by Greg Marquis
On July 9, an affidavit was filed with the Court of Queen’s Bench, requesting a judge to grant a production order to Rogers Communications for documentation of incoming and outgoing calls for three numbers (one supposedly belonging to Richard and the others to Dennis) as well as cell-tower data for July 6 and 7. The seven-page document, which laid out the grounds for the judge (in this case Justice William Grant), reflected the state of the early investigation. It recalled the discovery of the victim’s body and the statements of Shaw and Ainsworth as to the noises they heard on the evening of the sixth. The document also repeated elements of Constance Oland’s statement, especially about the victim’s reliance on his cellphone and text messaging. She also recounted that Dennis had spoken to her brother about picking up the logbook from her husband’s office and that she found it in her back hallway early on the morning of the seventh. The affidavit continued with elements of Diana Sedlacek’s statement that recounted her manner of communicating with the victim and her attempts to text and phone him on the evening of the sixth. Adamson and McFadden confirmed Richard’s cellphone number and that the device was not present in his office. Dennis was mentioned as the last known person to see his father alive. On this basis, Const. Stacy Humphrey argued that the victim’s cellphone “will provide information and possible timelines surrounding his death.”21
In recent years, cellphones have become key evidence in homicide and other criminal investigations. In most homicides in the United States, one of the three previous calls on a victim’s cellphone is either to or from the killer.22 Cell-tower data has also been employed to locate suspects in areas where victims’ bodies have been found. One of the great mysteries of the Oland case is why the victim’s iPhone 4 was taken. There was no point in removing it in order to hide evidence of text messages or calls, because these are available to investigators from service providers if the proper legal channels are followed. Had the victim been trying to call 911? Was the phone grabbed in the heat of the moment? Did the killer take it with the hope of sending text messages in the name of the victim in order to buy time and avoid detection? The RCMP tech-crime experts would soon discover that the iPhone had been backed up on Oland’s computer just after 4:30 P.M. on July 6, meaning that it had been in the office late on the afternoon on the day of the murder. The logical inference was that it had left with the killer or killers.
Following a request from the SJPF, on July 9, Rogers Communications attempted a “forced registration” to check on the status of the missing phone as of that day. In this test, the service provider sends a message to try to track a phone from the nearest cell tower. The response was “roaming error” (a term that would be discussed during the trial). On July 10, the department was sent data from Rogers Communications that indicated the last outgoing signal from Richard’s phone was at noon on July 6, and that the last incoming signal pinged off a cell tower not in Saint John, but in Rothesay at 6:44 P.M. This was hugely significant for the developing theory of the case as it suggested the victim’s iPhone was in the same part of Rothesay as Dennis Oland at a specific time on the evening of the murder. On July 11 and 12, Sergeant David Brooker spoke to a Rogers analyst about the meaning of the technical term “absent subscriber”: it refers to a cellphone that is turned off, out of the coverage area, or destroyed.
