93 Years Old Cold Case FINALLY Solved | Documentary | Real Crime Storytime

On a cloudy afternoon on May 14, 1930, an elegantly dressed woman hurried into a downtown Chicago store with a crying child and asked for a secretary. An older woman took down what she dictated, while the other attendants stared at the woman—so taken by her charm that they didn’t pay attention to the words she was saying, or the blonde-haired, blue-eyed child whimpering beside her. This would be the last known sighting of two-year-old Mary Agnes Moroney before she disappeared, never to be seen again.

What was in the note? Who was the enigmatic woman involved in her disappearance? How did the police crack this case after nearly a century? Welcome back to Real Crime Storytime, where we shed light on under-the-radar cases from across the country. Today, we’re looking at the 93-year-old kidnapping of two-year-old Mary Agnes Moroney, finally solved in 2023. Let’s walk on the edge of the mystery.

Today’s case will take us to Chicago, a city located in the north of the state of Illinois, overlooking beautiful Lake Michigan. Chicago is known for its jaw-dropping architecture, vibrant music scene, and iconic neighborhoods; it’s also home to several Fortune 500 companies. But in 1929, the city was hard hit when the stock market crashed and the country entered the Great Depression. Jobs were lost, people were evicted from their homes, food shortages increased, lines for food grew long, and a large portion of the population survived on handouts.

Catherine Moroney was 13 years old when she married 21-year-old Michael Moroney in 1923. He was an industrious, hard-working man who had come from Ireland in search of a better life. Two years into the marriage, at the age of 15, Catherine welcomed her first child, Mary Agnes. A year later, her second child, Anastasia, was born.

In 1930, Catherine was 20 and was seven months pregnant with her third child. The family lived in the second-floor apartment of a grocery store at 5200 South Wentworth Avenue in Chicago, Illinois. Like most people during the Great Depression, the Moroney family was struggling. Michael lost his job. To put food on the table for his family of four, he passed out handbills. He made about $15 per week—about $270 in today’s money—barely enough to cover the needs of a family of four. The Moroneys couldn’t afford to lose their home and live on the streets, not with two babies and one on the way.

Desperate to provide for his family, Michael joined hundreds of others in asking for help by placing an advertisement in the newspapers. During that period, newspapers offered sections for people and families to ask for help from philanthropic groups, agencies, or just anyone who could help. Three weeks in, they had no response. Then, on Wednesday the 13th of May, 1930—shortly after their eldest daughter’s second birthday—Edgar Gilpin, who worked as a male nurse, stopped by their home with a suit and a pair of shoes for Michael. He’d come across their advertisement and wanted to help. The Moroneys couldn’t be happier.

The next day, Catherine was home alone with their daughters. Anastasia was fast asleep in her crib, while Mary Agnes played at the window. While Catherine was busy scrubbing the floors after the unexpected visit the day before, she decided it would be a good idea to tidy the shabby place in case any other benefactors came to offer their help.

She was hard at work scrubbing the floors when she heard a knock at the door. Catherine opened the door to see a pretty blonde woman in her early 20s. The young mother of two had never welcomed such an elegant guest into her home. The woman was expensively dressed in a gray suit with blue trimmings, topped with a gray lace hat. She wore a stunning pearl necklace and a watch that was set with jewels. She held a basket of groceries—fresh fruits and vegetables, the type of food that Catherine hadn’t had on her table for many months.

The woman walked into the apartment with a smile on her face and set the food down on the table. In a voice that spoke of culture and sophistication, she said she’d brought the provisions from the grocery downstairs. She added that she’d been sent by “Mrs. Henderson,” a social worker from the charity agency. Catherine did not know anyone who went by Mrs. Henderson, but she guessed that the woman had seen her advertisement in the paper, like the man who’d brought the suit for Michael.

