BLOOD IN THE WATER E-Book

Silver Donald Cameron

• Herausgeber: Swift Press
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 404

Beschreibung

'Fascinating' Margaret Atwood Can taking the law into your own hands be the right thing to do? In June 2013, three upstanding citizens of a small town in Nova Scotia murdered their neighbour, Phillip Boudreau, while out fishing. Boudreau was an inventive small-time criminal who had terrorised and entertained Petit de Grat for two decades. He had been in prison for nearly half his adult life. He was funny and frightening, loathed, loved and feared. Boudreau seemed invincible, a miscreant who would plague the village forever. As many people said, if those fellows hadn't killed him, someone else would have. BLOOD IN THE WATER is a gripping story in a brilliantly drawn setting, about power and law, security and self-respect, and the nature of community. And at its heart is a disturbing question: are there times when taking the law into your own hands is not only understandable but the responsible thing to do?

Leseprobe

SWIFT PRESS

First published in Canada by Penguin Random House Canada Limited 2020 First published in Great Britain by Swift Press 2021

Copyright © Paper Tiger Enterprises Ltd. 2020

The right of Silver Donald Cameron to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-1-80075-024-1

eISBN: 978-1-80075-025-8

For the people of Isle Madame— and, once again, for Marjorie, who always believed

CONTENTS

Timeline

Cast of Characters

Prologue

1 Her Majesty’s Story

2 Courtroom 3: Application for Bail

3 A Rustic Robin Hood

4 Courtroom 3: Bail Granted

5 The Administration of Justice

6 Courtroom 3: Murder for Lobster

7 A One-Man Crime Wave

8 Courtroom 3: The Cockamamie Story

9 Courtroom 3: James Landry’s Story

10 Visiting Brigadoon

11 Courtroom 3: Deliberations

12 Midnight Slider

13 Courtroom 3: Sentencing

14 The Nature of the Law

Acknowledgments

TIMELINE

JUNE 1, 2013: Phillip Boudreau’s death

JUNE 6, 2013: Craig Landry arrested

JUNE 7, 2013: Dwayne and Carla Samson, and James Landry arrested

JUNE 26, 2013: Craig Landry provides the statement that becomes Her Majesty’s Story

JULY 4, 2013: Craig Landry and Carla Samson released on bail

JULY 22, 2013: Dwayne’s first bail hearing: held over for decision

JULY 29, 2013: Dwayne’s second bail hearing: bail denied

AUG 13, 2013: Dwayne’s third bail hearing: bail granted with stringent conditions

OCT 16, 2013: James denied bail

NOV 26, 2013: Dwayne’s preliminary hearing

DEC 17, 2013: James’s preliminary hearing

NOV 10, 12, 2014: James’s trial— jury selection

NOV 13, 2014: Trial proper begins—Stephen Drake’s opening statement

NOV 17–18, 24–28, 2014: Trial continues

NOV 29, 2014: Verdict: guilty of manslaughter

JAN 29, 2015: James sentenced to fourteen years less time served

MAY 18, 2015: Dwayne pleads guilty to manslaughter

JUNE 15, 2015: Carla’s case dismissed, no prospect of conviction

SEPT 11, 2015: Craig sentenced to two years’ probation

SEPT 22, 2015: Dwayne sentenced to ten years less 103 days served

JUNE 22, 2016: James’s appeal against sentencing dismissed

JUNE 12, 2018: James released on parole to halfway house, resumes fishing

JUNE 20, 2018: Dwayne released on parole to halfway house, resumes fishing

NOV 3, 2019: James dies of cancer

CAST OF CHARACTERS

THE FISHING COMMUNITY

Phillip Boudreau, the victim, a poacher and a thief; Midnight Slider was his boat

James Landry, fisherman, former owner of the Twin Maggies’ lobster licence, deckhand

Carla Samson, James’s daughter, who acquired the licence from her father

Dwayne Samson, husband of Carla, captain of the Twin Maggies

Craig Landry, hired deckhand on the Twin Maggies

Margaret Rose Boudreau, Phillip’s sister

Gerard Boudreau, Phillip’s brother, lobster fisherman and lobster dealer

Linda Boudreau, Gerard’s wife, captain of Gerard’s boat

Kenneth Boudreau, Phillip’s brother

THE LEGAL COMMUNITY

Mr. Justice Simon MacDonald, who presided over Dwayne Samson’s hearings

Nash Brogan and T.J. McKeough, attorneys for Dwayne and Carla

Dan MacRury and Diane McGrath, prosecutors in Dwayne’s case

Joel Pink, attorney for Craig Landry

Chief Justice Joseph Kennedy, who presided over James Landry’s trial

Stephen Drake and Shane Russell, prosecutors in James’s case

Luke Craggs, attorney for James Landry

Kevin Patriquin, Nova Scotia Legal Aid Society

Corporal Denzil George Fraser Firth, RCMP, chief investigator of Phillip Boudreau’s death

OTHERS

Stephen White, genealogist, Centre d’études acadiennes, Université de Moncton

Raymond LeBlanc, paralegal assistant, returning officer, co-proprietor of Shamrock Store

Pearl LeBlanc, Raymond’s wife and co-proprietor of Shamrock Store

Ronnie LeBlanc, their son, who circulated the petition and is married to Dwayne’s sister Janet

Edgar Samson, proprietor, Premium Seafoods

Staff Sergeant Daniel Parent, RCMP (retired)

Hubert David, contractor, Phillip’s neighbour

Betty David, his wife

Tony Veinot, crab-boat skipper, friend, and occasional employer of Phillip

Thilmond Landry, Phillip’s neighbour

PROLOGUE

IT WAS IN 2013 that Phillip Boudreau was dropped—allegedly— to the bottom of the sea, but his neighbours would not be entirely surprised if he walked out of the ocean tomorrow, coated in seaweed and dripping with brine, smiling.

