My Story, part 1

Good things have been said about me, and bad things have been said about me. I’d like to say that only the good things are true. But that would make me a liar. And the bad list is long enough for now as it is.

But if I could live my life over again, there’s not a whole lot that I’d do differently. I have few regrets. I’ve been through some rough times. But I’m alive, I’m (reasonably) healthy, and I’m happy. I’ve been married, and divorced; I’ve had children; I’ve been to court, I’ve been to jail; I’ve been a drug addict; I’ve been in hospital for an overdose, I’ve been to rehab (and not just once); I’ve been a drug dealer; I’ve been kidnapped and almost killed. What a long strange trip its been (and I’m only 35). And, to tell the truth, I don’t have any regrets. I’ve learned a lot from my experiences. Ill try to live life to its fullest and enjoy it to the max.

I’ve always been interested in making money and causing trouble. I was around twelve years old when I “went bad”. In PEI, the [magic] mushrooms grow wild. Magic Mushrooms. I kept hearing about the older kids taking the magic mushrooms. I was curious what happens when you eat these things?

I remember playing a game of baseball in my front yard when I was in Grade 7. I told my best friend at the time that I wanted to try magic mushrooms. He says, “No, you’re crazy …”. I didn’t listen to him. I never listened to anybody. I tried the mushrooms and it was the freakiest experience I ever had. I took them at lunch on a school day. A little while later, I was in history class and I thought the room was floating. I saw waves in the floor like it was made of water. The teacher was about ten feet tall. Then he was short and fat. Then he was tall and skinny again. I was stoned and I loved it. I found some new friends and we’d take mushrooms every weekend. First we’d just go stand outside the liquor store until we found us someone willing to buy us some beer. Then we’d take mushrooms and hang around by the train tracks just having a good time.

In the summer, my cousins would come down from Montreal and stay for a few weeks. They were older than me and I didn’t spend a lot of time with them. But one of them, Mike, was selling drugs and he would bring pot and hash down with him. He told me that if I would sell five joints for him, he’d give me one. For every five I sold, I’d get one. So I started selling pot. I was 12 years old. Mike also said that if I picked mushrooms with him, he’d buy them from me. That first year that I started picking, I got three ounces. I sold them to Mike for $100.00 each. That’s $300.00. My first drug deal. I was on my way. The next year, I picked about a half pound (eight ounces). The mushrooms would grow in the fall, from September to November. I’d pick them after school and sometimes I’d get up before school and go picking. I soon had enough money to buy a motorcycle – a Yamaha 200 street and dirt. With this I could travel around and find all the best fields for picking. Most years, I would get about 2 pounds. Instead of selling them for cash, I would mail them to Montreal and Mike would send back hash on trade. I would sell the hash by the gram. It was always good hash and I could get $20/gram. By the time that I was 16, I was making a lot of money. Enough money that I could afford cocaine. Soon, I was having that sent down from Montreal too. I was a sixteen year old cocaine dealer. This was in the early eighties in small town Prince Edward Island. Cocaine dealers were few and far between at that time. But I was headed for the big leagues.

But I was also a practical joker in high school. I used to use the mail a lot for my pranks. I would go to the drug store and take the subscription cards out of the magazines and put someone else’s name and address on them and send them off. My high school principal had a name that he didn’t like – “Hymie”. I think it was from an old tv show about a robot. Anyway, the high school had hundreds of dollars of subscriptions coming addressed to Hymie. I was a suspect in this case, I suppose because I was involved in all the trouble that went on in our school.

“Hymie” took me out of class one day. He wanted to compare my handwriting with the writing on the subscription card that one of the post office workers had given him (The investigation was on). It was quite obvious to me and I would think anyone else that whoever had filled out the card had printed with his other hand. Hymie couldn’t make the match and I was released, with a smile on my face and a gain in my ‘outlaw’ reputation. This was only one of many encounters with Hymie and I came out ahead.

