The Missing Mother, the Violent Parolee, the Village Clerk, and the Chesney Connection: How Melissa Trumpy’s Disappearance Was Allowed to Happen
FREEPORT, IL – December 06, 2025
A Disappearance Surrounded by Silence
In many missing persons cases, there is confusion. There are questions. There are mistakes. But there is always someone asking, Where is she? What happened to her? How do we fix this?
When Melissa Trumpy vanished from inside the home of a government official on the night of October 26, 2021, there were no such questions asked by the people who should have been demanding them. There were no public statements from those in power, no outrage from elected officials, and, most disturbingly, no leadership from the state senator whose trusted political ally’s home was the last place Melissa was seen alive.
Instead, there was something far more damning: silence.
A Violent Man Freed Into Political Safety
Years before Melissa entered that basement in Shannon, Illinois, Derek Hammer’s violence was on full display in the Nevada criminal system. According to court records, Hammer held his ex‑girlfriend, Lyndsay Yates, hostage in a home later raided by a SWAT team, which found drugs and homemade explosives. He was convicted of battery by strangulation and possession of manufactured explosives.
At his 2018 parole hearing, Hammer showed no remorse, stating:
“I really haven’t thought much about this… I was under the impression no action was going to be taken.”
Action was taken. He was released. But not to supervision. Not to a halfway house.
He was released into the custody of a municipal official.
And not just any official — his mother, Denise Hammer, Village Clerk of Shannon, Illinois.
The Clerk Whose Loyalty Was to Power, Not Public Service
Denise Hammer operated in two worlds.
Publicly, she served as an elected gatekeeper of the town’s records — a civil servant with access to sensitive information and trusted community standing.
Privately, she was something else: a loyal volunteer, supporter, and donor to State Senator Andrew Chesney, a man who built his political persona on what he calls “law and order,” yet has never spoken a word about the felon she harbored, the woman who vanished under her roof, or the family left behind.
Denise contributed $700 to Chesney’s campaign in 2024, records show. Her brother‑in‑law, Joseph Hammer, had contributed earlier. The political access was undeniable. The network was tight. And when Derek Hammer repeatedly violated parole — traveling between states, committing crimes, ignoring no‑contact orders — the system looked away.
Parole officers looked away.
Police looked away.
And Senator Chesney looked away.
Melissa’s Descent Into a Relationship That Should Have Been Stopped
Before she met Derek, Melissa was rebuilding her life. She shared custody of her children with their father, Benny Affrunti, worked caring for the disabled, and lived quietly in Monticello, Wisconsin. But once Derek entered her world in 2019, everything began to unravel.
He introduced her to drugs, isolation, paranoia, and fear. She spent more nights inside the Hammer home, even after a child told a teacher that Derek had beaten Melissa and pointed a shotgun at her head. Police raided her home. A no‑contact order was issued.
And yet — nothing changed. Derek kept crossing the state line, violating parole to see her. Melissa returned to Shannon. And Denise allowed it.
A town clerk — sworn to uphold the law — enabled the man violating it.
A senator who runs on protecting families did nothing to protect hers.
A Chase, A Theft, and Still Nothing
In 2021, Hammer led police on a high‑speed chase through Wisconsin using a vehicle registered to Melissa. After crashing, he escaped and stole another car. Again, authorities questioned Melissa. Again, she refused to cooperate — terrified not just of Derek, but of what would happen if she betrayed the political household protecting him.
The system had made one thing clear:
Power would not be held accountable. Even if it killed her.
October 25–26, 2021: Fear in the Air
On October 25, Melissa attended a custody hearing. Afterward, she was questioned by Detective CJ Erdmann about Derek. The next hours set off a quiet alarm in Hammer’s mind. He couldn’t attend the hearing, but he spent the day frantically calling Melissa’s employer, demanding to know what she said and to whom.
The following night, Melissa told her employer, Nicole, a quadriplegic woman she cared for, that she would get food and then stop by the Hammer house to pick up her belongings.
She left at 10:30 p.m.
The house she entered had every reason to protect her.
It was the last place she was ever seen alive.
A 911 Call, A Seven‑Hour Vanishing Act
At 4:00 a.m., Village Clerk Denise Hammer called 911, reportedly shouting:
“I can’t unsee what happened… he won’t let me in the basement… lives are in danger!”
Sources have now confirmed that Denise Hammer made seven 911 calls beginning at 4 a.m. Any other situation like this — a violent felon, a frightened witness, a public servant begging for help — would trigger an immediate response.
Yet police did not arrive for seven hours.
Seven hours in which:
A Christmas tree bag and folding tables were loaded into Melissa’s rental vehicle
The vehicle traveled to a rural property owned by Brett Woessner
Items were possibly disposed of behind a hangar
The vehicle was abandoned with help from Jason Niesman
Derek stole another vehicle from a Shannon resident
And neighbors reported a fire burning in the Hammers’ backyard at in the early morning.
When SWAT finally arrived around 11:30 a.m., Derek surrendered. Denise was unharmed.
And Melissa was gone.
The Senator Who Says… NOTHING
Benny Affrunti, Melissa’s former partner, did what every grieving father must do: he begged those in power to help him. One of those calls was made to Senator Andrew Chesney’s office — the senator whose volunteer’s home held the answers.
He didn’t get help. He didn’t get compassion. He didn’t get a meeting.
Instead, he recalls being told:
“Trust the authorities. ”
A mother vanished from the home of his political ally.
Her kids lost everything.
And Chesney refused to the situation seriously.
That silence is not neutrality. It is complicity.
Then a New Voice Answered
In 2024, still desperate for answers, Benny reached out one more time. But this time he called someone not owned by the machine: Joshua T. Atkinson, then a candidate for Mayor of Freeport.
And for the first time, someone in public life listened.
Atkinson didn’t hide behind “I trust law enforcement to do their job.”
He didn’t tell Benny to go away.
He asked for proof. He asked questions. And then he showed up.
He drove across state lines to meet Benny in person.
He began filing FOIAs.
He contacted the Illinois Attorney General’s office.
He chased the leads everyone else ignored.
After the mayoral election ended, Atkinson did not walk away. He kept fighting. And his persistence finally forced action.
In the summer of 2025, the investigation resurfaced. Leads were pursued. Locations were re‑searched. For the first time in years, Melissa’s family received a real update.
The Candidate Who Lives Law and Order — Not Just Says It
Some politicians campaign on protecting families.
Others campaign on protecting themselves.
But there is something profoundly different about a leader who shows up not when the cameras are out, but when the family is alone, ignored, terrified, and forgotten.
Joshua T. Atkinson didn’t fight for Melissa because it was politically useful.
He fought because no one else would.
In Northwest Illinois, All Roads Lead to Chesney — And the Road Ends Here
When public officials shelter criminals, when police delay response to protect political insiders, when a senator runs from a grieving father, when silence becomes policy — that isn’t law and order.
That is corruption.
It is cowardice wrapped in campaign slogans.
It is exploitation disguised as leadership.
It is a system that protects the connected and punishes the powerless.
And it has run unchecked for far too long.
Melissa Deserves Justice. Northwest Illinois Deserves Better.
The case of Melissa Trumpy is not just a tragedy. It is a test.
Does northwest Illinois choose the politician who hid, who refused to answer, who shielded the people responsible?
Or does it choose the leader who has already proven he will stand against power, corruption, cowardice, and silence — even when no one is watching?
Fighting4Freeport stands with the family of Melissa Trumpy.
We stand with those demanding answers.
And we stand with the only candidate willing to confront the machine that allowed this to happen:
Joshua T. Atkinson.