Just as Catherine thought, the woman said she’d called the newspaper to get the Moroneys’ home address when she heard of their plight. “What can I do to help?” she finished. Catherine pulled out a chair for the woman, glad to have the company of such a graceful guest. She told the woman about the family’s financial difficulties and how her husband was struggling to support them.

Throughout their chat, the woman’s eyes kept drifting to her eldest child, Mary Agnes, who was playing on the newly cleaned floor. Mary Agnes was a lovely girl with beautiful blue eyes and a full head of blonde curls. When Catherine was out running errands with her, strangers would approach Mary Agnes, pat her, and give her sweets. The woman was not any different; she doted on Mary Agnes and did everything she could to get her attention. But Mary Agnes was a shy child and hid behind her mother’s chair.

The conversation was going well until the woman told Catherine that she’d recently lost her own daughter. Catherine couldn’t help but feel sorry for the woman; she couldn’t imagine what it would be like losing any of her girls. Then, the woman made an odd request: could she take little Mary Agnes with her to California just for a little while? She assured the young mother and added that Mary Agnes would be “unrecognizable and fat as a butterball” by the time she returned. However, Catherine was not going to send her young child off with a complete stranger, especially to a location that far away. Nevertheless, the woman handed Catherine a two-dollar note and promised to return the following day. As the woman left, Catherine remembered her manners and asked the woman for her name. After a brief hesitation, she replied, “It’s Julia. Julia Otis.”

When Michael returned from work, Catherine happily told him about the elegant woman that had come to visit that day. She could not believe their good fortune. The Moroneys ate well that night for the first time in a very long time.

Julia kept her word and was back at the Moroneys the very next day. This time, in addition to more groceries, she had great news: she’d arranged for Michael to get a better job. She also had a bag of clothes for the unborn baby. While Catherine was busy admiring the new clothes and thanking Julia for her generosity, Julia took in Mary Agnes’s shabby clothes and suggested that she take the little girl to a shop around the corner for new clothes too.

Catherine looked at Mary Agnes and took in her worn shoes and shabby clothes. She did need some clothes. “But wouldn’t that be asking too much of you?” Catherine said. The woman was adamant that it would cost her nothing. Catherine finally agreed.

As Julia reached down to pick Mary Agnes up, the two-year-old burst into tears and ran back to her mother. Embarrassed, Catherine handed the child to the woman. Mary Agnes could only cry and sob as the woman led her away. It was just a store around the corner, Catherine thought. What could go wrong?

Minutes turned to hours, and neither Julia nor Mary Agnes returned. Catherine started to worry. Had something happened to them? By the time Michael returned from work, there was still no sign of Julia or their little girl. The family decided to call the Chicago Police Department and report their daughter missing. Catherine struggled with describing her daughter’s kidnapper; she’d been so taken with her appearance and the things she’d brought that she’d not taken a full look at her. She could only give a general description: the woman was beautiful, about 22 years old, 5 feet 2 inches, and weighed 125 pounds. The one distinguishing feature she remembered was that the woman had prominent teeth.

At 8:30 PM the next day, the Moroneys received a letter. “Mary Agnes is on her way to California,” the letter read. “You can spare her for two months. Please don’t be alarmed. I’ve hired a special nurse. She did not even cry and is outfitted like a princess. In the meantime, I’ll help all I can to get you on your feet. Don’t worry about her or anything else. When you get this letter, we’ll be on our way already.” The message was wrapped with a five-dollar banknote and simply signed “Julia Otis.”

Police searched all the train stations in Chicago for any clue that Mary Agnes had been brought aboard a train. They learned that a little blonde girl had been spotted on a train headed west into Kansas with a woman and a nurse, but when the train pulled into its destination, there was no sign of the child, the kidnapper, or a nurse. Police were not able to determine if the tip was incorrect or whether the woman had slipped away under their noses.