But there was one prank that I don’t think that I’ll ever top. I used to hang around with my friend Jamie. He dropped out of school in grade 9 or 10 but we stayed friends, even after this devious prank. This happened when I was 16 or 17. One day, I was reading a magazine and I saw an ad in the back from a guy in prison in the states who was lonely and wanted girls to write to him. Now Jamie, as you know, can also be a girls name. So I composed a two-page letter from Jamie. I made it sound like I was a horny young girl without actually saying that I was a girl. I told the guy that what I’d like to do with him when he got out and I signed the letter with X’s and O’s (hugs and kisses). And off to the post office I went. I thought that Jamie would get a letter from this guy in prison who wanted to fuck him and this would be pretty funny. I could never have imagined what really happened. You see, a few weeks later, the letter comes back in the mail marked “return to sender”.

Jamie’s father picked up the mail. He saw that this letter from his son was addressed to a guy in prison, and, justifiably curious, he opened the letter. And, as it happens, my handwriting is very similar to Jamies. So Jamies dad reads the letter and he flips out. “My son’s gay! My boy’s a fucking faggot!” (Jamie’s father was a macho guy, spent most of his time out in the barn fixing motorcycles). He didn’t take the news well. I hadn’t ever told Jamie about the letter so he didn’t know what was going on and wasn’t able to put up much of a defense right away. So after hearing about this, I told Jamie what I had done. He wasn’t terribly happy but he saw the humor in it. He explained things to his mother, and after a few days, his mom was able to make peace with his dad and everything was ok. But only for a while …

Because not long after sending the first letter, I saw another ad for a homosexual correspondence club – “Hmmmm ….”, I though, “What if …..?” So, I wrote another letter (from Jamie). In the ad, they asked for $5.00 for membership fees so I put in a five dollar bill. Several weeks pass and, lo and behold, this letter comes back marked again, “Return to Sender”. And again, Jamies dad picks up the mail. Here we go again. This time his dad totally loses it. He goes to the liquor store, buys two quarts of whisky, and proceeds to get smashed, trying to drown his sorrows. This time no-one is gonna convince him his boys not queer. There’s a big fight at Jamies house which ends with Jamie moving out and going to live with his older sister. (I should also mention that Jamie didn’t have any girlfriends, so this, I suppose, makes the situation a little more believable, and the $5 bill looked serious too). It was about 2 years before Jamie moved back home again. Jamie wasn’t very talkative about this. Most of the info I got from his younger brother.

After I finished high school, I went to University – St. Mary’s in Halifax, Nova Scotia. I didn’t know what I wanted to do but both of my brothers had been to university so my parents insisted that I go too. So off I went. I didn’t care about school but I wanted to live in Halifax – the big city compared to where I was from. I started selling drugs to the other students when I got there. I was taking trips to Montreal to buy hash by the kilo and coke by the ounce. At St Mary’s, I sold it by the gram and I made a lot of money – easy money. It was hard to be interested in school when I was making so much money selling drugs. Halifax was just one long party. I was going downtown to the bars almost every night, doing cocaine all the time. I could never get out of bed for my classes. I made it through my first year but then I pretty much gave up on school altogether.

In the second year, I pretty dropped most of my courses and focused on selling drugs. Too bad I got busted I guess it was bound to happen. There was so much drug use and drug dealing going on at school. I sold a gram to a narc. Funny thing is, I knew he was I narc, but I sold it to him anyway. I was so stoned I didn’t know what to do. I had just finished smoking a monster spliff when the narc came to my door. “Somebody said I could buy a gram here”, he says. I had about 20 grams in my pocket and the room was full of smoke. I thought if I didn’t sell it I probably get busted anyway. So I sold him a gram. He said thanks and walked away but I just knew he was a narc. Sure enough, about a week later I came home and my door was wide open, my clothes were thrown all over the place, and there was a card from the police sitting on my desk. When I left earlier that morning, I was just after buying a quarter pound of hash (4 oz). I weighed out 20 grams and put them in my desk. I put the rest of the chunk in a drawer, under my clothes. Then I locked my door and started heading downtown. Five minutes later, I came back thinking, “I should hide that better”, so I put it in a case of beer bottles. When I checked my room after the search, the 20 grams were gone but the big chunk was still there! Mixed feelings there. I was busted but it would have been a lot worse if they had found the big piece. This pretty much ended my university days. I was allowed to finish the year but I was kicked out of residence. I moved in (illegally) with a couple of friends who shared a room in residence. This was where I first tried heroin. One of the guys was from Hong Kong and every month he would get his friend to mail him a few grams. I snorted a big line of it one night and I got really sick. I remember standing up and it seemed like the walls took off in different directions. I fell down and crawled to the toilet and puked over and over again. I looked in the mirror and my skin was almost blue. I felt terrible but I wanted to try it again. For the bust, I got a $600 fine. No big deal really but I got a criminal record for it. That was the worst that happened.

