Mike on Crime (29 page)

“I loved my son T.J. from the day he opened his eyes until the day you closed them,” Floyd Wiebe said while reading a new victim impact statement in court. He then walked past a poster-sized picture of his son that was on display in the courtroom and gave it a kiss. “The fact... people planned for my son to die is unfathomable. There is no reason T.J. should have been murdered. Every time I hear of the plan to kill him, I get sick to my stomach and go into a very dark hole.” Wiebe said.

His wife, Karen, told court the killing and subsequent drawn-out legal process had taken a heavy emotional and physical toll on her family. She recently had back surgery to relieve stress-induced pain, while Floyd had suffered two heart attacks.

Urichen was ultimately sentenced to 12 years. It was a far cry from the life sentence he faced had he been convicted of the original murder charge.

“No time is enough. It won't bring our son back,” Karen Wiebe said outside court.

A third accused had just struck a last-minute deal to resolve his case without going to trial. Chad Handsor was set to begin his first-degree murder jury case but admitted to the lesser offence of second-degree murder. At his sentencing hearing, he offered a sobbing apology for his role in the crime. He was given a mandatory life sentence and had his parole eligibility raised to 15 years—the same penalty given months earlier to co-accused Anthony Pulsifer.

Once again, the Wiebes directly confronted the killer in court. “What gave you the right to take my son's life? Every day I get to my office and say good morning to a photo of T.J. on my desk. That's not good enough. I want to be able to hug my son, to speak with him. But I can't,” said Floyd Wiebe. Karen Wiebe described the constant nightmares she had of her son losing his struggle to live. “Do you see the fear that I see in my dreams?” she asked Handsor.

The victim's younger brother, Chad Wiebe, said he didn't believe Handsor was remorseful. “I saw you look at me in court one day and laugh. You killed my brother. Pleading guilty only says you didn't want to be convicted of first-degree murder,” he said.

APRIL 2006

He was the alleged mastermind of a notorious murder. The three men he allegedly recruited to carry out the crime had already been sent to prison. But the 20-year-old Winnipegger wouldn't be going down with them. In a stunning decision, he walked out of court a free man after Queen's Bench Justice Joan McKelvey found him not guilty of first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder. The man, who couldn't be named because he was 17 at the time of the slaying, had managed to dodge a legal bullet by the slimmest of margins.

“There are clearly very suspicious issues... involving this accused. He had a motive. There was evidence, albeit from unreliable sources, that he set in motion the plan to kill T.J. Wiebe. However, there are huge gaps in the evidence,” wrote McKelvey. “It is difficult, if not impossible, to determine what happened in this case involving this accused without making quantum leaps and speculating as to the nature and intent of the evidence. This difficulty is particularly enhanced given the haze of drug abuse under which all these young people operated.”

McKelvey called Wiebe's killing “an act of extreme depravity and brutality.” “He lost his life and has left a family and friends who mourn him on a daily basis. The tragedy involves not only the loss of life, but the milieu of drugs which overtook this group of young people,” she said. “While I may believe or have suspicions that this accused had some part in the untimely death of T.J. Wiebe, I cannot be satisfied beyond a reasonable doubt.”

The accused broke out in a huge smile while his father, a major executive at a high-profile Winnipeg company, hugged his wife and other family members. Wiebe's stunned family, friends and supporters—including relatives of several other recent Manitoba homicide victims—were angered by the verdict, shouting “Shame on you” and “Where's the justice?” towards McKelvey as she left court.

Floyd Wiebe said it was difficult to understand how the man who allegedly came up with the plan to kill his son could escape blame. “Society should be very scared. If the justice system was working properly, he'd go down like the other three,” he said outside court. Wiebe noted that several judges had previously commented on the strength of the Crown's case against the youth.

“The evidence showed [the youth] planned this murder, supplied the weapons of death, received drugs afterward and even bleached the supplied murder weapon,” Queen's Bench Justice Brenda Keyser said in her March 2004 decision to deny the youth bail.

