St. Paul: Unsolved – and closed?

There are times, at area cemeteries, when you may find St. Paul police Sgt. Anita Muldoon alone, visiting gravesites.

As leader of the city's cold case unit, she said, she has connections to make. And from victims to family members, she said, it all takes time.

But time and money are running out on the city's first dedicated effort at solving decades-old homicide cases. Federal funding for the program, "Solving Cold Cases with DNA," is expected to be spent within five months, officials say, and its future is uncertain.

Today, the unit is largely a solo act. But it has produced one high-profile hit. The discovery of "touch DNA" on a pair of scissors led to a second-degree murder charge this fall against Richard Hubert Ireland Jr. in the 1977 mutilation slaying of Mark Shemukenas.

Shemukenas' sisters, who had long hoped police would catch the killer, sent a dozen and a half roses to Muldoon, along with a thank-you note that said: "You are our hero."

To date, Muldoon has sent evidence in about two dozen cases to the state Bureau of Criminal Apprehension for DNA analysis. Within that group, there have been other "cold hits," too, but she declined to say how many.

But her boss, Senior Commander Tim Lynch, who heads the homicide unit, said he hopes the unit could crack up to six additional cases.

If the cold case unit is to survive, it's likely to be with a significant change to its current makeup, specifically, its use of retired investigators.

Union challenge

Wednesday, as Muldoon looked through a box of evidence from a cold-case crime scene, she noted how a detective may once have scooped up a cigarette butt, hoping to one day link it to a brand smoked by the killer. Today, she said, the DNA extracted from the cigarette could reveal the suspect's identity.

It was a desire to tap that potential that led Bob Paskett, a nine-year veteran of the city's homicide unit, to join 11 other retirees as consultants to the new unit. He had retired in 1999, he said, before DNA testing became such a potent investigative tool.

In his application for what would be a $259,977 federal grant, Lynch said use of the retired investigators was inspired, in part, by the exploits of a group of so-called "Cold Case Cowboys" in Oregon. But while those retirees were volunteers, St. Paul would pay its research analysts $40 an hour, he said, up to $72,000 over the grant's 18-month lifespan.

Depositions from the case found the federation's attorney grilling police officials over whether the former cops had access to the property room, drove city vehicles and carried weapons.

Ramsey County District Judge J. Thomas Mott sided with the department in noting the grant prohibited the use of existing personnel to operate the unit. But if the city were to make the unit permanent, he added, failure to negotiate future positions could violate union contracts.

For now, Lynch said, his hope is to expand the unit to two full-time investigators. But he has yet to make a formal budget request.

Waiting game

On Wednesday, during a meeting with Paskett, Muldoon learned of his dealings with a suspect who now interests her. He pulled out a photocopy of a 1987 police lineup: "He's (No.) 3," he said.

A two-year veteran of the homicide unit and a former sex crimes investigator, Muldoon often refers to her long-ago victims by first names only. It's part of an effort to forge personal connections, she said, rather than think of them as case numbers.

When she received the roses and thank-you note, she said, she "took one of the roses and put it on Mark's grave. It's kind of full circle, then. They sent them to me. I gave one to Mark. They're connected."

She is "moving great guns," she added, on the work remaining. But "we're at risk of losing it all," Muldoon said, "which is a shame, because we've come so far. Just as the cold cases are warming up."

Anthony Lonetree • 612-673-4109