Butcher (12 page)

Shortly after Robert Pickton’s first night in jail on murder charges, RCMP staff sergeant Bill Fordy interviewed Vancouver’s prime suspect in the disappearances and murders of that city’s missing women. The interview occurred on Saturday, February 23, 2002, at the RCMP detachment offices in Surrey, located just outside Vancouver. The dialogue that follows consists of Fordy’s first interview with Pickton, much of which would be presented at Pickton’s trial nearly five years later. All in all, Pickton would be grilled for more than eleven hours. Fordy would hand off the interrogation at one point to Constable Dana Lillies, and at another point to Inspector Don Adam, who, at that time, was head of the Joint Missing Women Task Force.

The interview room was small. Its furnishings consisted of a simple black desk chair, which had been placed in one corner of the room, next to two plants. A small desk was situated next to the chair, and on top of it sat a small television and a bottle of water. A video camera had been placed in the room on a tripod, its lens directed toward the chair between the two plants. Fordy was seated in a second chair that faced the other one from across the desk, his back to the door, when Pickton entered the room. He sat in the designated chair across from Fordy, with his hands clasped across his stomach, and stared at the police officer. Pickton looked like hell, his hair stringy and greasy. Fordy stood up and introduced himself, offered Pickton a glass of juice, and told the suspect that he could call him by his first name, Bill. Then he asked Pickton if he could call him Rob. Pickton nodded his approval but said nothing at first.

“Everything I say to you is recorded—that’s for your protection and mine—a couple of things I wanted to make sure you understand,” Fordy began. “Rob, I’m not going to be mean or yell at you or get physical. I’m going to treat you with the respect you deserve, and I’m going to treat you with dignity—because if I was in that chair, that’s how I’d want to be treated. And no one else is going to hurt you, or get physical with you, I promise you that. I am a police officer and I have a job to do. You were arrested yesterday for murder, for a couple of murders.”

Fordy confirmed with Pickton that he had been arrested at the demolition work site, and charged with two murders.

“That’s what they say, yup,” Pickton responded.

Fordy explained that charges had been laid against Pickton, and that detectives had done a thorough job, so far, in the investigation. As Fordy explained that Pickton had been arrested for two murders, he also explained that detectives were investigating the disappearances of at least fifty sex trade workers. The comment brought forth a laugh from Pickton.

“Okay…I see you laughing there. Let me clarify something, okay?” Fordy asked. “You haven’t been charged with fifty murders.”

“I guess not,” Pickton replied, again laughing.

Fordy told Pickton that there was evidence to support the charges, and confirmed with Pickton that he understood.

“All right,” Fordy said. “Based on the way the investigation is going, and the way that the evidence is coming in, you’re also suspected of being involved in the disappearance and murders of the other girls.”

Pickton laughed again and looked away from his questioner.

“When you’re under investigation, I have to tell you that…you’re being investigated for ’em,” Fordy said. “I didn’t say you’ve been charged with those murders. I know that yesterday you consulted with your lawyer—last night, I guess.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Your conversations with your lawyer are privileged—you don’t have to tell me anything that was said,” Fordy stated. “I can’t imagine how you feel. You’ve probably got a ton of questions. Lawyer gave you some advice.”

“No kidding,” Pickton responded. After a short pause he said: “The advice from my lawyer is don’t talk to the police.”

Fordy told Pickton that he wasn’t there to bad-mouth his lawyer, and insisted that it was his job to obtain the truth during the interview and the investigation. Obviously, he was hopeful that Pickton would tell him what had been going on for the past several years with regard to the missing women and Pickton’s role in their disappearances. He reiterated that Pickton had been charged with two murders, and wanted to make certain that Pickton understood the seriousness of the investigation, as well as the charges that had been leveled against him so far. Fordy again told Pickton that, based on the investigation and the manner in which the evidence was being uncovered, he was suspected of being involved in the disappearances and murders of the other girls. Fordy’s statement merely brought forth another laugh from the pig farmer.

“I know that might seem humorous,” Fordy stated matter-of-factly. “There’s just one thing that I want you to know. In Canada, there are some things we have to do by law…. You don’t have to talk to me.”

“Right.”

