Murder at McDonald's (48 page)

The decision to start a petition aimed at increasing the punishments handed out in Canadian courts showed how the McDonald's murders had changed the Warren and Burroughs families. Olive Warren was filled with hate, something she said was never part of her character before her daughter was murdered. She did not like what she felt, but she had a strong desire to act on those feelings, and the reaction to the petition in the Cape Breton community showed that many shared her sentiments. Very few people refused to sign and, in a matter of months, Olive Warren and Carmel Burroughs had obtained thousands of signatures from Cape Bretoners who felt the McDonald's murder trials had shown there were serious flaws in the justice system. Freeman MacNeil and Derek Wood had been given the stiffest sentences allowed under Canadian law, but many felt this fell far short of what was appropriate. The biggest issue was the lack of consecutive jail terms: many people approached by the two women said they could not support capital punishment, but Olive Warren noted that those who objected to the death penalty agreed to sign on the other side of the petition, which dealt with lengthier jail terms for cases of multiple murder.

Another campaign, started by relatives of Neil Burroughs, showed a whole different viewpoint in Cape Breton. Neil Burroughs's sister, Cathy Sellars, asked McDonald's of Canada to close and demolish the Sydney River restaurant in honour of the victims. The presence of the restaurant made it difficult for her and her family to get on with their lives, she said; driving to and from Sydney meant passing the crime scene. McDonald's offered instead to erect a monument in a local park to pay tribute to the four workers shot during the robbery. Cathy said that was not enough, but many Cape Bretoners said they did not feel the demolition of the restaurant was warranted—or even desirable. Garfield Lewis, for example, pointed to the number of young people who looked to his restaurants for employment. He could not afford to build a new restaurant in Sydney River if the old one was torn down, and he knew the Cape Breton economy was not strong enough for McDonald's International to take on the capital cost. His restaurants were just not that profitable. In the months after the shootings, many people avoided going to the Sydney River McDonald's, but by the summer of 1993, Lewis said that business was returning to normal, and that people were beginning to put the horrible events of May 1992 behind them.

For the families of Freeman MacNeil, Darren Muise, and Derek Wood, that was a difficult, if not impossible, task. Like the victims' families, they faced constant reminders of what had happened. Local media reports on the petition and the campaign to raze the restaurant meant the story was still in the public eye. Yet the character of the people of Cape Breton has been a blessing for the relatives of the three young men. Gail Muise believes she would not have been able to make it through the ordeal without the love and support of her friends and neighbours. They reacted as Cape Bretoners always have to tragedy—they supported the people in need of help, rather than blame Gail or her husband for what Darren had done. For Gail and Sandy Muise, the tragedy will never go away, although they try not to discuss it, even at home alone. Two years after the events, just raising the subject brings tears to Gail's eyes as she continues to ask herself the question with no real answers: how did her son end up inside that restaurant? Gail Muise says she will never recover, and that her life will never be what it once was.

And there are other people closely connected to the case who feel their lives have changed forever. Some even look to the positive effects after such a tragedy. Ken Haley, for example, says he is more confident now in his ability to perform his job as a prosecutor. He believes the successful prosecution of the McDonald's case has prepared him for any job, no matter how big. RCMP public affairs officer Dave Roper believes the case has given a similar sense of confidence to the Mounties who protect the people of Cape Breton County. The strong team effort that brought about the arrests and convictions showed the members of the Sydney RCMP subdivision that they are capable of handling the worst in big-city crime—although they hope, of course, that they are never called on to do so again.

When the last trial was over, prosecutors Ken Haley and Brian Williston began to look at the question that many in Cape Breton had been asking them. Why would three seemingly normal young men commit such a horrible act? Haley also tried to understand why the three never really showed emotion during their trials. He had taken the time to observe Derek Wood, Darren Muise, and Freeman MacNeil, and hoped to see something in them that would show they were capable of normal human emotion. He was angry that they not only committed such terrible crimes, but also sat in open court, day after day, surrounded by anger, grief, and pain, without showing the slightest sign of being moved by what they had done.

The prosecutors also thought about the behaviour of the three young men after the crime, during the interrogations and trials, and behind bars. Not long after his arrest, Freeman MacNeil developed a reputation with guards at the Cape Breton County Correctional Centre. They considered MacNeil a real pain in the ass, a prisoner who knew what he was entitled to and insisted on getting everything he could. If he wanted to write a letter, he demanded paper and a pen, and privacy to write. Derek Wood also adapted quickly to prison life. A few weeks after the murders, Constable Pat Murphy served papers on Wood at the jail and talked with him for a while; he needed to hear Wood's voice in case he had to identify the wiretapped voices in court. Wood told the officer he was happy to talk with him, and then, to Murphy's shock, suggested that police check first the next time they decided to pay him a visit. It was movie day, he said, and he didn't care to miss the show. As for Darren Muise, he too seemed relatively content in prison, and talked as though he had everything in hand.