After I wrapped things up at St. Mary’s, I moved back home to P.E.I.   That’s where I met Jean, who eventually became my wife. She and I were perfect together (or so I thought). She had a good sense of humor and she didn’t mind me selling drugs or handing out with my friends all night. She never complained about anything and she tolerated all my bad habits.

But I didn’t have a job in P.E.I. I didn’t want to work anyway. I could make a lot more money selling dope. But after getting busted there was a lot of pressure from my family to go straight so I decided to give it a try. Not in Souris, but in Toronto. I packed my bags and Jean and I moved to Toronto. I took a job there at a record and tape distributor making not much more than minimum wage. But I had over $10,000 in the bank when I was in Halifax so I was comfortable. We were only there for a month or two when Jean announced she was pregnant. Oh fuck. So she moved back home. I had some friends in Toronto and I wanted to spend the winter there. When spring came around I moved back to the Island. Jean had the baby, a boy – Steven (my middle name) and we rented a house and moved in together. With my place now I started selling coke seriously. I was buying it cheap by the kilo in Montreal and selling it by the gram. The money was good. This went on for several years with me amassing a small empire and a big habit. Eventually I moved to Charlottetown and opened my own business [Days of Wine and Beer], a retail store selling wine and beer making supplies. I was selling ounces and pounds of coke now, living the high life. I always had a roll of hundreds in my pocket. I had five cars and the money to do anything that I wanted. But nothing lasts forever … even cold November rain.

One night I got a call from my brother telling me that [my cousin] Mike in Montreal was dead. Somebody slit his throat outside a bar in downtown Montreal. I think this is when things started to go bad for me too. I was able to get another drug connection and the money was good for a few more years but I had gotten a look at the ugly side of the business and things were never the same as when I was getting it from Mike. We were family. With Mike, if I was late with the money it wasn’t a problem. With anybody else, it doesn’t work that way. After Mike died I did a lot of thinking. I stopped planning for the future and began to live more for the moment. What a mistake that would turn out to be.

By the time I hit 30 [1996], I was a fucking junkie. I was still dealing large amounts of coke but I could see that it was coming to an end. I didn’t care. I needed the junk so bad I didn’t care about anything. I’d go on it for 2 or 3 months straight and then I’d come off it and be sick for a month or two. But as soon as I’d start feeling better, I’d be on a plane to Montreal to buy another bag, for about $6000 an ounce. I’d tell myself that I’d only do it on weekends so I wouldn’t get hooked. But I couldn’t resist the high. It made me feel so good. Once I got that bag in my hand, I didn’t let go till it was all gone. And then I was sick again. And it’s every bit as bad as you see in the movies, probably worse. But there’s no better feeling than being high on heroin. It made me feel like I could do anything that I wanted.

Reg’s Story, by Jim

Reggie was the youngest of three boys. He was born in Souris Hospital on June 25, 1966.

There were a few things we always wondered that might have had an influence on the way that Reggie was. His two brothers were both about six feet tall, but Reggie was about 5’8”. Mike and Art were both good in school but Reggie they tell me was brilliant.

In 1970, my father and Reggie’s namesake and best fried started to have serious heart troubles. Dad’s nephew, Vernon Dubois, who was living in Boston, came down for the summer. He had a Cadillac with air conditioning [which was impressive for the time]. Dad, Reggie and the dog Jasper were always together. It was the same in 1971 until October, then everything changed, when on a Tuesday Jasper died, on Friday Dad died and was buried on Monday and then Vernon died on Wednesday and was buried on Friday. Reggie said to me, “Why does everyone I like have to die?” From then onward, Reggie never wanted to go over home [to his grandfathers house].

In 1979, Reggie’s best friend, Bernie McIntosh was killed in an unsolved hit and run accident. Reggie seemed to go into a shell after this. He found his salvation in the world of drugs.

… Reggie arrived home [from Toronto] on May 17, 2005, a few days before Victoria’s birthday. She was the love of his life and he was very proud of her, when I would mention her name he would just beam with pride.