After all, Phillip had often vanished for long periods during his forty-three years, and he always came back to where he’d grown up—Alderney Point, at the edge of the Acadian village of Petit de Grat on Isle Madame, Nova Scotia. Afterwards it would turn out that he had been in prison, or out West, or hiding in the woods. Perhaps the police had been looking for him and he’d have tucked himself away in other people’s boats or trailers, or curled up and gone to sleep in the bushes of the moorland near his family’s home, his face coated with droplets of fog. He and his dog often slept in a rickety shed outside his parents’ home, where the narrow dirt road ends at the rocky shore of Chedabucto Bay. He’d even been known to hollow out a snowbank and shelter himself from the bitter night in the cold white cavern he’d created.

He was a small man, perhaps five-five, with a goatee and a ready smile. He usually dressed in jeans, sneakers, a windbreaker, a baseball cap. Whenever he was released from prison, word would go around Isle Madame: Phillip’s out. Lock the shed, the barn, the garage. Phillip’s out. If your boat’s missing, or your four-wheeler, talk to Phillip. Maybe you can buy it back from him. Phillip’s out. If you want a good deal on a marine GPS, an outboard motor, a dozen lobsters, check out the Corner Bridge Store and Bakery. Phillip likes to hang out there. He ties up his speedboat, Midnight Slider, at a little dock nearby.

Some people loved Phillip. He could be funny, helpful, kind. He was generous to old people, good with animals, gentle with children. Other people hated and feared him, though they tended to conceal their feelings. If you crossed him he might threaten to sink your boat, shoot you, burn down your house. He could make you fearful for the safety of your daughter. Would he actually do anything violent? Hard to say.

If you went to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police detachment in nearby Arichat, they would tell you they couldn’t do much until he actually committed an offence. Perhaps they’d tell you that you could get a peace bond, a court order directing Phillip to stay away from you and your family and your property. From time to time the Mounties would arrest Phillip for “uttering threats”—or for any of a dozen other offences—and send him back to prison. But he’d be out again soon enough, and if you’d helped put him inside, watch out.

So most people quietly avoided Phillip, carefully steering around him the way a lobster boat navigates a rocky shoal.

He did a tidy little business in hallucinogens and was available as a vandal for hire, particularly with respect to lobster traps. An Isle Madame lobster trap is a baited wooden cage weighted with rocks and lying on the sea floor. It’s tied by a long slender rope to a buoy that floats at the surface. The fisherman hooks the buoy, hauls up the trap, and removes his catch; then he rebaits the trap and drops it overboard again. The trap is worth about $100, but the value of the lobster it catches can be in the thousands of dollars.

Nothing prevents a poacher from hauling someone else’s traps in the middle of the night and selling the lobsters as his own. And if the buoy rope is cut off, the owner can’t even find the trap. If I have a grudge against you, what better way to harm you than to slide out at midnight and cut a bunch of your traps? But if you catch me at it the outcome won’t be pretty. So if I don’t want to take a chance on doing it myself, I can always hire Phillip.

Phillip Boudreau was by no means the only man who ever cut traps in Petit de Grat, but he was the dominant figure in that line of work. He would also take credit for things he hadn’t done, just to bolster his reputation as a crafty rascal operating by stealth and beyond the reach of the law. A Fisheries officer who confronted him had the tires of his car slashed. When he bought new tires, those were slashed too. Phillip? Try to prove it. If you confronted him, he’d just smile.

Phillip could make your life a misery—but if he was your friend and thought you needed something he would provide it, whether or not he owned it. So you had to be careful about idly voicing your desires.

And then, from time to time, he would disappear—for days, or weeks, or months. But he always cropped up again.

There had been attempts to kill him—conspiracies, even. But on June 1, 2013, he was said to have been drowned—and not by thugs or druggies but by highly respected local fishermen. A lot of people thought the very idea was ridiculous. Phillip was wily and resilient and he swam like a seal. Trying to drown him would be like trying to drown a football. No doubt he was hiding out somewhere.

But he was never seen again.

1

HER MAJESTY’S STORY

JUNE 1, 2013, was a brilliant, sunny morning on the south coast of Isle Madame, just off the southeastern coast of Cape Breton Island. Lobster boats were slipping through the calm water all around the rocky shore off Petit de Grat and Arichat, diesel engines muttering as fishermen hauled up traps, removed lobsters, rebaited and reset the traps. The thirty-six-foot Twin Maggies, skippered by Dwayne Samson, was working in a dimple on the coast known as l’Anse aux Maquereaux, Mackerel Cove. The fishing licence had been given to Dwayne’s wife, Carla, by her father, James Landry, when he turned sixty. She also owned the boat. James, now sixty-five, was working that morning as an employee, a deckhand. The second deckhand was Craig Landry, forty, a third cousin to James.

At about 7:00 a.m. Craig spotted a fourteen-foot speedboat, Midnight Slider, moving among their traps. The crew knew it well. It belonged to Phillip Boudreau, who had bedevilled and taunted the Twin Maggies for years. Midnight Slider’s speed made it easy for Phillip to elude slow, heavy fishing boats like the Twin Maggies.

