Tim Mapes, 69, Madigan’s fierce gatekeeper for decades, reported Tuesday to a medium-security federal prison in Pensacola, Florida, to begin serving his 30-month sentence for perjury, according to the U.S. Bureau of Prisons.

Under federal rules, Mapes must serve 85% of his sentence, meaning with good behavior, he can expect to be released sometime in July 2026. An official release date will be set later by the prisons bureau.

It’s the latest stop on a downward slide for a man who served for years as Madigan’s chief of staff, House clerk and executive director of the Madigan-run Illinois Democratic Party. The penitentiary is also a huge comedown for a guy who used to march throughout the House and bark orders to lawmakers at will — all with Madigan’s imprimatur.

Records show Mapes has at least one familiar face behind bars. The same Pensacola prison currently houses former state Rep. Luis Arroyo, a Chicago Democrat convicted in an unrelated bribery scheme involving sweepstakes gaming legislation. Arroyo was sentenced to 57 months last year and is due to be released in December 2025.

Mapes was convicted by a jury in August of perjury and attempted obstruction of justice charges alleging he lied to a grand jury in 2021 in a failed attempt to protect Madigan from a widening political corruption investigation.

When he went in for his interview, Mapes had been immunized by the U.S. attorney’s office, meaning he could not be prosecuted for what he said as long as it was the truth.

In its decision, the jury found Mapes had lied on every occasion alleged by prosecutors in the indictment, which consisted mostly of a series of “I don’t recall” answers to questions about “assignments” Madigan handed down to his longtime confidant, Michael McClain.

In May 2023, McClain was found guilty along with three others in a bribery conspiracy to funnel payments from Commonwealth Edison to Madigan associates in hopes of gaining the speaker’s influence over the utility’s legislative agenda in Springfield.

Madigan lost the speakership and resigned his House seat in 2021, a year before being indicted along with McClain in a separate racketeering case alleging Madigan ran a criminal enterprise that used his power of elected office to shake down ComEd and AT&T and a real estate developer in Chinatown.

The trial for Madigan and McClain was supposed to start in April but was delayed six months after the U.S. Supreme Court decided to review an Indiana case involving the same federal bribery statute.

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But in contrast to the sweeping corruption for which the ex-alderman was convicted last year, the supporters who wrote in hopes of a lenient sentence said, over and over, that Burke used his clout for good.

Among the dozens of letter-writers: high-profile names in local legal circles and law enforcement, Burke’s family members, a former defensive end for the Bears, and several local Catholic clergymen. A now-retired firefighter wrote that Burke pulled strings to make sure his severely disabled son would not be denied insurance coverage. The former principal of a Southwest Side elementary school said Burke helped the struggling school get two playgrounds, an electronic message board and support for its pre-K program.

Burke, the longtime leader of the powerful City Council Finance Committee, is slated to be sentenced later this month by U.S. District Judge Virginia Kendall after jurors found him guilty of scheming to use his considerable City Hall clout to try to win business for his private property tax law firm.

In their request for a 10-year prison sentence, prosecutors noted that Burke’s powerful well-wishers were “misguided,” and that a lengthy prison term is necessary to stop him from “engaging in the same type of conduct in conjunction with public officials in the future.”

“It is apparent from the character letters received so far and the reaction to Burke’s prosecution that there are those who lurk in the bowels of City government and walk in its corridors of power who are still strong allies of Burke,” they wrote. “… High-level public officials in this city and in this state like Burke need to receive a simple, undiluted, and unequivocal warning loud and clear: You will pay dearly — regardless of your age — if you choose the dark path of corruption that Burke decided to walk for many years.”

Burke’s attorneys, by contrast, have asked for an “alternative to incarceration” such as home confinement, noting his age and declining health.

Dozens of letters were made public this week ahead of Burke’s sentencing, including one from former Bears player Richard Dent, a Hall of Famer who described Burke as a “great friend and adviser” who helped minority-owned businesses in the city.

Several letters came from the clergy; Burke is a devout Catholic. His lawyers might be hoping that letters from local church leadership carry weight with Kendall, who serves on the Board of Governors for the Catholic Lawyers Guild of Chicago.

“He has been, I maintain, as much a pastor as a politician,” wrote the Rev. Clete Kiley, a special adviser to Cardinal Blase Cupich. “I hope people will take off the political lens which seems to impose itself on so much today, and certainly in our media accounts, and see this man for who is and all he has done for others across his lifetime.”

Many former top Chicago police officials — including former Superintendents Garry McCarthy and Phil Cline — wrote to support the ex-alderman, who is himself a former cop. Burke helped make sure that officers injured in the line of duty got the benefits to which they were entitled, wrote Cline, noting that he “was always responsive to our inquiries, and recognized the sacrifices made by Chicago’s finest.”

Richard “Rick” Simon, a well-connected former police officer with a controversial past, wrote that Burke would quietly pick up the check for officers who came into restaurants where Burke was dining.

“Ed would talk to the officers like they were old friends and made them feel like the most important people in the room because to Ed, they were,” wrote Simon, who heads the clout-heavy janitorial services firm United Maintenance.

Another letter came from Officer Carlos Yanez Jr., who was critically injured in the same 2021 shooting that killed Officer Ella French. Burke reached out to his father and offered guidance in the aftermath of the shooting, Yanez wrote. “For that I am grateful, for my family this was such an uncertain and chaotic time.”

Letters also came from judges — including some who landed their spot on the bench with the help of the Burkes, by way of Burke’s role as the Democratic point man on endorsements for local judges or Anne Burke’s appointments while she served on the Supreme Court.

Christopher Lawler, who met the alderman when first appointed to the bench by his wife 11 years ago, asked Kendall to “consider his half-century of public service and his charitable works and good deeds and show him the mercy of the court which I believe he deserves.”

Daniel Pierce said he would “make no apologies” for asking for Burke’s assistance in appointments to the circuit and appellate court, and asked Kendall to consider Burke’s age as well as his “remarkable history and commitment to doing the right thing.”

Kerry Peck, a past president of the Chicago Bar Association, noted that Burke has been dealing with significant health problems, including a battle with prostate cancer and psychological issues, since his indictment.

Peck said Burke’s life “has crumbled as a result of these proceedings,” and he asked Kendall to show mercy on a man who put his family, religion and community first. Peck said he had observed the Ed Burke not seen by newspaper reporters.

Several letters in support of Burke were also made public last month, including one from former mayoral candidate Paul Vallas, who wrote that Burke’s “professional impact on Chicago is a great legacy.”

While Burke stood out among his aldermanic colleagues during his 54 years on the council, he now stands alongside dozens of them as another corrupt former alderman facing sentencing.

Burke is eligible to collect nearly $50,000 in pension this year — half of his $99,200 annual rate— because pensions aren’t cut off for City Hall officials convicted of corruption until they are sentenced.

Days after his late December conviction, Burke received his annual 3% pension bump right on schedule when the calendar turned to 2024.

But Burke is eligible for a refund of the money he personally paid into his pension over his 54 years on the City Council.

Burke stands to be refunded about $540,000 even if city pension officials rule him ineligible to receive more monthly pension payments.

His wife, the retired former Supreme Court justice who watched her husband’s trial from a front-row seat in the federal courtroom, receives an annual state pension of more than $226,000.

Burke became alderman following the death of his father, who had long held the 14th Ward position, and rose to power in the era of Mayor Richard J. Daley, the patronage king who perfected the vaunted Democratic machine.

Burke earned infamy in the 1980s for trying to thwart virtually every major move of Harold Washington, Chicago’s first Black mayor, during the volatile “Council Wars.” Gathering immense power, he paved the way for his wife to become chief justice of the Illinois Supreme Court, ran the council’s Finance Committee like his own personal fiefdom and oversaw a law firm that constantly put him into ethically questionable positions.

