Death Dealer. Kate Clark Flora
sign of Maria, had been phoning the apartment frequently or stopping by, looking for her. But another, more disturbing, explanation also presented itself to these seasoned outdoorsmen. The weather that January had been unseasonably dry. Between January 14 and January 26, the total snowfall was less than two inches. On the 26th, though, they finally had a significant snowstorm during which nearly nine inches fell. Another eight fell the following day. If, as they were beginning to suspect, David was responsible for something ominous happening to Maria and had disposed of her body somewhere in the woods surrounding the city, the tracks of his distinctive three-wheeler, his footprints and her body would still have been visible on the ground between the 15th and the 26th. After the 26th, those tracks would have been wiped out and the body buried under deep snow.
With no idea what they were looking at—whether Maria might have suffered harm at home or elsewhere—the detectives determined that they needed to search the Tanasichuks’ apartment. Their decision to search had dual purposes: first, there was the possibility that the apartment might be a crime scene and second, even if a search suggested that harm had not befallen Maria there, her residence might yield further information about Maria’s whereabouts, her mindset and what clothing and possessions of hers were present. A search would also help them identify what items were missing from the apartment—information which they could get from Maria’s friends—which might corroborate or contradict the information they’d received.
They immediately went to work on crafting a search warrant and supporting affidavit. Not knowing what they were looking for made the task complicated, for they had to anticipate, and describe in enough detail to meet legal standards, a wide variety of items and areas (the apartment, out-buildings, trash cans, basement, common areas, the yard and the Tanasichuks’ vehicles) to be included within the scope of the warrant. The investigation didn’t stop while they were writing the warrant. While some of the team went to work on the documents, others went back out into the community to continue to interview witnesses who might have information about Maria.
Although the search warrant for the apartment had the highest priority, they also had to prepare warrants for Maria’s jewelry and the pawn and sales records at the pawn shop. They had to prepare warrants for Maria’s prescription records and arrange to interview her doctor. They needed a warrant for records at the addiction counseling service. Someone also had to do a follow-up interview there and get a statement. They still had to decide, from a myriad of possibilities, where they should next focus their efforts to locate Maria Tanasichuk, while their current to-do list was already growing long.
At this point, the investigation was no longer regarded as simply an attempt to locate a missing person. Nor, though the police had to consider the possibility, did this look like a case of suicide, even though witnesses agreed that Maria had been depressed. The pattern of lies David Tanasichuk had told, coupled with the information received from witnesses and their victim analysis which suggested that Maria had departed significantly from all of her normal patterns of behavior, made the investigators feel strongly that they were looking at a potential domestic homicide, with David Tanasichuk as their primary suspect.
With a suspect, the investigation into Maria’s disappearance and likely murder could get fully under way. At the center of the investigation would be the supervising officer in the criminal investigations division, Detective Sergeant Paul Fiander. Originally from Cape Breton, Paul Fiander was a tall, handsome man with that quiet air of confidence and authority that the police call “command presence.” Colleagues described him as a natural leader and a man who was fundamentally fair. They respected his dedication to the job and his ability to put mission before ego, which led him, when the Miramichi police department was formed, to leave his job as chief in the nearby town of Blackville and begin again as a constable in the newly formed department.
It would be Fiander’s job to listen to each member of the team, assess their suggestions and direct the investigative strategy. It was also his job, with Greg Scott’s assistance, to keep the files in the case. “Keeping the files” is one of those phrases that sounds so mundane and unimportant it makes a person’s eyes glaze over, but it is in fact at the critical heart of any criminal case. Police personnel may come and go—they leave, retire, move away. Their memories fade. They die. Cases may take years to come to a final resolution. In the end, it is the quality of the work as reflected in the case files—that dated, signed, detailed and carefully reviewed compilation of interviews, photographs, videos, evidence, evidence lists and lab reports—that ultimately results in a successful resolution of a criminal case.
Brian Cummings might be a brilliant interviewer with superb people skills, but if he didn’t document the interviews, create a legal paper trail for essential documents and get properly obtained statements from important witnesses, what he’s done may not be available for the crown prosecutor’s case months or years down the road or critical statements may not be admissible. Dewey Gillespie may know everyone in the province of New Brunswick by face, name and personal history (or so it sometimes seems), but if his endearing, easy ways get them to confide in him and then he doesn’t record it and it doesn’t go into the right box, all that talent and those long hours spent won’t make any difference to the final resolution of the case. And if Greg Scott, that insightful document analyst and superb writer of warrants, doesn’t find the necessary information in the files to persuade a judge to issue the warrant, his talents are wasted because he has nothing to work with.
Detective Brian Cummings was the lead investigator. Cummings was a tall man with shoulders so broad that if he bought an off-the-rack jacket to fit them, it swam on the rest of a body he kept lean through running and working with weights. He had a perpetual kinetic energy that suggested he was about to jump even when he was seated at his desk, and even when he was on the computer, he was usually also on the phone. A relentless practical joker and a chronic tease, he was also a superb interviewer, a keen observer and a natural leader. He was easy to talk to and easy to trust, a man who made witnesses feel safe talking to him and the bad guys think he understood them. He was a master at subtly weaving essential questions into a dialogue with a suspect so effectively that his subject didn’t know what was happening. An instructor in interview and interrogation technique at the provincial police academy, Cummings could watch the video of an interview and pinpoint the moment when a subject decided to lie.
Working with him were Dewey Gillespie and Greg Scott. Gillespie was a large man with graying hair and deep blue eyes. He liked to present as an ‘awe, shucks’ kind of guy, not too smart, just one of the lads who wanted to help out and do whatever someone else needed done. It was a great act and many a bad guy fell for it. In truth, Gillespie was a walking encyclopedia. If he didn’t know everyone in the province, he certainly knew many of them—their family stories, their history, their traumas and their damage. Cross the border two hundred miles away and they’d ask after Dewey.
He hated his cell phone and his gun. He frequently managed to leave them in the pocket of his jacket at the office when he was out in his car, or somewhere in his car when he was at his desk. Gillespie’s lumbering gait belied a keen eye and fast reflexes: he was a crack shot and scored a perfect 300 at annual range qualifications on more than one occasion.
Gillespie had an immense well of concern and compassion, which made him the department’s go-to guy for the delivery of difficult news. He was also the sex crimes investigator—a great choice because of his kindness and caring. He could make a traumatized person feel safe and comforted and willing to confide, but it was a job that left him with a lot of bad memories. He didn’t like to go out in public, he said, because there were always people there who had been victims or perpetrators in cases he investigated.
Gillespie grew up on the river in a large family, his father one of the legendary Miramichi fishing guides,