“The evidence points the finger at [the youth], as the absolute main planner of this murder. It all started with him,” said provincial court Judge Lynn Stannard in her December 2004 decision to order the youth to stand trial following a preliminary hearing. The youth was accused of recruiting Dominic Urichen, Anthony Pulsifer and Chad Handsor to kill Wiebe, whom he believed had stolen drugs from him. He may have also been jealous of Wiebe for being friends with his girlfriend, court was told.

“Without [the youth], T.J. would be alive. These three people were hired hit men who didn't even know my son. [The youth] did,” said Floyd Wiebe.

The mother of the youth accused had testified how she was losing her grip on the drug-addicted teen in the months before the grisly killing. “He was very pale, always had dark rims around his eyes, was very skinny. He was always stoned,” she told court. “He very rarely remembered much of what we talked about.”

Pulsifer had previously told police in a videotaped statement that the youth accused had hired him to do the grisly job. However, the Crown's case against the youth took a major hit when Pulsifer retracted his entire statement at the youth's trial. He now claimed he and Handsor concocted a bogus story to implicate the teen.

Handsor claimed he played no role in Wiebe's killing, but implicated the youth when testifying for the Crown. However, he also admitted to dozens of lies in his original police statement. “Handsor's evidence cannot be relied upon. He is incapable of the truth. Handsor was caught in so many lies it would be dangerous to in any way rely upon his testimony,” McKelvey said in reaching her decision.

Meanwhile, the Crown had tried to call the final co-accused, Dominic Urichen, but he had refused to testify. That led to him being cited for contempt of court—and slapped with an extra year behind bars in addition to the 12 he was already serving. Urichen blamed his silence on not wanting to be labeled a “rat.”

“Compliance of the law isn't optional. And there will be consequences for failing to testify,” McKelvey told him. “This was, without question, an interference with the administration of justice.”

One that had greatly helped the alleged puppet master of the murder plot go free.

MAY 2007

They knew all about the horror of losing a child to drugs—and then to violence. And now they were planning to do everything in their power to prevent more families from going through a similar hell. In the years since T.J's death, the Wiebes had become strong local advocates on behalf of victims—opening up their home and cabin to other families of slain children and often sitting side-by-side with them during painful court proceedings. And now they were attempting to affect change on an even bigger scale with an ambitious fundraising effort. Their son's memory would be front and centre when the Wiebe's hosted the first-ever “TJ's Gift—A Gala Evening.”

The goal was simple. The Wiebes planned to raise at least $40,000 which would go into sustaining The T.J. Wiebe Education and Awareness Fund, which was set up after their son's tragic death as a means of keeping his memory alive and steering others away from the dangerous lifestyle that reeled him in. The Louis Riel School Division had partnered with the Wiebes and would provide students access to the fund for peer education and drug awareness projects.

“We need to reach as many kids as possible,” said Karen Wiebe. “We know kids will listen to other kids. And we can provide them with another vehicle for education,” added Floyd Wiebe. Getting funding for a project—be it a school play, a lecture series or a science project—would come with a major commitment.

“They have to take a drug free oath,” said Floyd Wiebe. “Now, I realize it's just a piece of paper they sign. But I truly believe that if a kid who's maybe 13 and signs that, and two years later is in a position [where drugs are present or being offered], well, maybe he or she remembers what they signed and it's another cog to make a positive choice,” he said.

The Wiebes had been overwhelmed with support from family, friends and even complete strangers—both after their son was killed and when they recently launched their effort for the fundraiser. A Calgary resident, listening to Floyd Wiebe speak recently on a national radio show, called up and bought a corporate table for $1,000 simply as a kind gesture. Then there was the woman who approached Wiebe to speak of her own young son's struggles with drug addictions, and how he'd turned his life around by learning about what happened to T.J. Several
Winnipeg Free Press
articles about the murder still hang in his bedroom.