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“Again and again, Burke used his significant political power to solicit and receive bribes from entities with business before the city of Chicago—all so he could obtain legal business for his private law firm and financially benefit his close personal associates,” prosecutors wrote in their 51-page filing. “To this day, Burke has expressed no remorse for his crimes; indeed, he continues to deny he did a single thing wrong.”

The sentence requested by the U.S. attorney’s office would mean that Burke could very well die in prison. But a lengthy term behind bars is warranted, prosecutors say, given the “mountain” of evidence in the case — including hundreds of undercover recordings — that captured Burke in his own words and make it “obvious that Burke was no novice when it came to corruption.”

“Burke operated as a seasoned professional when it came to identifying new potential clients for his law firm and exploiting his power and position in order to secure their business,” prosecutors wrote.

To bolster their argument about the cost of Burke’s crimes, prosecutors estimated the overall financial loss he caused amounted to nearly $830,000.

Shortly before the midnight deadline, lawyers for Burke asked in a filing of their own for an “alternative to incarceration” such as a period of home confinement, writing Burke is a “fundamentally decent man” who did a lot of good for his city over a six-decade career.

They also argued the trial evidence showed Burke “did not receive a single penny” from his offenses, “nor did he cause any serious financial harm to any party.” Even the witnesses who were allegedly being shaken down testified Burke’s demeanor was “respectful, professional, and friendly—never aggressive, threatening, nor intimidating,” Burke’s filing stated.

Burke’s sentencing before U.S. District Judge Virginia Kendall on June 24 will be closely watched in Illinois political circles. He’s the most powerful politician to face jail time here since former U.S. House Speaker Dennis Hastert was given 15 months in 2016 for paying hush money payments to cover up decades-old sexual abuse of minors.

Burke’s fate will certainly be of keen interest to former Illinois House Speaker Michael Madigan, who faces his own racketeering trial in October. Madigan, who like Burke was a Southwest Side Democrat steeped in the old Chicago political machine, was dethroned in 2021 in the midst of the federal investigation following a nationwide 36-year record run as the leader of his legislative chamber.

Meanwhile, a jury in December found Burke, the longtime leader of the powerful City Council Finance Committee, guilty of a series of schemes to use his considerable City Hall clout to try and win business from developers for his private property tax law firm.

Among them were efforts to woo the New York-based developers of the massive, $600 million renovation of the Old Post Office, extorting the Texas owners of a Burger King who were seeking to renovate a restaurant in Burke’s 14th Ward, and intervening on behalf of Charles Cui, a developer in Portage Park who wanted help getting a pole sign approved for a new Binny’s Beverage Depot location.

Burke was also found guilty of attempted extortion for threatening to hold up a fee increase for the Field Museum because he was angry the museum had ignored an internship application from his goddaughter, who is the daughter of former 32nd Ward Ald. Terry Gabinski, Burke’s longtime friend.

The jury acquitted Burke on one count of conspiracy to commit extortion related to the Burger King project.

Also convicted was Cui, whose sentencing is set for next month.

The jury acquitted Burke’s longtime 14th Ward aide, Peter Andrews, of all counts alleging he helped Burke pressure the Burger King owners into hiring Burke’s law firm by shutting down their restaurant renovation.

Burke’s high-profile, six-week trial featured some 38 witnesses and more than 100 secretly recorded videos and wiretapped recordings, offering a fascinating behind-the-scenes look at one of Chicago’s top political power brokers at work.

At the heart of the case were dozens of wiretapped phone calls and secretly recorded meetings made by Daniel Solis, the former 25th Ward alderman who turned FBI mole after being confronted in 2016 with his own wrongdoing.

In closing arguments, prosecutors put up on large video screens a series of now-notorious statements made by Burke on the recordings. Among them: “The cash register has not rung yet,” “They can go (expletive) themselves,” and “Did we land the tuna?”

Several letters in support of Burke were made public last month, including one from former mayoral candidate Paul Vallas who wrote Burke’s “professional impact on Chicago is a great legacy.”

In their filing late Monday, Burke’s attorneys attached dozens of more letters of support from people of all walks of life, including former U.S. Attorney Dan Webb, ex-Chicago police Superintendent Garry McCarthy, and current and former City Council colleagues like Ald. Nicholas Sposato, 38th, and former 40th Ward Ald. Patrick O’Connor.

Burke’s wife Anne, formerly the chief justice of the Illinois Supreme Court, described Burke as a devoted husband and father who encouraged her to finish college and go to law school. He also helped “a hundred or more” struggling city kids with tuition and jobs, she wrote.

“He has always seen his role as taking care of people, whether they need money, or a job, or help fighting insurance companies,” she wrote. “… I am devastated by the prospect that I will not be with Ed at the end of our lives. Please find compassion through the Holy Spirit in your decision.”

Webb, a high-profile litigator who defended former Illinois Gov. George Ryan, said he has been personal friends with the Burke family for 40 years and urged the judge to “evaluate the totality of the person being sentenced.”

“At no time did I ever see any indication that he was other than a dedicated public servant, always interested in serving the citizens of the City of Chicago,” Webb wrote.

McCarthy wrote that while he respects the jury’s decision it is “hard to reconcile the Ed Burke that I know with the allegations in the case.”

“A lifetime of service by the Burke family has come crashing down on them,” McCarthy wrote. “The public humiliation has been overwhelming. Fifty-four years as the longest serving Alderman in Chicago’s history. Hundreds, if not thousands of personal touches to make life better for his constituents. The strain on Mr. Burke has at times been unbearable, and yet he has put on a brave face for his family.”

Even Bill Kurtis, the longtime broadcaster, said he followed Burke’s “devotion to his role on the City Council and his dedication to his constituents that made a lasting impression.”

“I have thought Ed Burke was the model of what an alderman should be,” Kurtis wrote. “I still think that.”

In their filing on Monday, however, prosecutors quoted the late U.S. District Judge James Zagel, who in sentencing former Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich to 14 years in prison, said he was responsible for corruption that tore the fabric of the state.

Prosecutors said Burke did similar damage, and that a lengthy sentence was necessary to deter others — including some of those very supporters who wrote letters singing Burke’s praises.

“Burke no longer holds public office. But it is apparent from the character letters received so far that there are those who lurk in the bowels of city government and walk in its corridors of power who are still strong allies of Burke,” the prosecution filing stated. “It would be naïve to think that there is anything stopping Burke, the consummate political insider with his coterie of misguided friends and well-wishers, from engaging in the same type of conduct in conjunction with public officials in the future.”

Burke’s lawyers also argued his age and declining health should qualify him for a lighter sentence. Burke was previously treated for prostate cancer, suffered a mini-stroke in 2018 that caused him to fall, has recently experienced seizures and currently suffers from hypertension, anxiety and “depressed mood,” according to the defense filing.

“At age eighty and with several serious acute and chronic medical issues, Mr. Burke would be an expensive prisoner to house for any length of time, and even a short sentence is likely to amount to a death sentence,” his attorneys wrote.

Prosecutors called that notion “dead wrong.”

“High-level public officials in this city and in this state like Burke need to receive a simple, undiluted, and unequivocal warning loud and clear: You will pay dearly—regardless of your age—if you choose the dark path of corruption that Burke decided to walk for many years,” the prosecution filing stated.

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The unidentified relative said the idea came “at the suggestion of our good friend, Mike McClain,” a former lobbyist and Madigan’s longtime confidant, according to a new prosecution filing. La Schiazza forwarded the request to a colleague in the legislative affairs department on July 12, 2017, writing “this will be endless,” according to the filing.

“I suspect the ‘thank you’ opportunities will be plentiful,'” the colleague allegedly emailed back, referring to the recent passage of AT&T’s coveted landline legislation expected to save to company millions of dollars.

“Yep,” La Schiazza allegedly responded. “We are on the friends and family plan now.”

The email exchange, which was disclosed for the first time in a recent court filing, gets to the heart of the bribery case against La Schiazza, who is set to go on trial in September on charges he approved a scheme to funnel payments to a Madigan associate in exchange for the speaker’s help passing legislation important to the company.

