As a result of the investigation and legal proceedings arising from B.J.’s death, the Miramichi police, in particular Detective Sergeant Paul Fiander, head of the detective bureau, and Detective Cummings, developed a new relationship with David and Maria. No longer did the police come to the door of the small apartment as potential opponents inquiring about drug dealing or stolen goods; now they came as compassionate public servants dealing with the grieving family of a murder victim. B.J.’s death was devastating to both David and Maria. He was Maria’s only child (she lost her only pregnancy with David to an ectopic pregnancy) and he was like another son to David. David had a son of his own from a prior relationship, but it was his stepson who lived with him and he had helped raise B.J. for a decade.
In his iconic book on homicide procedures, Practical Homicide Investigation, Vernon Geberth describes the important relationship between investigators and the victim’s family this way:
“Secondary victims are those persons left behind when a…child…is prematurely deprived of their life due to a homicide. These persons are the survivors. The homicide detective has a profound duty and an awesome responsibility in dealing with the surviving family in the murder investigation process.”3
Then he lists the duties of the responding detectives. They include dealing with the emotions of the surviving family, establishing a base of inquiry which does not further traumatize the survivors, providing information about the circumstances of the death and the progress of the investigation and guiding the family through the complicated and confusing criminal justice system. The detective, Geberth says, becomes an advocate for the deceased and the surviving family throughout the process.
It was through this role that the new relationship between the Tanasichuks and the police was born. Because of their concerns about David’s fierce temper and consequent fears that he would be tempted to avenge his stepson’s death by taking matters into his own hands rather than letting justice take its course, the police were more closely involved with the Tanasichuks than with the families of many crime victims. It was also true, though, that Miramichi is a small city where people tend to know each other. Often, there is not the same distance between police and citizens that sometimes exists.
Over the course of their dealings with B.J. Breau’s family, certain members of the Miramichi police, typically Detective Cummings and Detective Sergeant Fiander, spent a great deal of time with David and Maria. Both officers, themselves fathers deeply devoted to their own sons, were very sympathetic to the plight of parents trying to deal with the devastating loss of a child.
As she struggled to comprehend the loss, they saw Maria’s demeanor begin to change. Through her upbringing, her personal experience with the criminal justice system and her marriage to a convicted felon, Maria had developed a resentful and suspicious attitude toward the police. As she experienced their kindness and support during her awful grief, a softer woman emerged.
It was impossible to be unmoved as they watched this lively, fun-loving, dynamic woman become couch-bound by depression. In the months following B.J.’s death, Maria began spending her days huddled under her special “sooky” blanket and cuddling the small, stuffed red devil bear that had been her last gift from her son.4 Some days she never got out of her pajamas.
The detectives also understood how ordinary citizens can struggle to comprehend the slow and oftentimes infuriating mechanisms of the criminal justice system. In the case of B.J.’s death, that included such decisions as whether the perpetrator, who was just shy of his eighteenth birthday, should be charged as a juvenile or an adult. Supporters had collected 1500 signatures on a petition for the court to have B.J.’s attacker, who had allegedly threatened to “get him” earlier in the evening, tried as an adult. The authorities chose not to take this route. It became the task of the police to explain these decisions to the Tanasichuks, support them through the resulting horse-trading that went on regarding the nature of the sentence and then through the sentencing itself, always with an awareness of David’s impulsive nature and his potential for a violent reaction. Many who knew him expected violence from David.
In the real world, the criminal justice system is not as swift as it appears to be on TV shows. Cases take time to make their way slowly through the system, a pace that—with multiple hearings, continuances and adjournments—can be agonizing torture for the family, who must go to court repeatedly, confront the perpetrator and appear as representatives of the deceased.
Over the period of nearly a year between B.J.’s death and when his assailant was finally sentenced, Brian Cummings found himself becoming quite close to David and Maria. Their apartment was only a short drive from the police station. Sometimes his visits would be to update them on the case. At other times, it would be a “wellness check,” just a quick stop in to wish them the very best. Occasionally, because their finances were tight, he would bring them treats, dropping by around suppertime with a lobster for Maria to cook, because he knew that she loved lobster. He’d bring chicken or steak for David, who didn’t like lobster. Occasionally, if time permitted or the need seemed great, he might stay and eat with them.
The relationship was close enough, in his mind, that Cummings even briefly considered inviting them to his wedding, until he realized that the presence of a convicted felon would mean friends of his in the justice system would then be unable to attend.
At some point in the process, David Tanasichuk took a surprising step to demonstrate his good faith and his willingness to rely on the judicial process to secure justice for his stepson. He wrote a letter to the local paper, The Miramichi Leader, affirming that he would abide by the law and not seek revenge on B.J.’s killer, as many expected him to do.
In a letter that appeared in the September 12, 2000, edition of The Miramichi Leader, he began:
“As me and Maria mourn the loss of our son, B.J., I feel compelled to write this letter to express some of our thoughts.”
David went on to assert that although his son did not lead a life of privilege and had limited career options, “…Let me tell you, Mr. Cadogan, B.J. may not have come from your upper class rich family, but we did provide him with everything within our means, and anyone who knew B.J. could tell you, we did without so he would not. Do you really judge a person’s worth by the amount they or their families have, or by the love they give or receive?”
David continued, “The next issue I want to bring forward is the fact that Billy-Joe’s murderer has been given bail. Our son is dead, and he walks free waiting for trial. I’ll quote the judge in this case, ‘The accused has a right to an education.’ That makes me want to vomit. What about B.J.’s rights? I just wonder if this is a prime example of the justice we will get in this case. If this is true, then may God have mercy on us all.”
He then confronted a widespread assumption head-on: “…For the hundreds of people out there who are spreading this rumor that I may take the law in my own hands, I say to you all, ‘give it a rest.’ I truly believe that this is not what B.J. would have wanted me to do. B.J. would have wanted justice to run its course. So that is what I shall do.
“I just pray that there is justice for B.J. Because if there isn’t, may Satan have mercy on our souls [Tanasichuk considered himself to be a satanist]. Because that is where we’ll all be, in Hell. I’ll be waiting at the gates.”5
Another example of how changed the relationship had become between an angry felon who hated cops and sold drugs out his back door and the local police detectives concerned B.J.’s burial plot. B.J. Breau was buried in St. Michael’s Cathedral graveyard, within walking distance of the Tanasichuks’ house. Maria went there regularly in the harsh winter