… Reggie had been in Toronto since 2000. At that time, when Reggie announced one day that he would like to go to Toronto, I was very excited and couldn’t wait for him to leave. He went up by the bus, and within a few days of arriving, he started to work at Toronto Island Airport. He was driving a fuel truck. He would phone and tell us that he liked his job and had a very good chance of getting work there (on Toronto Island), working at what he was trained for – Avionics Electronics. We were hoping that things were finally starting to change for Reggie and Helen and I were very happy.

Shortly after 9/11, Reggie’s world came tumbling down. He had a criminal record from the drug days and when his employer checked his records, he was terminated. It was just downhill and hardships from then on for him and us, especially his mother. There were many long and soulful calls.

He started bouncing from job to job. When he would get hired, he would not tell them about his criminal record and they would find out and let him go. He finally got a job selling subscriptions to the Toronto Sun; he worked on salary plus commission and just existed.

His last move was to near Oshawa and his landlady was very nice to him. He was not healthy then and his Hepatitis C was probably starting to take its deadly toll. He did not have a very good credit rating but she helped him get a car – a 1995 Pontiac from a friend of hers who owned a GM dealership. It was a good car, but Reggie was hard on vehicles, and he had an accident with it on the 401 highway. There was some damage to the right fender, which he hammered out himself. Finally, the first week of May 2005, the Ontario Provincial Police cancelled his driving license for non-payment of fines, which he had accumulated over the past few years, totaling over $8,000. This was too much for him and he had to leave Ontario. He phoned his mother and in less than 24 hours, he was home. He was terribly nervous that he would get stopped, but he did it.

He had a car full of his possessions and we put them down in the basement in his room. His bedroom in the basement was a major mistake from day one, as we lost sight of his actions.

I think he was very happy to be back in Souris, probably mainly because of Victoria and Helen. He did not have very many friends. I also noticed that he was very quiet. He had dark circles around his eyes and seemed to have put on weight as he was puffed up.

He had kind of made up his mind that he was going to cut Hemlock, a low plant that grows in the woods. There was some out in my woods in the Glen. After a few days I took him out to look over the woods. He made arrangements with a buyer and started to cut Hemlock. Some days, he cut five or six bags (not bad) and other days a bag and a bit. One day he came home walking, his car got hung up on a cradle hill and got stuck with the front wheels in the air; he got out and the car was still in gear; his doors locked and he could not get in. He finally had to break a window to get the door open to shut the engine off.

After some time, I noticed light colored clay under his car and I was not familiar with where it had come from. I asked Reggie and he would not tell me, then he started coming home with the car washed. I kind of figured that he was growing pot some place. I have since discovered the same light clay on the Bull Creek Road. They stopped buying Hemlock in early July. They were supposed to start up again in September but they never did, so this was a loss of income.

His eating habits were always different than the rest of us, but by the last of October, he was not eating very much – just picking. We would barbeque three or four times a week, mostly hamburgers, hot dogs and steak. Regardless of what were having, he would always want his cooked to death, so at the last of it I would tell him to finish his food off. He never seemed to want to eat with us, and if he did, he would not carry on a conversation with the rest of us.

He went to Charlottetown once a week to get library books and would usually come home with a Pizza or buy some in Souris. By the last of October, he seemed to stop eating pretty well everything. He liked IGA fresh bread.

In early September, Maritime Electric and I cut down five big Maple trees. I asked Reggie to give me a help cleaning these up, blocking and cleaning up the brush and hauling it out to Greenvale. He was a good worker and a great help to me. Reggie and I did a great deal of talking. He told me quite a bit about his life, he did not have it easy, a lot of what he told me was verified by the journals he left scattered over the place.

He was an avid reader and usually every week or two got anywhere from two to six books from the library, mostly in Charlottetown. Thee were three books in his car when it was found.

Reggie was on a methadone maintenance program with the PEI Addictions. Reggie wrote in one of his journals [about a nurse], “I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!” Anyway, this day in late November, I saw him driving in the yard and he went right to the basement. I went right down and he had his two hands on his forehead and he would not speak to me. I knew there was something seriously wrong. Helen came right down and he told her that they were stopping his methadone. Their reason was he was accused of missing an appointment. Friday was his day to see them in Charlottetown and they claim they told him to shift to Tuesday and he never came until Friday. Charlottetown got Souris Addictions on his case and for a few days they both put the gears to him and we could see him change. He could not exist without methadone, and the sad thing about this, nine months later we found 6 full bottles that he had purchased the dad before he left Ontario and put it in the basement, where he had hid it from himself.