The same filing, known as a Santiago proffer, alleged for the first time late last week that the landline bill was not the only piece of legislation where Madigan helped AT&T.

The then-powerful speaker was also directly involved in “small cell” legislation in 2017 that allowed companies such as AT&T to put up micro-towers on light poles and elsewhere in public rights-of-way, according to the filing.

That fall, Madigan helped to advance the small cell bill during the veto session of the Illinois General Assembly, and in the spring of 2018, he helped defeat an amendment to the legislation that would have been harmful to AT&T’s interests, according to prosecutors.

References to the small cell bill were also captured in FBI wiretaps, prosecutors alleged. In a call intercepted on May 16, 2018, for example, Madigan and McClain discussed the amendment that would have walked back AT&T’s gains.

When Madigan asked McClain if he was familiar with the legislation, McClain allegedly responded: “The small cell bill that, uh, you, you directed me to help them pass it last year, which I did do,” according to court filings.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Madigan allegedly said.

Meanwhile, at the time La Schiazza was discussing the donation request from Madigan’s relative, AT&T had just agreed to pay $2,500 a month to former state Rep. Edward Acevedo, a onetime member of Madigan’s leadership team who’d recently left the General Assembly.

The payments to Acevedo — allegedly negotiated by McClain — were made via a lobbying contract between AT&T and Thomas Cullen, a former Madigan staffer and longtime political strategist aligned with the speaker, according to prosecutors. Acevedo who was a registered lobbyist at the time, did no actual work for AT&T in exchange for the payments, prosecutors alleged.

According to the new court filing, La Schiazza’s colleague with AT&T’s legislative affairs group highlighted in his email exchange “the connection between Madigan’s and McClain’s requests and AT&T’s legislative success.”

“There is a sensitivity in that office about us going away now that we got COLR,” the colleague wrote, referring to the landline bill’s acronym according to the filing. “That is something to keep in mind in rest (of) 17 and in 18 regarding budget and profile with the Speaker’s office.”

La Schiazza allegedly responded he would “emphasize” that to the company’s leadership, “especially if we expect to pass a small cell bill.”

Shortly after the exchange, AT&T made the contribution requested by Madigan’s relative, a move prosecutors allege demonstrated that La Schiazza “knew AT&T’s responses to Madigan’s requests played a role in their legislative success.”

La Schiazza, 66, was charged in an indictment returned by a federal grand jury in October 2022 with conspiracy, federal program bribery, and using a facility in interstate commerce to promote unlawful activity. The most serious counts carry up to 20 years in prison if convicted. He has pleaded not guilty and has been free on bond while his case is pending.

La Schiazza’s attorneys did not respond to calls and emails seeking comment about Friday’s filing.

Acevedo pleaded guilty to separate tax counts stemming from the feds’ probe into Madigan’s operation and was sentenced to six months in prison.

But neither Acevedo nor Cullen has been charged with any wrongdoing in the alleged AT&T scheme, and both are on prosecution witness lists for La Schiazza’s upcoming trial.

Jury selection in La Schiazza’s case is scheduled to start Sept. 9, just a month before Madigan and McClain are set to go on trial at the same Dirksen U.S. Courthouse on sweeping racketeering conspiracy charges that include the AT&T scheme as well as similar allegations regarding utility giant Commonwealth Edison.

Madigan had originally been scheduled to go on trial well before La Schiazza, but his case was postponed after the U.S. Supreme Court agreed to take up an Indiana case dealing with a federal bribery statute charged in Madigan’s indictment. That ruling is expected to come down in late June.

Meanwhile, the scheme to reward Acevedo, who is referred to in the court papers as “FR-1,” began in February 2017, after the company learned through McClain that the speaker was looking to kick Acevedo some money, according to the indictment.

In an email exchange that March, AT&T Illinois’ director of legislative affairs asked two of the company’s executives if they were “100% certain” they would get credit “from the powers that be” if the payments were made to Madigan’s associate.

“I would hope that as long as we explain the approach to McClain and (the associate) gets the money then the ultimate objective is reached,” one of the executives wrote back, according a statement of facts AT&T agreed to in court.

The legislative affairs director responded, “I don’t think (La Schiazza) wants this based on hope. We need to confirm prior to executing this strategy,” the statement said.

At McClain’s direction, AT&T employees then met with Acevedo to discuss a “pretextual” reason for the payments: to “prepare a report on the political dynamics of the General Assembly’s and Chicago City Council’s Latino Caucuses,” according to the statement of facts.

Acevedo never did any real work for AT&T Illinois, however. In fact, according to AT&T’s admissions in court, he balked at first at the payments, saying they were too low. But Acevedo agreed to the deal after McClain stepped in and said the amount was “sufficient.”

After a protracted fight, the landline bill passed during the final hours of the spring 2017 legislative session — with Madigan’s direct assistance, according to legislative records and the statement of facts agreed to by AT&T.

On June 29, 2017, Madigan permitted the bill to be brought to a vote and cast his ballot in favor of the legislation, records show. Two days later, after Republican Gov. Bruce Rauner vetoed the legislation, Madigan and the Democrat-led General Assembly overrode him, with Madigan again voting for the override.

Madigan, 82, was the longest serving leader of any legislative chamber in the nation who held an ironclad grip on the state legislature as well as the Democratic Party and its political spoils. He was dethroned as speaker in early 2021 as the investigation swirled around him, and soon after resigned the House seat he’d held since 1971.

Madigan and McClain were charged in March 2022 in the original 22-count indictment alleging they conspired to participate in an array of bribery and extortion schemes from 2011 to 2019 that allegedly leveraged Madigan’s elected office and political power for personal gain

The indictment also accused Madigan of illegally soliciting business for his private property tax law firm during discussions to turn a state-owned parcel of land in Chinatown into a commercial development.

Madigan and McClain have pleaded not guilty. Their attorneys have accused prosecutors of trying to criminalize legal political actions such as job recommendations in a quest to bring down the once-powerful speaker.

McClain is also awaiting sentencing in his conviction for bribery conspiracy last year in the “ComEd Four” case against him and three other ComEd executives and lobbyists.

Both AT&T and ComEd entered into a deferred prosecution agreements with the U.S. attorney’s office, admitting their roles in the schemes to influence Madigan in exchange for prosecutors dropping criminal charges. ComEd also agreed to pay a record $200 million fine, while AT&T was fined $23 million.

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Miller, 68, died on April 17 in her home in Harvard of complications from a stroke she suffered in late January, her family said.

Donna Kurtz, Miller’s successor as treasurer, said she met Miller at a victory party when Kurtz’ mother, Rosemary, won a seat in the Illinois House. She was quickly struck by Miller’s “spirit of fun and happiness and optimism.”

“Glenda was one of the most dedicated and highly respected public servants that ever was part of McHenry County government,” Donna Kurtz said. “She was not just an elected official, but she worked her way up through the ranks to become treasurer.”

Miller helped build the treasurer’s office staff into a close-knit family with low levels of turnover and “very high levels of trust,” Kurtz said. She possessed a “light-hearted, fun-loving sense of humor” and an unusual ability to defuse conflicts “with a laugh and an effort to work through problems,” Kurtz said.

Born Nov. 9, 1955, in Harvard, Miller received a master’s degree from Aurora University. She worked for a local bank before joining the treasurer’s office, and retired at the end of her second term in November 2022.

She is survived by her husband, Paul Lis; a daughter, Tiffany Miller; a sister, Bonnie Bailey; and three grandchildren.

Visitation will be from 4 to 8 p.m. Monday at Saunders & McFarlin Funeral Home, 107 W. Sumner St., Harvard. Mass will be held at 11:30 a.m. Tuesday at St. Joseph Catholic Church, 206 E. Front St., Harvard.

For decades, Yarbrough and her husband, Henderson, were political mainstays in west suburban Maywood, where he previously served as mayor, and Proviso Township. She represented the area for years in the Illinois House, eventually serving on then-Speaker Michael Madigan’s leadership team.

