by Greg Marquis
Walsh’s charge devoted several pages to the issue of the exit door, including when it was opened after police arrived on July 7, 2011, and the problematic testimony of Const. Davidson (and his lack of notes from that day). It also revealed the conflicting testimony of several officers at the scene about the status of the door. Walsh pointed out inconsistencies in the evidence of the accused, but cautioned the jury that even if Oland’s 2011 statement and recent testimony “leave you with a reasonable doubt of his guilt,” they were required to make their determination on the totality of the evidence.16 He reminded the jury of the special instruction he had already given regarding Anthony Shaw’s testimony on the timing of the noises from the second floor. If that testimony raised reasonable doubt, then they must acquit the defendant. Although the Crown did not have to prove motive, Walsh reviewed the relative evidence. On the afternoon of December 16, as Walsh was approaching his conclusion, the Law Courts building was hit by another technical glitch. As a result of a power failure, the courtroom and floor of the building had to be temporarily evacuated. Ninety minutes later, the power was restored and Walsh concluded. He urged jurors “to keep an open mind but not an empty head.”17
Following the charge, Walsh watched as the clerk of the court, Amanda Evans, and Sheriff George Oram carried out a necessary function: the discharge of the thirteenth juror. They did this by placing ballots in a wooden box and drawing a number at random. This was likely the same box that had been used for jury draws at the old Saint John County Courthouse for decades. The judge reminded the soon-to-be surplus juror that they were under the same code of silence as the jury and expressed his “personal, heartfelt thanks” for their devotion to their civic duty. The juror whose number was drawn was a woman; Justice Walsh thanked her as she left. The jury that would decide the fate of Dennis Oland consisted of four women and eight men. It departed for the jury room at 3:30 P.M. In an interesting display of collegiality, the lawyers on the two sides, including John Henheffer who initially had been first chair for the Crown, shook hands and congratulated one another. The youngest counsel on both sides embraced one another.
The jury started its work before supper and deliberated for at least a couple of hours that evening before retiring to a hotel for the night. They were supervised by members of the sheriff service who made sure they had no telephone or electronic contact with family or friends and refrained from reading, watching, or listening to media reports of the trial. Following the intense three-and-an-half-month trial period, activity in the court complex seemed to slow down, particularly on the floor containing courtroom twelve. The jury reported each day to its room next to the courtroom, equipped with washroom facilities, coffee, key exhibits, and equipment for viewing video clips. One juror was a smoker, and the rules required that sheriff staff escort all twelve outside to the cool early-winter air for each cigarette break. During the days, local, regional, and national media hung out on the chairs and at the large, wooden former jury-room table from the old county courthouse, worked on their laptops, texted and emailed, and swapped the occasional story about other trials and assignments. Many reporters, perhaps anticipating a quick not-guilty verdict, remained on-site after supper, when normal court business is suspended. The press was updated by email by Dave MacLean, the provincial government communications person who also remained on-site for long hours. The jury watch extended into Thursday and Friday. On those evenings, the jurors stood down before 9:00 P.M. On December 17, the first full day of deliberation, a friend posted the following message on the Facebook page of Diana Sedlacek (now living in Victoria, BC): “Thinking of you. Hope justice will be served.”
During those days, members of both the prosecution and defence teams were seen in and around the Law Courts (which houses the offices of Crown prosecutors), and it was understood that the judge and the defendant were also staying close by in case the jury gave notice it was returning. There appeared to be a strong bond of respect between the judge and jury, and given the length of the trial and the tricky issues of reasonable doubt and presumption of innocence, one theory was that it would take at least two days, roughly the length of Walsh’s charge, for a decision. Another theory was that the jury, after long months of intense observation, wanted to be free before Christmas. Yet, observant court watchers doubted that this jury, which appeared to be disciplined and dispassionate, would be motivated by personal concerns. Earlier in the year, the jury in the Joseph Paul Irving second-degree trial had deliberated for less than four hours; the Cormier jury had met for six hours. In both cases, the defendants had been found guilty. By the start of the last weekend before Christmas, many busy citizens were shopping and running family errands, but keeping close to the radio, Facebook, Twitter, and their text and email connections. By the start of the third full day of deliberation, people were speculating that one or two jurors, not yet fully convinced of the defendant’s innocence, were still holding out against the majority. There was also speculation about how Dennis and his family, with the expected not-guilty finding, would be accepted by their peers and the wider Saint John area community. Even if acquitted, would he still be associated with the murder of his father?
On the morning of Saturday, December 19, the author was the second non-staff person to enter the Law Courts, following veteran CTV reporter Mike Cameron. The jury arrived around 9:00 A.M., and the handful of court watchers wondered if this would be the day. Shortly after 10:00 A.M., sheriff staff escorted the entire jury to the elevator in the public hallway and down to the ground floor for a smoke break. They returned a few minutes later and the watchers went back to their conversations or tried to read or use their phones, tablets, and laptops. Within minutes, the Department of Justice sent an email to the media that the jury was returning to the courtroom. The defendant, his lawyers, and his family and supporters began to converge on the security gate and proceed to courtroom twelve. Many people expected that the jury would be asking a question.
