Turns out, Beth Jacob Congregation’s Selichot services before Rosh Hashanah in 2016 would be extremely fortuitous for lawyer Stuart Bear.
Like many synagogues, Beth Jacob had an educational program before the late-night services. Two speakers came from the Great North Innocence Project to talk about their work of freeing wrongfully incarcerated people.
“They talked about the different firms in town that were participants in the Innocence Project, and the firms they listed are really fine, fine firms, but they tended to be larger firms that could support taking on these cases,” Bear said.
But a spark lit up in Bear. He had recently become president of his law firm, Chestnut Cambronne, and thought, “Well, we really could do this.”
The idea of helping innocent people be freed from prison felt deeply important – and very much Jewish – to Bear. It called to mind the famous line from Deuteronomy: Tzedek, tzedek tirdof (justice, justice you shall pursue).
“One of the many interpretations of that, personally: The reason the word justice is emphasized twice is that, not only does justice need to be substantively correct, but also, procedurally correct as well,” Bear said.
So he reached out to get the ball rolling.
It took a few years, but eventually, the Great North Innocence Project brought Chestnut Cambronne a case with a winding story of bizarre wrongful conviction, a technically unsolved murder, and a nigh-impossible path to freeing an innocent man and his brother.
“They kind of chose us – or [the case] chose us,” said Chriz Renz, a partner at Chestnut Cambronne and leader on the firm’s pro bono team that worked on the case. “It depends on, I guess, how you believe all that works out there in the universe.”
Brutal murder, convoluted justice
In 1986, the body of 44-year-old Sandra Lison was found in a forest almost 30 miles north of Green Bay, Wisconsin.
Lison had been strangled to death and sexually assaulted, with blood and semen on her clothing. The night before her murder, she had been late-night bartending in Green Bay.
At the time, Robert and David Bintz – two brothers living in Green Bay – were questioned because they had bought beer from Lison the night she disappeared. David, angry over the cost of the beer, had called the bar with violent threats. Still, the killer wasn’t found, and the brothers went about their lives.
But over a decade later, David was in prison for sexually assaulting a minor, and his cellmate reported David talked in his sleep about murdering someone with Robert.
Later, David – who is intellectually disabled – confessed to Lison’s murder while also insisting he had been home at the time and played no part in it.
In 2000, the Bintz brothers went on trial, and were sentenced to life in prison without parole.
At face value, it wasn’t clear to Chris Renz and the team at Chestnut Cambronne, looking over the case at the beginning of 2019, that there was innocence to be found.
That skepticism came, in part, from Renz being a prosecutor, rather than a public defender. Public defenders are typically the kind of lawyer drawn to helping wrongfully incarcerated people.
“I think there are a lot of people out there that profess their innocence, that aren’t innocent – and then there are people who do, and they are innocent,” Renz said.
“Figuring out where that line is, is pretty hard. And so when we started – I think I will include myself in this camp – I just wasn’t sure,” he said. “I was very curious and wanted to do as much as I could to make sure that everything had been investigated, and no stone was left unturned.”
But as they dug in, Renz was increasingly baffled by how the Bintz brothers had been prosecuted. The evidence just didn’t add up.
The original theory was that Lison was sexually assaulted and strangled to death. But then DNA testing came back for the semen on her clothing: It did not match either Robert or David.
That’s when prosecutors decided to switch up their theory. “It’s the one part of this that really sticks in my craw,” Renz said.
Despite the evidence of sexual assault, prosecutors made the case that the semen was left over from consensual sex that Lison had in the few days before her murder. That left the Bintz brothers wide open for the charge of murder, without the lack of DNA evidence as a distraction.
“I don’t know every motivation, most people aren’t even around anymore, but they still moved forward and convicted David,” Renz said.
“Then, in what is also unbelievable [decision making] – and again, not trying to cast aspersion – but Robert Bintz’s attorney at the time made the decision to try [Robert’s] case to the same judge that just oversaw the trial in which David was convicted,” he said. “I think it’s pretty easy to know how that trial is going to turn out, and I still question that.”
In 2006, the Wisconsin Innocence Project found that the DNA of the blood found on Lison’s dress matched the semen – neither of which matched the brothers – once again indicating that the Bintz brothers were innocent.
But prosecutors stuck by their theory that there was no sexual assault, so the evidence didn’t change anything. A motion for a retrial was denied.
Over a decade later, as Renz and the Chestnut Cambronne took stock of the case, it didn’t seem like there was much hope to free the two innocent men. Chestnut Cambronne represented Robert Bintz, while his brother, David, was represented by the Wisconsin Innocence Project.
“In Wisconsin, the requirement is that your post conviction relief goes back to the same judge that convicted you – which is a very interesting system,” Renz said.
“Nobody else gets to determine it. You have to tell the [judge] that they were wrong,” he said. “They have to admit they were wrong.”
To solve a case
Given all the updated DNA analysis technology that had emerged in the nearly 35 years since Lison was murdered, the first stop for Renz and his team was to test and retest every bit of evidence from the murder.
With nothing matching the Bintz brothers to the scene, the hope was to present the overwhelming evidence to Judge Donald Zuidmulder as a kind of brute-force effort to free them.
“Along the way, however, we…came across this idea of forensic genealogy as a possible way to identify the killer,” Renz said.
Forensic genealogy uses DNA to investigate family trees and zero in on potential suspects. Famously, the Golden State Killer in California was found after a decades-long investigation because of the process.