Her alliance with Madigan, a longtime Illinois Democratic Party chair, accompanied her rise in state and local Democratic parties and continued through her successful runs first for Cook County’s recorder of deeds and then county clerk. Yarbrough was elected in 2018 as the county’s first African-American and female clerk.

A spokesperson for the county clerk’s office announced on April 2 that Yarbrough was hospitalized with a “serious medical condition,” and confirmed her death Sunday evening.

Tributes from colleagues poured in Sunday, describing Yarbrough as a dedicated public servant who fought for veterans, homeowners and civil rights. In a release, Mayor Brandon Johnson called her “both a pioneer and a tireless legislator, committed to social and economic justice throughout decades of public service. Her passion for ensuring that communities experience the full support of their governing bodies and benefit from the fruits of our democracy will truly be missed, as will her radiant smile.”

Cook County Commissioner Stanley Moore met Yarbrough in Springfield when he was a budget analyst.

Later at the county, they worked together on a program to record military service records for free, and the two “would host property after death seminars all over the county teaching people to protect their most valuable assets,” Moore said in a written statement to the Tribune. “She will be truly missed.”

Yarbrough was a native of Washington, D.C. Her family came to Maywood in the early 1960s. She studied business management at Chicago State University and received her master’s in Inner City Studies from Northeastern Illinois University.

She became a licensed real estate broker and founded Hathaway Insurance Agency in Maywood in 1975. It followed a path charted by her father, the late Don Williams Sr., who established the first African-American-owned pharmacy in the village in the 1960s and branched out into home building, real estate and insurance, according to his Tribune obituary.

Williams, who was active in the local NAACP and a contemporary of activist Fred Hampton, was elected to one term as mayor of Maywood, and headed up its chamber of commerce. Yarbrough herself later led the chamber starting in 1993.

She first ran for the House in 1998 against incumbent Rep. Eugene Moore but lost by 544 votes in a four-way primary. In 2000, after Moore left the legislature to become recorder of deeds, Yarbrough won the seat.

Yarbrough and Moore often clashed. She lost to him in a 2002 race for Proviso Township Democratic committeeman but beat him four years later. When Moore retired as recorder, Yarbrough succeeded him in the county post and left the House position she held for more than a decade.

Her most high-profile accomplishments in Springfield included successfully working on legislation to make Illinois the 22nd state to ban indoor smoking in 2008, but she also secured money for basic local projects ranging from repaving a library parking lot to redoing local alleyways and streetscapes.

Yarbrough garnered her biggest accolades for her House sponsorship of the ban on executions in Illinois, culminating in the dramatic passage of the legislation on the second of two votes taken during one of the closing days of a lame-duck session in January 2011.

After the bill fell short by one vote in the first round, Yarbrough brought it back a second time and passed the historic measure. It was the first time a death penalty ban passed the House since executions were reinstated in Illinois in 1977. The proposed ban was heavily criticized by some lawmakers and prosecutors who argued violent criminals could murder multiple victims without fear of being killed themselves.

The measure quickly passed the Senate, and Democratic Gov. Pat Quinn signed the bill in a private ceremony in his Capitol office with Yarbrough and then-Sen. Kwame Raoul, now the attorney general, looking on with other supporters.

The approval came more than a decade after Republican Gov. George Ryan unilaterally placed a moratorium on the death penalty following revelations that several people sent to death row were not guilty.

Once a supporter of capital punishment, Yarbrough later said the exonerations served as a “painful and stirring reminder that death is an absolute penalty. Once imposed, there is no second chance, no reversal and no way to correct a mistake.”

House Speaker Emanuel “Chris” Welch shared his condolences in a social media post. “Serving our west suburban community together for more than two decades, I was lucky enough to see her generosity, kindness, and the way she fiercely loved her family and friends, too,” Welch said. “Our entire community mourns this loss and Karen will be deeply missed, but I know her spirit will always remain a guiding force.”

“She’s got a strong legacy in Springfield,” State Rep. LaShawn Ford, a Chicago Democrat from the West Side who served with Yarbrough in the Illinois House, told the Tribune Sunday.

Ford admired Yarbrough’s “love for family” and how she and her husband stuck together as a political power couple for so long. The partnership served as a strong example for the Black community, he said. “Karen Yarbrough and her husband actually showed us about how to be a couple in the Black community and how to love one another and be strong together through a lot of adversity.”

He also noted her loyalty to local Democrats and how she worked her way up to be influential within the party. Yarbrough served both on the state’s central committee and was the Cook County Democratic Party’s treasurer.

“She’s a giant in Cook County and in Illinois,” said Ford. “I think, many times, people don’t understand just your value until you’re gone. People will now see her value to the Democratic Party.”

State Rep. Will Davis, a Democrat from south suburban Homewood who also served with Yarbrough in the House, called Yarbrough “a strong advocate, particularly for the African-American community.”

“Certainly being in Springfield with her, she was always firm, she was always fierce, she was always decisive,” said Davis, who has served in the House since 2003. “She knew exactly what she wanted to accomplish.”

When Yarbrough won the recorder’s office in 2012, she inherited a federal court anti-patronage monitor ordered to oversee the office under Moore’s tenure, but she could not shake it during her time in that office.

For years, reformers pushed for the recorder’s office, which oversees land transactions, to be combined with the clerk’s office, which oversees suburban voting and records like birth certificates, and voters approved the merger in 2016.

Despite her early opposition to consolidation, Yarbrough got on board when elected clerk.

Former Cook County Commissioner Ed Moody, then a close Madigan associate who now is expected to testify in the ex-speaker’s upcoming federal corruption trial, was appointed as interim recorder until the merger was complete.

In a statement, Moody described that merger as a success, and said Yarbrough’s efforts “have and will continue save the Cook County Tax Payers millions of dollars.”

Yarbrough sprinkled her offices with Madigan allies, and served as interim chair of the state Democratic Party when Madigan lost his speakership and gave up the party post amid a burgeoning ComEd lobbying scandal in 2021.

As county clerk, she once was accused of “running an illegal patronage operation” by Michael Shakman, the attorney whose lawsuit filed half a century ago against Democratic machine politics led to a series of anti-patronage decrees and eventually federal monitors overseeing several offices, including hers.

Despite frequently being dinged over defying best employment practices, Yarbrough consistently denied the allegations and eventually took advantage of a federal appellate court decision that lifted the oversight of Illinois government.

As a result, Yarbrough’s county clerk’s office, the last public office under a federal monitor, was able to end the Shakman case first launched to fight the stubborn and unfair use of Democratic politics to decide most hiring, firing and promotion in state and local government.

A federal judge officially released her from that oversight last year despite some reservations from watchdogs that she hadn’t fully addressed problematic personnel practices.

Yarbrough briefly considered a run for secretary of state in 2021 when Jesse White announced he would not seek re-election.

She ultimately decided against running statewide, in part, because her husband, Henderson, was being treated for prostate cancer.

“He is my rock,” the county clerk said of her spouse, according to the Sun-Times. “There’s nothing I have done in the past 30 years that he hasn’t been by my side for. He’s quiet, soft-spoken, but he’s got a lot of wisdom — especially as it relates to this rough and tumble business I’m in — and he’s the head of our family.”

Yarbrough had a unique ability to bridge racial divides, Cook County Treasurer Maria Pappas said in a release. “We were soul sisters and gossip buddies. She is irreplaceable in politics because she represented kindness and compassion,” Pappas said. “She never had two stories. It’s a totally different ball game today. Karen had an innate, God-given talent of compassion that can’t be taught. She was born with a gift of kindness. I don’t know who in the Democratic party is that gifted. I will miss my locker buddy across the hall.”

aquig@chicagotribune.com

rlong@chicagotribune.com

The disclosure came in two lengthy filings that also made public new details in the investigation of Madigan, the longtime former leader of the state Democratic Party who is charged in a racketeering indictment with using his office to bolster his own political power and rain cash on his friends.