As the lawyers, sheriff deputies, the defendant, the Oland family, the media, and a handful of spectators gathered in the courtroom, an ominous silence took hold. Justice Walsh appeared and the jury filed in, giving no visible indication of its intentions. The sheriff was present, suggesting that something different may be happening. Suddenly it was apparent: it was verdict time. The foreman was asked for the jury’s decision. The author logged in to Facebook and prepared a message; his thumb was hovering over the letter N, to start the message “not guilty.”
The verdict was read: guilty.
CBC reporter Bobbi-Jean MacKinnon, who had covered many criminal trials, reported a sound “like a wild, wounded animal.” Oland, who was sobbing and physically affected, was comforted by Gary Miller. His wife, Lisa, yelled out, “That’s impossible,” and, in an accusatory tone, asked, “How could you do this?” Dennis collapsed into his chair on the side of the court. The convicted man exclaimed: “Oh no! Oh no!...Oh my God…my children.” One media account claimed that he “wailed.”18 The defendant and his family appeared to be totally unprepared for any verdict other than not guilty. Oland, now a prisoner, was removed from the courtroom at the judge’s order almost immediately. Walsh, possibly distracted by both the verdict and the level of emotion, thanked and dismissed the jury before it was asked to perform its last duty, making a recommendation on minimum parole eligibility. The jury was summoned and a more composed Oland was escorted back to court by a deputy to watch the proceedings. Walsh explained the criteria for sentencing and while the jury deliberated in its room, a woman’s cries (presumably Lisa’s) could be heard from the washroom across the hall.
A few minutes later, the jury and Oland returned to the courtroom. The foreman reported a unanimous recommendation of ten years, and then each juror was polled, with the same answer. Oland made no response to this, and the jury exited for the final time. Justice Walsh set a sentencing hearing for February 11, 2016, and the prisoner, who looked forlorn and defeated but acknowledged his family, wa
s taken by sheriff staff through the side door to the internal elevator. From there he was walked through the tunnel to the SJPF lockup and either placed briefly in lockup or escorted to the underground parking garage. There he would have been loaded into a secure sheriff’s van for transport to the Saint John Regional Correctional Facility, where he had been briefly incarcerated in late 2013. For a few minutes, as reporters filed to the exit of the building, readying their cameras, the Olands remained in the corridor outside courtroom twelve. This was the same area where twice a day for three months they had enjoyed coffee and conversation with Dennis when he was a free man.19
This Christmas, Dennis Oland would not be with his family in Rothesay. After the verdict, friends (and possibly family) gathered at the home of Bill Teed where, according to Oland neighbour Kelly Patterson, they were “totally stunned.” According to friend Larry Cain, people had expected to be celebrating that evening.20 Outside the Law Courts, the well-dressed defendant, photographed and captured on video by reporters for months, was nowhere in sight. His wife, Lisa, carried his coat past the media gauntlet and was driven away. After the family had departed, the three Crown attorneys, dressed in their black robes, appeared outside to make a brief statement. The defence lawyers had not made any comments. A serious-looking Veniot, flanked by Wilbur and Weaver, was not gloating or in a speech-making mood. He thanked the jurors “for their careful consideration of all of the evidence” and for completing their legally bound duties. There was no reference to either the victim or the accused, and no mention of justice being served.
Chris Morris and Mike Landry, writing in the Telegraph-Journal, described the verdict as sending “shockwaves across the country.” The conviction immediately became a national media story, with reports being filed from coast to coast in print, radio and television broadcasts, and online news sites, over the next few days. Local media attention was particularly intense. Todd Veinotte, a Saint John broadcaster, reported that many in the community were not prepared for the verdict and believed the case had all the drama of a TV movie.21 Bizarrely, in the immediate aftermath of this somewhat unexpected win by the Crown and the police, the Telegraph-Journal ran an editorial cartoon mocking the SJPF. The various crusades of Brunswick News publications’ editors aside, the allegations of inadequacies in the police investigation, combined with a series of allegations of officer wrongdoing in other parts of the province, fed the media’s requirement to keep the Oland story alive pending any substantial news.22
No prominent resident of the Saint John community was cited in the media as approving of the verdict or stating that justice had run its course. But the online world was different, and email, Twitter, Facebook, and other social media, as well as the comments sections on online news sites, revealed a range of opinions. Some comments became so nasty that the Telegraph-Journal at one point disabled the function. One person who posted on the CBC News website had no doubt about the identity of the murderer:
Well rest in peace Father Richard Oland. Seems as there is no one on the video that shows another person of interest in this case, Dennis, spoilt, lazy, privileged, now he has certainly erased his debt to his father. The father suffered a painful death, a man who had a strong work ethic that made him a wealthy, and a respected man in the community…23
Another, one of many, suggested that the family was living in denial:
Sounds like the Oland family will be coming to terms with the court-based determination that Dennis murdered his father this weekend. Must be horrible to realize that your family member is not only capable of murder but so pathological and selfish as to drag his entire family into his murderous deception.24
A social media post by a member of the local cultural scene repeated the theme of the sufferings of the Oland family:
The only thing more shocking than the Oland verdict would be the level of lazy, smug, hateful—and, in some cases, I suspect, actionable—commentary now poisoning my newsfeed and generally polluting the twittersphere. I really can’t fathom it. Where is the joy, especially in this season, in so casually venting such vitriol? Whether you think Dennis Oland is guilty or not, please remember, as you swing your own little drywall hammer in sundry acts of character assassination, that he has a family; he’s surrounded by, and attached to, a whole constellation of good people that are now suffering yet another terrible blow.25
In the face of the conviction, the Oland family appeared determined to exonerate Dennis. Derek Oland issued a statement insisting on his convicted nephew’s innocence and affirming the family’s faith “in the course of law.” Constance Oland’s statement expressed the hope that “justice eventually will be served.”26 On December 20, the day after the verdict, the ministers of St. David’s United Church and St. Paul’s Anglican Church in Rothesay (both located on the Rothesay Common) asked the congregation to observe a moment of silence and to keep the Oland family in their prayers. The next night, as many residents of Rothesay celebrated the official opening of a new outdoor skating rink on the Common four days before Christmas, the Oland family was no doubt still in shock.
