trial, Martin attempted to have his wife and son carry out a hit on two key witnesses against him, though that never came to pass. He also illegally obtained prescription drugs in his jail cell in nearby Jackson County. Martin was convicted by a federal jury and sentenced to two consecutive life sentences plus 10 years. Those who can least afford it Corruption isn’t a victimless crime. Often, the governments victimized are struggling financially, and the theft of public money can have a real-life impact on citizens paying the bills, particularly in sparsely populated areas. Thorpe, the city treasurer in downstate Zeigler, had employees sign blank checks, deposited them into his own account, whited out his name as payee from the cashed checks, wrote in the name of legitimate city vendors and photocopied them as receipts. Former Zeigler Treasurer Ryan Thorpe, shown leaving the Benton federal courthouse in 2017, embezzled more than $300,000 from the tiny city, forcing officials to take out a bank loan to cover operating expenses. (The Southern Illinoisan) As a result of his embezzlement, the city was forced to take out a $182,000 bank loan against future tax revenues to cover normal operating expenses. The mess he created of city financial documents also prevented mandatory payments into police and other municipal employee retirement accounts and prevented the town of Zeigler from being able to provide the information needed to receive a federal grant to buy a new police squad car. Thorpe was sentenced to four years in federal prison and ordered to pay restitution to the city. In tiny Eddyville in far southeastern Illinois, population 100, village authorities are suing former Treasurer Kim Smith seeking $61,366 after she allegedly set a fire that damaged the town hall. The blaze broke out in January 2016, one day before a scheduled audit of village finances planned after the state comptroller fined Eddyville for not filing timely audit reports. The fire prompted a criminal investigation that found Smith wrote checks to herself and her husband out of the village’s main bank account for more than $90,000, forging the required co-signature of the elderly and seriously ill mayor. Smith, elected in 2013 to the part-time position paying $200 a month, used the municipal funds to cover purchases at Walmart and Meijer, her mobile phone bill and other items, according to evidence presented by the village. Smith, whose attorneys contended she suffered from retrograde amnesia and could not remember circumstances prior to her 2016 termination, pleaded guilty in 2017 to one count of theft. She was ordered to pay fines and restitution totaling $101,141 and was sentenced to 48 months’ probation, court records show. She still resides in the village, according to Eddyville’s current treasurer. The amount Smith stole was roughly equivalent to the town’s annual budget. The current treasurer said she is still sorting out paperwork involving the bad checks, though the fire destroyed many of the records. In central Illinois, Daniel Brue had a growing career as a professional educator between 2011 and 2019, first as superintendent of the 390-student Bement Community Unit School District #5 and later at the 900-student Meridian Community School District #15, both of which were in financial distress. But Brue found a way to supplement his salary: creating a fake company and then fraudulently invoicing the school districts for work never performed. Convicted in 2021, Brue was sentenced to nearly three years in federal prison and ordered to reimburse the two districts the $343,009.52 he stole. One part of the Chicago area that is fighting both poor fiscal health and corruption woes is the south suburbs. Just last month, the mayor of Ford Heights, Charles Griffin, was convicted of felony embezzlement of between $10,000 and $100,000 of public funds “for his own personal and economic benefit” from 2014 to 2017, both during and after his first tenure as Ford Heights mayor. Ford Heights has long been known as one of the nation’s poorest suburbs. Griffin was mayor of the village of 1,750 residents from 2009 to 2017, and despite being under federal indictment, won election again for the job in 2021. Charles Griffin had to forfeit his job as Ford Heights mayor when he was convicted this fall of felony embezzlement of public funds “for his own personal and economic benefit.” (E. Jason Wambsgans/Chicago Tribune) After Griffin left office in 2017 he used secret funds he stashed away to purchase a Ford Explorer, and made purchases at Walmart and Sam’s Club. He also had used a village credit card to pay for campaign signs — a purchase he contended at trial was a mistake. Griffin’s sentencing is set for Oct. 24. By law, he forfeited his position as mayor. Two decades earlier, in nearby Chicago Heights, Mayor Charles Panici was indicted on federal charges of racketeering, extortion and bribery, alleging he was part of a ring that extorted more than $600,000 from businesses in return for city contracts. The mayor of 16 years was sentenced to 10 