As we continue our Founding Five series, we honor Glenn A. Mueller—a United States Marine, Correctional Officer, respected Warden and longtime Chairman whose strength, compassion and unmistakable presence helped guide the Correctional Peace Officers Foundation for nearly four decades.

There are people whose presence can fill a room before they say a word.

Glenn Mueller was one of those people.

Tall in stature and commanding in presence, Glenn earned the nickname “Boss Hogg” during his correctional career. Yet those who knew him understood that the respect he commanded was matched by the respect he gave to others. Behind the strong exterior was a man of deep compassion—a storyteller, historian, devoted family man and steadfast advocate for the correctional profession.

Glenn was one of the five founders of the Correctional Peace Officers Foundation and served as its first and longest-tenured Chairman. Alongside Don Novey, Larry Corby, Sal Osuna and Richard “Dick” Waldo, he helped transform an idea shared by a small group of California correctional professionals into a national organization dedicated to supporting correctional employees and their families.

For most of CPOF’s existence during Glenn’s lifetime, his voice was the one welcoming members, honoring the fallen, thanking supporters and reminding correctional professionals to watch one another’s backs.

He did not simply help establish CPOF.

He helped carry its vision forward.

From Minnesota to the United States Marine Corps

Glenn A. Mueller was born on July 16, 1944, in New Prague, Minnesota. One of six children born to Arnold and Esther Mueller, Glenn carried the values and memories of his Minnesota upbringing throughout his life.

He was proud of where he came from. Even after building his career and family in California, Minnesota remained close to his heart—as did his enduring loyalty to the Minnesota Vikings.

Glenn eventually left Minnesota to serve his country in the United States Marine Corps. He was proud to be a Marine and a rifleman, and the discipline, loyalty and sense of responsibility he carried from that service remained evident throughout the rest of his life.

After being stationed overseas and completing his military service, Glenn briefly returned home before making his way to California. There, in 1968, he began the career that would define much of his life.

He joined the California Department of Corrections as a Correctional Officer at Folsom State Prison.

Working His Way Through the Ranks

Over the next 32 years, Glenn promoted through the correctional ranks and served at several California institutions, including Folsom State Prison, California Medical Facility in Vacaville and Mule Creek State Prison in Ione.

In the early 1980s, he helped organize one of California corrections’ first Special Emergency Response Teams and served as second in command of the newly formed unit. The assignment reflected the qualities Glenn brought to his work: confidence, preparation, leadership and a willingness to assume responsibility in the most difficult circumstances.

His career eventually brought him back to Folsom State Prison, where his correctional journey had begun.

In 1996, Glenn was appointed Warden of Folsom State Prison. He remained in that position until his retirement in May 2000, completing 32 years of dedicated state service.

Becoming Warden of Folsom was a fitting culmination to Glenn’s career. He had entered the institution as a Correctional Officer and returned decades later to lead it.

However, rank never erased Glenn’s understanding of what it meant to work the line.

He knew the dangers correctional professionals faced because he had faced them himself. He understood the importance of trusting a partner, watching a coworker’s back and ensuring staff returned safely to their families at the end of a shift.

Years later, writing as Chairman of CPOF, Glenn continued to remind correctional employees across the country of that responsibility:

“Please, always watch your partner’s back.”

It was more than a closing line. It reflected the way Glenn viewed the profession—as a family whose members carried a responsibility to protect and care for one another.

Understanding the Weight of the Profession

Years before Glenn became Warden of Folsom State Prison or Chairman of a national foundation, he spoke candidly about life as a Correctional Officer.

In a published profile from his early years at Folsom, a much younger Glenn described what he believed was one of the profession’s greatest challenges: the constant psychological pressure placed upon an officer throughout the day.

“Things will happen that are really very hard to explain until you’ve lived through them,” he said.

Glenn explained that after leaving work, it could take him an hour or longer to relax enough to listen to the problems his children had experienced that day. The tension did not simply disappear when an officer walked through the prison gate. It traveled home with them, affecting marriages, families and their ability to return immediately to ordinary life.

He also described the reality of working a floor occupied by hundreds of incarcerated people, including individuals convicted of violent crimes. At the time, there might be only two officers working the floor, with an armed officer positioned above them. The only protection carried by those working directly among the population was a whistle.

Glenn spoke openly about manipulation, assaults and the constant need to remain alert. He explained that officers could be lured into cells through staged emergencies and recalled an incident in which an officer was stabbed in the throat with a sharpened toothbrush.

