I especially wish to thank everyone I mentioned for their time, understanding, patience, and candor. Some generously provided me with original research materials, photos, and other documents that greatly benefitted my writing and understanding of the crimes themselves.
While researching this book I was especially touched by the honesty and openness of family members who have lost loved ones to murder or abduction. I cannot imagine anything more personal than sharing your feelings about how someone you cared for was brutally stolen, in some cases at a very young age. For the families of many victims, the loss affected their lives in ways many of us can never — and hopefully will never — know. In several chapters of Unsolved, I have incorporated the effects these murders have had on surviving family members, taking care not to victimize the families all over again. Likewise, while researching and writing this book, I have developed an even greater respect for members of many missing children organizations, and those who fight one of the greatest dangers facing children today: online predators. All of these people are dedicated volunteers who work with little or no funding and cannot be acknowledged enough for their hard work.
In addition, I would like to thank all the staff at Dundurn for their support, in particular president and publisher Kirk Howard, editorial director Michael Carroll, Tony Hawke, and assistant editor Cheryl Hawley. This book would not be possible without their assistance, and the generosity of the Ontario Arts Council.
My heartfelt thanks also to all staff working in branches of the Toronto Public Library. This book, and much of my work over the past twenty years, has benefitted from your knowledge, patience, and valuable assistance.
On a personal note, my deepest gratitude goes out to my wife, Elizabeth, for her unwavering support and tolerance of my absenteeism, sometimes for months at a time, while working on Unsolved.
Thanks always to Peter C. Newman for his encouragement and words of wisdom, and to the spirit of my mother, Ann Hoshowsky, for always watching over my shoulder.
It is my sincere wish, for the families and victims of the dead and disappeared in this book, that the guilty parties be brought to justice, and that their unsolved cases can finally be closed.
We are each of us responsible for the evil we might have prevented.
— James Martineau
WRITING A BOOK ABOUT UNSOLVED crimes — as I have found out — is a physically, spiritually, and emotionally unsettling experience. Over the course of researching and writing Unsolved: True Canadian Cold Cases my thoughts kept going back to a well-known character from Greek mythology by the name of Sisyphus. Condemned by Zeus to Tartarus — a monstrous place deep below the underworld — his punishment was to roll an enormous boulder up a hill, only to have it tumble back down the steep slope time and time again, for all eternity. The task was maddening, repetitive, unforgiving, and without end. For families of the murdered and the missing whose crimes remain unsolved, every re-examination of their case, every anniversary marking the death or disappearance of their loved one, every tip or clue that starts out promising but eventually leads nowhere, keeps bringing them back to the very same spot they started years before.
When someone is murdered or vanishes, never to be found, a void is left behind that never completely closes. There is something especially cruel about unsolved crimes and the pain that comes from not knowing who took the life of someone you love, why they were killed, and what happened to their remains. For the parents and surviving siblings, life the way it was before the crime comes to a sudden stop and can never be the same again. Even years later, the slim hope that their missing youngster is alive and might still be reunited with their family keeps coming back, as do the thoughts that they are likely dead, and that their bodies may never be recovered.
Sometimes, families of victims learn about new developments in their case when a piece of evidence is uncovered, forensic facial reconstructions unveiled, hidden genetic information revealed through DNA tests, or long-silent witnesses come forward to tell their story. Identifying skeletal remains after many decades, as in the case of Richard “Dickie” Hovey and Eric Jones, may bring families some satisfaction, but never closure. Reuniting missing family members and burying them alongside other relatives fills in large pieces of the puzzle but not the whole picture, especially if the person who took their life remains unapprehended and unpunished. In some instances, families talk to cold case detectives every few years about their case, resurrecting every single painful detail over and over again. Did they have any enemies? Were they involved with drugs, or gangs? Was there anyone who paid your child too much unwanted attention? Did they have any unpaid debts, or gambling problems? Can you think of anyone who would want them dead?
The families portrayed in Unsolved have given countless interviews to the media — often on the anniversary of their brother, sister, mother, father, or child’s death or disappearance — and remain cautious, even guarded, about their emotions, never allowing themselves to become too excited about potential “new breakthroughs” or “exciting developments” in the crimes. Being hopeful is one thing, and being realistic is something else entirely. If tips come forward in their cold case it’s easy to get caught up in the anticipation that the guilty will be brought to trial, and after so many years justice will finally be served. If the information leads nowhere, as often happens, and there is no resolution, the boulder rolls back downhill to the foot of the mountain, families gather the pieces of their soul, and the rebuilding process starts all over again.
When someone’s life comes to a violent, abrupt end, the mourning process for the family members is fractured and incomplete. There is nothing natural or normal about murder. Losing a family member slowly over time allows grief to come in stages, not all at once, as those left behind struggle to prepare themselves for the inevitability of death. A loved one lost to homicide often creates overwhelming feelings of anger, grief, and guilt that can consume people for the rest of their lives. The shock is sometimes too much to bear, and no two people experience emotions the same way or for the same amount of time. Just as there is no statute of limitations on murder, there are no rules for how long someone will feel the pain, frustration, fear, and fault when someone they care about is killed. Some take solace in their faith, believing in a higher power and the thought that they will eventually be reunited in the afterlife. For others, friends and family endlessly repeat overused phrases like, “It is God’s will,” and, “Time heals all wounds,” are of little comfort, as many question why a supreme being, if one exists, would allow someone they love to die such a brutal death.
Fortunately, there are numerous victims’ rights groups that provide assistance to grieving families of murder victims. Some, like the Toronto Police Victim Services Department, offer material on resources, support groups, and the police investigative process. For many families the officer in charge (OIC) becomes their lifeline, the person they can call upon to find out where the investigation into the homicide of their family member stands. While some simply want to know when the person who took their relative’s life is caught, others want to be as much a part of the entire criminal process as possible, from investigation to arrest, and trial to sentencing. Those left behind to mourn are sometimes called homicide survivors. They are the other victims of crime, the living relatives of the dead whose rights have, for many years, been forgotten by society or ignored altogether. The Canadian Resource Centre for Victims of Crime poignantly states the realities facing families of murder victims: “No amount of counselling, prayer, justice, restitution or compassion can ever bring a loved one back.” The emotional reactions some of these survivors have — including shock, guilt, anger, and depression — can lead to adverse physical symptoms, such as nausea, nightmares, increased blood pressure, and loss of appetite. Dealing with other family members, friends, and co-workers can become difficult, sometimes impossible. If these symptoms last a month or more following the murder, it is possible to be diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
The number of families that fall apart