Among the new revelations:

• Madigan was allegedly recorded talking to his longtime confidant Michael McClain about getting a job for the wife of a state representative, identified only as “Public Official E,” who had gone to Madigan because he needed money. The state representative, whom the Tribune has confirmed is Jaime Andrade, a Chicago Democrat, was later recorded thanking McClain for their efforts, which resulted in his wife landing a spot with the Illinois secretary of state’s office, according to the filings.

• In addition to Solis, prosecutors plan to call former state Rep. Edward Acevedo, a Madigan ally, to testify about efforts by AT&T Illinois to pay him $4,500 as a “consultant” in order to win Madigan’s influence on pending legislation. Acevedo, who pleaded guilty in 2022 to tax-related offenses, had not previously been disclosed as a witness.

• Prosecutors want to introduce evidence of a secret plan to funnel money to ex-aide Kevin Quinn, who was ousted from Madigan’s 13th Ward organization for sexually harassing a campaign worker. Among the recordings they want to play is one where McClain allegedly tells a former top Madigan aide he wants to keep the circle of people who knew about the plan “real small” because “the more people that know … it’s too easy for people to babble.”

• Prosecutors say they will play more than 250 undercover recordings at Madigan’s trial, including wiretapped calls, consensual phone recordings and secretly videotaped in-person meetings. In one, Solis allegedly tells Madigan the developers of a Chinatown project were on board with hiring Madigan’s law firm.

Meanwhile, the decision to call Solis is somewhat of an about-face for the U.S. attorney’s office, which decided last year not to call him in the trial of former Ald. Edward Burke. Solis secretly recorded Burke for more than a year as he allegedly schemed to pressure developers in the massive $600 million renovation of the Old Post Office to hire his law firm to do property tax work.

Solis wound up being called as a witness by the defense, though attempts to dirty him up over his own allegedly corrupt acts appeared to have backfired since Burke was convicted on every count involving the Old Post Office scheme.

According to the new documents in the Madigan case, which were filed several days after the original deadline due to technical issues at the U.S. attorney’s office, Solis’ testimony will add key context to many of Madigan’s responses on the secret recordings and allegedly show how he was using Solis to get introductions to big time developers.

Among them was the same New York-based firm in charge of the Old Post Office project that Burke had pursued — an only-in-Illinois political scenario that Solis captured on tape.

“I can bring you him, but you know … Burke has been, I, I’ve connected him to him, but he didn’t give him the work for the post office,” Solis explained during the meeting with Madigan, according to the new court filings. But Solis said the developer was also in line to purchase another downtown skyscraper that could have proven lucrative for Madigan.

“Yeah. Oh yeah. I know,” Madigan allegedly said.

“So, if you want, I can bring him to you too,” Solis replied, according to the filing.

Solis is expected to testify that in return for the introduction, he asked Madigan for help securing a state board position once he retired from City Hall, a prospect that was actually part of an FBI ruse.

When Solis asked Madigan about the process of getting a state board spot, the speaker was recorded telling Solis that he would go to then-Gov.-elect J.B. Pritzker and that Solis would “come in as Pritzker’s recommendation,” according to the government filings.

“Solis is expected to testify he understood this to mean that Madigan would convince (Pritzker) to appoint him to the state board,” prosecutors said.

In another conversation, Solis told Madigan the developers of a Chinatown parcel were on board hiring Madigan’s firm to help get the deal done.

“And I think they understand how this works, you know, the quid pro quo, the quid pro quo,” Solis allegedly said.

Madigan responded, “OK,” according to the filing.

“This call is devastating evidence that Madigan intended to personally benefit himself by causing Solis to leverage his official position to in turn cause (the Chinatown developer) to give Madigan business,” prosecutors wrote.

The 23-count indictment alleges Madigan participated in an array of bribery and extortion schemes from 2011 to 2019 aimed at using the power of his public office for personal and political gain.

The case punctuated a stunning downfall for Madigan, the longest serving leader of any legislative chamber in the nation who held an ironclad grip on the state legislature as well as the Democratic party and its political spoils. He was dethroned as speaker in early 2021 as the investigation swirled around him, and soon after resigned the House seat he’d held since 1971.

Also charged in the indictment was McClain, a former state legislator and lobbyist who was convicted last year of orchestrating an alleged bribery scheme by Commonwealth Edison. McClain’s sentencing in that case is pending.

That same alleged scheme forms the backbone of the indictment against Madigan and McClain, outlining a plan by the utility giant to pay thousands of dollars to lobbyists favored by Madigan in order to win his influence over legislation the company wanted passed in Springfield.

Both Madigan and McClain have denied any wrongdoing. Their lawyers have until April 26 to respond to Monday’s filings.

Their trial, one of the biggest scheduled at the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse in years, had been slated to begin April 1, but was delayed until October by U.S. District Judge Robert Blakey as the parties await a ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court in a bribery case from northwest Indiana that involves similar prosecution paths.

In addition to the ComEd allegations, the indictment also accuses Madigan and McClain in a similar scheme to funnel payments from AT&T to a Madigan associate in exchange for the speaker’s influence over legislation the telephone company wanted passed in Springfield.

Madigan also is charged alone with illegally soliciting business for his private property tax law firm during discussions to turn a state-owned parcel of land in Chinatown into a commercial development.

Solis recorded numerous conversations with Madigan as part of the Chinatown land probe, including one in which the speaker told Solis he was looking for a colleague to sponsor a House bill approving the land sale, which was never consummated.

“I have to find out about who would be the proponent in the House,” Madigan allegedly told Solis in the March 2018 conversation. “We gotta find the appropriate person for that. I have to think it through.”

The indictment also alleged that Madigan met with Pritzker in December 2018 in part to discuss a lucrative state board position for Solis, ostensibly as a reward for helping Madigan win law business.

Before that meeting, Solis allegedly recorded Madigan telling him the speaker’s communication with Pritzker did not need to be in writing,” according to the indictment. “I can just verbally tell him,” Madigan allegedly said.

Pritzker, who agreed to be interviewed by the feds and is not accused of any wrongdoing, has said he “does not recall” Madigan ever asking him to consider Solis “for any position” and that the administration has no record of the alleged recommendation.

The prosecution filings also added new details into another allegation in the indictment: That Madigan at one point beseeched Solis for help getting the speaker’s son, insurance broker Andrew Madigan, business with The Resurrection Project, a Pilsen-based nonprofit group that had received millions of dollars in state funds.

During the same recorded meeting about the Solis board appointment, Madigan allegedly told Solis that his son had not heard back from the group. “Just ask him, give (Andrew) something. … Give him a chance to show what he, what he can do,” Madigan told Solis near the end of the meeting, according to the filing.

To prove the existence and purpose of the alleged enterprise, prosecutors are also seeking to introduce evidence about other political favors done by Madigan and McClain in the same time frame, including landing a job for Illinois Representative E’s wife at the secretary of state’s office.

While the court filings do not name the representative, Andrade, who represents parts of Chicago’s Northwest Side, confirmed to the Tribune that Madigan was one of many people he reached out to at that time regarding his wife’s potential employment.

He said Madigan and others mentioned an open position under then-Secretary of State Jesse White, a longtime Madigan ally.

Andrade has not been accused of any wrongdoing.

On July 2, 2018, Madigan told McClain on a wiretapped call that Madigan said Andrade “came to me and same story, he needs money, and he had the thought that maybe I could help his wife on something,” according to government filings.

Madigan explained that he thought of placing Andrade’s wife with Jay Doherty, a ComEd consultant and then-head of the City Club of Chicago, though “not necessarily with ComEd.”

“I had the thought that I could actually put Jay Doherty on a retainer,” Madigan said, “We’d tell (Andrade) to prepare some monthly reports on what she’s doing. So he’s got it on file.”

Later, Andrade “reached out to thank McClain for landing his wife a job at the secretary of state’s office,” prosecutors wrote in the filing, arguing the episode provides “another example of Madigan and McClain rewarding Madigan’s political allies with benefits, which is alleged as one of the purposes of the criminal enterprise.”

