Why I am investigating my father's unsolved murder

In 2002, Madison McGhee's father, John Cornelius “JC” McGhee, was murdered in cold blood in the doorway of his home. Madison was only six years old at the time, but decades later she began asking questions about his mysterious murder – and turned her gaze to her own family and the police to untangle a shady web of “coincidences” and conspiracies. Now, 29-year-old Madison returns for a second season of her gripping podcast Ice Cold Case and tells GLAMOR her story – and reveals why she trusts her intuition to find her father's murderer.

I still remember the moment I found out my father had been murdered. I was always told that he died of a heart attack. But when I visited my paternal family at the age of 16, the truth came to light.

I hadn't seen my grandmother for ten years, around the same time my father, her son, died. The visit had gone well and after I left the house I turned to wave goodbye to my cousin Omar who was standing outside on the porch. I had only met my father's nephew once before – at my father's funeral – but in that split second, seeing him again felt like a punch in the stomach; It physically took my breath away. I was struggling to breathe and even though I couldn't explain it – and still can't – I knew in my gut that something was wrong.

All I could think about was my father. I couldn't shake this eerie feeling that was coming over me and I tried desperately to piece it all together. Here, in the driveway of my grandmother's house, my mother finally had to tell me the truth: My father had been murdered, shot point-blank in his own front door – and his murderer had never been found.

In the years that followed, a natural curiosity took hold of me and I began to research the circumstances of his death. I requested the official report of the police investigation – a botched case that was never closed and a single suspect has never been brought to justice – and solemnly fanned the paperwork on the floor in front of me as I tried to put together pieces of an impossible puzzle .

As the story unfolded, I learned some uncomfortable truths about my father – a man known as a drug dealer, user and police informant – and yet I still felt strongly that he deserved better. The more I read, the more I had to figure out for myself what really happened to him and why. Was the case botched because he was Black? Twenty-two years ago, the Belmont County Police Department was predominantly white officers, and a lack of diversity would have led to bias, whether intentional or not. Did my father's custody battle with his ex Deneen play a role in the murder? Or could the fact that he informed his own family members to protect himself from prison be the key? I went back through the family tree and contacted cousins ​​and aunts I had no relationship with to find new information. But the more people I spoke to, the more shocked I was to discover a wealth of theories surrounding my father's murder. Unfortunately, none of them seemed noble or sincere.

According to the files, the day my father died went something like this: Omar, who lived next door to my father, reported a break-in around 6 a.m. Three or four men broke in, tied up my father's sister and Omar's girlfriend, and then spent 30 minutes searching the house for money. They specifically looked for a safe and ended up at my father's house with Omar in tow – a detail that immediately struck me as strange as I flipped through the pages. Why was he still there? Why was he the only one not tied up?