On that fateful June morning, however, shots were fired and Midnight Slider stalled. The two boats collided. Shortly afterwards another fisherman found Midnight Slider’s battered hull floating awash. Its outboard motor was gone. A gas can was floating nearby. Phillip Boudreau had vanished. Meanwhile, the Twin Maggies had continued to tend her traps, unloading her lobsters at the end of the morning at the Premium Seafoods wharf in Arichat.

The next day, the three crew members were questioned closely by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Five days later, on June 6, the RCMP charged Craig Landry with second degree murder. The next day they arrested Dwayne Samson and James Landry and charged them with murder as well. Carla Samson was charged as accessory after the fact. The Twin Maggies was impounded. It was now an alleged murder weapon.

The accused were interrogated separately and intensively. Dwayne and Craig said nothing, but after fifteen continuous hours of questioning James made a statement. He said that when the Twin Maggies found Phillip Boudreau cutting their traps that morning, he got Craig to bring him his rifle. Then he fired four shots. He thought one of the shots might have wounded Phillip and one might have stopped his speedboat by disabling its motor. James then seized the wheel of the fishing boat from Dwayne and rammed Midnight Slider. He was so mad he was “seeing black.” He swung around and rammed the smaller boat again, capsizing it. He wanted to destroy it. After that they didn’t see Phillip anymore, and they went on hauling their traps.

It was a powerful story. But three weeks later, on June 26, Craig Landry told the Mounties a very different story, and later directed a videotaped re-enactment out on the water. On July 4 he was released on $50,000 bail, subject to stringent conditions about where he could live and who he could see. Carla Samson was also released on $25,000 bail. She had to surrender her passport and observe a curfew from midnight to 6:00 a.m.

On July 22 her husband applied for bail. The prosecution was strongly opposed. Dwayne Samson was allegedly the perpetrator of a vicious murder, as Craig Landry’s testimony had revealed. Buttressed by additional information from the RCMP investigation, that testimony had become, in effect, Her Majesty’s Story, the core of the Crown’s official version of events.

Her Majesty’s Story begins with a ringing telephone at Gerard Boudreau’s ramshackle house around 7:00 in the evening of May 31, 2013.

Gerard Boudreau, Phillip’s oldest brother, lives at Alderney Point, not far from his parents’ home, at the very end of a twisting road that winds down the rocky eastern shore of Petit de Grat Harbour. Gerard owns a wharf, a lobster pound, and a lobster licence. His traps are set around the mouth of the harbour; some are in Mackerel Cove, directly across the harbour mouth, within sight of his home. Gerard doesn’t actually tend the traps himself anymore. He is a diabetic, spectacularly obese, at least three hundred pounds. His diabetes has caused the amputation of his left leg and his right thumb. In 2013, when Gerard’s brother was killed, his fishing boat was skippered by his wife, Linda.

On that May evening, it was Linda who answered the phone. The caller was James Landry, a longtime friend of Gerard’s. She passed the phone to Gerard. James told Gerard that the Twin Maggies had lost about thirty lobster traps in the previous couple of weeks, and asked whether Gerard had seen Phillip around the harbour. Yes, said Gerard, Phillip had indeed been cruising around the harbour in Midnight Slider.

As Gerard tells it, James then said, “Well, it’s his last night on the water. He won’t be playing on the water tomorrow night.” Gerard and Linda shrugged it off; people often threatened Phillip, but nothing much ever came of it. James, however, describes the call very differently. He says that he was returning an earlier call from Gerard, and that once he confirmed that it was probably Phillip who’d been cutting the traps, he asked Gerard, “What am I gonna do?”

“There’s only one thing you can do,” Gerard replied. “Get rid of him.”

At that moment, Phillip was at the Corner Bridge store, next to the bridge that crosses Petit de Grat Harbour. He was selling stolen lobsters.

Craig Landry’s wife worked at the store, and Craig often saw Phillip there. A few days earlier, Phillip had told Craig quite candidly that he had indeed been cutting the Twin Maggies’ traps. He didn’t like Carla Samson, he said. Carla had called the Department of Fisheries and Oceans on him, and the local DFO officers had in turn told Phillip that Carla wanted his theft and vandalism stopped. The episode had simply goaded Phillip. Whenever someone called Fisheries on him, said Phillip, “I go out and cut their traps. I cut Carla’s traps three times this year, and I’m not finished.” This was no surprise to Craig, who had fished the previous year with another fisherman, John Martell. Martell had also called Fisheries about Phillip, and had lost twenty-five traps as a result.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Craig said to Phillip now. “It doesn’t change anything for me.” As a deckhand, a waged employee rather than an owner, he got paid no matter how much lobster the Twin Maggies caught or didn’t catch.

Late that evening, Phillip went home to his parents’ small, single-storey home. He had no bedroom; he slept on a mattress on the kitchen floor. He woke early, talked briefly with his sister Maggie, and left the house around 5:45 a.m. Wearing new green rubber boots, jeans, a sweater, and a black baseball cap, he was heading for the floating wharf behind the Corner Bridge store. On his way he also saw his brother Kenneth, who was going to work at the Premium Seafoods crab processing plant nearby. Kenneth asked where he was off to so early in the morning, and Phillip said he was heading to his boat.

Fifteen kilometres away, on the north side of Isle Madame, Dwayne Samson was up and on the road just after 4:00. He drove his grey four-door Chev pickup truck from D’Escousse to Petit de Grat and picked up Craig Landry. Talking about sports—the Toronto Blue Jays had lost the previous night—the two drove on to the nearby hamlet of Little Anse to collect James, who didn’t own a vehicle and had never held a driver’s licence.

