Nearly
two weeks after her younger brother was found dead in his cell at Pinckneyville
Correctional Center, Dana Caley wants answers.
So
far, Caley says, the only information she and other relatives have been given
by the Illinois Department of Corrections is that Earl Eugene Little, 33, was
found unresponsive in his cell on July 6 and state police are investigating. He
was buried in Rushville last Friday. Caley says that she and others
who loved her brother want to know more about his death. No one, Caley says,
will tell them, and so they are left to wonder whether he was killed by
someone, took his own life, died of natural causes or somehow suffered a fatal
accident.
They’ve
had no luck with the Illinois Department of Corrections, nor did Illinois Times. Spokeswoman Lindsey Hess
refused to answer any questions, instead emailing a written statement.
“The
Illinois Department of Corrections is currently investigating the death of an
offender at Pinckneyville Correctional Center on July 6, 2018,” Hess wrote. “No
further details can be provided at this time.”
Hess
did not respond to a follow-up email, asking for basic information about Little,
including why he was in prison and his expected date of release. DuPage County
court records show that Little was convicted of armed robbery and unlawful
restraint in February and was sentenced to 21 years in April.
“The
only thing I can say is, he really kind of just went on a downward spiral there
at the end,” Caley said. “He needed help. But he didn’t need this.”
What
‘this’ is remains a mystery.
“We
received a phone call early on that Saturday morning – he died on Friday night,”
Caley recalled. “The only thing they told us is, he was found unresponsive in
his cell. We have had no contact since then. The state’s attorney has not
called us. The prison has not called us. No one has tried to contact us at all.”
Caley
says that she and her family simply want to know what happened.
“I
don’t want to be led to be suspicious of anything,” Caley says. “We’re not
coming at anyone like roaring lions. We feel like we do, at least, deserve a
phone call.”
Caley
says that both she and her brother’s father have spoken with Perry County
Coroner Paul Searby, who has told them that he can’t release anything on Little’s
death.
“I
understand, eleven days is a long time,” Searby says. “My hands are tied. I
have to wait on reports from corrections and the pathologist. With the pending
investigation, we’re not releasing anything until we know 100 percent what we’ve
got in this situation.”
Searby
says he doesn’t yet know whether there will be an inquest.
“We’ll
have to wait and see if it’s needed or not,” Searby said.
Perry
County state’s attorney David Searby, the coroner’s brother, said that he’s
aware of Little’s death, but has not received needed investigative reports. “Until
we get all the reports, I can’t tell you what the cause of death was,” Searby
said.
Little
joined the Air Force after graduating from Rushville High School in 2003. He
became a firefighter in the Air Force, Caley says, but was discharged early.
His adoptive mother was ill at the time, she said. “It wasn’t a dishonorable
discharge or anything, but it wasn’t a normal discharge, either,” Caley said.
Little’s
life had a rough start, according to his sister. When he was four, he and his
three siblings were placed in foster care, then adopted after parental rights
were terminated, Caley said. Little and a younger half-brother were adopted by
a family in Rushville, she said, and she and a sister were adopted by two different
families. The siblings stayed in touch over the years, Caley said. “Our
families made sure we all got to see each other,” Caley said. “I’m not going to
butter things up. It wasn’t easy. Life was hard.”
Caley
says that her brother worked for her husband’s construction company after his
discharge from the Air Force and also worked for Titan International, a Quincy
company that manufactures wheels and tires for heavy equipment. When a tornado
devastated Joplin, Mo. in 2011, Little pitched in, his sister recalled.
“He
said to my husband ‘We’ve got to go,’” Caley said. “And they did. They picked
up chainsaws and just went. My brother spearheaded that and insisted that they
had to do something. … He was just a very tender-hearted person. He wanted to
be the hero. Which is so funny, how things ended.”
Contact Bruce
Rushton at brushton@illinoistimes.com.
This article appears in Jul 12-18, 2018.