As news of the missing child spread, witnesses came forward with sightings of Julia. A shopping attendant at Goldblatt’s department store on Ashland and Chicago Avenues (eight miles from the Moroneys’ home) said “Otis” had purchased a collection of baby clothes with a new fifty-dollar bill at the store. A female store employee in downtown Chicago reported that a woman had been at the store and had dictated a letter for her to write, and a little girl that matched Mary Agnes’s description was with her.

Two days after the kidnapping, Edgar Gilpin—who had given a pair of shoes and a suit to Michael—was hauled out of bed in the presence of his three children and brought in for questioning. Edgar explained that he did not know Otis or the whereabouts of the missing child; he was just a philanthropist who had seen news of their financial plight in the newspapers and gone to see what he could do to help. A day later, he was released.

Sometime later, Catherine approached investigators with an incident she’d forgotten. On the night of her daughter’s disappearance, after Julia had left, another man claiming to be a social worker had come to the house. She’d welcomed him, thinking he worked with Julia and knew where they’d gone. Instead, an old, shabbily-dressed man had come into her home. Terrified for her safety and that of her other daughter, Catherine called the police. The man had left in a hurry and was never seen again. It appeared that the advertisement had drawn a range of individuals to the Moroneys, including those who would assist, those who would abduct, and the destitute.

But the investigators also wondered why Catherine was just bringing this information to them now. She explained that amid all the stress and concern for Mary Agnes, she’d forgotten the incident. By this time, investigators had been searching for Mary Agnes and her kidnapper for days without any solid leads. They started to suspect that her parents had cooked up the story to hide a more tragic event—perhaps Mary Agnes had been killed by her parents, maybe accidentally. The Moroneys were arrested, but Catherine and Michael were consistent about their version of the events surrounding their daughter’s disappearance. An hour later, they were permitted to return home.

Two weeks later, another letter arrived, this time from a “Mrs. Alice Henderson.” She identified herself as a cousin to Julia. Julia, she explained, had lost both her husband and child the past year and pined for the company of one. She was also on the brink of a breakdown, and her doctor had recommended a trip to California. Julia had decided to take the baby. It would also help Catherine take her hands off child care and focus on the new baby. She promised she would bring Mary Agnes back safe and sound, while she would continue to send help. That would be the last message the Moroneys would receive about their eldest daughter. With no more leads, the case was soon put on the back burner.

The First “Mary Agnes”: Mary McClellan

However, a discovery made a year later in Rockford, Illinois, would bring the case back into the public eye. In July 1931, residents of Rockford were shocked to see an elderly Native American woman wheeling around a pushcart; in it sat a Caucasian child. Police were immediately contacted, and the woman was taken into custody. She said her name was Martha Thomas and she was on her way to the West to join the circus. According to her, the little girl had been abandoned by her mother, a woman named “Florence Fuller,” who lived on Erie and Oak streets in Chicago. There was no such address in Chicago, so the little girl was kept in a Volunteers of America home where she played and romped around, unaware of the ruckus she was causing around town as authorities struggled to identify her.

Eventually, they recalled the case of Mary Agnes, who had been kidnapped a year earlier in Chicago. The girl had blonde hair and bright blue eyes; she was also three years old, just like Mary Agnes. Authorities contacted the Moroneys to identify the baby. Optimistic, Michael and Catherine traveled 89 miles away to Rockford to meet the girl they hoped was theirs. But when Catherine checked her for familiar birthmarks, her hope was dashed, and she wept the entire way back. It was not Mary Agnes.

Over the years, there were many more random sightings of Mary Agnes all over the country. Many would turn out to be false tips, wild goose chases, and people who were just downright cruel. As time went on without progress, the case went cold.