On Dec. 1, 2005, Reg went to Charlottetown but this time it was different, he came back about 8 p and he was all doped up and was seeing things that were not there. Up until this I thought Reg was doing very good, he would sometimes go down to the Bluefin Lounge and have a few beers, he had some home. He always seemed to me to be in good shape. He was normal on Friday, but we were having supper Saturday about 6:15 pm when Reg came up from the basement with three library books and he said to his mother, “I am taking these books back to the Library in Charlottetown”. Helen said, “this is Saturday, the library is closed!” He just looked at her and out the door he went. We assume he went to Charlottetown. When he landed back home about 11:15 pm, he was a different Reggie. He was out of his mind. He was seeing, birds, animals, etc. He was saying that his teeth were splitting and turning crossways in his mouth and he had a wild look on his face. I asked him if he was on “crystal meth”, he said he had tried it a few years ago and did not like it. He roamed around all night we did not get much sleep. Finally, about 8:30 am, we said that we were going to take him to Mt. Hebert Detox, as there was a bed for him there. Helen told him to go and change his clothes. Reggie and I were standing near the cellar steps and he said “Nobody is going to lock me up in a cement basement anymore” and he ran down the steps. Less than a minute later, I glanced out the back door and his car was heading out for Knights Lane, and that was the last we had seen of him. He had climbed out his window in his room. There was no way that he was going for treatment.

Search

Helen and I jumped in the car and thought we could head him off over in Souris West and we drove out to past Rollo Bay West and we did not see him. We came back and told Art, and we believed he hid some place until the heat came off him. From that point on my gut feeling was he wasn’t in shape to drive any further than 20 minutes because of the shape he was in. Over the years, we had put pressure on him and he left but always he came back or contacted us in some way, but we know now that this time was different.

We started checking around and driving different areas. He had an odd colored car, a purple Pontiac and it should stick out like a sore thumb, but to our regrets now we know that wasn’t to be. The weather was good, cold -10 Celsius, but no snow. By Tuesday afternoon, December 6, there was no word so we reported him missing to the RCMP in Souris.

A young constable, Marc Potvin, was assigned to the case and he was wonderful and as time progressed, he got very interested in finding Reggie. A great deal of his work on the case was on his own time, and he is a credit to the force and was a tremendous help to us. There was an All Points Bulletin on Reggie from Coast to Coast. Marc did a terrible lot of inquiring. Reggie had a cell phone on him and he made 5 calls about 20 minutes after he left home. 1 call home to his mother, 1 call to his friend, [xxxx] one to [xxxx] boss, one to a number in Nova Scotia, we think he pushed the wrong number, and the last one was home.

His son, Steven answered it and Reggie said, “Where’s Mum”. I’m looking for mom and she was not home and Steven didn’t know that he was gone.

We discovered after that he had removed the battery, that way the phone can’t be traced. Art and I nearly wore out all our trucks on all the poor wood roads, people were contacting us to volunteer to search for Reggie, but we didn’t know were to search.

By the time we thought about checking the Confederation Bridge, their camera tapes had been erased. There was still no snow and Art mentioned that we should get a plane and search. They told us to fly under 1000 feet and we needed permission from the RCMP. We contacted Souris RCMP and it seemed we would have problems in getting permission.

Then I decided to go the political route- Time was of the essence as snow was close at hand (it began snowing two days later)

. First call was to Federal Members office in Montague around 4:30 pm,. Later I found out that the Provincial Gov’t was responsible for the RCMP   Early , the next morning, Icalled  our Provincial MLA   . and by luck he picked up the phone and I told him that I had a serious problem and wanted to talk to the Attorney General   asap . He informed that he was heading to Charlottetown immediately and was meeting with Attorney General at 10 am. He assumed that he would have news at 10 am and would call me. Lady luck was on our side. Shortly before 10 am a member of the Souris RCMP called me to say the RCMP helicopter was in Moncton preparing to come here There was then a beep on the phone. It was Andy Mooney informing me that there was an RCMP helicopter on its way and they would contact me before it arrived in Souris. He told me that he would contact me later.

