The brutal killing of Cindy Schulz-Juedes inside Wisconsin’s Taycheedah Correctional Institution in July 2023 has exposed a chilling tale of paranoia, mental health struggles, and the violent consequences of untreated psychosis behind prison walls.
Taylor Sanchez, a 29-year-old inmate, was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole after pleading no contest to the murder. Her victim, a 68-year-old woman serving a life sentence for her own deadly crime, was found dead in a pool of blood with injuries so severe that prosecutors said her skull had “too many fractures to count.”
This shocking incident raises troubling questions about prison safety, mental health treatment within correctional institutions, and the dynamics of confining individuals suffering from psychological disorders alongside others in overcrowded, often under-resourced facilities.
A Paranoid Delusion Turned Deadly
Taylor Sanchez was serving a relatively short two-year sentence for battery in Kenosha County when she was assigned a cell with Cindy Schulz-Juedes at the Taycheedah Correctional Institution, one of Wisconsin’s major facilities for female offenders. Schulz-Juedes, by contrast, was already several years into a life sentence for her conviction in the 2006 killing of her husband, Kenneth Juedes.
On a day in July 2023, prison staff found Schulz-Juedes lying dead in her cell, surrounded by blood and marked with extreme physical trauma. The only other person in the cell was Sanchez, who soon told officers and investigators that she had been “hearing voices” instructing her to kill her cellmate. Investigators later uncovered disturbing details of a phone call between Sanchez and her mother, in which she expressed delusional thoughts and paranoia that Schulz-Juedes had used her toothbrush to scrub the toilet and clean the floors.
“I stopped taking my meds and I started hearing voices again,” Sanchez reportedly told her mother. “I thought she was using my toothbrush to scrub the toilet…I thought she was using my stuff to wipe the floor with and I thought she was messing with me.”
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Her statements paint a portrait of someone descending into a severe psychotic break—one that might have been prevented if consistent mental health care had been in place. In a moment of explosive violence, those delusions turned into a fatal act of aggression, costing another inmate her life and leading Sanchez down a path that would strip her of any future hope of release.
The Victim: A Convicted Murderer with a Controversial Past
Cindy Schulz-Juedes was not an innocent bystander in the justice system. Her presence in Taycheedah stemmed from a high-profile case that had puzzled Wisconsin authorities for years. In 2006, her husband Kenneth Juedes was found shot to death in the couple’s home. It wasn’t until 2021—fifteen years later—that Schulz-Juedes was convicted of first-degree intentional homicide and obstruction of justice in connection with that crime.
Prosecutors contended that she killed her husband to gain access to more than $900,000 in life insurance benefits. She had claimed to be sleeping in a camper outside the house the night of the murder, only discovering his body the next morning. Investigators believed this was a carefully crafted alibi, and after years of review and eventual charges, she was convicted and sentenced to life in prison without parole in 2022.
Thus, two women with violent histories found themselves confined together. One had already taken a life for financial gain, and the other—plagued by voices and untreated delusions—would end up taking another. It was a deadly combination, one that the prison system either failed to recognize or couldn’t effectively manage due to resource limitations.
The Aftermath: A Life Sentence and a System Under Scrutiny
Taylor Sanchez originally entered a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity. This was not a surprising defense, given the clear evidence of her mental instability at the time of the killing. However, by June 30, 2024, she changed her plea to no contest, effectively acknowledging the evidence against her without admitting guilt. On July 29, Judge Tricia Walker handed down a life sentence with no chance of parole, calling the attack “wholly vicious.”
Prosecutors revealed that Schulz-Juedes had sustained 34 rib fractures in addition to the numerous skull fractures, as well as various bruises and trauma indicative of a brutal beating. This level of violence, said Fond du Lac County District Attorney Eric Toney, posed a risk not only to other inmates but to correctional officers as well.
“Every victim matters, regardless of their status or if they are serving a criminal sentence,” Toney said in a public statement. “This defendant brutally murdered her cellmate and created dangerous risks for other inmates and correctional officers. We hope this sentence sends a strong message to inmates that there are consequences for committing crimes in our prisons.”
That message, while clear, does little to address the broader systemic issue: How does a violent, paranoid inmate in a psychotic state, known to have stopped taking her medication, end up alone with another person in a confined space? Did anyone notice the signs of her decompensating mental health before it reached the point of deadly violence?
The case has reignited debates around mental health care in prisons. Many U.S. correctional facilities are unequipped to handle inmates with serious psychiatric disorders. While resources vary by state and institution, the lack of adequate psychological care and monitoring is a national concern. Inmates with mental illnesses often go undiagnosed, unmedicated, or untreated—until it’s too late.
Taylor Sanchez’s mother, to whom she confessed delusions during a phone call, might have been the only person aware of her daughter’s mental state at the time. But by then, the murder had already occurred. The warning signs, if they existed, were either ignored or unnoticed by prison staff.
And for Cindy Schulz-Juedes, herself a convicted murderer, there was no one left to speak for her. Her death might be a grim case of karmic justice in some public opinions, but to the state, she was still a person who deserved safety while in custody—regardless of her past crimes.
Her family, if they remain involved, has not released a public statement. But the loss underscores that within the prison system, there is a basic expectation: those who are incarcerated are still under the protection and care of the state. When that system fails, even those who have committed unspeakable acts become victims of its cracks.
As the Taycheedah Correctional Institution faces inevitable reviews of its procedures and oversight protocols, one thing is clear—two women entered that cell alive, and only one walked out. Now, she too will never walk free again.