Petit de Grat and Little Anse constitute the least assimilated corner of Isle Madame, and the usual language of daily life there is Acadian French. Speaking French, the trio drove back through Petit de Grat to nearby Arichat, where the Twin Maggies was tied to the wharf at Premium Seafoods’ main plant. They loaded their gear aboard and motored off. By 5:00, just before daybreak, they were hauling their first traps on the eastern side of Arichat Harbour. Arriving at each trap, they flipped the buoy lines over powered sheaves—grooved pulleys attached to small steel-pipe cranes—and then reeled in line until the traps rose dripping from the water.

Traps are laid out in groups, or “strings,” with the buoy on each one identifying the owner. At the height of the season the inshore waters of Nova Scotia are heavily speckled with these colourful buoys; the boats pick their way among them like birds foraging for grain in a recently harvested field.

In Petit de Grat, meanwhile, Phillip had called Gerard on his cell phone at 6:25 to ask whether he should go to Mackerel Cove and pick up two of Gerard’s traps that had been driven by a storm into water too shallow for Gerard’s big boat to reach. Yes, said Gerard, who took the call on his deck overlooking the harbour. Five or six minutes after the call he saw Midnight Slider heading for Mackerel Cove.

By now the Twin Maggies’ crew had finished hauling their first string of 125 traps in Arichat Harbour and were motoring around Cape Hogan, the headland that separates the harbours of Arichat and Petit de Grat. As they rounded the cape Alderney Point came into view and they could see a boat fishing near the green navigational buoy nearby. They knew the boat; it was Pete and Julie, owned by Venard “Pigou” Samson. Farther on, they could see Mackerel Cove and the adjoining indentation in the rocks known as L’Anse à Richard, Richard’s Cove.

“There’s a boat in by the shore,” Craig said in French.

“It’s probably Phillip,” said Dwayne, also in French. “Just keep an eye on him, see what he’s doing.”

They kept watching Phillip as they hauled their traps. They saw Midnight Slider head for Mackerel Point, where their traps had previously been cut.

“He must be playing with our traps again,” said Dwayne. “We’re going over there. James, tie a knot on this trap so we can find it again.”

Phillip watched the bigger boat’s approach without apparent alarm. Midnight Slider was far faster than the Twin Maggies or any of the other fishing boats. In fact he’d often race across their bows, swerving right in front of them, sometimes waving a knife or holding up a lobster to let them know he’d been robbing or vandalizing their traps. Taunting them, reminding them that he was invulnerable.

At the wheel of the fishing boat, Dwayne gave an order. “Charger le fusil.” Load the rifle.

Nobody moved.

“Craig, met trois shells en fusil,” said Dwayne. Put three shells in the gun.

Craig went below, took the Winchester .30-30 out from under the bunk, and loaded it with three rounds. He came back up and told Dwayne that he’d put in the three rounds but hadn’t chambered any and hadn’t cocked the rifle, so it wasn’t ready to fire.

“He’s going to get a scare this time,” said Dwayne.

Craig returned to his position behind the wheelhouse. Then, as Twin Maggies approached Midnight Slider, Dwayne turned to his father-in-law.

“James, are you going to shoot?”

James ducked below and came back with the gun. At this point Phillip started his Evinrude outboard and headed for shore. When the two boats were perhaps forty yards apart, James dropped to one knee and fired. The bullet hit the water alongside the speedboat. Frightened, Phillip turned towards Twin Maggies, shouting “I didn’t do anything, I didn’t cut any traps! Don’t shoot!” But James was taking aim again and Phillip steered away, speeding up the harbour towards Petit de Grat.

James shot again. Phillip’s outboard stalled. James shot a third time, and Phillip fell, shouting “Tu m’as cassé la jambe!” You’ve broken my leg! Craig turned away. “It scared the shit out of me,” he said later. He meant it literally: much later, he testified in court that he had soiled himself.

“Shoot again,” said Dwayne.

“I got no more shells,” said James. “Get me a shell.”

Craig, still looking away, heard someone fetch another shell and load it into the rifle. Then he heard the crack of another shot. Phillip was shouting, “Stop, James, stop!”

Dwayne said, “Fire again.”

“I got no more shells,” James repeated.

“That’s enough!” cried Craig. “Don’t shoot anymore! No more shooting!”

Everyone fell silent for a moment or two. Then James grabbed the gaff—a long fiberglass rod with a hook at the end—and told Dwayne to steer around the bow of Phillip’s boat so that he could snag its bow line. Once he hooked it he passed the line to Craig while Dwayne gunned the engine and headed out to sea with Midnight Slider in tow. Phillip was slumped now beside the engine. Craig let the line slip through his hands, which angered James.

Twin Maggies circled and picked up the bow line again, and this time James tied it to the spar on the stern. Dwayne gunned the engine once more. Looking astern, Craig saw why Midnight Slider’s engine had stalled: the propeller had wrapped up the lines from a couple of lobster traps; the traps were skidding along the surface behind Midnight Slider. Now Phillip crawled forward with a small knife, like a steak knife, and cut the bow line, further enraging James.

“Turn around and run over him!” James cried. “Sink the boat!”

Dwayne rammed the speedboat. Then he circled and rammed it again. Midnight Slider had filled with water and Phillip was clinging to it. Dwayne circled again, and Twin Maggies ran right over the speedboat. Now Phillip was in the water, clinging to the red plastic gas can, shouting, “Stop, James!”

