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went to Mexico to buy his cancer drugs. It wasn’t long before a series of fires occurred in empty homes and garages across the former copper-mining town. Police suspected juveniles. The Hagens feuded with a next-door neighbor, claiming he threw garbage into their yard and agitated their dog. One night, the neighbor, a border-patrol officer, heard a fuss at his window and found a kerosene-soaked rag on the sill. He called police, who set a trap, hoping to catch the culprit. Around 1 a.m., they saw a flash and rushed out, chasing a figure down a dark alley. It was Marjorie. She was charged with arson once again. She was jailed for eight months, unable to make bail. Wally, who’d been confined to a wheelchair, seemed to improve while she was gone. He was alert and drove around town, visiting restaurants and flirting with women. But when Marjorie was released, pending trial, Wally’s health deteriorated again. A neighbor said she was giving him pills to sleep. Wally testified at her arson trial, arriving in the Tucson courtroom on a gurney. He said Marjorie’s arthritis was so bad she couldn’t even hold a match. Jurors later saw him walking by himself in the parking lot. She was convicted of the attempted arson and would later plead no-contest to other arson charges. The stiff sentence: 15 years in prison, three times longer than Roger had spent behind bars after being found guilty of two murders. At Marjorie’s sentencing, she asked the judge for one more day of freedom to take care of Wally. The judge agreed, but police suspected she might flee to Mexico. They followed her back to Ajo and sent regular patrols by the house. The next day, an officer smelled natural gas coming from the house. He knocked. Marjorie said all was fine, that the pilot light had blown out on her stove. A few hours later, she called friends to tell them Wally was dead. Police found a piece of hose, cut just long enough to reach from the oven to the bedroom. Prescription pills lay near Wally’s body, along with a double suicide note, saying that she’d been unjustly accused and didn’t want to go to prison and that Wally’s health meant that he couldn’t live without her. They wished to be buried together, in one casket, along with their dog. “As we have only the three of us in life, we wish to have the three of ourselves together in death,” she’d written. Marjorie was arrested for murder. But as the deadline for calling a grand jury neared, prosecutors questioned if their evidence would hold up in court. Maybe it had been a planned double suicide; he’d gone first then she balked. The charge was dropped.
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Artful Living
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Magazine of the North
Wally’s three children wanted their father’s body returned to Minnesota to be buried next to their mother. Marjorie, from her prison cell, refused to release it. After a long, costly legal battle, a judge granted the children half his ashes; Marjorie got the other half. That’s when the Hagen family publicly wondered if she had been involved in their mother’s death, too. Two of Wally’s children attended a 2001 parole board hearing in Phoenix, where Marjorie, clad in a bright orange jumpsuit, was seeking early release. She took no responsibility for her actions and ranted to the board about how the Hagen children and I had caused her much trouble over the years. Several of her children had written letters to the board opposing early release. The ruling: no early parole. In 2004, having served a decade in prison, Marjorie moved to Tucson. Shortly after her release, her lawyer, Ed Bolding, called me to say she was broke and wanted to write a book to make big money. Would I help? No, I explained. There wouldn’t be any big money or even a book deal if she wasn’t more forthcoming about her role in the murders. I also mentioned it was probably not a good idea to go into business with Marjorie. Within a year, I learned that Marjorie had accused that attorney of stealing her money while she was in prison. Court records show that she receives about $4,800 a month from the Congdon estate and Wally’s pension, so there should have been a large accumulation waiting for her upon release. I scoffed at the idea that someone had scammed Marjorie; throughout her life, it’s always been Marjorie who’s done the scamming. But I was wrong. Bolding was convicted of embezzling $1 million from her and another client. In 2007, Marjorie befriended a man named Roger Sammis in an assisted-living home and offered to help with his finances. He soon died, but she kept writing checks — to herself. Police tried to determine his cause of death but learned that Marjorie had used her power of attorney to have him cremated. She was charged with fraud and forgery, and sentenced to intensive probation. Three years later, Marjorie went to court to try to get out of her probation so she could move into an assisted-living facility. The judge denied her request. Marjorie turns 85 this July. She still lives in Tucson. Joe Kimball first reported on the Glensheen murders back in the seventies as a rookie reporter for the Minneapolis Tribune. He is the author of the bestselling book Secrets of the Congdon Mansion.