In his comments to the Tribune on Monday, Andrade said he didn’t know if Madigan had anything to do with his wife’s hiring. And while Andrade remembers talking to McClain, he’s not sure why he would have thanked him specifically.

He said a bout with COVID has caused lapses in his memory. But Andrade said he did remember that, during the call, McClain misidentified the division of White’s office where his wife worked.

Andrade’s wife currently makes about $62,000 a year in a law-related position. Andrade said he has not talked to any federal authorities and does not expect to be called to testify in the upcoming trial.

The filings also gave a deep background lesson into how Madigan and his hand-picked 13th Ward Ald. Marty Quinn allegedly developed plans to give themselves political cover as McClain worked out a back-door payment scheme to send money to the alderman’s brother, Kevin Quinn, himself a longtime Madigan government and political aide.

The payment scheme came only months after Madigan, in a high-profile move at the height of the national #MeToo movement, publicly cut ties with Kevin Quinn following a sexual harassment scandal the Tribune detailed in February 2018.

The Tribune first reported how McClain rounded up several clout-heavy lobbyists with deep ties to Madigan to send payments to Kevin Quinn. A search warrant affidavit made public in 2022 revealed that Madigan knew about the payments ahead of time but allegedly “wanted to be able to appear to have no knowledge” of the plan.

New details revealed in Monday’s filings alleged that minutes after speaking with Madigan, McClain called Marty Quinn to ask whether he wanted to know details about how his brother, Kevin, would receive payments or “like to stay in the dark on that.”

The alderman’s response was he’d “rather stay in the dark,” the filings alleged.

The next day, Aug. 30, 2018, McClain called Kevin Quinn and explained how he’d pulled “a few guys together to try to give you a bridge … of uh, some money,” according to the filing. McClain said on the recorded call that the money would come through a “consultant contract” with “like three or four or five people” who would pay him “five or six grand a month.”

McClain told Kevin Quinn he should promise “to do some research for them” and then, at the end of six months, file a “paragraph or two” about about senators, County Board members or City Council members and perhaps a “little bit about maybe who they’re, they’re closest to,” prosecutors said.

Signaling the “paperwork” would not be too burdensome, McClain allegedly told Quinn he could give the same document to “all five or six people” rather than create a different report for each one.

The reason for the unusual arrangement, McClain said on the recording, was so “if they got audited … they can show the IRS agent the contract and … can also show ’em that one or two-page document,” according to the prosecution filing.

When one of the individuals that McClain approached said he wanted Kevin Quinn to “actually really help rather than simply fill out a “bull—- report,” McClain answered that such a circumstance meant “I’ll just have your contract different,” prosecutors wrote.

jmeisner@chicagotribune.com

rlong@chicagotribune.com

Perhaps all of that wheeling and dealing in Springfield taught Link, a Lake County Democrat, how to play his cards just right.

As part of a cooperation deal with prosecutors, Link, 76, avoided prison time when a federal judge sentenced him Wednesday to three years of probation for failing to pay taxes on campaign funds he tapped for personal use.

The relatively lenient outcome was a result of Link agreeing to wear a wire and help the FBI crack an elaborate bribery scheme that led to prison sentences for Rep. Luis Arroyo, D-Chicago, and businessman James Weiss, the son-in-law of former Cook County Democratic Chairman Joe Berrios.

Link pleaded guilty in September 2020 to failing to report income on his tax returns to the IRS and spending more than $73,000 in campaign funds on personal expenses.

He also underreported income on returns for tax years 2012 through 2015, costing the IRS and Illinois Department of Revenue a total of about $83,000 in lost tax revenue, according to his plea agreement with prosecutors.

He was ordered to pay restitution, but he expects to keep his state pension of nearly $96,000 a year because a review determined his crime was not directly related to his official duties.

So far, Link has collected $297,548 in pension benefits.

“I made a mistake,” Link said, red-faced and choking up at times as he told U.S. District Judge Mary Rowland that he accepted responsibility.

Link’s sentencing brought to a close a political corruption case that first came to light with Arroyo’s arrest in October 2019 and was brazen even by Springfield standards.

At the time, Link had vehemently denied reports — including in the Tribune — that he was the cooperating state Senator A mentioned in the charges against Arroyo. He continued those denials up until he was called as a witness at Weiss’ trial in June 2023.

Federal sentencing guidelines had called for up to a year in prison for Link, but prosecutors instead asked for a sentence of probation, citing Link’s cooperation against Arroyo and Weiss.

“He assisted with investigations and did everything that the government asked him to do,” said Assistant U.S. Attorney Christine O’Neill, who noted Link’s cooperation also included letting the FBI tape his phone calls.

In accepting the probation recommendation, Rowland said she appreciated that Link’s tax crime “was not directly related” to his official duties, but that it still sends “a terrible message to have taxpayers hear that someone in public service is not paying their taxes.”

The judge said it was also important that other elected officials understand that “criminal behavior of any sort is not tolerated.”

“How do we send a message to the next generation of elected officials that this is not a way to do business?” Rowland asked.

The judge also lamented the level of corruption that arises from Springfield, where apparently someone can walk up to a fellow elected official and “on a dime, you could say ‘What’s in it for me?’ and we’d be off to the races with a federal case.”

“That’s despicable,” Rowland said as Link appeared to nod in agreement.

Before the sentence was handed down, Link stood at a lectern and apologized, saying he never sought to cheat government.

“I’ve made hundreds of political speeches, and this is probably one of the hardest speeches I’ve had to make,” he told the judge.

Link said he was not an “affluent” person and always tried to look out for the people of his legislative district. “I did a lot of things that I thought were the right things,” Link said.

As he wrapped up his comments, a tearful Link told of knocking on the door when campaigning and a man thanked him for giving his daughter a legislative scholarship to a state university just as the family had hit hard times.

Link carefully explained he used a bipartisan selection process to keep himself arms-length from choosing which students received the scholarships, an apparent nod to how the now-eliminated program was abused so often by lawmakers who handed out tuition waivers to relatives, political pals and campaign donors.

He said he walked away from the constituent’s home feeling he had achieved his goal of helping people because he had “changed somebody’s life.”

After the sentencing, Link made it clear he didn’t want to be remembered for his tax-related crime but rather for the many bills he passed in his 24 years as a senator, adding he hoped his tombstone would say he sponsored Illinois’ public smoking ban.

Link, who resigned from the Senate shortly before pleading guilty, was the star witness against Weiss, telling the jury about Weiss’ and Arroyo’s efforts to pay him off to support legislation favorable to Weiss’ sweepstakes gaming business.

Weiss was convicted and sentenced last year to 5 1/2 years in prison.

Arroyo, meanwhile, pleaded guilty to bribery for his role in the scheme but did not agree to cooperate with prosecutors. He’s currently serving a nearly five-year sentence at a minimum-security facility in Florida, where he is due to be released in February 2026.

The investigation that ensnared Arroyo and Weiss was one of several blockbuster public corruption probes to go public in 2019.

According to court testimony, Weiss agreed to pay monthly $2,500 bribes to get language helping his sweepstakes gaming machine business added to state gambling legislation, first to Arroyo, a Chicago Democrat, and later to Link, who had been the chief Senate sponsor of a major casino gambling bill.

Unbeknown to both Arroyo and Weiss, Link was secretly cooperating with the FBI and captured a conversation in June 2019 with Arroyo at a Highland Park Wendy’s where the bribe payments were first discussed, as well as a later meeting where Arroyo delivered a $2,500 check from Weiss.

In a sentencing filing last month, Link’s attorney, Catharine O’Daniel, also asked for probation, calling his tax transgressions “an unfortunate chapter in an otherwise respectable and unblemished life.”

O’Daniel wrote that Link’s financial troubles began when he dipped into campaign funds to help out a longtime friend who had fallen on hard times and whose wife was seriously ill. Link made “frequent payments” to the friend over a period of years without a contract, “a promissory note or even an I.O.U.,” she wrote.