Dr. Akhtar, the forensic psychiatrist who testified at MacNeil's trial, put forward one theory that might enlighten those perplexed by the young men's actions. He offered the so-called group dynamic as a possible explanation. Alone, Freeman MacNeil, Darren Muise, and Derek Wood probably would not have killed. Nothing in their background suggested they would become violent criminals. But, after convincing each other they were big-time criminals, none of them wanted to be seen as the weak link in the chain. Once the killing started, the young men felt compelled to show they were worthy of the group by taking part in what was happening. In a sense, that theory explained why all three became involved in the killing once it started, but it didn't address the question of why the first shot was fired. What went through Derek Wood's mind before he pulled the trigger? Was he afraid to show the others that he was weak? Or was he caught up in the power he possessed at that moment? Did he feel that he was in complete control, and that no-one could stop him from doing whatever he decided to do?

Then there was the three men's behaviour in jail—behaviour Dr. Akhtar described as typical of people suffering from sociopathic personality disorders. Sociopaths are antisocial individuals in whom conscience has ceased to function; such people often thrive in the strictly controlled environment of a prison. But it would be an incredible coincidence if all three of these average teenagers, who just happened to strike up a friendship, turned out to be sociopaths. Another possibility is that the three young men do have consciences, but for one reason or another do not feel guilt about what happened at McDonald's—perhaps they have displaced their guilt, as often happens in a group. It's a lot easier to lower one's own level of guilt by transferring it to the others involved, something Freeman MacNeil did when he incriminated Muise and Wood in his early statements to police.

The conditions in Cape Breton at the time of the crime may also have played a role. Criminologists have noted a strong correlation between crime and economic conditions. All three killers were living an essentially aimless existence, believing, as many kids do in an economically depressed area, that they had no future—nothing to live for and nothing to lose. An attitude like that can lead people to commit horrible acts. If Darren Muise, Freeman MacNeil, and Derek Wood all had steady jobs with promising futures, it is highly unlikely they would have been inside the Sydney River McDonald's on the morning of May 7, 1992. Perhaps they would have exhibited antisocial traits in other areas of their lives. But then, many successful business people and community leaders show such traits, usually referred to as white-collar crime.

Ever since I was called to cover the McDonald's murder in the early morning of May 7, 1992, I have probably been asked at least once a week why I think it happened. I myself have put the same question to everyone involved in the case, and no-one—not the police, the prosecutors, the defence lawyers, or the relatives of either the victims or the killers—can come up with an answer. Friends of the three killers still wonder how they became involved. One of Darren Muise's closest friends told me he has spent many sleepless nights trying to answer that question: he maintains that nothing Darren ever did as a child or young adult gave any kind of warning that he was capable of such brutal violence. Nor have the friends and neighbours of the other two young men found anything to suggest that they were monsters, or time bombs waiting to go off. Other teenagers in the Cape Breton area have told me that petty crime is often seen as acceptable behaviour. There are not enough jobs to go around, and stealing from cars or from homes is one way to make up for the lack of employment. These young people are quick to point out that violence is not a part of this crime of necessity, which they try to justify by saying that the insurance companies can always replace what's been stolen. It is interesting to note that other young adults living in the tough economic climate of Cape Breton strongly disagree with what some of their friends are doing. Many, including the young employees at McDonald's, still believe they can, and will, make a living and have a future at home, where they want to be.

A short time after the MacNeil trial ended, I was parked in a drive-through line outside a McDonald's near Halifax. It was early on a Friday evening, and I was startled when three young men stepped in front of my car. They were laughing and joking and pushing one another. As I watched them walk across the parking lot and jump in a car, I couldn't help wondering what made them different from Freeman MacNeil, Darren Muise, and Derek Wood. The McDonald's killers had walked and joked in a similar parking lot; they too had driven around their city on a Friday night. What made them commit a crime that the people of Sydney will never forget? As I drove away, I began to think about why the murders had left such deep scars on the residents of my home town. Partly, it was because of the place where the crime had occurred. McDonald's was one of the first fast-food chains to come to Sydney; an entire generation had grown up with it as part of their lives. We went there as children; we returned as teens, to hang out on a Friday night; and now we bring our own children there.

The words of Father Stanley MacDonald came back to me: the community, he said, had lost a gathering place. It was true. In some way, the murders had been a violation of a place that was part of all of us. We walked on those floors, which were later stained with the blood of innocent young people. We knew those kids with the striped uniforms, the silly hats, and the bright smiles.

The Sydney River McDonald's murders were a terrible tragedy. The legacy of pain left from the seven shots fired that night will continue to be felt for many years, as Justin Burroughs grows up with no father, as Arlene MacNeil grows old as a disabled adult, as the people who love all four victims continue to ask the question with no answer, and as those who love the men convicted try to deal with their grief and ask the same question. Why did it have to happen at all?

We must also ask ourselves if there is anything that can be done to change the dismal economic realities that left three bright young men convinced that their only hope was a life of crime. Cape Breton is not unique in its plight; there are many economically depressed areas. How many other young adults are there who feel there is nothing to lose, nothing to stop them from pulling a trigger again and again?

About the Author

Phonse Jessome is a veteran Canadian reporter and television correspondent. Raised in Sydney, Nova Scotia, he has covered crime and politics in Canada since the early 1990s. His books include
Murder at McDonald's
(1994), the definitive account of a grisly triple-homicide at a Sydney fast food restaurant, and
Somebody's Daughter
(1996), an investigation of human trafficking in Canada.

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Copyright © 1994 by Phonse Jessome

Cover design by Greg Mortimer

ISBN: 978-1-5040-3800-3

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