The helicopter arrived at the barracks shortly after 11 am and the weather was sunny and clear. The pilot was a very nice young man. One of the first things that he asked me was Reggie smart. I said yes, “Very”, he commented that they are the worst kind to find. I told him Reg spent quite a bit of time in the Glen and there was a chance, I figured, that he was growing pot. I figured the shape he was in when he left he could not be more than 20 minutes from here by car, if he was still on PEI. I asked him if he would take my son Art with him, he said there was only room for one and he was taking constable Wood who he said was familiar with the area? He said he also wanted to carry extra fuel for more airtime. I told him about my wood lot where Reggie was cutting hemlock that was no more than a mile from where he was later found.

We had people ready to search for Reggie, if anything was spotted.

In the early afternoon, Andy Mooney called from Attorney generals office and the RCMP Superintendent was also there. They wondered how many days we wanted the helicopter to search. We were very happy to have it for the day and thanked them very much. About 4 pm, the helicopter arrived back. He told me that they went from East Point to Blooming Point (Tracadie) and across to Wood Islands, they made 2 passes, north to south, east to west. The weather was good and they had seen nothing. The pilot assured me that if anything turns up, he would come back. He also told me he would contact other pilots in the region to keep an eye out for his car. They told me they had seen six different outfits cutting wood in the Glen area, at that moment I figured Reggie had somehow gotten off the Island and was in Western Canada, either Alberta or BC. It started to snow the next day and continued for one week and I figured that everything would be covered over. Art and I continued to go different places with our 4x4’s and shortly after Christmas, Art went in the Bull Creek road and in the lane of the field where Reggie’s car was later found. He got to about 6 feet from seeing the length of the field and there was a snow bank. We were so close and we never knew.

Marc Potvin and the RCMP members never gave up searching for Reggie .He checked all over Canada, but all the leads turned out to be false.

In January, Jeans sister Patricia was attending community school in British Columbia. It was a physics class and the instructor asked if they knew anyone that was missing. She said Reggie and had a picture of him. He told her what he had seen and she passed it on to us (see attached). There were a lot of similarities and that started us thinking seriously that Reggie is not with us any more. Marc was very interested in the report, especially route 91. Bull Creek Road is off of Route 16, the North Side Road.

On Feb 15, Tim, Reggie’s first cousin, and a very good friend of Reggie with the same problem passed away suddenly in Alberta. Shortly after the woman who was living with him went to a psychic and he said that “Tim is up there with cousin Mike and Reggie and they are happy”. Mike was murdered in 1993 in Montreal, a result of drug trade activities

In late May, Debbie was working in Bermuda and she decided to email the Guardian editor about her missing cousin on PEI and the paper did an article on Reggie which was in May 26 edition of the Guardian, this article put life back in the situation.

At approximately 2:20 pm, Sunday May 25, I picked up the phone and Marc Potvin said, “Jim, we have found Reggie’s car”. The first thing that I said was “where”. He said, “I can’t tell you”. I shot back, “After all these months, you can’t say what?” He then told me a field of the Bull Creek Road and they had police dogs working out there and they did not want people out there. He told us to come out but to keep our distance.

I called Art and he came right down and Helen and I went out with him. I don’t remember much about the trip on the way out, I just kept thinking about what state of decomposition his body was in after six months, never thinking that he was not in the car. There were a police around and we talked to Marc then went back to Souris to let people know that the car had been found. Art and I went back out and we met the dog handlers leaving, they said they were sure Reggie was there some place. They had found his drivers ID and some credit cards in a pocket of a pair of denim jeans, which was all shredded. They also said it was a very tough search area with a lot of water. They would have a ground search party out here tomorrow.

The searching party started about 8:30 am Monday morning and the RCMP had set up a command trailer out in the field near where the car was found, the car had been taken to Souris detachment.

When Victoria’s birthday came and passed May 26 without any contact our hopes of him still alive were greatly diminished. But finding the car with the window down, drivers side, food in it (2 pks of Pop Tarts, full case of Bud beer in the trunk, 2 jackets, cell phone, etc and nothing damaged, keys, gas, 1 flat tire, with full air tank in trunk and not damaged by animals, squirrels, raccoons, etc and lastly in full view from the air, it seemed like Reggie or some one had planted it there. Down deep it really seemed possible that Reggie had staged it all.