years in prison and was ordered to pay $1.1 million in restitution. Another south suburban official convicted on corruption charges was Chicago Heights Mayor Charles Panici, shown leaving the federal courthouse in Chicago in 1992. (Phil Velasquez/Chicago Tribune) There’s more. A judge dissolved the Dixmoor Park District after its police chief got 30 months in prison in 2001 for selling police badges for $1,000 to $2,500 as part of an extortion scheme with local businesses. James Parks sold 80 badges, conferring police powers onto the owners. Their job was to oversee some playground equipment on a small city lot. Donald Schupek, who led the village of Posen for three terms until 2017, pleaded guilty to embezzling $27,000 from the village, admitting he directed village bookkeeper to issue him checks from June 2014 to August 2016 while serving as village president. Prosecutors said he had a casino gambling habit. Facing up to 16 months in prison, the 79-year-old Schupek was found dead in his home on the day of sentencing; he killed himself. And last month, a former Harvey School District food director was sentenced to nine years in prison after pleading guilty to stealing $1.5 million worth of chicken wings and selling them herself. Vera Liddell ordered more than 11,000 cases of chicken wings through the district between August and November 2021 and picked them up in a district cargo van. The theft occurred during the COVID-19 outbreak when students were not in school but the district still prepared meals to take home for low-income students. The school district had never purchased chicken wings for students because they contained bones. Scot Schraufnagel, a professor of political science at Northern Illinois University who has studied corruption in the U.S. and abroad, said “education (level), poverty and income inequality” are factors in corruption, citing the examples of Mississippi and Louisiana. Those problems also exist in Illinois, though not at the same level as other states, he said. And in Illinois, Schraufnagel said, there’s another variable at play: “Political culture,” he said. “If it’s not poverty and education, where we do pretty well in those areas, it has to be this political culture.” No functioning oversight Former Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot, a former federal prosecutor whom the Dolton Village Board hired to investigate Henyard’s handling of village finances, said the massive number of governments in Illinois allows corruption to thrive. “Most of these units of government literally don’t have any functioning oversight,” said Lightfoot, who declined to speak specifically about Dolton. “Whatever the board or body — the governing body — is, all of them are somebody’s cousin or neighbor or what have you. They’re ‘to the winner go the spoils.’” Townships, in particular, have seen a remarkable degree of public graft. While this antique system of government may have value in more rural areas of the state, in many cases they have become powerful local political fiefdoms that can encourage nepotism and double dipping as well as outright corruption. Take former East St. Louis Township Supervisor Oliver Hamilton, who in 2016 pleaded guilty to wire fraud in state court after reports showed he ran up $230,000 in purchases on a public credit card that included plane tickets to Las Vegas, building supplies, gasoline and child support. “This is about the loss of faith in the leaders of East St. Louis,” said Assistant U.S. Attorney Norm Smith. “He’s grown up in this culture of corruption and has come to believe that this is the way it is.” Hamilton’s fraud drove the township further into debt, forcing it to borrow $200,000 to pay operating expenses. Hamilton, who also had to give up his seat on the St. Clair County Board, was sentenced to five years in prison plus three years of parole after release and ordered to pay $40,000 in restitution. His sister, June Olivette Hamilton, was the township’s financial consultant and served on the East St. Louis City Council. When she lost her aldermanic seat, she was hired as the city’s community development director. Three years after her brother’s plea, she was convicted of felony forgery and public contractor misconduct for knowingly creating a false document with the intent to defraud when she wrote a letter of reference and an employment statement on behalf of a relative trying to lease an apartment. She was ordered to serve 30 months’ probation and do 120 hours of community service; she also was banned from holding any job in public administration for 10 years and barred from holding public office. A particularly notable case of township corruption involves former Moro Township Supervisor Don Flack of Madison County, who pleaded guilty in 2014 to stealing nearly $700,000 from the township fund, the road and bridge fund and the township oil fund. Flack, who was first elected in 2001 and served until he was forced to resign in 2013, began stealing money in 2006, apparently thinking he could repay it. But as his embezzlement grew, he