Red River Girl

by Joanna Jolly

  The interview had now been running for well over an hour. Cormier was sounding increasingly frustrated and was trying to steer the conversation away from his own relationship with Tina. He accused Tyrell Morrison of being the person who killed her, saying he knew that Morrison was a violent man who had assaulted Sarah several times.

  “There must be some kind of DNA or fucking something like that,” he demanded.

  McDonald reassured him that DNA would be part of the investigation. It was now 5:43 P.M., and the detective suggested a break. Cormier told them he wanted a blanket but nothing to eat. As the detectives left the room, he once again settled down on the floor.

  * * *

  —

  McDonald and Taylor headed straight to the video monitoring room, where O’Donovan had been watching the entire interview. Over coffee, the men discussed how struck they were by Cormier’s lack of emotion. O’Donovan’s impression was that Cormier had protested his innocence too much. He had seen many drug addicts in his career, and, once in a police interview room, most tended to become tearful and remorseful. Cormier was different. He had seemed in control and defensive, carefully deflecting the questions and trying to change the course of the conversation. Although he had admitted he wanted to have sex with Tina, he had also been keen to paint himself as a fatherly figure who wanted to look after her. O’Donovan said he didn’t believe that for a second. It troubled him that Cormier mentioned seeing Tina’s tattoo. It was in the middle of her back, between her shoulder blades, and it wouldn’t be visible if she was wearing clothes. This suggested that Cormier might have got further with Tina than he was admitting.

  Then there was the matter of the stolen truck. Cormier had avoided mentioning it even when the questions were clearly pointing that way. Instead, he had suggested other suspects. The detectives counted them up. There was the crystal meth house beneath Cody’s father’s apartment, where Cormier said a murder had taken place. There was the man who Tina had allegedly stolen $250 from before arriving at 22 Carmen on the day of the argument. There was the Robert Plant lookalike who’d heard the argument on the street and perhaps used it as an excuse to approach Tina. And there was Tyrell Morrison, who Cormier said had the temperament to commit sex crimes.

  “He’s bullshitting,” said McDonald.

  O’Donovan nodded his head slowly. Not for the first time, he thought of Cormier as the arch survivor. He decided they would leave their suspect to sleep for several hours while they planned the next phase of their interview. He needed time to give the detectives a detailed briefing of what had been said by DeWolfe, Holland, and Morrison so that they could use the information to challenge Cormier’s version of events.

  * * *

  —

  At 9:40 P.M., four hours after the first interview, the detectives returned to Interview Room 1. Taylor carried with him a cup of water. Cormier appeared to be asleep on the floor under the blanket they had given him. McDonald pulled it away from him. “Hey, I was going to put that round me,” protested Cormier, sitting up, with his head bowed and his hair hanging over his face.

  McDonald had made the gesture to demonstrate that from now on Cormier would not be getting an easy ride. “We work with truths,” he said sternly. He told Cormier he wanted to go back to the night he had argued with Tina. Other witnesses had given their side of the story. “You had tools at Sarah’s, power tools?” McDonald asked.

  Cormier kept his head bowed and his arms crossed and took his time to respond. He appeared sleepy, and when he finally spoke, his voice was more hostile than it had been earlier. “I’m baffled here. What have power tools to do with Tina being murdered?” he asked.

  “What vehicle did you have with you that night?” McDonald said.

  At first, Cormier was unresponsive. He asked again what any of this had to do with Tina’s murder. For the first time, he wondered aloud whether he should call a lawyer.

  “I’m telling you guys, you’ve got the fucking wrong guy…I never killed Tina, okay? She was just a fucking little girl!” he shouted.

  McDonald tried to reassure him, telling him repeatedly that they were not going to charge him for stealing the truck. But Cormier, his head still down and against the wall, said he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “You’re one of the last people to see her alive,” Taylor said.

  “We want you to be honest about the last time you saw her,” McDonald added. “What type of vehicle was it?”

  “A truck, black…that’s too much info…” The words were slurred.