On Monday, May 27th when Art came in from fishing we went out to participate in the search but they preferred not to have untrained people searing.. Shortly after 2 pm, the searchers found the first two pieces of bones that they believed were from a human. Helen and I left shortly after; we had an appointment with the  psychic in Charlottetown at 5:15 pm, that afternoon.

Now to the psychic.   We had taken a picture of Reggie with us, “he squeezed it” and all the time he held it against his side and kept rubbing it. He said he did not know much about the case only what he had heard on the radio. He started about the history of himself and where the psychic powers come from, he was at it about 30 years and works quite a bit with the police He asked if we remembered the case of a young man who was drowned last winter. He said that he could see him in the water. He had walked through a hole and was not coming back. He had just convinced me to take notice; he then started to talk about Reggie. He was up above and he was very happy. He could not imagine the things that he had so many problems with on earth were so easy to accomplish, he was trying to help us to find him. It was going to be by nature, birds, they, the searchers were looking in the right area but the wrong place should be on the other side of the road. They were not going to find him right away, but soon. He had started to walk out the road, he figured he had walked about 20 to 25 minutes, was mixed up, tired and cold and sat down by a tree, there was an overhang on the tree. I asked him if it was hard or soft wood and he said “soft wood”. And as we now know he was right. We continued to talk about the various things and Helen, still skeptical asked him about Reggie’s family, he said there were a boy and a girl and he could have another child, probably a miscarriage and that was true and both of us had totally forgotten about it. That totally sealed our convictions about the psychic

Our visit to him was worth its weight in gold. I saw Helen leave there smiling and it was the first time she smiled in many months. The searchers found another piece of bone and they decided to take a few days off. It was hard going.

Forensic work was underway on the bone particles found but because of BC murders, it could take anywhere from three to six months to get a positive ID. Through the winter, Marc Potvin, RCMP, had taken clothes of Reggie’s for DNA testing, and we knew where his medical and his dental records

The RCMP had set up a command trailer on Monday in the filed where the car was found and we could drop in at anytime to keep in touch or by telephone, they were very helpful throughout the whole ordeal.

Mike and Art were a great help through this whole ordeal. Mike was shifting jobs in May in California and I asked him if he could come here for a few days, as it was getting very hectic here. He flew overnight to Toronto, then to Halifax airport at 10 am on Monday May 1. He called me from the Halifax Airport to see if the Wood Islands boat had started, it was the first day and he could get the 6 pm boat and that would put him in Souris around 8 pm. He first went into Halifax and then he started for Caribou, he buckled up driving a new Ford Taurus rental and tired from flying all night and had set the cruise control at 120K. He was in the left lane and fell asleep and when he woke up, he was after cruising further left and into the median grassy area between the divided highways. At quite an angle, something told him, “don’t hit the brakes” and he worked the car back up on the road. This is a prime example of it could always be worse. He stayed for a few days and the next time he came was just after Reggie’s car was found. . Helen and I took him back to Moncton on Monday June 5. The next time he came and went through Charlottetown. Three trips across the continent in less than two months is quite a feat.

Looking back, Art and I figured when Reggie left home, he went up Knights Lane and went East to the Baltic Road, then north to the Glen Road and through to the Bull Creek Road

The New harmony end of the Glen road was impassible to cars

On Wednesday afternoon, May 31, Cindy, Helen and I decided to go out and search on the other side of the road. Cindy and Helen were on the Ouija Board the night before as it suggested. There was a heavy underbrush, etc. I let them off near a small brook and I went south about 100 yards to a little clearing to park on an old wood road. I walked about 10 yards in and I found a blue t-shirt.

I hung it on a tree. I walked about 100 yards to where there was a big leaning hard wood tree. I then decided to start back out due to the small size pieces of Reggie that had been found to date our heads or eyes were glued to the ground. We were carrying each a portable radio and all of a sudden Cindy said “Papa”, I am petting the back of a wild bird. My first reaction to her was to say, “Girl, you are loosing it”, but I didn’t. The bird was really there; it was some sort of a sparrow. I kept walking back out of the woods and where I came to the t-shirt, I turned right (north) of the path and few yards ahead of me was a thicket. I started to walk into and something told me to “get the hell out of here”. I obeyed and I am sure if I had looked up straight ahead, I would have seen Reggie’s skull, I don’t think I was any more than ten or twelve feet from him. It was just not to be. Helen came to where Cindy was and the bird was a branch and Cindy was rubbing its back. It was hard going where they were, “Just like the psychic had said”. The bird would hop across a few trees, stop, look over its shoulder and chirp, as much as to say, “hurry up”. This same procedure was followed five or six times and finally it hopped into a thicket, they had been asking the bird to take them to Reggie, then they decided this is getting too serious and stopped, they were scared of finding something Reggie.