“Because the law considers me a person of authority,” Fordy continued. “This is a criminal matter. It’s very, very serious. As a police officer, I can get subpoenaed to court…. I’ve been in court in different provinces, different towns, and I can give evidence on what’s gone on between you and I.”

“I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Anything you say to me can be given as evidence. But you don’t have to talk to me. You’re being investigated for up to fifty murders. In your own words, can you describe to me what that means?”

“What that means to me,” Pickton said, “is it’s hogwash. That’s all I can really tell you. I can’t say much. I don’t know nothing about this. It could be a setup. I’ve got nothing to say, because I know nothing. You’re here to ask me questions—I’m just a workingman. That’s what I am…. It’s a little far-fetched, isn’t it?”

“Well, we’re gonna talk about that later, Rob,” Fordy said. “What I’m gonna do is go through…a lot of this investigation. As you can imagine, Rob, this investigation is huge, it’s massive.”

Pickton laughed again.

Fordy then told him that he was as well-known as the pope, but Pickton did not respond immediately. When he did speak, he told Fordy that he’d been set up, and that he had done nothing wrong. When Fordy asked him why he thought he was there, interviewing him, Pickton sat quietly for several seconds.

“I’m mind baffling,” he finally responded. “And I’m just a working guy…just a plain working guy, that’s all I am…. It’s a little far-fetched, isn’t it? Well, I’m just a pig man, that’s all I got to say,” he added, chuckling.

Fordy told Pickton that he was not joking when he told him that he was as big as the pope, which brought forth a few more snickers from the murder suspect.

“What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?” Fordy asked.

“Being stabbed, I guess, back in ’97. I’m a bad dude. Name of the game, I guess…. I’m screwed. Nailed to the cross,” Pickton said.

“If I said, describe yourself, how would you do that?”

“We’re the same guys…same show, same shoes, just different sizes in suits. We’re actually the same.”

“That’s on the outside,” Fordy said. “Tell me about you on the inside, Rob. What kind of person are you on the inside?”

“We eat the same food, use the same toilet, same washroom, drink the same water, everything else,” Pickton said. “I have pigs. Pigs are brought up for meat. That’s what animals are for.”

“Um-hmm.”

“I’m a bad dude,” Pickton said.

“Um-hmm, yeah,” Fordy said.

“But that’s life, life goes on,” Pickton said. “We’re only here today, we’re not here tomorrow, we’re not here forever.”

“You sound a lot like me,” Fordy said. “I have a line that I say to a lot of my friends—life is not a rehearsal.”

“Yeah,” Pickton agreed. “Another thing is, if I could turn time around, change a few things, whatever I did wrong—but I don’t think I ever did anything wrong—I wouldn’t change my life very much.”

“My mom died of cancer.” Fordy had just thrown the statement out there, apparently in an effort to elicit comments from Pickton about his own mother. He knew that Pickton had been described as having been close to his mother. The tactic seemed to work.

“My mother did, too,” Pickton responded.

“Really? How long ago?” Fordy had decided to stay with the mother approach.

“1979. April first. It was a spreading cancer.”

“How old were you?”

Pickton responded that he didn’t know. Staying on the subject of Pickton’s mother, Fordy asked him her name.

“Louise.”

“How did you two get along when you were a child?”

“Two peas in a pod.”

“Close?

“Yesssssssssssssssss,”
Pickton said, dragging out the response in a long breath that sounded like steam escaping from a kettle of boiling water. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss your mom?” Fordy asked.

“Well, do you?” Pickton shot back without answering the question.

“I do, yeah.”

“Well, yeah,” Pickton finally answered.

Fordy then talked about himself for a while, and told Pickton that he had been a hard worker and that he had taken care of his brothers, his sister, and himself. He credited his mother for his strong family values, and afterward asked Pickton, who did he respect most in the world?

“Who do I respect most in the world? My mother.”

Responding to Fordy’s questions, Pickton said that he liked his mother because she was a strong woman—she had a strong mind and a strong heart, he said. He added that she was a hardworking woman. Pickton explained that he was taking care of his mother when she died, and that it had taken four months for her to die.

“Were you with her when she died?” Fordy asked.

“I don’t know where I was.”