  “Where did you get it?” asked McDonald.

  “It doesn’t matter. It had nothing to do with the fucking murder.”

  Cormier was angry now. He stood up for a few seconds, then lay down in the fetal position, demanding to speak to a lawyer. McDonald left the room and came back a few minutes later with a cell phone in his hand. He told Cormier he had the duty lawyer on the line. Cormier was still on the floor, saying he was sleepy, but he took the phone and the detectives turned off the video and audio monitoring so he could speak to the lawyer privately.

  Ten minutes later, the phone call over, the detectives returned to the room. By now Cormier was sitting up on the floor, still with his head bowed, saying he wasn’t going to get up.

  “We have to search you,” McDonald said.

  Cormier stayed where he was, refusing to move. The detectives told him that they needed him to remove his hair tie. Cormier still refused to move.

  “I don’t know why you’re so angry,” said McDonald.

  “You’re investigating the wrong person!” Cormier shouted.

  Suddenly he pulled his hair tie out with such force that a clump of hair came out with it.

  “Here, you want to fucking search? Pat it all down!”

  He stood up and began ripping the clothes off his body. “Here!” he yelled as he threw them to the floor.

  He was now standing in front of them totally naked, his arms and legs outstretched like a star. The detectives could see tattoos on his forearms and torso and noted that, although thin and badly nourished, he still looked strong and muscular.

  “You go find the person who fucking did it!” Cormier screamed, the veins in his neck bulging as his fists clenched with anger.

  The detectives sat still on their chairs, staring up at him impassively. Privately, McDonald was shocked by the level of rage in the man in front of him, who seemed to have escalated from docile to “complete animal” within a matter of seconds. After a minute or so, Cormier appeared to calm down. Taylor picked up his clothes and began to list them as evidence, bagging them to be processed for DNA. One black hair tie, a pair of white and grey Asics runners, a pair of black and orange gloves, a black long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, a black wallet, a cigarette lighter, some ID and bank cards. McDonald passed Cormier some white paper disposable pants and a top to put on. Cormier pulled on the pants but left the top on the table and went back to lying in the fetal position on the floor, facing the back wall with his head underneath his chair.

  McDonald addressed Cormier’s motionless back. “Have I been an asshole to you today?” he asked.

  “My lawyer says you’re charging me for this murder. Are you fucking serious?” replied Cormier, his voice muffled.

  “We’re not going to charge an innocent person,” McDonald reassured him, explaining that it would be the Crown prosecutor who would decide whether to authorize the charge. Both detectives were now firing questions at Cormier, ordering him to sit up and respond properly. But their suspect was refusing to move. Finally, he said he wanted his lawyer present.

  “I did not kill that girl. I didn’t kill fucking nobody. I don’t know what happened to that fucking little girl!” he shouted.

  He turned his back to the detectives again, but McDonald and Taylor kept going.

  “Tina Fontaine has a family who are crying every day, wondering what happened to her,” said McDonald. By now, he and Taylor had moved their chairs closer to Cormier’s pro
ne body and were leaning over him.

  “Ray, come on, that fifteen-year-old girl hasn’t had the privilege or pleasure of getting married, having kids, going to school, getting a job.” McDonald’s tactics had turned to the emotional. “The rage in you, Ray, is unbelievable. Why are you such an angry person? Why did you run away from the police?”

  Cormier remained silent on the floor. Eventually, after twenty minutes with no response, the detectives gave up. They noted the time as 10:58 P.M. Telling Cormier the interview was over, they helped him to his feet and walked him into the corridor.

  O’Donovan appeared outside the room to conduct the necessary official review of the interview and to sign the log sheet.

  He looked at Cormier. “Were you mistreated?” It was a question he was required to ask.

  Cormier shook his head. His hair was hanging over this face and he was still naked from the waist up.

  “Put on your shirt,” said O’Donovan.

  Cormier looked at him and grunted but did nothing.

