[Congressional Record Volume 158, Number 165 (Thursday, December 20, 2012)]
[Senate]
[Page S8275]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


                    TRIBUTE TO SHERIFF MEARL JUSTUS

  Mr. DURBIN. Mr. President, my home county of St. Clair, IL, lost a 
dedicated public servant this week. Mearl Justus--aptly named 
``justice''--passed away Tuesday at the age of 81. He had retired only 
1 week earlier after serving eight terms as St. Clair County sheriff.
  Mearl Justus was a legend. He was funny, he was innovative, and he 
was a creative thinker who was always looking for new and better ways 
to run his department. Above all, he was deeply dedicated to the people 
he served in the county.
  An editorial in the Belleville News-Democrat described him as ``a 6 
feet 2 inch teddy bear with a sailor's vocabulary and a hero's heart. 
He was gruff. He was endearing. He was a champion, rescuing us from the 
bad guys for 60 years.'' What an epitaph.
  He got off to a rocky start in life. He was 19 months old when his 
dad died, and he was raised by his grandparents. He was a high school 
dropout in 1953 when the mayor of Cahokia, IL, suggested he join the 
local police force. That is how the aptly named Mr. Justus began his 
nearly 60-year-long career in law enforcement.
  He started as a part-time officer in the Cahokia Police Department. 
He earned his GED and went on to earn an associate's degree at 
Southwestern Illinois College in Belleville and then earned a 
bachelor's degree in criminal justice. He advanced quickly up the ranks 
and served as Cahokia's police chief for 22 years. He ran for sheriff 
of St. Clair County in 1983 and won--his first run for elective office. 
He would be reelected seven times, never losing an election, and nobody 
came close.
  Sheriff Justus loved his job and loved having fun. One of the most 
legendary tales of his years as sheriff was when he sent notices to 
several hundred fugitives from justice telling them they had won a free 
pair of sneakers from the fictional Nabbir Shoestore. When the 
scofflaws turned up to claim their sneakers, the sheriff's department 
locked them up. The department made over 50 arrests that day and 1 the 
next despite the fact that the prior day's arrests had been widely 
reported in the news.
  He closed up shop with a sign that read: ``Closed. Catch ya next 
time.'' He once explained to a reporter, ``In this business, to keep 
from going off the deep end, you need that humor.''
  Mearl Justus didn't drink or smoke and rarely carried a gun because 
he said it was bulky and ``it tears my clothes up.''
  He sold advertising space on patrol cars and put public service 
announcements on their fenders. He provided jail inmates with a garden 
to grow vegetables. The prisoners grew their produce and gave any extra 
to local nursing homes.
  Sheriff Justus was so dedicated to his work that he and his wife 
Audrey lived for years in a three-bedroom apartment above the county 
jail. He said he figured that is where he was needed. At first, the 
couple found the routine cell checks a little disturbing, but they grew 
fond of their living arrangement and even raised a granddaughter in 
their apartment.
  Over the course of his six decades of public service, Mearl Justus 
established several programs for local schools, including Stranger 
Danger awareness training. He also introduced the D.A.R.E. Program in 
the St. Clair schools long before others had it.
  Sheriff Justus's success and dedication were widely admired by his 
peers, who elected him president of the Illinois Sheriffs' Association. 
He was also chairman of the board of his region's Major Case Squad.
  In recent years Sheriff Justus led efforts to combat crime and 
vandalism on MetroLink trains, the county's light rail transit system, 
making the system safer for those who depend on it. That is where I 
came to know him. You see, this MetroLink is a light rail train service 
that has been one of the most popular things that has happened in that 
region. I grew up in that region. I used to kid my friends from St. 
Louis that I grew up in a suburb known as East St. Louis, and they all 
laughed because nobody considers Illinois to be part of St. Louis.
  Well, it turned out that station in East St. Louis for MetroLink was 
a critical part of the political agreement that led to the creation of 
this important light rail system. But we had a problem. East St. Louis 
has been notoriously dangerous for years, and there was a question: How 
in the world could we expect anybody to wait at the train station with 
all the dangerous street crime in East St. Louis?
  Mearl Justus stepped up. His St. Clair County Sheriff's Department 
provided the protection that was needed to establish that MetroLink 
station in my hometown of East St. Louis and to give people the peace 
of mind that if they wanted to board or leave a train or park their car 
there, there would always be reliable law enforcement. Mearl Justus 
showed the way for many of us when we couldn't think of how to resolve 
this quandary. That is the kind of problemsolver he was.
  Mearl Justus had an amazing sense of humor. For many years, his own 
Web site featured the sheriff wearing a sombrero and a boast that any 
local event featuring Mearl Justus as the master of ceremonies would 
draw twice as many people.
  He cared deeply about the people. He hosted ``Slumber in the 
Slammer'' fundraisers for a women's crisis center, allowing people to 
sleep in the jail in exchange for a donation to the local crisis 
center. He once arranged cataract surgery for a woman whose savings had 
been stolen.
  He said he looked forward to coming to work every day and wanted 
people to think of him as an honest, people-oriented public official. 
He is going to be remembered for that and so much more. Mearl Justus 
made St. Clair County not just a safer place but a better place. I am 
honored to have known him. He was a fun person to be around, but you 
knew that when it came to his job, he took it very, very seriously.
  My wife Loretta and I send our condolences to his wife Audrey, his 
daughters Kay and Debra; and his three granddaughters and three great-
grandchildren.

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