began taking money and sending it to Nigeria, South Africa and Nicaragua in hopes of realizing a big rate of return through get-rich schemes Flack found on the internet that turned out to be scams. He was ordered to pay restitution of $698,894.13 at $1,000 per week. His July 2014 sentence also included five years’ probation on each count to run concurrently, but Flack had terminal cancer and died at age 78, not long after serving time in a halfway house. In Wapella Township, north of Decatur, road Commissioner Eldon Cusey got 18 months’ probation last year after pleading guilty to using the township credit card to purchase $27,300 worth of personal items, including home goods, pet food, alcoholic beverages and live chickens. Corruption and federal investigations into township graft haven’t been limited to rural areas. Federal prosecutors in 2020 accused Robert Czernek, the highway commissioner in suburban Bloomingdale Township, of receiving more than $280,000 in kickbacks from the owner of an excavation company in exchange for approving $700,000 in invoices for road work, most of which was never performed. Robert Czernek, shown in 2022, pleaded guilty to taking kickbacks from a contractor while serving as Bloomingdale Township highway commissioner. Illinois townships have seen a remarkable degree of public graft. (John J. Kim/Chicago Tribune) The fraud spanned eight years. Czernek, who pleaded guilty and agreed to testify against the contractor, was sentenced to 42 months in prison, ordered to pay restitution and forfeited a 2014 Lexus, 1981 Corvette and 1966 Buick Wildcat. Among the most high-profile and recent examples of corruption inquiries related to township government involves Henyard, who in addition to being the mayor of Dolton is supervisor of Thornton Township. Federal investigators have issued subpoenas to both Thornton Township and Dolton, which under Henyard’s tenure have racked up huge expenses, including tens of thousands of dollars for luxury travel and dining. Last fall, Henyard and other township officials spent nearly $67,000 on trips to Portland, Austin, Atlanta and New York, records show. At the same time, they spent more than $23,000 on restaurants across the state. In August, a “Taste of Thornton Township” event costing $85,000 had few attendees. Keith Freeman, who was a senior administrator for Henyard in both Dolton and Thornton Township, has been charged in federal court with bankruptcy fraud. Henyard’s former deputy police chief, Lewis Lacey, also faces federal bankruptcy fraud charges. A taxpayer-funded billboard along Interstate 94 in Dolton promotes Tiffany Henyard, the Thornton Township supervisor who is also mayor of Dolton. (Eileen T. Meslar/Chicago Tribune) Henyard, who is featured on expressway billboards that cost taxpayers at least $22,000, makes $224,000 as township supervisor and $46,000 more as Dolton mayor. Early in her tenure as supervisor, the township approved an ordinance aimed at discouraging rival candidates. The law — of questionable legality — would keep Henyard’s salary the same if she won reelection. For someone new, the pay would get slashed to $25,000. Resisting consolidation Legislative efforts to consolidate Illinois’ governments have had little success. For example, although some school districts have been merged — expanding the course offerings and other resources available in larger districts — other attempts have met with resistance over issues from loss of local identity to concerns about student travel times. Oguzhan Dincer, a professor of economics and the director of the Institute for Corruption Studies at Illinois State University, said decentralized government presents a “double-edged sword” for citizens. On the positive side, “when you decentralize the hell out of the state, that means you make government closer to people. It might increase accountability, because now you get to know your mayor. You get to know all the government officials and what they’re doing,” he said. But, Dincer said, those benefits require voters to pay attention. “If people are participating in the political process, then it might work. Unfortunately, in Illinois, our voter turnout is quite low, especially at the local level,” he said. “You have a lot of local governments, but people are not participating in the political process.” And that’s one reason, Dincer said, “there are a lot of politicians acting like kids in candy stores.” Illinois State Police Director Brendan Kelly was part of a federal-state investigation into Hamilton, the East St. Louis Township supervisor, and his sister. Kelly was state’s attorney for St. Clair County at the time. “It’s fair to ask if there are bodies of government in Illinois outliving their uselessness that are vulnerable to this kind of corruption,” Kelly said, noting that both of those officials had their salaries paid, in part, through state and federal grants aimed at preventing gun violence. “While the people of East St. Louis continue to suffer from a disproportionate amount of violence, and while police officers are