On July 11, RCMP Sergeant Brian Wentzell, a bloodstain analyst from Nova Scotia, arrived at the scene to photograph, document, and analyse blood-spatter evidence in order to develop theories about the attack. His work extended into the twelfth. Working with Smith, he documented hundreds of spatter stains and made his own sketch of the scene. Spatter is created by blood leaving the victim’s body during and after a blunt- or sharp-force attack, or when blood flies off a knife, stick, or other weapon. Low- and medium-velocity impacts are created by fists, knives, hammers, and other weapons; gunshots are associated with high-velocity impacts. When the head and neck are struck with blunt or sharp-force objects, blood is forced out of the victim’s body at medium velocity and can land on walls, floors, ceilings, furniture, and the attacker. Cast-off spatter is created with the upward and downward motion of weapons that come into contact with the body. Experts can determine the trajectory of blood spatter by the shape of the stains. The size and patterns of stains are determined by the force of impact. The scene surrounding Richard Oland’s body showed evidence of medium-velocity spatter. Photographs of the scene indicated hundreds of small spatters, but they were not necessarily all individual stains: when a blood droplet hits a surface like a wall or a floor, it can produce satellite spatter. One sample was detected nine feet from the body, which suggested the ferocity of the attack. On or near the victim’s chair alone (which had rolled a few feet away from his desk) were dozens of small stains. Wentzell detected no evidence of a post-attack cleanup at the scene, and neither he nor Smith discovered a trail of blood or footwear impressions leading out of the room. Wentzell would also examine the red grocery bag seized from the suspect’s car. In an application for a search warrant, both Smith and Wentzell opined that an attacker would have been covered with significant blood spatter.23
On July 12, Const. Breen advised Const. Humphrey that Diana Sedlacek had agreed to voluntarily provide some type of information or evidence (possibly phone records or a polygraph test) to the SJPF. In one or more of her interviews, Diana had stressed that her lover did not have a high opinion of his son’s work ethic. That same day, Constable Bruce Weston spoke to John Travis, Oland’s supervisor at CIBC Wood Gundy, and was told that Dennis was not earning his usual income and had asked his employer for assistance.24
The public accolades following Oland’s death contrasted with Lisa (Oland) Bustin’s chilling statement to police that her father could have had “anyone for an enemy.”25 The Irving-owned Telegraph-Journal praised Richard Oland as “a powerful force for community development,” a hardworking man with “a no-nonsense approach to forging consensus.” He was credited with helping “move Rothesay and Saint John forward” and helping to promote “civic pride”26 Ironically, this influential publication, never known to exercise restraint when lionizing wealthy New Brunswickers, became one of the more aggressive media outlets in using the courts to unseal documents relating to the Oland investigation. In this quest, the Irving interests were joined by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. The Telegraph-Journal published a lengthy obituary of Richard, which noted, amongst other things, his passion of skiing and riding horses.
Saint John is a mid-sized city with a stagnant population and an uncertain economic future. Few people move there and most of the young people leave. Its political culture is largely based on desperation. For much of the twentieth century it was viewed from the outside as a brash, drab, and polluted industrial centre and port city, dominated by aggressive entrepreneurs such as K. C. Irving. Because of economic weakness and limited opportunity, it has attracted few immigrants, making it one of the least diversified metropolitan areas in Canada. Although the rate of poverty has declined by 20 percent in recent years, it remains frustratingly high (19 percent in 2010).27 Saint John’s social and economic problems are legion, and have attracted a wide assortment of government initiatives and volunteer activities. It also has an influential and vocal business community. This group reflects an historic sense of entitlement, a distrust of government, and faith in common-sense solutions to problems.
To the east of Saint John, where demands for municipal services are outpacing its tax base, are the prosperous suburban towns of Rothesay and Quispamsis. Here live the well-educated and well-paid blue- and white-collar workers, managers, and business owners, who work in and, in a sense, profit from the city of Saint John. These family centred enclaves are peaceful and prosperous to the point of being boring. Rothesay is the oldest and most prestigious of these outlying communities; its historic associations, which have changed in recent years, were British, Anglican, and conservative. As noted in a previous chapter, an iconic institution for Rothes
ay is the elite Rothesay Netherwood School, a private institution where the annual fee for day students is $20,000, almost the total average annual family income for residents of Saint John. The Rothesay elite enjoys fashionable homes, private schooling, travel, upscale recreational activities such as tennis and boating, and is able to send its children to elite universities. In 2011, the town was home to much of the Oland family and it was where Richard would be buried six days after his murder.