“At all times, Mr. Link intended to repay the campaign funds once (his friend) reimbursed him,” O’Daniel wrote. Sadly, she said, the friend’s wife and son both died, followed by Link’s friend, who developed cancer and died in December 2018 without ever having paid Link back.

O’Daniel said Link also used some of the campaign funds he withdrew for personal expenses, though she did not elaborate.

When the FBI approached him about his taxes, he “immediately agreed” to cooperate, participating in recorded conversations and meetings over a two-year period and testifying before a federal grand jury in October 2019, O’Daniel wrote.

“In word and in deed, Mr. Link has done everything in his power to right his wrong,” she said.

Link and Obama came into the Illinois Senate together in the mid-1990s and struck up a friendship that led to them playing poker with other players from the General Assembly after hours.

Link once said he believed some of Obama’s ability to work across the aisle was born during the regular poker nights.

“You hung your guns at the door and you sat down and talked about everything but politics,” Link was quoted saying in a 2016 article in the Tribune. “It was just six or seven guys sitting together for an evening and forming a relationship. We have lost that.”

Link made no reference to Obama during Wednesday’s hearing, even though the two men had stayed in touch at least while the former president was in the White House.

Nor did Link request that any other officials write character references, preferring to gather comments from people unassociated with public life.

The decision was a point that Rowland said she appreciated.

It was unlike what was reveled only a day earlier in the perjury case of Tim Mapes, the ex-chief of staff for indicted former Illinois House Speaker Michael Madigan.

A 181-page batch of character letters made public on Tuesday showed a who’s who of political power brokers had written a separate judge requesting leniency for Mapes, who received a 30-month prison sentence for lying to a grand jury during a federal corruption probe of Madigan.

Among the letter writers were a former chief justice of the Illinois Supreme Court, a sitting appellate court justice, a former congressmen, the state auditor general and a batch of ex-lawmakers.

Standing outside of Rowland’s courtroom after Wednesday’s sentencing, Assistant U.S. Attorney Amarjeet Bhachu, who heads the office’s public corruption team, shook hands with Link and thanked him for his cooperation.

As he walked down the hallway, Link said: “I’m glad it’s over.”

The letters were submitted ahead of Mapes’ sentencing last month but were made public Tuesday in redacted form by order of U.S. District Judge John Kness. Mapes, former chief of staff to powerhouse ex-Illinois House Speaker Michael Madigan, was ultimately given 30 months in prison.

Many of the letters released Tuesday vouched for Mapes’ character and asked Kness for leniency.

Former Illinois Supreme Court Chief Justice Thomas Kilbride, who received millions of dollars from Madigan-backed campaign contributions over three races for the high court, called Mapes a “man of many admirable talents.”

Kilbride noted that Mapes’ son, Devin, served as a judicial intern for the justice, and Kilbride ultimately swore him in when he became a lawyer.

“Although I have not been privy to the full trial story, and my view is limited to my reading of newspaper articles, Tim’s misdeeds appear to be his first offense and to have had minimal impact on the investigation” of Madigan, wrote Kilbride, who lost his 2020 bid for a third 10-year term.

Illinois Appellate Court Justice David Ellis, who once served as Madigan’s chief House counsel and oversaw the impeachment proceedings of former Democratic Gov. Rod Blagojevich, called Mapes a “gracious, kind man.”

Ellis, a well-known book author, wrote Kness that he recognized the “difficult task a judge faces in fashioning a sentence,” but urged Kness to consider Mapes’ “family, personal kindness and compassion; and the decades of hard work he performed for the speaker and the benefit of the state of Illinois.”

Cook County Clerk Karen Yarbrough wrote that Mapes is “a good person who worked extremely hard on behalf of the people of Illinois and helped make our State a better place … his commitment to helping our society’s most vulnerable has resulted in countless lives being changed for the better.”

Yarbrough, who wrote that she was submitting the letter in her personal capacity, is head of the Cook County clerk’s office — which employs one of Mapes’ sons. She also served as interim chair of the state Democratic Party when Madigan stepped down in 2021.

Former House Majority Leader Barbara Flynn Currie, D-Chicago, said she “never had reason to question” Mapes’ “honesty or his integrity.”

“Was he perturbed when the train ran off the rails? Of course,” Currie wrote. “Could he be brusque when that happened? Of course. But he never, in my experience, carried a grudge. Today’s transgressor was tomorrow’s trusted aide.”

Longtime Madigan spokesperson Steve Brown said Mapes “devoted a lot of energy to helping people rescue themselves from personal crisis situations.”

Brown concluded that it is “beyond the scope” of “my human experiences that there is any benefit to be gained by inflicting a harsh punishment on a person” because of misstatements or a failure to recall conversations from years ago. Further, Brown noted that the events and topics Mapes was asked about “did not involve the commission of crime.”

Brown, who also served as a Madigan adviser from 1983 to 2021, misspelled the judge’s name twice, writing “Knees” instead of Kness.

Joe Lyons, a former Democratic state representative from Chicago, asked Kness to “please consider as lenient a sentencing as possible for Tim. The judgment by the jury carries with it devastating consequences for the Mapes family.”

Among the other former state representatives who vouched for Mapes’ character: John O’Connell, a longtime lobbyist who said Mapes was “not just a hard worker, but he was also an innovator;” and Frank Mautino, now the state auditor general, who wrote that, “In all things work related I have found Tim to be honest, forthright and trustworthy.”

Former Democratic state Rep. Tom Holbrook, who now serves as St. Clair County clerk, wrote he “always felt Tim had a near-impossible job keeping the House running while dealing with Members issues and egos.”

“Tim had to try to create order among hundreds of individuals who had their own agendas,” Holbrook wrote. “Tim was the person who had to say NO to legislators that seldom accepted NO. The buck stopped with Tim, and most legislators wanted to kill the messenger. Tim weathered this type of environment for decades.”

Janis Cellini, the sister of Republican powerhouse Bill Cellini who went to prison for corruption, told of her longtime friendship with Mapes’ wife, Bronwyn Rains, and said she is known by the Mapes’ sons as “Aunt Janis.” Janis Cellini, who also served as a top patronage aide to Republican Gov. Jim Edgar, called Mapes “smart, workaholic and oftentimes brutally honest and extremely demanding'” but she also maintained his role as Madigan chief of staff also meant he had to deliver “the bad news when the good news wasn’t available.”

Former U.S. Rep. Jerry Costello, a former chairman of the St. Clair County Board, also said Mapes “would always give you the bad news as well as the good. He was never a backslapper or glad-hander and never told people what they wanted to hear.”

Kurt DeWeese, a longtime and respected House Democratic staffer, said he “always appreciated Tim’s Skills and work ethic.”

The letters of praise for Mapes represented a far different picture from that of his critics.

Mapes spent years as Madigan’s chief of staff and executive director of the state Democratic Party, when, as the speaker’s premier gatekeeper, he strode the halls of power with an almost autocratic style.

He also served as the clerk of the House, where he was known as a details-driven micromanager adept at keeping the legislative trains running. Madigan unceremoniously dumped Mapes from all three positions in June 2018 after a staffer accused him of sexual harassment in a year in which the #MeToo movement cost the careers of several Madigan allies.

During Mapes’ trial, Madigan, McClain and Mapes were described as the major players in a triangle of power that held sway over the longtime speaker’s Democratic House caucus, government operations and major grip on statewide politics.

In an outside investigation Madigan ordered to review how he handled sexual harassment complaints after Mapes was among several top allies caught up in #MeToo scandals in 2018, Mapes received some of the harshest criticism. The probe, led by former federal prosecutor Maggie Hickey, “found sufficient evidence to conclude” that Mapes did not discharge his duties as chief of staff and House clerk in a “courteous and efficient manner” when he made inappropriate comments to or around staffer Sherri Garrett.

The Hickey report said state workers she interviewed “believed that Mr. Mapes attempted to motivate workers through fear and that a few other supervisors throughout the years emulated this practice.