Yet the article also captured Glenn’s ability to hold two truths at once.

“This is really a great place to work,” he said, noting that there could be as many laughs inside a prison as in almost any other workplace.

He described relationships with incarcerated people as professional, while acknowledging the awareness every officer carried in the back of their mind: circumstances could become deadly without warning.

The profile reveals the Glenn so many people later came to know. He did not romanticize corrections or minimize its dangers. He understood the toll the profession could take upon officers and their families because he had lived it himself.

But he also believed in the work.

That combination—honesty about the danger, pride in the profession and concern for the families carrying its unseen burdens—helps explain why CPOF’s mission became so personal to him.

Glenn did not help create the Foundation based on a distant understanding of correctional work. He helped create it from the floor of Folsom State Prison, from the experiences he carried home at the end of a shift and from the knowledge that the people doing this work needed someone who truly understood.

Helping Advance the Correctional Profession

Bringing Authenticity to The Jericho Mile

Glenn’s knowledge of Folsom State Prison also brought him briefly into the world of filmmaking. When The Jericho Mile was filmed on location at Folsom in the late 1970s, Glenn served as a consultant to the production and appeared on screen as an actor. Filming inside an operating maximum-security prison required far more than a convincing set—it required an understanding of the institution, its people, and the constant realities of working behind the walls. Glenn brought that firsthand knowledge to the production, helping the filmmakers portray prison life with greater authenticity. His involvement was another reflection of what made him such a respected voice in corrections: he understood the profession from the inside, took its dangers seriously, and wanted the public to see the difficult work correctional officers performed every day.

The Jericho Mile, directed by Michael Mann, was filmed inside Folsom State Prison and originally aired in 1979. The production combined professional actors with members of the prison population and was filmed within the operating institution.

Glenn’s commitment to correctional professionals extended beyond his institutional assignments.

He became active in the California Correctional Officers Association, the organization that preceded the California Correctional Peace Officers Association. During the association’s formative years, Glenn served in leadership, including as State Executive Vice President.

In 1978, Glenn helped negotiate the establishment of a gold badge for California Correctional Officers. The achievement was about more than changing the color or appearance of a badge. It was part of a larger movement to ensure correctional officers received the professional recognition and respect their responsibilities deserved.

The badge numbers were initially assigned according to institutional seniority, beginning with California’s oldest institutions, including San Quentin and Folsom, and then alphabetically among eligible officers.

For Glenn, symbols mattered because they communicated something important. The badge represented authority, responsibility and professional identity. It recognized that those working inside correctional institutions were an essential part of public safety.

Glenn later served as Executive Vice President of CCPOA, continuing to advocate for the people working the toughest beat in public service.

His leadership within CCOA and CCPOA helped improve recognition for correctional officers. But Glenn also understood that professional recognition alone was not enough.

When tragedy struck, correctional families needed more than recognition.

They needed help.

Five Men and a Shared Vision

In the early 1980s, Glenn joined Larry Corby, Don Novey, Sal Osuna and Richard “Dick” Waldo around a vision that was both simple and revolutionary.

They wanted to focus on the spouses and children of Correctional Officers and Corrections Staff who were killed or otherwise died in the line of duty.

Four of the men—Glenn, Larry, Don and Sal—had worked as Correctional Officers at Folsom State Prison. Dick worked as a Group Supervisor with the California Department of the Youth Authority at the Karl Holton School in Stockton.

Together, they understood something the wider public often did not: corrections was a relatively small and frequently overlooked part of the law enforcement community, but the grief experienced when a correctional professional died in the line of duty was no less profound.

Behind every fallen employee was a family whose life had changed forever.

The founders believed those families deserved more than a collection taken up after a tragedy. They deserved an organization that would remain beside them, offer meaningful assistance and ensure their loved one’s sacrifice was never forgotten.

It took several years, a tremendous amount of work and the help of others who believed in their cause before the Correctional Peace Officers Foundation received official recognition as a national 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization.

What emerged from that work was an organization unlike anything that had existed for the correctional profession.

Glenn became CPOF’s first Chairman.

It was a responsibility he would carry for most of the rest of his life.

The Chairman

Glenn’s leadership helped guide CPOF from its earliest years into a national organization serving correctional professionals across the United States.

The Foundation expanded into more states and counties. Payroll deduction programs were established. Membership grew. Field Representatives carried the mission into facilities across the country. Catastrophic Assistance reached families facing serious illness, injury, disaster and loss.