“You won’t cut any more of our traps,” said James grimly.

“You’re done with cutting traps,” said Dwayne. Now James hooked Phillip with the gaff and told Dwayne to drive. But Dwayne drove a little too fast, and Phillip slipped off the gaff. Dwayne circled around and James hooked the gaff in Phillip’s sweater. As they drove seaward, Phillip wriggled out of his sweater.

“Go round again,” said James. This time when James caught Phillip he held him close to the boat—and this time, Craig thought, Phillip drowned. When Dwayne stopped, Craig saw white foam coming from Phillip’s mouth, and when James released him, Phillip rolled face down in the water.

“Get the anchor,” said Dwayne. Nobody moved. “Craig, get the anchor.” Craig tried to lift the small cockpit anchor off its bracket, but he couldn’t. Dwayne strode into the wheelhouse and brought out a big four-pronged grapnel made of stainless steel. He and James ran a line under Phillip’s arms and a couple of times around his neck, and tied it off. Dwayne went back to the controls.

“Is this far enough?” he asked.

“How deep are you?” James asked.

“Twelve point two fathom.”

“Yes, you’re deep enough,” said James. He let the grapnel go. Phillip Boudreau’s body drifted down out of sight.

Dwayne spun the wheel. The Twin Maggies headed towards shore, and the crew continued hauling their traps as though nothing had happened.

2

COURTROOM 3: APPLICATION FOR BAIL

JULY 22, 2013

THAT’S HER MAJESTY’S STORY, as delivered by Crown prosecutors Dan MacRury and Diane McGrath. It relies heavily on the testimony of Craig Landry. The Crown has chosen to charge the four accused separately. Evidently, the prosecution sees James Landry, Dwayne Samson’s father-in-law, as the driving force in the attack on Phillip Boudreau, and the easiest of the four to convict. They will try James first, and then—having convicted him, they hope—they will easily be able to convict his son-in-law. So it will be many months until Dwayne’s trial, and he is in court today to ask to be let out on bail while he waits.

Nash Brogan has been listening intently to Her Majesty’s Story. It is now his task to undermine it, blow it up, destroy it.

Before anyone was even arrested, Carla Samson and the three crewmen from the Twin Maggies conferred with Brogan, a noted criminal lawyer practising in Sydney, 130 kilometres from Petit de Grat. Brogan agreed to act for all four. Nash Brogan is described within the legal profession as bright, imaginative, voluble, and volatile. A native of the port city of North Sydney, he belongs to a large and affluent Irish family whose interests have included coal mining, real estate, and fishing, specifically buying and selling lobsters. Brogan himself earned his way through university and law school by working summers as a seaman on the Great Lakes.

He loves being in court, loves appearing before a jury, and, at the age of sixty-three, he accepts mainly what he calls “profile” cases— cases that interest him and that satisfy his taste for the dramatic. His first advice to his new clients was to say absolutely nothing to the police. He warned them that it would not be easy.

“The RCMP are very, very good at what they do,” he said. “When the police arrest you, they probably won’t question you until they let you sit for fourteen or fifteen hours. While you wait, they may or may not have the heat turned way up. If it’s not going to be hot, it’s going to be cold. They may or may not feed you; they usually don’t. When they start questioning you, they will tell you that one of the other parties—or both parties—gave statements and incriminated you, and so you might as well give a statement too.”

Then, he said, they’ll appeal to your emotions: you come from a good family; don’t prolong the misery you’ve brought upon them. You’re a good person, but you had a bad moment. Tell us about it. Think about your little girl. You don’t want to be in prison while she’s growing up, do you? Tell me what happened and let me see what I can do for you.

In criminal cases, Brogan explained later, “We don’t look at moral guilt. We look at legal guilt, okay? We look at, what can they prove?” With no body, and with no statement from any of the four accused, it would be extremely difficult for the Crown to prove anything at all.

But James made a statement, and then Craig made the statement that became Her Majesty’s Story, so both of them had to find other lawyers. Brogan was still acting for Dwayne and Carla Samson, however, and although Carla was free on bail, Dwayne was still behind bars.

So now Nash Brogan, draped in black robes, is shuffling papers at a table in Courtroom 3 of the Justice Centre in Port Hawkesbury, Nova Scotia, fifty kilometres from Petit de Grat, preparing to argue that Dwayne should also be released on bail for the months he will be awaiting his trial. The visitors’ gallery is full of rural working people wearing windbreakers, jeans, plaid shirts, down vests, heavy sneakers—the same garb that Phillip Boudreau wore. The media are here in force, crowding the front row of the gallery: the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, the Canadian Press, CTV Television, The Globe and Mail, The Chronicle Herald, The Cape Breton Post, the local Port Hawkesbury paper The Reporter, and the local radio station, 101.5 The Hawk. Two freelance writers are also present. One is novelist Linden MacIntyre, until recently the host of CBC-TV’s The Fifth Estate, who grew up here. The other freelancer is me; I’ve lived on Isle Madame since 1971.

Standing around in the courtroom before the bail hearing begins, I find myself chatting with Joel Pink of Halifax, who now represents Craig Landry. Bald, wry, and genial, Pink is a legendary criminal lawyer. In the most celebrated of his sixty-odd murder trials, he defended John Alexander MacKenzie of Antigonish, the killer of three people who had been tormenting him for years. The Crown’s evidence was overwhelming, and MacKenzie had even confessed. Pink took the case all the way to the Supreme Court of Canada, where he won MacKenzie an acquittal.