  O’Donovan felt his anger rising. “If you have no respect for us, at least have some self-respect!” he shouted. “Put on your shirt!”

  Cormier reacted immediately, pulling on the paper top without looking up. Out of the corner of his eye O’Donovan could sense Taylor staring at him, his eyebrows arched in surprise. His team was not used to hearing him raise his voice. There was an awkward silence as the detectives turned their suspect around to take him to be fingerprinted.

  “Get that child-killer out of my station,” O’Donovan hissed, loud enough for Cormier to hear as he was walked away. O’Donovan watched the trio disappear down the corridor then stormed back into his office. “Fuck!” he shouted and slammed his door.

  For a moment he stood still, paralyzed with frustration. It was unusual for him to become so personally invested and betray his emotions, but he’d never been more convinced that he had the right man. O’Donovan knew his conviction was anchored in instinct, not evidence, but he saw too many red flags to dismiss it. Cormier’s skilful deflection of McDonald’s questions about the stolen truck suggested the vehicle was significant. His obvious sexual interest in the teenager combined with his explosive temper implied a motive. And although he’d said the last time he saw her was the day of their argument, Tina had told her social worker two days later that her friend Sebastian would be getting her a bike. When had he promised this? He hadn’t admitted to saying it during the argument. Had she made another arrangement to go back to see him? Was this when she was killed? Before he got rid of the stolen truck, had he used it to transport her body to the river?

  It’s going to be a long night, O’Donovan thought, sitting down at his computer to download the recording of the interview. He was determined to watch it over and over again until he knew it by heart. He told himself that there must be something in Cormier’s words that would betray his guilt.

  10.

  THE CHLOE GREEN DUVET COVER

  The next few days presented a logistical challenge for O’Donovan. He didn’t have the confession he needed to charge Cormier with Tina’s murder, but he wanted to keep him in custody for as long as he could. The detective knew that if he released Cormier back onto the streets, it would be difficult to keep him under surveillance. He was also genuinely concerned that Cormier might attack another young woman. For the moment, his suspect was being held under the two warrants issued for past minor offences, the “chickenshit charges” Cormier had referred to when resisting arrest. O’Donovan sought the advice of a senior prosecutor to find out how long these would keep him detained, and the reply was disheartening: only a week to ten days at the most. The problem was keeping the detective awake at night.

  But then he had a stroke of luck. Investigators from other departments regularly sent out email bulletins with security camera images of theft suspects. One of these showed a robbery at a Winnipeg supermarket in which a man had stolen a large quantity of meat and threatened the security guard with a screwdriver. Detective Sergeant Taylor was able to identify Cormier as the perpetrator because of the tattoos he’d seen when Cormier had stripped down. O’Donovan immediately contacted the department and instructed them to arrest Cormier themselves. The new charge was serious enough for him to be locked up for several months until his case was heard.

  Although O’Donovan was excited to be finally moving ahead with the case, it was frustrating that he couldn’t share his progress with the wider community. The press was still demanding to know why no one had been charged for killing Tina. Most difficult of all was not being able to update Tina’s guardian, Thelma Favel. Thelma had rung him repeatedly, usually after hearing about arrests in other homicide cases. She was always friendly, inquiring after O’Donovan’s health and family before tentatively asking whether he’d made any headway with Tina.

  “We’re still working on it and making progress, but I can’t give you specifics,” O’Donovan would say, stressing it was a difficult case that relied on the evidence of transient people, making his job harder.

  Thelma would listen politely and thank him for his work, but O’Donovan was left with the impression that she didn’t quite believe him. He felt as if he was failing her, but it was better to say nothing than to give false hope.

  At the end of October, happy in the knowledge that he’d bought himself some time with Cormier, O’Donovan gathered his team to assess where they stood. Cormier was their prime suspect, but other leads needed to be followed up on, not least the two men from the Furby Street rooming house. Detectives were still tracking down security camera footage that might have recorded Tina during her last few days. Calls to the tip line continued to flood in, and each one needed to be meticulously examined and crossed off the list. It was unusual, O’Donovan reflected, that a homicide investigation should demand so many personnel hours so far in. But this case was unprecedented in so many ways.