“Some people also raised the additional concern that, given Mr. Mapes’s political ties, he could make or break their careers outside of the speaker’s office as well,” the report stated.

Mapes had kept collecting his monthly pension checks despite his conviction in August, but it is now suspended and under review since his sentencing. He received an automatic increase in January that lifted his annual pension rate to more than $154,000.

rlong@chicagotribune.com

mcrepeau@chicagotribune.com

jmeisner@chicagotribune.com

As the Illinois General Assembly begins its spring session, among the mountain of legislation being proposed is a bill that aims to tackle two key issues around lobbying — requiring statehouse lobbyists to report the compensation they receive from their clients and giving the secretary of state’s office the power to boot bad actors.

Pushed by Secretary of State Alexi Giannoulias, the legislation could face an uphill climb in Springfield, where former lawmakers often become lobbyists and work hard to have their interests protected. But following a string of corruption trials — including persistent headlines of a bribery scandal involving Commonwealth Edison and lobbyists trying to influence now-indicted ex-Speaker Michael Madigan — Giannoulias said, “The timing is ripe for this legislation to be acted on and passed.”

The proposal could strengthen a feeble state lobbying law that generally focuses on requiring the secretary of state to do little more than act as a repository for the registration of lobbyists, their client names and their basic expenses like the cost of wining and dining lawmakers.

Requiring state lobbyists to report how much they are compensated by clients would follow similar lobbying requirements at Chicago City Hall, a place not known for the highest ethical standards.

“To me, it’s a matter of uniformity,” said Giannoulias, a first-term Democrat. “In the city … you have to disclose it. Why not the state?”

Despite Giannoulias’ plans, the proposal’s legislative sponsor, Democratic state Rep. Maurice West of Rockford, last week would commit only to giving the issue a hearing before the House Ethics & Elections committee he chairs.

“I don’t have a stake in the game when it comes to this topic, on whether or not we should do it,” West said.

The idea could get incorporated into a larger legislative package with other efforts to strengthen government ethics laws, West said, but it will move forward only if the legislature’s Democratic leaders — Speaker Emanuel “Chris” Welch of Hillside and Senate President Don Harmon of Oak Park — and Gov. J.B. Pritzker are on board.

“It’s not smart to allow it to move in one chamber and not the other,” West said. “If it’s going to move, it’s because we know it’s going to pass.”

The speaker has met with West about all bills assigned to the Ethics & Elections Committee, but Welch “has not discussed specifics of this legislation,” Welch spokeswoman Jaclyn Driscoll told the Tribune in an email.

“He looks forward to learning more about this proposal,” Driscoll said.

Harmon’s office said the secretary of state has briefed him on the proposal.

“Policing the lobbying industry is a key responsibility for that statewide office,” Harmon spokesman John Patterson said in a statement about the secretary of state’s office. “We look forward to the House debate and further reviewing the legislation and idea.”

The governor’s office did not respond Friday to a request for comment.

While lawmakers have just started to consider the bill’s fate, Giannoulias may have helped his chances of winning some support by steering clear of what lawmakers have historically viewed as third-rail political issues.

The proposal, for instance, does not include closing loopholes in the state’s revolving-door ban involving lawmakers and other state employees going to work as lobbyists or banning state lawmakers from getting controversial side gigs making money lobbying local governments. Lawmakers are only prohibited from lobbying on behalf of clients who also lobby the state.

Giannoulias said he would be “happy to have” future conversations about further strengthening the lobbying regulations but wanted to focus now on taking an “important first step” toward restoring the trust of a public “sick and tired of corruption and scandal.”

Nobody’s going to declare Giannoulias’ proposal a silver bullet to Illinois’ corruption problem. But the secretary of state, who had a tense relationship with Madigan when he headed the state Democratic Party and Giannoulias made a failed and controversial run for U.S. Senate in 2010, said the legislation could help Illinois counter its reputation as a national “laughingstock” over high-profile government ethical failures.

Just last week, as Illinois celebrated the birthday of President Abraham Lincoln, the federal courthouse produced the two latest examples of Springfield’s sleazy behavior.

Federal jurors found former Democratic lawmaker Annazette Collins of Chicago guilty of cheating on taxes while lobbying and consulting with ComEd. And in a separate courtroom a federal judge sentenced Tim Mapes, Madigan’s ousted chief of staff, to 2½ years in prison for lying to a grand jury to protect the ex-speaker and their friend, Michael McClain, a former ComEd lobbyist, in the probe that led to multiple indictments.

Among the biggest changes proposed in the legislation is the compensation reporting requirement. Illinois law currently allows special interests in Springfield to exclude the overall amounts of cash they spend into sometimes overwhelming and expensive efforts to change laws, bottle up legislation or push potentially lucrative agendas.

“The source and the amount of compensation that these individuals are paid by companies, corporations and other individuals is helpful to understand the amount of influence exerted upon the state and state officials and hopefully exposing the real source of that influence,” Giannoulias said.

ComEd, for example, employed an army of lobbyists as it successfully pushed through a series of lucrative proposals starting in 2011 that produced windfalls for the state-regulated utility at the height of Madigan’s nationwide record 36-year reign as speaker.

But ComEd was required to report to the secretary of state’s office only the small fractions of the millions of dollars the utility spent on its in-house and contract lobbyists.

Collins, a former member of the House and Senate, was a minor player hired by ComEd. But trial testimony indicated she received more than $200,000 from 2014 to 2018 for lobbying and consulting services.

McClain, one of Madigan’s closest confidants, collected hundreds of thousands of dollars for his contract work as a lobbyist and later as a consultant for ComEd.

Another main piece of the legislation calls for the secretary of state to revoke a lobbyist registration for up to a year if a person violates lobbyist and ethics laws or is denied a pension, such as for committing a crime in connection to a person’s state position. After a year, a person could seek eligibility to re-register as a lobbyist, according to a secretary of state aide.

The measure also would allow the secretary of state to investigate anyone who hasn’t registered as a lobbyist but might be lobbying anyway. The office could revoke, suspend or bar for up to one year a person from lobbying for failing to file reports or failing to pay a fine.

Current law basically authorizes “zero enforcement,” but the office should be able to perform audits and terminate, suspend or revoke lobbyist registration, Giannoulias said.

Another proposed change would require lobbyists to keep records for three years, up from two, or face possible revocation of their license.

Most of the current penalties for violations are relatively nominal, such as $50 for late filing fees and $100 for failing to register, but they could be levied 26 times for each of the reports due in a year.

The Giannoulias proposal also would require lobbyists in Cook County and other local governments outside Chicago to report compensation, the secretary’s office said. Cook County’s previous requirement to report compensation had been removed under a state law that took effect two years ago.

The enhanced lobbyist disclosures are one component of a broader legislative agenda backed by the Chicago-based Better Government Association, said Bryan Zarou, the group’s director of policy.

“We are glad to see the secretary of state file and support this initiative,” Zarou wrote in a text message. “Lobbyist reform is long overdue and it’s about time the state gets in line with federal and city standards. It’s a step in the right direction and we fully support and will advocate on behalf of this bill.”

Since the federal corruption probe that ultimately ensnared Madigan became public in 2019, the legislature has made minor headway toward tightening lobbyist laws, all of which good-government advocates have found wanting.

A 2019 effort required additional disclosures from state lobbyists, including other levels of government they lobby and whether they hold any elected or appointed public office. It also created an ethics commission to propose additional changes but that group disbanded in the early days of the pandemic without producing a final set of recommendations.

A separate measure approved in 2021 implemented a prohibition on lawmakers leaving the General Assembly and immediately becoming lobbyists in the middle of their terms. But advocates criticized the new six-month cooling-off period as too short and riddled with loopholes.

For example, the revolving-door prohibition ends when a new legislature is seated every two years, meaning lawmakers who leave office with less than six months remaining in their terms can start lobbying as soon as a new group of legislators is sworn in.

rlong@chicagotribune.com

dpetrella@chicagotribune.com