Pink is the co-author of From Crime to Punishment, currently in its eighth edition, “the most comprehensive and up-to-date introduction to criminal law and criminal procedure now available in Canada.” He is the son of a noted lawyer, a father of lawyers, the brother of the executive director of the Nova Scotia Barristers’ Society, of which Joel himself has been the president. In all, there are nine lawyers in his immediate family. Joel Pink is probably the only criminal lawyer whom many Nova Scotians would instantly recognize on TV.

It was Joel Pink who advised Craig Landry to give his vivid account of Phillip Boudreau’s murder, and Joel now tells me that Phillip’s body has still not been found. As we speak, a flotilla of search boats is out looking for it with underwater cameras, divers, sonar—everything in the floating forensic toolbox. But so far, no body.

Dwayne Samson seats himself in the front bench of the gallery. He is no gnarled, pipe-smoking, horny-handed old salt. He’s forty-three years old and perhaps six feet tall with steely grey hair. He looks composed, respectful, attentive. Carla, thirty-seven, is seated a few rows behind him. They’ve been together for fourteen years, since 1999. At that time they both worked for an Isle Madame oil company, Greg’s Fuels, Carla as a clerk and Dwayne as a truck driver delivering the fuel. When Greg’s Fuels was sold and its operations moved to the Halifax area, they moved as well. The two bought a house in the suburbs in 2001, got married in 2003, and became the parents of twin daughters in 2005. The next year, Carla’s father, James Landry, approached them about taking over his lobster licence. Dwayne and Carla took the necessary training, put in the sea time, and moved home to Isle Madame. They built a spacious new house in 2009. Trim and youthful, they are an attractive, successful couple.

Mr. Justice Simon MacDonald enters. Everyone rises, and the hearing begins.

A bail hearing differs from a trial in several ways. The rules of evidence are more relaxed, and some degree of hearsay is admissible. But the big difference is that the burden of proof falls on the applicant. The Crown doesn’t have to prove anything today. Instead, Nash Brogan must convince the judge that Dwayne Samson should be released.

Brogan has filed two briefs with the court, arguing that granting bail is totally in harmony with case law and the Criminal Code. The other documents already filed with the court include Craig Landry’s statement and an affidavit from Corporal Denzil Firth, the lead investigator for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Their affidavits outline Her Majesty’s Story, and both men will be appearing as witnesses at this hearing, so both are excluded from the courtroom. Right now, Nash Brogan is arguing for the admission of another document, namely the late Phillip Boudreau’s criminal record.

Phillip’s record runs to twenty-eight pages, the first eleven of which list his convictions. The remaining pages set forth additional charges that were withdrawn or dismissed. The actual convictions date back to 1987, when Phillip was seventeen. He presumably had a juvenile record as well, but that remains sealed. His adult record shows multiple convictions on numerous offences. Mischief. Possession of narcotics. Theft under $5000. Theft over $5000. Motor vehicle theft. Breach of probation. Break and enter. Break and enter with intent to commit an indictable offence. Possession of stolen property. Escaping lawful custody. Resisting arrest. Harassment. Assault. Uttering threats to cause death or bodily harm.

Dan MacRury, the prosecutor, does not think the record is relevant to Dwayne Samson’s bail hearing—and if it is, only the actual convictions should be admitted. Tall, heavy, dark-haired, arrayed in billowing black robes, MacRury might be described as a mountain of a man, or at the least a very substantial hill. He is an equally substantial figure in the legal system. A prosecutor for nineteen years, he is currently the chief Crown attorney for Cape Breton. He is also a vice-president of the Canadian Bar Association and a member of various working groups—federal, provincial, even international — on cyber crime. Within a few months he will be named a judge of Nova Scotia’s provincial and family courts.

With respect to Phillip Boudreau’s criminal record, MacRury takes the view that the person on trial here is Dwayne Samson, not Phillip Boudreau, and the charge is not a trivial one; it is murder.

Brogan counters by arguing vigorously that the law tilts towards allowing bail to any accused, even one charged with an offence as grave as murder. He cites Section 515(10) of the Criminal Code, which says that bail should only be refused on one of three grounds: if the accused is likely not to show up for trial, if the accused would be a danger to the public, or if detention is necessary to preserve public confidence in the administration of justice.

None of these three grounds applies, says Brogan. Whatever the outcome of his trial, Dwayne is eager to get through the legal process, deal with the consequences, and resume his life. He is a responsible citizen, husband, and father who has had to deal with relentless pressure from a lifelong criminal. Craig Landry’s affidavit describes how Phillip was constantly threatening, robbing, and harassing Dwayne and his family. Nor was Dwayne alone in this. Phillip’s last actual conviction was in 2010, Brogan concedes, but just two days before his death he was threatening a fisherman named Clarence David, warning him that if he didn’t stop keeping company with a particular woman his employer’s traps would be cut. Phillip, says Brogan, had been “instilling fear into the community, and he had a record that indicates that he was quite capable of fulfilling any threats that he made.”

Justice MacDonald still has his doubts about admitting Phillip’s record—but this is a bail hearing, so he allows the first eleven pages, the list of actual convictions.

Brogan calls Dwayne Samson to the stand. Dwayne confirms that he has driven trucks and done other jobs for several local companies. He has letters of reference and offers of employment from Premium Seafoods, AFL Tank Manufacturing, Boudreau’s Fuels, and Superior Contracting. This is almost a roll call of the larger businesses on Isle Madame, and they all portray Dwayne as honest and trustworthy, an excellent employee, someone that any of them would be happy to hire. He also has an offer of employment from Chet Boudreau, an Isle Madame man who runs a home construction company in Halifax, and a dozen letters of reference about his voluntary work in community organizations. He’d like to be released into employment in Isle Madame so that he can see his children regularly. Failing that, he’d like to be released into the custody of his sister Ramona Boudreau in Halifax, who is prepared to sign a bond for him.

