Survivors of July Fourth parade shooting have mixed feelings about gunman's absence from sentencing

WAUKEGAN, Ill. (AP) — Grieving relatives and survivors of a mass shooting at a 2022 July Fourth parade recounted harrowing details for hours in a packed courtroom this week, telling a judge that the attack has done long-lasting damage.

But the man who admitted to carefully planning the shooting, and was sentenced to life in prison Thursday for killing seven people and wounding 48, remained out of sight in his jail cell.

The long-awaited sentencing hearing for Robert E. Crimo III brought together dozens of people whose lives were torn apart by the shooting in suburban Highland Park north of Chicago. Even as they were accustomed to Crimo’s erratic behavior — skipping hearings, firing attorneys and pleading guilty moments before trial — survivors said his absence set off a range of emotions, including relief, anger and closure.

“I don’t have to think about him anymore. I don’t have to worry about him anymore,” said Liz Turnipseed, who was seriously injured in the shooting and now relies on a cane. “I don’t need to see his face. I know what he looks like.”

Lake County Judge Victoria Rossetti handed down seven sentences of life in prison for Crimo, as prosecutors requested, for the first-degree murder charges after hearing evidence prosecutors prepared for trial and hours of emotional testimony. She also sentenced Crimo to 50 years for 48 counts of attempted murder. There’s no possibility of parole.

“This court has absolutely no words that could adequately describe and capture the horror and pain that was inflicted on July 4th,” the judge said. She added that Crimo “is irretrievably depraved, permanently incorrigible, irreparably corrupt and beyond any rehabilitation.”

Dozens were wounded in the shooting as Crimo fired 83 rounds in 40 seconds, according to authorities. The injured ranged in age from their 80s to an 8-year-old boy who was left paralyzed from the waist down.

Some survivors called Crimo “cowardly” for not attending, while others said seeing him caused anxiety. One cited their faith in forgiving him. Another said he hoped Crimo suffered each day behind bars.

Highland Park Mayor Nancy Rotering, who marched in the 2022 parade, said Crimo’s absence was actually helpful.

“The fact that the offender wasn’t there gave people almost the space to be more relaxed and more comfortable sharing their individual stories,” she told reporters after the sentencing.

Some survivors nodded as they listened to others speak, while one man clutched a stress ball. Many cried.

Prosecutors argued Crimo was fully in control of his actions. They showed clips of Crimo’s video-taped confession that hadn't been viewed before in court.

In the interview, which defense attorneys tried to have thrown out, a blank-faced Crimo slumped in a chair with arms crossed. He detailed his plan to open fire from the roof and offered cryptic metaphors for his motivations in the killings. At one point he told police, “You have to crack a few eggs to make an omelet.”

The proceedings have been marked by unpredictable behavior, including Thursday when Rossetti briefly paused the hearing. Officials at first said Crimo had asked to be brought to court. Defense attorneys later clarified that his request was about an issue unrelated to the sentencing.

Crimo declined to offer a statement to the court through his attorneys. The judge ordered consecutive sentences, and Crimo “will die in prison,” his public defender, Gregory Ticsay, said.

“He’s always known that he was facing life in prison,” Ticsay said. “He has spared this community the lengthy trial.”

While not unprecedented, it’s unusual for defendants to skip trial, especially sentencing, but constitutionally they have the right not to attend, said David Erickson, a former state appellate judge who teaches at Chicago-Kent College of Law. Often in violent cases, defendants will explain themselves or profess innocence before sentencing.

However, prosecutors said Crimo didn’t show any regret.

“He has sent forth an ocean of pain,” Lake County State’s Attorney Eric Rinehart. “He was cavalier. He was arrogant. He was uncaring. He was smiling. He was laughing. He was ready with a metaphor. He was merciless.”

The seven people killed were Katherine Goldstein, 64; Jacquelyn Sundheim, 63; Stephen Straus, 88; Nicolas Toledo-Zaragoza, 78; Eduardo Uvaldo, 69; and married couple Kevin McCarthy, 37, and Irina McCarthy, 35.