risking their lives to stop it, you have two public officials underwriting their phony-baloney jobs with a so-called Ceasefire grant,” Kelly said. In McHenry County in 2018, State’s Attorney Patrick Kenneally investigated spending in Algonquin Township’s road district but said he found insufficient evidence to prosecute. Still, Kenneally said his review found “the statutory foundation upon which township government is built is deeply flawed” and measures should be taken to “carefully consider options to abolish the road district and/or township through consolidation.” State Comptroller Susana Mendoza agreed, telling the Tribune: “I would say that there’s a very legitimate argument to be made about consolidating townships.” Already, 17 of Illinois’ 102 counties have no townships at all, most of them downstate. But township politicians have long played defense against abolishment attempts, largely to protect their political turf. In Springfield, the Township Officials of Illinois organization has fought consolidation for decades. A study it commissioned earlier this year contends predicted cost savings through abolishment and consolidation with other governments are “theoretical” and that smaller governments “tend to maintain lower taxation, spending and debt levels per capita than larger ones.” The study also said the “high numbers of local governments in the state seem indicative of an effectively operating local democracy, in which government is closer to the people.” The group’s proposals usually sail through the legislature, where lawmakers understand townships’ political muscle. Twice in the 1990s, the association persuaded lawmakers to make it harder for opponents to place abolition referendums on the ballot. State law does allow consolidation of townships that share boundaries with a municipality. In 2014, Evanston Township voters abolished the township and turned its duties over to the city of Evanston, and Belleville Township abolished itself in 2016 as the city took over. In 2019, Gov. JB Pritzker signed a law allowing voters in McHenry County to eliminate townships within the county and turn their duties over to county government, but voters in two townships rejected the idea. Then a judge ruled the law unconstitutional because it applied only to a single county. Legislation in 2021 that would have extended the abolishment option statewide failed. In its wrapup of the spring legislative session in May, the township organization thanked “over 10,000 elected township officials” participating in a lobbying effort that was “most effective” in stalling legislation that would have required counties to prepare a plan to reduce the number of governmental units within them by 10% to 20% after each census. One measure that passed the House, but remains pending in the Senate, would reduce the annual auditing requirement for townships. Townships receiving revenue of less than $1.4 million could be audited every four years; for those receiving more, audits would come every two years. The measure was sold as a savings move for costly auditing procedures, though it would also reduce transparency and accountability. Ironically, the sponsor of the measure, Republican Rep. Bradley Fritts, comes from Dixon — the hometown of Rita Crundwell. Mendoza said her office serves as a repository for the certified financial reports that cities, counties and townships are required to file annually. The office does not audit those reports, but Mendoza said 666 of the 7,177 units of government required to file them are late in doing so. Thornton Township Supervisor Tiffany Henyard speaks during a recent public meeting. Federal investigators have issued subpoenas to both Thornton Township and Dolton, which under Henyard’s tenure have racked up huge expenses. (Chris Sweda/Chicago Tribune) In Dolton, Mendoza said, Henyard has “willfully refused to turn over” an annual financial report, a financial audit, and three tax increment financing district reports for about the last two years. As a result, Mendoza is withholding about $135,000 in “offset” funds collected by the state and distributed to local governments, such as traffic and parking fines. Mendoza also could fine Dolton about $78,600 but said she has stopped short of doing that because the money would come from the village’s general fund and directly affect its residents. Government entities that haven’t filed their audited financial statements to her office often “don’t even have financial officers” or “don’t have the staff or the expertise to do them,” Mendoza said. “It’s not because they’re corrupt,” she said. “You kind of hold their hand and walk them through it” to get them into compliance. “This argument of local consolidation, I think, is a very strong one,” Mendoza said. “I know people have pitched it before and it’s gone nowhere. But, if you’re so tiny that you can’t even adhere to state law about filing reports, then, you know, maybe there is an argument to be made here about pooling resources and running more efficiently.” Chicago Tribune’s Ray Long contributed.