In 1952, a reporter with the Chicago Daily News, Edna Wright, was working on a routine story of missing persons in Chicago when she stumbled on the oldest case in the file: the disappearance of little Mary Agnes. It had now been 22 years. Edna read the file and decided to get across to the Moroneys for a recent picture of her children. By this time, Catherine and Michael Moroney had six more children (five sons and two daughters). As Edna looked through the pictures they provided, she was immediately struck by the strong physical resemblance between all of the siblings. If Mary Agnes was anything like her siblings, she should look just like them. Edna sent copies of the siblings’ pictures to editors of some Californian newspapers to help locate any woman fitting Mary Agnes’s description who may have been adopted, with a note that read: “Would there be a 24-year-old woman anywhere who resembles these children who might be the long-lost Mary Agnes?”

The Oakland Tribune in California decided to run the story on the 24th of February. Everett McClellan, the owner of a motor car repair shop in Oakland, San Pablo, was reading through the morning newspaper when he came across the story of the 22-year-old kidnapping in Chicago. There were two sets of family pictures on the page, but he was immediately struck by the pictures of the Moroney daughters and their resemblance to his wife, Mary McClellan. The older of the pair, Anastasia, could even pass off as her twin.

Mary Beth McClellan was raised in Martinez, California. It wasn’t until after she was married at 16 that she found out from a family friend that she’d been adopted. By then her father had passed away, but her mother, Nora Beck, denied it. They searched courthouse records and found McClellan’s adoption papers. When they confronted Nora with the papers, she finally admitted that McClellan had been adopted, but she refused to share any more details.

Everett read through the story and realized his wife could be the missing Mary Agnes. She was the right age and had been adopted the same year Mary Agnes went missing. Everett contacted the newspaper and told them that his wife might just be the missing baby from Chicago. The news channel reached out to scientists to help match Mary Agnes to McClellan. DNA testing would not be available for another 40 years, so they relied on largely theoretical tests. Blood was collected from Michael, Catherine, and McClellan, and over 124 tests were done on them. Facial features were measured and compared. Casts were made of the Moroneys’ teeth and of McClellan’s, and dental impressions were examined. Fingerprint experts compared McClellan’s finger and palm prints to that of the Moroney family.

All results from the tests pointed to McClellan having family traits of the Moroneys. The scientists concluded that she could be the missing child. On the 4th of September, 1952, McClellan was flown to Chicago to reunite with her “mother,” Catherine. Catherine, who was now 40, had aged prematurely from constantly worrying about what had happened to her eldest daughter. During one interview, she’d said that it would be easier to move on knowing Mary Agnes was dead—not knowing was worse.

The two women met amidst a lot of fanfare. Cameras snapped as they embraced each other tightly. It looked like a fitting end to a 22-year-old mystery. However, Nora Beck was adamant that McClellan was not the kidnapped child. As more people suspected her of being Julia Otis and kidnapping the child, she cleared the air and opened up about McClellan’s adoption. Nora said she had formerly been a foster mom and was familiar with McClellan long before they adopted her. McClellan had been delivered by a woman on November 17, 1927, and spent the first two years of her life at an orphanage before they adopted her in 1930. Her adoption was arranged by a social worker who was now a California Superior Judge. Nora also provided a baby picture of McClellan from 1928, two years before the Moroney abduction.

But to skeptics, it sounded like a phony story she’d made up to hide the truth. The newspapers ran with the story that supported the scientists and declared the case closed. McClellan got acquainted with her new family. Catherine gladly received pictures of McClellan’s children and was struck by how much her “daughter” looked like her little Mary Agnes at that age. McClellan and Anastasia became fast friends, communicating often despite the long distance between their homes. They had a lot in common; they even wore the same dress and shoe sizes.

However, though Catherine thought McClellan was a wonderful girl, she was still not convinced that she was her daughter. “I’d like to believe that this girl is Mary Agnes,” she said. “But I just don’t know. I probably will never know for sure.” Mary Agnes’s father, Michael, died in 1957 when he was 58. His final words were said to be, “They never found my baby girl.” He never accepted that McClellan was his daughter. Catherine died in 1962 at the age of 49.