In cross-examination, Dan MacRury walks Dwayne through each of the options that have been presented. What hours would he work? Who would monitor his activities? Do the employers have any weapons on their premises? Dwayne is forbidden to talk to his wife—but if he were released into his sister Ramona’s custody, does he think Ramona would really enforce that prohibition?

Yes, he does— and Ramona Boudreau thinks so too. She is thirty-one, a grade one teacher in Halifax. She has agreed that her brother can stay with her. Ramona has a statement from TD Canada Trust showing that she will have no difficulty putting up a bond of $50,000 to guarantee that Dwayne will follow whatever conditions the court imposes. Her husband has also agreed. She confirms that Chet Boudreau, who is her brother-in-law, would be happy to hire Dwayne to work building houses with him. No, she tells MacRury, there are no firearms in her home.

Ronnie LeBlanc takes the stand. His parents run Shamrock Store, a convenience store in D’Escousse, on the north side of Isle Madame, which is also where Carla and Dwayne live. Ronnie grew up in the store and now lives across the road from it. He’s worked for the Nova Scotia Liquor Commission since 1987, and currently manages the liquor store in nearby St. Peter’s.

Ronnie’s wife is Dwayne’s sister Janet, and he knew that, contrary to some rumours, Dwayne had a great deal of support in the community. So, after Dwayne’s arrest, he got up a petition and made it available in several locations in Isle Madame. At Brogan’s request, he reads the text aloud.

“Whereas Dwayne Samson has been charged with the murder of Phillip Boudreau,” says Ronnie, “and whereas the Crown is opposing Dwayne Samson’s release from jail prior to trial, we the undersigned residents of Isle Madame hereby support the interim release of Dwayne Samson.”

What did the people of the island know about the allegations against Dwayne?

“Well,” says Ronnie, “there was a lot in the paper, from press stories that James Landry had shot Phillip Boudreau, there was talk about the boat being rammed, there were rumours that he was missing and tied to the motor of the boat. Between Facebook, the local media, and general conversation, people were certainly aware of the circumstances.”

Brogan introduces Exhibit 2, a CBC news story. MacRury objects, saying that Brogan should rely on the evidence, not on news stories. He questions the relevance of the CBC report.

Brogan is visibly pleased by this challenge. The story is, he says, “very germane to the issue at hand.” Dated June 24, it was written by CBC reporter Phonse Jessome, and “it outlines in detail the police allegations.” (Joel Pink has told me that he didn’t know who leaked the information to Jessome, but that the reporting was absolutely accurate.) The fact that the story had been broadcast, says Brogan, strongly suggests that the people who signed the petition knew Phillip had been killed and that Dwayne was accused of murdering him. It follows that people in the community knew what had happened and understood what they were signing. The judge agrees.

Brogan returns to Ronnie LeBlanc, and establishes that the population of Isle Madame is around 4300 and that more than 700 voters have signed the petition, giving their addresses and phone numbers. Ronnie testifies that Isle Madame has roughly 2800 qualified electors, and that about 1800 voted in the last provincial election. And where did he get that information?

“The returning officer of Richmond County,” says Ronnie.

Who is— ?

“My father. Raymond LeBlanc.” And did Ronnie have conversations with those who signed the petition?

“Certainly. They were very sad to hear what happened, and they wanted to support Dwayne in any way.”

And what would Ronnie himself say about the general character of Dwayne Samson?

“Well, I’ve been married to his sister for twenty-six years now. I’ve known him since he was very small. I’ve never known him to have an angry bone in his body, actually.”

In cross-examination, MacRury establishes that the petition includes a few names from off Isle Madame, and that Ronnie doesn’t know whether any of the signatories have a criminal record. Ronnie also agrees that he hasn’t read Craig Landry’s statement, and that he didn’t share Craig’s statement with those who signed the petition.

Next up is Venard Samson, Dwayne’s father, also from D’Escousse, who is more than willing to have Dwayne stay at his home. He and his wife, Susan, have no mortgage, and they would put up $50,000 bail.

Venard is followed by Pearl LeBlanc, Ronnie’s mother, proprietor of Shamrock Store. She has lived in D’Escousse since 1940. She and her husband, Raymond, own two corporations, with assets well in excess of $100,000. Pearl has known Dwayne since he was born, and is confident that he won’t breach any bail conditions. She and her husband are willing to post $50,000 bail for him. Yes, she knows what Dwayne is charged with, and she understands her responsibilities. Dan MacRury wants to be clear about her role.

“Are you suggesting that he will come and live with you?” he asks.

Pearl looks puzzled, but she is not fazed.

“Well, he can if he likes,” she says.

The Crown has a witness to call, but it’s noon. The court adjourns till 1:15.

Reeves Street in Port Hawkesbury is that part of any Canadian town where golden arches jostle with buckets of chicken while Tim Horton scores big time, boasting two coffee shops in three blocks. Mayor Billy Joe MacLean owns the largest tavern here, The Carriage House. On the opposite side of the street, in a fading strip mall called the Causeway Shopping Centre, is the town’s best restaurant, a homey little place specializing in Acadian food. The Fleur-de-Lis Tea Room is owned by Brenda Chisholm Beaton, a charming and savvy woman who will eventually replace MacLean as mayor. Every day that the Phillip Boudreau hearings, trials, and appearances continue, her restaurant will fill up with lawyers, reporters, and observers and she’ll do a brisk business in Acadian fish cakes, seafood chowder, and the Petit de Grat Sampler (fish cake, haddock, home fries, and coleslaw).