  The key task for O’Donovan remained unravelling Cormier’s interview. The detective felt he was clearly hiding something and needed to know whether this was just the theft of the truck or something more sinister. The team gathered to discuss ways Cormier might be encouraged to talk. It was unlikely he would open up to a police officer, but he might confess to another prisoner. So, on November 3, O’Donovan asked Detective Sergeants Stalker and Riddell to travel to Milner Ridge Correctional Centre to speak to Ernest DeWolfe. With Cormier scheduled to be moved there soon, O’Donovan wanted his men to ask DeWolfe if he would become a police informant.

  When Stalker and Riddell arrived, they found that DeWolfe had already asked the prison authorities for a separation order so that he and Cormier would be kept apart.

  “I thought he might be sent here,” DeWolfe explained. “I don’t know what the police told him about my statement, but if he knows I’ve ratted on him, he’ll come after me.”

  DeWolfe said he was disgusted by Cormier, who he now firmly believed had killed Tina. Given the strength of his feelings, he felt he wouldn’t be able to pull off the role of confidant. Prison wasn’t the place to put yourself in that sort of danger, he said, though he’d be happy to help after he was released.

  O’Donovan hesitated when he heard the offer, knowing DeWolfe’s drug habit meant he could be unpredictable. He decided to decline. A few days later, Cormier was sent to Milner Ridge. As he had chosen not to apply for bail, he would be held there until his trial. O’Donovan obtained a warrant to obtain a sample of his DNA.

  “Mr. Cormier, if you had nothing to do with Miss Fontaine’s death, this will prove it,” Detective Sergeant Doug Bailey said when he arrived to collect it, holding the DNA pack up for Cormier to see.

  Cormier nodded. He seemed in a surprisingly cooperative mood and was open to chatting, particularly about how the detectives worked and any evidence they might have gathered. He had shaved his long hair down to a buzz cut, and as he spoke he ran his hand over his now exposed scalp.

  “You know, if you find any of my hairs on Tina, it’s because my hair use
d to be long—it fell out everywhere,” he said. He and Tina often spent time in the same room and sat on the same chairs and couches, he explained. “But you won’t find any of my sperm on her,” he added confidently.

  Bailey pricked Cormier’s fingertip with a sterile lancet and squeezed a single drop of blood onto the collection card. As Bailey went about his work, Cormier changed the conversation to the subject of the stolen truck.

  “Let’s just say I was driving it,” he said. “Would that mean I’d be charged with stealing it?”

  Bailey’s reply was noncommittal. Throughout the conversation, the detective tried to appear open to Cormier’s suggestions without giving too much away. Back at the Public Safety Building, he told O’Donovan that he thought Cormier had been fishing for information and was clearly worried about his DNA. O’Donovan agreed. But Cormier’s comment about not finding his semen bothered him. He steadfastly believed that Cormier had had a sexual relationship with Tina, so this confidence was perplexing.

  O’Donovan pondered the issue as he headed home that Friday night. Early the next morning, he received a surprise phone call from the duty inspector at work. “Prepare yourself for a long day,” his colleague warned.

  Another young woman had been found by the river. This time it was the Assiniboine, the wide tributary that fed into the Red in central Winnipeg. She was still alive and had been taken to hospital, but she was in critical condition and not expected to survive beyond a few hours. The duty inspector said it was likely that the case would become a homicide.

  Oh, God, not again, O’Donovan thought as he wolfed down his breakfast before heading to his car.

  The victim was identified as a sixteen-year-old Indigenous schoolgirl who had been found earlier that morning, semi-clothed and unconscious, on the riverbank close to the water’s edge. It appeared that she had lain there for several hours before being noticed by a passerby on an early-morning walk. The girl had been badly beaten and sexually assaulted, and she was suffering from such severe hypothermia that her family had been told to prepare for the worst.