“We do a fair amount of outreach these days,” said Karen Wiebe.

DECEMBER 2012

It was always the toughest time of year, save for the anniversary of the day their son was murdered. Now Floyd Wiebe was sharing new insight into his family's loss. He wrote a powerful blog post which was published in the pages of the
Winnipeg Free Press
. It spoke of how the pain lingered, long after the final court case had ended.

I recently attended the Manitoba Organization of Victim Assistance candlelight service. It's held at Christmas time, for families who have lost family members through homicide.

MOVA is a club that no one wants to belong to. To be in a room filled with families that are like me is, well, indescribable, to say the least.

There is so much emotion, so much pain and so many memories. We are all there because “someone” decided to kill a member of our family.

Whether that “someone” is in jail for life without parole for 25 years, or served 15 months, or is having Christmas with his family because he was declared “not guilty,” doesn't really mean anything. What does mean something is that we do not have our family members with us. No legal system or sentence will fill that void. It's not possible.

When Christmas Day comes, there is an empty chair. Some families leave that chair empty at the dinner table to remember the one missing. Some families reflect on memories at the table. Some don't talk about it at all because they simply cannot. Some families have stopped having Christmas altogether. There is no “right” way to do this. You do what your heart and emotions allow you to do.

The first two Christmases after my son died were spent in the Caribbean, as there was no way we could spend it at home with all the traditional festivities of fun, food and Santa. When the third Christmas came, my daughter said she wanted Christmas at home from now on, and that's all it took. My wife decided we needed a TJ Christmas tree, and for many years, we decorated it exclusively with angels and “TJ” decorations, ones that he made in school and church as a young child and the ones that he particularly liked. The one ornament that was always in front was the ball saying “TJ's First Christmas.” They don't make balls that say “TJ's Last Christmas.”

Unless you have lost a family member in this way, you can never understand what it is like. And I hope that you never can, because we don't want you in this club.

When I tell a stranger what happened to TJ, I sense a horror inside that person. I sense what they are saying to themselves at that moment and thinking of their own children. I do not sense an understanding. When I speak with a person in the club, I sense warmth, a connection like no other, a closeness and a sense that they know what it's like. You can even see it. At the candlelight service, we all realize why we are there and how we got there. We greet each other on common ground.

This year, the founder of MOVA, Darlene Rempel-Fillion, was guest speaker. It's been 28 years since her son Rob was murdered. Her voice broke as she spoke, she stopped to compose herself, and we all knew intimately what was going on in her mind. I remember thinking how raw that emotion was after 28 years.

As you can see, we do not “get over it.” There is no closure, as people like to think there is. We do, however, move on, but we never get over it. We do laugh, a lot, and we still enjoy life, but it's a very different life indeed.

This is my 10th Christmas without my son. It seems like yesterday in so many ways. Merry Christmas to all.

MARCH 2013

The young man who allegedly cooked up the plot to kill T.J. Wiebe had walked free years earlier. Now one of the three men convicted for their role in the decade-old killing was about to regain his freedom. All of this despite the fact Dominic Urichen was hearing “command hallucinations” to stab strangers, had been deemed a high risk to violently reoffend and was found to have little understanding of how to cope in society and stay out of trouble. Urichen had now served two-thirds of his sentence, and the National Parole Board informed the victim's family Urichen was about to be set free on statutory release.

“It is not the fact that he is getting out of jail on parole. What I object to is that he has done absolutely nothing in jail for 10 years to rehabilitate himself,” said Floyd Wiebe.

Urichen's parole documents included several references to him still showing little insight into his offences, wreaking havoc with staff and other inmates behind bars, and due to a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia, having violent hallucinations about going on a stabbing spree.

“Is this the kind of person that Canadians want walking around in their community?” Wiebe asked. “Obviously people have to be released slowly into the community so that they can reacquire what it is like to live in a community. But when he is having the exact issues that he had going into jail and 10 years later still has those same issues, does society not have more responsibility?”