In the years that followed, the methods used to demonstrate that McClellan was Mary Agnes would come under scrutiny and be refuted. All the same, McClellan maintained a relationship with the Moroneys. She died in 2005 at the age of 77, never quite knowing if she was a Moroney. Three years later, her family decided to perform a DNA test to prove once and for all if they were related to the Moroneys.

The DNA was not a match. McClellan was not Mary Agnes.

The Real Mary Agnes Revealed

For the next 14 years, the case remained open. Finally, on the 10th of June, 2022, Cook County Sheriff’s Detective Jose Rodriguez was assigned to investigate the oldest missing person case in Chicago’s history. It had been seven decades since the case was last opened. Rodriguez began by locating the original police reports. In the years that had passed, several important documents had been lost, including the letters from Julia.

To create a family tree, he set out to locate as many members of Mary Agnes’s family as he could. The idea was to track down a stranger who seemed to not belong to the family tree. But very limited information was available on Mary Agnes’s siblings and their offspring. He took the search online and ultimately discovered a forum where someone identified themselves as a Moroney. Rodriguez got in touch with the person and discovered that several Moroney family members had accounts with commercial DNA sites. He set out to convince others to submit their DNA. Then the real work began: connecting them.

Eventually, he found an unfamiliar person: a third cousin of the Moroneys who identified as Polish. Rodriguez made contact with her. She informed him that although her grandmother had three children, Terri Arnold was the only one who had survived. When Rodriguez met Terri, he presented all his findings and his theory that she was a Moroney as well. Terri was in disbelief. All her life, she’d been certain that her maternal grandmother’s family had hailed from Poland. She was persuaded that the detective couldn’t be right, but ultimately, she consented to a DNA test.

The result came in, and much to her shock, the DNA showed she was primarily Irish. The result also revealed strong genetic connections between Terri and several of the Moroney cousins that Rodriguez had identified, suggesting she was a cousin as well. Her ancestry was the only family branch that didn’t directly tie into any of Catherine and Michael’s known offspring.

Terri said that her mother’s name was Jeanette Burchard. Terri said that her mother, Jeanette, was born on the 14th of April, 1928, and that her biological father died two months after she was born. She’d spent the first six years of her life in Chicago with her mother, Jeanette Celarek. In 1934, her mother married Frank Darras, and the family moved to Virginia. During the Second World War, the family moved again, this time to Florida. Jeanette was an only child; she worked as a nurse for 46 years and was a big fan of the Miami Dolphins.

Rodriguez asked Terri if her mother had any suspicion that she was adopted. Terri revealed that her mother’s stepfather, Frank, once told Jeanette that the woman who raised her was not her natural birth mother. It was a comment that had puzzled her mother for a long time. She’d even gone and asked her cousins in Chicago if they had any idea what he meant by the statement, but they didn’t know either.

Rodriguez was convinced that Terri’s mother was Mary Agnes, and she’d been raised as Jeanette Burchard. The final step in linking Jeanette to Mary Agnes would be to exhume the bodies of both Jeanette and Mary Agnes’s mother, Catherine, to conduct a DNA test. But both families are so convinced that Jeanette is Mary Agnes that they’ve chosen to let the women rest in peace.

On the 3rd of February, 2023, the Cold Case Unit of the Chicago Police Department pronounced the Moroney kidnapping investigation officially closed. Unfortunately, Jeanette (Mary Agnes) died in 2003 at the age of 75. The woman who raised her, Jeanette Celarek Darras, died just four years later. There would be no way to get any more answers.

Terri had never heard the name Julia Otis before. She struggles with the fact that her loving grandmother could be Julia Otis and was involved in separating such a little child from her family. The Moroney family is happy knowing that Mary Agnes was raised in a loving home. There are still many questions about how Mary Agnes made her way from the Moroney family to the people who raised her. How do you think it happened? What role did Julia Otis play in the kidnapping? To what extent do you think her new mother was involved?