“What’s the best way to get Judge Zuidmulder in the Wisconsin courts to let our guy out? To show him who the real [murderer] was,” Renz said. “And so began this odyssey.”
The first attempt at forensic genealogy did not go well.
“Eventually we composed this diagram, but it was like 30 people wide, and we knew there is no way any judge is going to parade in 30 people to give DNA samples,” Renz said. “Especially on the case that he presided over and had convicted, so we were kind of stuck.”
But there was some hope. The 30 people seemed to be made up of two main families, and if researchers could figure out where the families connected, that could lead to the culprit.
As time went on, that connection was elusive. Renz and his team were about to give up. Then came a chance meeting.
Someone from the Great North Innocence Project, attending a convention for professionals working to free wrongfully convicted people, made a connection with Ramapo College of New Jersey – which happens to have an investigative genealogy center.
Each summer, Ramapo has a bootcamp for graduates to work on real cases involving forensic genealogy. In 2023, they decided to have a go at the Lison case.
Renz was skeptical of recent students making a difference, but was willing to try anything. His patience paid off.
“I was actually on vacation, and about seven days [later]…we got a call,” Renz said. “One of their former students had cracked it – he figured out where the two families intersected. And once they figured it out, they had narrowed it down to three brothers.”
One of the brothers was still alive – and out of the two dead brothers, one, William Hendricks, had been convicted of sexual assault in Green Bay and let out of prison only half a year before Lison was murdered.
Hendricks had also threatened victims with murder by strangulation. It seemed like the case was finally solved.
Hendricks’ body, which was buried in Green Day, was dug back up. Samples were taken and analyzed: Hendricks was a confirmed match for the blood and semen found on Lison’s body in 1986.
But the Brown County District Attorney’s Office wanted more evidence before releasing the Bintz brothers. Renz and his team didn’t think that was necessary, and on Oct. 1, 2024, (incidentally, the start of Rosh Hashanah) planned to file a motion for release.
One week before the hearing, the DA gave in. Police had gone back to the Lison case and matched Hendricks’ fingerprints being at the bar where she had been serving the night of her murder. At the time, bystanders had also noticed a car that matched the one driven by Hendricks.
Lison’s killer was found. The Bintz brothers just needed to be set free.
Quirks and justice
The Lison case, and the Bintz brothers’ saga, was full of strange coincidences.
The current district attorney overseeing the case – his father was district attorney when the Bintz brothers were prosecuted. Someone at the Wisconsin State Crime Lab – her uncle had been a detective on the case.
If Hendricks’ body had been cremated, instead of buried, Renz and his team likely would have hit a dead end trying to free the Bintz brothers.
And perhaps most unique was Judge Zuidmulder, who had found Robert guilty of murder and sentenced him to life in prison without parole (David was convicted by a jury, but also sentenced by the judge). Now, he would set the brothers free.
In late September, at a quick hearing, Zuidmulder faced the miscarriage of justice he had played a part in.
“He gave a speech about how humans can make mistakes, and that is why justice is truly divine,” Renz said. “At that point, I just wanted the results, so I was just going to sit through anything. I did feel like it was kind of, in some ways, discussing his own dealings with this case.”
The last interaction between judge and wrongfully incarcerated was also unexpected. Robert has several ticks, and was clearly gearing up to say something during Zuidmulder’s speech.
“Judge Zuidmulder had just concluded, and it was kind of wrapping up, and [Robert] said, ‘Praise Jesus.’ And [Judge Zuidmulder] says, ‘Amen,’ and walks off the bench,” Renz recalled. “It was just crazy. It’s been a wild ride.”
For Renz, completing the case brings a new sense of appreciation for his co-workers at Chestnut Cambronne. Many pitched in their work pro bono, and the case has been such a long process that some who helped are no longer at the firm.
Freeing the Bintz brothers has also made Renz reflect on the ideals and processes of justice. Especially as a prosecutor, it’s a reminder to not be dead set on assuming guilt in every instance.
During the case, Renz also talked with his 17 and 19-year-old kids about what was going on.
“It was honestly nice to talk to them about that, and how important it is to – you have to search out how important justice is, and it may take a long time, and it may seem like there’s no hope, but you have got to keep scrambling,” Renz said.
“You’ve got to keep after it. And you know, when you do, great things can happen. So that for me, that was important as a parent,” he said.
As for whether he’ll do more Innocence Project cases, Renz is unsure after the near-miraculous success this time. But there’s also still more work to do for Robert Bintz.
Wisconsin’s compensation statute gives up to $5,000 per year for five years, with a maximum of $25,000. That’s not much to get Robert back on his feet, and the process of getting more compensation involves a vote at the Wisconsin Legislature – in other words, an unlikely scenario.
“Robert is 68 years old, an asthmatic,” Renz said. “There are limited options for Robert in terms of what he’s able to do. And so right now we are working with some organizations to get him resources.”
For Stuart Bear, launching Chestnut Cambronne into this kind of work has been the apex of his career, and a unique full-circle moment.
“I’m so thankful for my colleagues at the firm who saw that same vision about justice, justice shall you pursue, and took this on,” Bear said.
“I’m also from a small town…Superior Wisconsin,” he said. “So many connections, you know, starting this story at Selichot, and the last word from the bench in response to ‘praise Jesus’ – ‘Amen.’”