This story has been corrected to show Crimo was sentenced to 50 years for the attempted murder charges, not 50 years for each count of attempted murder.

Associated Press writer Scott Bauer contributed to this report from Madison, Wisconsin.

The chair where Robert E. Crimo III would have sat remains empty at the defense table after he chose not to attend his sentencing hearing at the Lake County Courthouse in Waukegan, Ill., Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Lake County Judge Victoria Rossetti sentences Robert E. Crimo III to hundreds of years in prison for the 2022 mass shooting at the Independence Day Parade, at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Erica Weeder speaks about her and her husband, John Kezdy, being shot by Robert E. Crimo III during his sentencing hearing at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Craig Glodstein, the husband of Katie Goldstein, listens as his wife's killer, Robert E. Crimo III, is sentenced to hundreds of years in prison for the mass shooting that left seven dead and dozens injured, at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Erica Weeder holds a photo of her husband, John Kezdy, in her hands before she goes up to give her impact statement about the two of them being shot by Robert E. Crimo III during his sentencing hearing at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Joe Gutman looks up as his wife, Sheila Gutman, right, puts her head on his shoulder during the sentencing hearing for Robert E. Crimo III at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Highland Park Mayor Nancy Rotering hugs shooting survivor Erica Weeder during the sentencing hearing for Robert E. Crimo III at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Members of Eduardo Uvaldo's family react as Judge Rossetti sentences Robert E. Crimo III to natural life in prison for his murder during the sentencing hearing at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Judge Victoria Rossetti speaks with attorneys during the sentencing hearing of Robert Crimo III at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., on Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Families react as Judge Victoria Rossetti sentences Robert Crimo III at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., on Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Lake County States Attorney Eric Rinehart speaks with family members and survivors during the sentencing hearing of Robert Crimo III at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., on Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Leah and Bruce Sundheim, the daughter and husband of Jacki Sundheim, react as Judge Victoria Rossetti sentences Robert Crimo III at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill, on Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Survivors and family members of those killed react as Judge Victoria Rossetti sentences Robert Crimo III at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., on Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Members of the Uvaldo family react as Judge Victoria Rossetti sentences Robert Crimo III at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., on Thursday, April 24, 2025. (Stacey Wescott/Chicago Tribune via AP, Pool)

Judge Victoria A. Rossetti listens to Tracy Hartlieb while Tracy Hartlieb reads a victim impact statement during the sentencing hearing for Robert E. Crimo III., at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., Wednesday, April 23, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh, Pool)

Robert Crimo III, who did not appear, seat is empty at the defense table during the sentencing hearing for Crimo III., at the Lake County Courthouse, in Waukegan, Ill., Wednesday, April 23, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh, Pool)

FILE - Robert E. Crimo III watches the jury selection process during the first day of his trial, accused of opening fire on a suburban Chicago Independence Day parade, killing seven people, at the Lake County Courthouse, Waukegan, Ill., Feb. 24, 2025. (AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh, Pool, File)

MINNEAPOLIS (AP) — In a city that often seems to be staggering from one crisis to the next, the sudden resignation of police Chief Brian O’Hara after a finding he likely interfered in a misconduct investigation has left Minneapolis searching again for a way forward.

O’Hara was an outsider brought in with a mandate to reform the police department after the 2020 killing of George Floyd, which led to federal and state investigative findings of excessive force and racist policing practices. O’Hara had spent most of his career in Newark, New Jersey, where he instituted changes after that department was put under a federal consent decree for patterns of excessive force and unconstitutional stops and searches.

The challenges in Minneapolis were clear before O'Hara arrived in late 2022. For a time, it had seemed the department itself might not survive. In 2021, more than 43% of voters supported disbanding the department as the city reeled from Floyd’s killing and the massive protests and widespread rioting that followed.

Policing experts had noted the monumental task that faced the city’s next police chief, who would have to rebuild community trust and a department whose morale had dipped so low that it was hemorrhaging officers.