That Richard Oland was not a typical victim of homicide in New Brunswick was evident not only in media coverage and commentary, but in statements by public officials. Then premier David Alward of New Brunswick issued a sympathetic message but so did Darrell Dexter, then New Democratic Party premier of Nova Scotia.28 New Brunswick’s Lieutenant Governor Graydon Nicholas told reporters he felt honoured to attend Oland’s funeral: “I think it’s important that in as public a way as we can, not only myself but other officials in government, we be here to give not only our condolences but to be present with the family…. This man accomplished a lot. He did a lot of good for New Brunswick, and when you stop and think of the legacy that he left behind for athletes, that itself is amazing.”29 Oland had been a director of Ganong Brothers for almost three decades. According to company president David Ganong, his friend “was enjoying life these last few years.” Ganong had gone fishing with Oland in the past, including the trip to the Miramichi just before the murder, and was stunned by the news. He told a reporter that Oland loved fishing, but in recent years sailboat racing had become his real interest.30
Like that of his father, P. W., in the 1990s, Richard’s funeral mass at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church in Rothesay was a meeting of the provincial elite. Four priests and two monsignors were at the altar, and scriptural passages were read by niece Victoria Laskey (daughter of Jane Toward) and Dennis Oland. Pallbearers included nephew Patrick Oland, Alistair and Hugh Toward (presumably sons of Richard’s sister Jane), Kim MacKay, Charles Saunders, and Scott Laskey. There are few accounts of people being visibly upset at the funeral, yet many online condolences offered positive comments about the deceased that attested to his zest for living. One of the songs played (possibly a favourite of the victim) was the ultimate narcissist anthem, “My Way,” made famous by Frank Sinatra.31
Attendees were filmed by the police “like a Montreal mob funeral only this was the heart of the bluebloods,” in the words of one observer.32 The point of this surveillance was to gather clues, which indicates that despite their accusation of Dennis on the evening of the seventh, investigators were attempting to collect more leads. Images taken at the funeral were useful when the police interviewed Barbara Murray and Douglas LeBlanc, who had been sitting in their vehicle at the Renforth Wharf on the evening of July 6. They saw a man dressed in a sports jacket and carrying a grocery bag acting “strangely” at the wharf. The individual they identified from police images of the funeral was Dennis Oland.33
Of course, the other aspect of a Mafia funeral is to ask the questions: who shows up, who does not, and why? The class politics of the Maritime provinces are most starkly revealed at the funerals of the wealthy. In this case, dignitaries included the premier, the Lieutenant Governor, several MLAs, one Member of Parliament, two senators, and three mayors. Representatives of the business elite were also on hand, including J. K. Irving, one of the surviving sons of K. C. Irving, whose personal wealth, according to a 2015 Forbes magazine article, is $6.5 billion. (Irving and the deceased had clashed in the past when the former, testifying before a provincial regulatory board in 1989, had described Oland’s trucking company as “damned lousy”34 and accused Oland of resorting to bribes and even a having spy in the Irving organization to gain business from Irving customers.) No other Irvings were reported to be in attendance and none of the many Irving enterprises appear to have sent flowers or memorials.
In the interview room a few days earlier, Dennis had told Const. Davidson that his father, because of his difficult personality, had a hard time keeping friends. Yet Pat Darrah, former head of the Saint John Construction Association, considered himself a close friend of the victim. In his eulogy, he explained that he was overcome with emotion at the “tragedy and senseless act,” and that Richard was “a dear friend and a wonderful, wonderful community person, and we’re going to miss him tremendously.” He described “Team Oland” as “a wonderful family.”35 Following the service, attendees were invited to a reception at the house on Almon Lane where Richard had lived with his wife for decades. Richard was buried in the small parish cemetery in Rothesay, located in what is now the unattractive commercial-strip section of the town, wedged between a Sobeys supermarket and a Canadian Tire store and across the street from fast-food joints. Unlike the larger more accessible Roman Catholic cemeteries in Saint John, it is surrounded by a chain-link fence and a locked gate.