Pickton said that his father had died on January 1, 1978, from old age. He had gotten along well with him as a child.

“Old age is a good way to die, isn’t it?” Fordy asked.

“Yeah.”

“How do you want to die?”

“I don’t know. Old age, probably.”

“Like your dad.”

“Yeah…there’s a reason for everything.”

“Why do you think you’re here today?” Fordy asked.

“I don’t know…. Life is not a rehearsal.” Pickton laughed again.

“What’s the best thing that ever happened to you?”

“Don’t know,” Pickton said. “Work. I went on holiday once. Kansas City, Missouri. I had a return ticket and cashed it in there. It was in 1974…. I had a chance to work for forty bucks an hour. Said, no, I’m here on holiday. I was twenty-four at the time. I went to Chicago. Chicago’s a dirty town. A lot of blacks, not that I’m prejudiced or anything. You had to be careful at night. There was no gas.”

He explained the difficulty of the gas situation, as best he could. His visit to the United States had occurred during the Arab oil embargo of 1973 and 1974, when OPEC nations, as well as Syria and Egypt, refused to ship oil to nations that had supported Israel in its ongoing Yom Kippur War, also known as the Ramadan War and the October War, a conflict Israel had with Syria, Egypt, and Iraq.

“Get just two or three dollars of gas,” Pickton said. “The gas wars were on. I was gone six and a half weeks. Got engaged. But she couldn’t leave her job, and I couldn’t leave mine. I had to get back to the farm. She’s probably married off now…kids…. It was a long time ago. Yup, she’s probably married off. But I had to get back to the farm. That’s life.”

The remembrance of his trip seemed to set off a flow of information. Pickton went on to describe how he and his former fiancée, Connie, had become pen pals. After discussing his fiancée for a bit longer, Pickton and Fordy somehow got onto the subject of food.

“I don’t eat vegetables,” Pickton said.

“Just meat?”

“Yup.”

“What’s your favorite meat?”

“Pork.”

Pickton and Fordy both laughed at Pickton’s response. After they stopped laughing, Fordy turned the subject of the conversation back to Pickton’s trip to the United States.

“How long were you down in the U.S.?”

“Five weeks.”

“When did you get engaged?”

“I got engaged right away. She was tall. Five-eleven, blond, one hundred forty pounds, nice body, nice eyes.”

“You guys were together for five weeks and then she couldn’t come up?”

“Her parents wouldn’t let her come up,” Pickton explained. “She was supposed to come and never did….She worked there. I had to run the farm…. Well, shit happens.”

“What did the two of you do when you were there?”

“It was Pontiac, Michigan. We’d go here and there. Out. We weren’t into the bar scene.”

“Did you tell your mom about Connie?”

“Yeah, it was all right, it was cool. She was supportive of the relationship.”

“What about your dad?”

“Dad was always on the go, keeping the farm going.”

“What did he think about Connie?”

“Whatever. I never really talked to Dad.”

“Do you have a picture of your mom?”

“No, I don’t have any.”

“Do you look like her?”

Pickton shook his head, gesturing that he did not. He said that his sister, Linda, looked more like their mother.

“Tell me about Linda.”

“Not much to say. She went to a Catholic school and grew up. That’s about it. We were never close. She liked the high life. To go out, go here, go there, she likes school, university, everything. Myself, I have no problem with it. It’s good, but some people didn’t make it through school. Some people can’t.”

“I wish I’d gone on to university,” Fordy added. “What did she take?”

“Law, I think. Lawyer or a Realtor.”

“Making tons of money, I bet.”

“That’s her own prerogative.”

“What did she do on the farm?”

“Nothing…. She’s just herself. That’s what she wants, so no big deal. I got no problem with that.”

They talked about Pickton’s brother, Dave, for a while, and Pickton agreed that he enjoyed his brother’s company.

“Who’s your best friend?” Fordy asked at one point.

“Girlfriend? Boyfriend? I have lots of friends…everybody. I don’t hold nothing back from nobody. If they’re in a jam, I help ’em out. Anything got stolen, stolen stuff off me, I’d go right back and help ’em out again. Maybe someday they’ll help me. Even if they gonna steal from me.”

“What goes around comes around.”