PROJECT 2000 became an annual gathering where fallen correctional professionals were honored and their surviving families were welcomed into a community that would remember them for years to come.

Scholarships were established to support the educational goals of correctional employees and their children. A National Honor Guard was formed to ensure CPOF could be present when one of its own died in the line of duty.

Glenn took great pride in each of these accomplishments, but he never claimed them as his alone.

In his messages to CPOF members, he repeatedly thanked the people who had helped the Foundation become a national correctional charity. He credited Supporting Members, volunteers, representatives, staff, Board members and correctional professionals who served as CPOF’s eyes and ears within their facilities.

Glenn understood that even with computers, email and the internet, CPOF could not help a family if no one made the call.

He frequently reminded members to contact the Foundation when a coworker had been assaulted, experienced a catastrophic event or needed a hand up. He knew the strength of CPOF depended on correctional professionals looking out for one another.

As Chairman, Glenn’s voice carried authority. More importantly, it carried sincerity.

He knew the profession.

He knew the risks.

And he knew what was at stake for the families waiting at home.

A National Honor Guard for Corrections

One of the goals Glenn and the CPOF Board were especially determined to achieve was the creation of a National Honor Guard Team devoted to the correctional profession.

With the expertise and leadership of Commander Steve Dizmon, that goal became a reality.

The CPOF National Honor Guard was established to represent the nationwide correctional community at funerals and memorial services when a correctional professional was killed or otherwise died in the line of duty.

Glenn understood the meaning of presence.

Sometimes line-of-duty deaths occurred only days apart, making it impossible to send a large contingent to every service. In those cases, only two or three members of the National Honor Guard might be able to attend.

But they were there.

That mattered to Glenn.

Their presence told a grieving family that their loved one’s service was recognized beyond the walls of one institution or the borders of one state. It demonstrated that correctional professionals across the country were united in their loss.

The National Honor Guard became a visible expression of the promise Glenn and the other founders had made: no correctional family should face tragedy alone.

The Heart of PROJECT 2000

PROJECT 2000 held a special place in Glenn’s life and leadership.

Each year, correctional professionals, surviving family members, volunteers and supporters gathered to honor those lost in the line of duty. Glenn helped attendees understand that PROJECT was not a conference in the traditional sense.

It was a reunion.

It was a memorial.

It was a place where families who had experienced the worst day of their lives could meet others who understood—and return year after year to remain connected to the correctional family.

Glenn spoke at each PROJECT event, welcoming attendees, honoring the fallen and explaining the mission of the organization he had helped create.

He also carried the weight of knowing that each new line-of-duty death meant another family would be welcomed under circumstances no one would choose.

In one of his messages, Glenn expressed the hope shared at every Memorial Ceremony: that there might someday be a year when CPOF had no fallen correctional professionals to recognize.

He also acknowledged the painful reality that such a year was unlikely.

Still, Glenn remained committed to ensuring that whenever tragedy occurred, CPOF would be ready.

He believed deeply that honoring the fallen required remembering their families—not only during the funeral or memorial, but throughout the years that followed.

That commitment helped define PROJECT and remains at its heart today.

Building a National Family

Glenn had a particular ability to draw people into the CPOF mission.

Jay West, who had worked alongside Glenn, Larry Corby and Sal Osuna at Folsom State Prison, recalled that Glenn contacted him after his retirement and offered him a position representing CPOF in New York.

The position was volunteer.

As Jay later joked, Glenn knew exactly which words to use.

That invitation led Jay and his wife, Ellie, into years of service across New York, introducing correctional professionals to CPOF and assisting families in need.

It was one example of how Glenn grew the organization: relationship by relationship, conversation by conversation and person by person.

He recognized people who understood the profession and invited them to become part of something larger. He trusted them to carry the mission into places CPOF had not yet reached.

The national network that resulted was not simply a system of representatives. It became a family of people united around the promise of taking care of their own.

A Storyteller and Historian

Those who knew Glenn remember that he loved a good story—especially one connected to correctional history.

His decades at Folsom and other California institutions gave him an extraordinary collection of experiences. He could speak about the evolution of the profession, the people who shaped it and the events that changed it.

He did not treat history as something distant. He understood that the decisions and sacrifices of earlier correctional professionals had created the profession inherited by those serving today.

When Glenn spoke, people listened.

Part of that came from his natural presence. Part came from his experience. But much of it came from the passion and pride with which he spoke about the people and places that mattered to him.

He had a way of making listeners feel the importance of the story.