“I don’t think there was a bigger challenge to any American city than what Minneapolis faced when he arrived,” said Chuck Wexler, executive director of a Washington think tank, the Police Executive Research Forum. “They had gone from 850 to 500 officers, violent crime was significantly up, trust with the community was broken, a police station had burned down and a federal consent decree would face the next chief. Then you had the politics of Minneapolis.”

Coming in as an outsider to lead a large department is daunting, even without being asked to reform and rebuild, said Renée Hall, president of the National Organization of Black Law Enforcement Executives who moved from Detroit to lead the Dallas Police Department from 2017 to 2020.

“It’s extremely challenging to walk into an organization, where you don’t even know where the light switches are, where the bathrooms are. And that’s just the basics,” Hall said. “You have to learn the officers, the community, the politics of that particular city, and try to learn and navigate the existing relationships, like unions or officer associations and who is tied to whom and who is fighting for whom.”

Hall said outside hires can face resentment from those within an organization who supported internal candidates. They also have to earn the trust of the community, which she said takes time.

After the police disbandment measure failed, O'Hara joined the bureaucracy of a deeply progressive city that is regularly buffeted by political battles between the mayor and the City Council, and among council members.

Those battles were on full display Wednesday, when a City Council news conference about O'Hara's resignation quickly turned into an opportunity for the council's resolute progressives to attack Mayor Jacob Frey, who has long portrayed himself as a “pragmatic progressive.”

The resignation “is a symptom of a much larger problem, which is simply that Mayor Frey continues to be unable to effectively manage the Minneapolis Police Department,” said Council member Robin Wonsley, a cornerstone of the council's progressive bloc.

Frey, who just weeks ago pushed to have O'Hara reappointed as chief, fired back at criticism that he didn’t move aggressively enough when allegations of the chief's potential misconduct emerged.

“I don’t make decisions based on rumors and anonymous complaints,” he said in a statement, adding that he would work with the council to find a replacement. “I took action promptly after receiving the investigative report. … Decisions this serious have to be grounded in facts, evidence and completed investigations. Anything less would be irresponsible.”

O'Hara did not return a message seeking comment Wednesday. His attorney, Doug Kelley, released a statement touting successes during O'Hara's tenure, including diversifying and increasing the department's ranks, the decreasing violent crime rate and mitigating violent clashes during the immigration crackdown.

“The circumstances of Chief O’Hara’s departure should not define his service," Kelley wrote. "He was proud to serve Minneapolis, remains grateful to the officers and community partners who did difficult work under extraordinary pressure, and hopes the city continues moving forward. He understandably looks forward to returning to his young family in New Jersey.”

The resignation came just months after Minneapolis was plunged into the national spotlight amid a federal immigration surge that left three civilians shot, two fatally. O'Hara faced criticism he hadn't done enough to stop the crackdown.

Violence plagued the city in 2025, including deadly attacks on state politicians in the Minneapolis suburbs; gunfire that erupted at a popular city picnic spot; and a shooting during Mass at the Church of the Annunciation that left two children dead and more than a dozen people injured. O’Hara called the church attack a “ truly unthinkable tragedy. ”

Critics say dozens of complaints were filed against O'Hara, from accusations that he was rude to the public to the recent investigation into an ultimately unproven allegation he had a sexual relationship with a city employee. Most of the complaints have not been made public, and 17 complaints are still being investigated. Investigators closed 17 more without any disciplinary actions.

An independent investigator did not find evidence to substantiate the alleged sexual relationship with a city employee, but a second report released this week said O'Hara likely deleted the employee's contact from his phone during the investigation and that he talked to another employee about the probe despite being told it was not to be discussed.

That recent report led to a written reprimand; Frey told O'Hara he would be disciplined and that he could be terminated. Frey said O'Hara chose to resign instead.

Lauer reported from Philadelphia.

Minneapolis City Council Members, from left, Jason Chavez, Robin Wonsley and Council President Elliot Payne speak to reporters about the resignation of Police Chief Brian O'Hara on Wednesday, May 27, 2026 at City Hall in Minneapolis. (AP Photo/Mark Vancleave)

FILE - Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O'Hara speaks during a news conference, Jan. 10, 2026, in Minneapolis. (AP Photo/Jen Golbeck, File)