In 2014, Heather Mack and Tommy Schaefer were arrested in Bali after Mack’s mother, Sheila von Wiese-Mack, was found dead in a suitcase. Mack is serving a 26-year sentence on charges of conspiring to murder her mother. Years earlier, Sgt. Rasul T. Freelain first arrested Mack after her mother reported abuse at the Illinois police station where he worked. This moment, captured in an excerpt from Freelain’s upcoming book, highlights when Wiese-Mack decided to cooperate with her daughter’s arrest, marking a significant moment in the family’s story.
As I headed toward Sheila von Wiese-Mack’s Chicago home, the winter sun faded into twilight. Despite harsh weather days before that buried the city under nearly two feet of snow, the weather unexpectedly warmed. Getting Sheila, widow of composer James L. Mack, to confront her abusive daughter, Heather, had been challenging. However, after her arm was broken, Sheila recognized the alarming reality of her daughter’s escalating violence.
Driving an unmarked blue Crown Victoria, I breathed the fresh evening air. It was a stark contrast from the recent cold. Sheila and I parked outside her 6,000-foot mansion on Linden Avenue, notable for its mustard-colored brick, green clay tile roof, and limestone trims. Entering the house, I noticed the dining room in disarray, with chairs overturned, broken dishes scattered, and crumpled papers alongside a wadded sheet against a wall. The next room promised more chaos.
Upon entering a large living room, I faced a scene of destruction. A toppled wooden shelf scattered books and decorative pieces. Shattered glass and splintered wood covered the carpet. Broken photo frames trailed across the floor. At the center of the turmoil was Heather, a small girl in a red sweater, her dark hair tied back, toying with a cell phone.
“Police,” I announced, catching Heather’s immediate attention. She initially protested my presence in her home, but I explained Sheila allowed me in. She glared at her mother, who stayed quiet. I directed Heather to sit, and she did, reluctantly. I felt reassured by the presence of a female backup officer outside, ready to assist if Heather resisted or confronted Sheila.
I addressed Heather directly. “Your mother reported that you’ve hurt her and caused damage here. You’re coming with me to the station, where you’ll have a chance to share your side.” Reacting with anger, Heather screamed at Sheila for involving the police. I decided our interaction was concluded and approached as she neared us.
“Stop! That’s it. You are under arrest for domestic battery,” I declared, moving forward to cuff her. Heather froze when I reached for her wrist. She accused her mother of overreaction, yet confessed to the day’s damage. I instructed her to put her hands behind her back. This time, she acquiesced. Noticing her slim wrists, I secured her, then began escorting Heather out as she continued to protest her innocence loudly.
Sheila, silent until now, finally spoke. “Stop this now, Heather,” she pleaded, her voice assertive. “What happened today is unacceptable. This is your doing.” Her words filled the room as she pointed out the chaos Heather caused. To my surprise, Heather lowered her head, tears forming.
As we moved toward the door, Sheila asked me to pause. Mother and daughter faced each other briefly. Sheila calmly but firmly lamented the situation. “Heather, this has to end. You cannot treat me this way anymore.” Heather listened quietly, tears in her eyes.
Resuming our exit, I handed Heather over to my colleague, briefing her on the charges and Heather’s age. “No problem,” she replied, preparing to perform a pat-down before placing Heather in the squad car.
As they drove away, Sheila watched from the foyer, clearly shaken. “This feels surreal. I never wanted this,” she murmured. I offered reassurance. “You’re doing your best to help her, to save her.” It felt like comforting a relative in distress. Sheila acknowledged my words, before I informed her of the next steps. I needed to start paperwork and update our team.
As I left the scene to return to the station, I was aware of the long evening ahead for all involved.
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