I find myself thinking about lawyers, and about something I learned from my friend Antonio Oposa, Jr., a brilliantly inventive environmental lawyer in the Philippines. For Tony Oposa, legal cases are stories, and lawyers are storytellers. People learn from stories; that’s how Jesus taught. The courtroom is a grave, dignified theatre; or, if you like, it’s a fierce battleground for warring stories. Tony himself specializes in highly original lawsuits—stories about the rights of future generations, about the rights of nature, about equity and fairness in environmental matters.

What stories are jousting in Courtroom 3, just down the hill? Nash Brogan is shaping a story about a fine, industrious couple, good parents and citizens, who find themselves enmeshed in intolerable circumstances that impel them into actions completely contrary to their basic character. Brogan is arguing for Dwayne’s release, but he is also carefully placing artillery for the assault he will launch in Dwayne’s subsequent murder trial, many months in the future. Meanwhile Dan MacRury—who’s eating his lunch over there by the wall— is forging a true crime drama about stone-faced unrepentant killers who need to remain behind bars, a story he will advance vigorously at trial. And Joel Pink is a stage manager coaching Craig Landry, who portrays himself as an innocent bystander swept up in an emotional hurricane, improvising as necessary until the storm blew through.

The stories here reflect the central paradox of this saga. As one visiting journalist has noted, in murder cases the public tends to “canonize” the victims. The deceased was—always— a wonderful young husband and father who died far too early, or a long-suffering abused woman in middle age, or a noble priest who forgave his attackers even as his life ebbed away.

In this case, however, the public is remarkably sympathetic to the killers, as Nash Brogan’s story has skilfully demonstrated. Who ever heard of a murder trial where hundreds of people petition the court to release the accused murderer on bail? Where respectable business people line up to offer him employment? Where neighbours are willing to mortgage their homes and businesses to bail him out? Admittedly, not everyone sees Dwayne Samson that way. For some people on Isle Madame, those who commit monstrous acts are by definition monsters, and nobody thinks murder is an acceptable problem-solving technique. But clearly a lot of well-informed people believe that Dwayne Samson is a good man in a bad spot.

I am also musing over the fact that all the legal talent in this case is from far away. Brogan and MacRury are from Sydney, nearly two hours to the east, while Pink is from Halifax, more than three hours to the west. I have just learned that James Landry will be represented by Luke Craggs, who is also from Halifax. Port Hawkesbury has no shortage of lawyers, so why are no local barristers involved? The answer, says Kevin Patriquin, who runs the legal aid service in Port Hawkesbury, lies in Phillip Boudreau’s long criminal record. Every lawyer practising in this part of Nova Scotia has had a previous relationship with Phillip. Every single one.

The lawyers and reporters pay for their lunches. Back in Courtroom 3, the hearing resumes.

Dan MacRury, for the prosecution, calls Corporal Denzil George Fraser Firth. Corporal Firth is with the Northeast Nova Major Crime Unit of the RCMP. He’s based in Bible Hill, two and a half hours’ drive away. Firth is the lead investigator into the death of Phillip Boudreau, and his testimony is mainly contained in the affidavit he has already filed with the court. That affidavit, in turn, rests on statements the police have gathered from three major sources: James Landry, Craig Landry, and Gerard Boudreau, the victim’s diabetic brother. Firth’s role is to corroborate and amplify Craig Landry’s testimony, to drive home the truth of Her Majesty’s Story.

Nash Brogan’s mission, as defence counsel, is to sap the strength of Firth’s testimony, which has included a good many additional details, notably the crew’s disposal of the rifle (they concealed it in a blanket, then took it to Dwayne and Carla’s home and cleaned it) and the conference they held later that day at the Samson house. At that meeting they concocted what we might call the Cockamamie Story: Phillip had come roaring out of the fog a day earlier and run into them, leaving marks on the hull of the Twin Maggies. That would account for the paint scrapings and scuff marks from Midnight Slider, which Dwayne had vainly attempted to scrub off.

Corporal Firth’s testimony has also touched on the remarkable substory of Gerard Boudreau’s observations. Gerard has said that he watched the whole episode from his deck, with binoculars. He heard the rifle shots, saw Twin Maggies circling and Midnight Slider disappearing, and watched the fishing boat tow something out to sea. But although he had seen this dramatic altercation and knew that it involved his brother, he had said nothing to the police when they visited him at 7:30 that morning and then didn’t call them until noon. By that time Venard “Pigou” Samson, who’d been fishing off Alderney Point, had found Midnight Slider floating awash, called Search and Rescue, and towed the speedboat to the fishermen’s wharf in Petit de Grat. The Fisheries officer had come to the wharf, then the Mounties. Isle Madame was crackling with rumours. The police were taking statements and seizing evidence.

Why had Gerard not called the Mounties right away? Because he didn’t have the phone number, he told the police later, and he didn’t have a phone book.

“Did you find that shocking?” Nash Brogan asks Corporal Firth. “Your brother’s being killed and you don’t even call the police?”

“It’s an odd statement, there’s no doubt about that,” Firth says, nodding. “And in fact we discussed that at our daily briefing.”