A photo by Telegraph-Journal photographer Kâté Braydon, later featured in the National Post, depicted a tearful Lisa, Dennis’s wife, leaving Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church, accompanied by Dennis who appears to be smiling. Perhaps, in this moment of stress, he was recalling a happy memory of his father. Many would consider the photo to be damning evidence; others would say there is no proper way to act at a funeral, especially for that of a family member who has been murdered. But most people at funerals have not been warned by police that they are suspects in the killing of the deceased. The image did not appear in the media, however, until almost two years later.36
After the funeral, Judge William McCarroll granted a search warrant for the residence and vehicle of Dennis Oland. In a document filed for the application, Const. Stacy Humphrey wrote: “I believe that Dennis Oland is responsible for the death of Richard Oland.” On July 14, Constable Sean Rocca requested that Dennis attend the police station for a meeting. Oland, accompanied by lawyer Gary Miller, went to the City Hall headquarters at 10 A.M. where they met with Rocca and Constable Greg Oram. It is assumed Oland was informed about the search that was to unfold that morning. Oland and Miller then drove to the Olands’ residence in Rothesay where the police were executing the warrant. Bill Teed also appeared to be present. Fifty-eight Gondola Point Road had huge symbolic and emotional significance for the Olands and their friends and associates. It had been the home of P. W. who, with his wife, had founded the Rothesay Pony Club to teach children how to ride. After his death in 1996, P. W. Oland’s body had been laid out not at a funeral home but in his own home.
A large number of SJPF officers were on-site that day, divided into inside and outside search teams. Although the warrant covered a period of four days, the search spanned nine hours; the scene was released to Teed at 8:00 P.M. The Toronto Star reported that the murder weapon was an axe and members of the public assumed that this was the chief object of the search.37 A search plan was developed and officers were organized into two-person teams with all activity recorded on paper. All items seized were photographed and documented. Miller handed over his client’s BlackBerry; the search also netted three desktop computers and a large number of documents. Oland’s VW Golf was towed away at 12:15 P.M. The search of the extensive grounds and outbuildings appears to have been thorough, with officers operating from a grid plan. Constable Michael Horgan and his police dog searched the grounds, including the road, a barn, a woodpile, and a compost area. (The horse barn was searched without the dog.) Each room of the house was searched, the basement and attic were explored, and even the lint from the clothes drier was collected. Constables Stephen Davidson and Jay Henderson checked the sun room, living room, dining room, pantry, and kitchen on the ground floor. The master bedroom received special attention and some of the items seized here included a duvet, a pillow, and even toilet paper. The officers seized several articles of men’s clothing and several pairs of men’s footwear from a closet, including a brown sports jacket that still had a dry-cleaning tag inside the collar. Nearby was a receipt for the dry-cleaning order that matched the tag. The search netted a total of fif
ty-seven items, but the Hugo Boss jacket would prove the most important, and controversial. Without it, there would have been no trial of Dennis Oland for second-degree murder. Const. MacDonald, acting as the “seizing officer,” would later testify that he was annoyed that none other than the lead investigator, Rick Russell, touched the jacket with an ungloved hand before it could be properly secured. It was rolled up and then folded into a small paper bag (an act that would be criticized at trial) for transport to the forensics section of the SJPF.38
Sleepy Rothesay, where kids playing road hockey is considered public disorder, was shocked by the police operation. A long-time neighbour, who explained that the Olands were “nice people,” commented on the police operation: “It’s just dreadful that they’re so secretive about what’s what….I’m sure if they would come out with some information, it would be much better for everybody.”39 The police continued to refuse to publicly identify a suspect but the search sent a strong message to the public. The day following the search a private security van was blocking the entrance to 58 Gondola Point Road, where a sign read “Private: Friends Open.”
At 5:45 P.M. that day, Sgt. Smith began a detailed examination of the impounded VW Golf. Between July 14 and 16, this task absorbed at least fifteen hours of his time. Smith employed the CrimeScope, the Blue Star chemical-reagent test, the Hemastix presumptive test for blood, and the LMG chemical-reagent test on the interior of the vehicle, which, by its cluttered nature, indicated no evidence of a cleanup. A total of eleven swabs were collected in case they revealed blood or DNA evidence. In the rear hatch of the VW, Smith found a red, reusable Our Compliments bag, presumably the same bag William Adamson had seen outside of the Far End Corporation on July 6. At trial, Dennis would describe this bag as his “man purse” and admit to having carried it into his father’s office on his visit. It contained maps, a book, documents, a cellphone charger, and a plastic bag. Swabs were taken from the inside and outside of the bag in case it had contained a weapon. Other items found in the trunk and tested were a sail cover and a lawn mower blade. (The SJPF did not realize at this time that these items had been purchased the morning after the murder).