The response of the SJPF was not as muted as that of the Crown. A statement by Chief John Bates, who started on the job in the middle of the trial, was careful to state that “no winners emerge from such a tragic event” but declared that the verdict was “a degree of validation” for the police service. Bates promised that the SJPF would be dealing with professional lapses revealed by the Oland trial.27 Lawyer Christopher Hicks, deemed an expert on the case although he lived fifteen-hundred kilometres away in Toronto, told CBC’s The Fifth Estate that the SJPF was guilty of “substandard behaviour” in its failure to secure the crime scene. Early in 2016, the Oland family issued a statement urging the NB Police Commission to make public the results of its investigation into how the SJPF had conducted the investigation of the murder of Richard Oland.28 The police commission had announced after the verdict that at the request of the Saint John Board of Police Commissioners it was planning to examine the role of the SJPF in the investigation. This was separate from the inquiry into the King-McCloskey allegations announced in October. The plan was to forward any recommendations to the provincial minister of Public Safety. (After the Oland appeal was filed on January 20, 2016, the NB Police Commission announced it was suspending all investigations until the legal process ran its course.)29
On Monday, December 21, Gary Miller told the Telegraph-Journal that the defence planned to work on an appeal. This raised the possibility of a hearing to ask that Oland be released on bail, a rare outcome in Canada. Although one Toronto-based lawyer was optimistic about this outcome, University of New Brunswick law professor Nicole O’Byrne opined that a positive outcome was “highly unlikely,” given the conditions spelled out in the Criminal Code. The release of Oland would be highly exceptional given that one of the key criteria for a reviewing judge was the public interest. O’Byrne stressed that a judge would have to carefully consider that “the release of a convicted murderer would destroy the public’s confidence in the justice system.”30
What exactly had happened? Twelve randomly selected people, from a jury pool chosen from two counties, sat through a sixty-five-day trial, heard dozens of witnesses, and found the accused guilty after three days of deliberation. Professor O’Byrne thought that the strategy of allowing Oland to testify bore great risk. She concluded that “the jury did not believe the accused’s version of events and they decided to convict the accused.” Despite the attempt by the defence to raise reasonable doubt by vigorously cross-examining Crown witnesses and questioning the competency of the SJPF, Dennis Oland had not been believable in the eyes of the jury.31
The jury deliberated for a total of thirty hours, from Wednesday afternoon till Saturday morning, which suggests a split. The final panel consisted of eight men and four women and several of them appeared to be in their twenties or early thirties. Given the Criminal Code’s restrictions against revealing what happens durin
g jury deliberations, the dynamics of what occurred over those three days can only be speculated about. Given the outcome, it is plausible that the split may have been nine or ten in favour of guilt and two or three not convinced. Although common sense suggests that women are more liberal than men and therefore sympathetic to defendants, research indicates that age is a more discriminating factor. According to American research, older jurors are more likely than younger jurors to convict. Another reason why deliberations were extended is that the jury had a lot of circumstantial evidence to consider and probably watched video clips and reviewed the trial’s extensive documentary record. Over the three-day period the gap narrowed, so it is likely that the panel came to an unofficial consensus on the evening of the eighteenth, and knocked off at roughly 8:00 P.M. The jury then relaxed for the rest of the evening and returned to the courthouse the next morning for the final, formal vote.
Veteran Nova Scotia defence lawyer Joel Pink, interviewed on CTV Atlantic, was “a little surprised” but viewed the outcome as “a good example of our criminal justice system.” Pink thought that both legal teams were experienced and professional and reminded viewers that the decision to charge Oland would have been reviewed by the Crown. He explained that cases can appear from the outside to “lean towards the defence” but only the jury sees the “totality of the facts.” Then there was the credibility of the defendant as a witness, especially in relation to the key point of the trial, the brown jacket. The defence had offered no other theory to explain the crime and obviously failed to raise sufficient reasonable doubt. Pink believed that “this particular jury was very careful.”32