Through recorded remarks from PROJECT and other CPOF events, Glenn’s own voice continues to explain the Foundation’s beginnings and its purpose. Those recordings allow future generations to hear directly from the man who led CPOF through so much of its history.

They preserve more than information.

They preserve Glenn.

The Man Beyond the Title

Glenn’s professional titles were impressive: Marine, Correctional Officer, emergency response leader, association executive, Warden, founder and Chairman.

But none of them fully described the man his family and friends knew.

Glenn and his wife, Elizabeth “Liz” Mueller, raised their family in the greater Sacramento area. Together, they cared for her children and his son and later became proud grandparents and great-grandparents.

In his later years, it was unusual to see Glenn without at least one of his grandchildren nearby.

He cared for them deeply, and the way he spoke about them revealed his pride and gratitude for the happiness they brought into his life.

The strength Glenn showed in his professional life was matched by tenderness toward his family. He was an avid hunter, a collector, a fan of good barbecue and a fiercely loyal Minnesota Vikings supporter.

For those of us fortunate enough to know him personally, Glenn was more than the Chairman whose name appeared in the magazine or whose voice opened a PROJECT ceremony. He was someone whose stories, humor, guidance and presence became part of our own CPOF experience.

He commanded respect simply by entering a room—but he also made people feel that their work, their history and their place within the correctional family mattered.

That combination of strength and warmth is difficult to describe and impossible to replace.

Saying Goodbye to the Chairman

Glenn Mueller passed away on October 14, 2022, at the age of 78.

His passing marked the loss of a man whose adult life had been devoted to service—to his country, the State of California, the correctional profession, CPOF and his family.

Folsom State Prison remembered Glenn’s dedication and service to his country and correctional professionals nationwide as unsurpassed.

That description was fitting.

Glenn’s life had come full circle at Folsom. It was where he began as a Correctional Officer, where he concluded his state career as Warden and where the relationships and experiences that led to CPOF had taken root.

His death left an enormous absence within the organization he had helped establish and guide.

But it did not end his influence.

A Place to Pause and Remember

In June 2025, at PROJECT 2000 XXXVI in Bloomington, Minnesota, CPOF dedicated a commemorative bench in Glenn’s memory at the Normandale Lake Bandshell.

The location was especially meaningful. Minnesota was the state Glenn had carried in his heart throughout his life.

Members of Glenn’s family, including his siblings, joined correctional professionals and CPOF families for the dedication. Their presence reflected the familial spirit Glenn had championed throughout his years with the Foundation.

The bench is more than a place to sit.

It is a place to pause.

It is a reminder of service, quiet strength, courage and compassion. It provides a permanent space in Glenn’s home state where people can reflect upon a man whose influence reached correctional families across the country.

Glenn’s name may be etched into that bench, but his legacy is etched far more deeply into CPOF.

The Vision Lives On

Glenn once acknowledged that the Founding Five never imagined CPOF would become the organization it did.

They began with a vision centered on the spouses and children of fallen correctional professionals. Through decades of work, that vision expanded into a nationwide system of support for thousands of correctional families.

Glenn witnessed much of that growth from the Chairman’s seat.

He saw Supporting Members grow from a small group into tens of thousands across the country. He saw PROJECT develop into a national gathering. He saw the National Honor Guard become a source of dignity and comfort. He saw scholarships open doors for correctional families and Catastrophic Assistance offer relief during illness, injury, disaster and loss.

Yet through every stage of that growth, Glenn continued returning to the same essential truths:

Correctional professionals face dangers the public rarely sees.

Their families share in the sacrifices of the profession.

CPOF relies on people inside the correctional community to be its eyes and ears.

And no one protects this family better than the people who understand it.

Glenn helped create an organization built on those truths.

He then spent nearly four decades ensuring it never lost sight of them.

As we honor the Founding Five, we remember Glenn A. Mueller: United States Marine, Correctional Officer, Warden, association leader, storyteller, historian, founding Director, Chairman, husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather and friend.

He helped give correctional professionals a national voice.

He helped give grieving families a place to belong.

He helped build a Foundation capable of turning compassion into action.

And he reminded us, always, to watch one another’s backs.

Glenn A. Mueller
July 16, 1944–October 14, 2022

If you knew Glenn, worked with him, attended PROJECT with him or have photographs and memories of his service, we invite you to share them with CPOF. Every story helps preserve the legacy of a man whose leadership, compassion and unmistakable presence helped make this Foundation what it is today.