We had the car and Cindy was in the back seat, driving in the Glen Road towards New Harmony and I looked up and said, “I see an airplane”, Cindy said where? She could not see it because of the tall trees, we soon came to a gap and we could see the airplane again. All of a sudden she said, “stop the car”. I stopped and I was on top of the big culvert over the MacLellan brook. Our psychic said I hear highway 91, we were near RT 16 (flip 16 around …). I see a small Creek “brook”, big culvert pipe, this one is 10 or 12 feet high and we are looking at a small plane, flying low over us.

Mike flew into Charlottetown on Thursday afternoon, and I picked him up. Lisa, Mike’s wife was following on Saturday, from Chicago. Helen and Cindy were on the Ouija board in the evening and finally Mike and Art. Mike did not believe the board at first. Here are the questions and answers, which were spelled out (see notes)

Early Friday I went to Southampton to see if they had any better maps of the Bull Creek area. They were very cordial and helped me a great deal. I arrived home at 11:30 am, there was an RCMP officer in the kitchen, he was Corporal of the Souris detachment who turned out to be very friendly and helpful. I had some new aerial maps on the kitchen counter and a marker pen. I made one circle on the map and I put a dot inside of it and I said to the corporal Reid, you are looking in the wrong place. My son Reggie i s there .

the next morning after they started searching (they started at 830 am) to redirect the search area, it was to be where he would be found the time was 2:15 by Art and Mike. Reggie was found very close to where I had put the dot on the map, he was approximately 75 yards in the woods. I also drove to the sight and told one of the searchers and showed him the map that I had drawn up. I had to come home before they started searching. Art was out fishing and never got clear to about 12:15. He was on his way up to go searching with Cindy, Mike and me when in front of him, up came the water through the pavement. A water line on the wharf had broken and he had to make arrangements to get it fixed, Art figured he would be free about 2 pm, so we decided Mike and Cindy would go out now with my truck and start searching. I would stay and go out with Art at 2 pm, shortly after 1 pm, the RCMP found enough of Reggie to make a positive ID.

 

I drove to the site fairly fast with the car and pulled up on the side of the searchers that I had been talking to in the morning; he lives near Dundas and I started to carry on a conversation with him and it wasn’t about finding Reggie – he was never mentioned, it lasted I guess about three to five minutes. I remember saying to him I guess I will go down to the trailer ad see if there is any new developments. He never commented. I noticed there wasn’t much activity around the field, but I never twigged. There were six or eight people combined when I walked in. I am not sure if anyone said anything. I walked over and started looking at the plotter screen when I looked up there were two RCMP standing between me and the door, the rest of the people were gone. I don’t think either of them spoke and all of a sudden I looked at the trailer door and Mike and Art were standing there. I remember I spoke first and said, “you found him”. I don’t know what happened after that. I know it was a long ride home; all our worries and efforts over the years had climaxed in a swamp out in the middle of the woods. It was a hard blow to accept, but we live in an area where people are friendly and caring and they came to our aid, family, friends, clergy, relatives, AA members and complete strangers – they all helped in their own separate way to cushion the blow, that down deep we knew we would sooner or later have to face with Reggie.

Helen and I took mike and Lisa to Moncton airport for an early flight; we left here at 2:30 am. Helen and I were planning on staying over but I guess we were restless and came back home. We arrived home shortly after five, and had a message from a RCMP member.   He came here and told us that a positive ID had been made through dental records and it was Reggie. We at first thought it would take about a week, finally we had closure.

.

We decided to put off the funeral until Saturday afternoon June 24. Our reason was that Steven was graduating on June 22 and the funeral would not interfere with his school work, we had waited six months as it was, there would be no wake and we will invite people to come down to our home

We left about 1:30 for the church. It was to be a high mass. When I left home I did not know if there would be anyone attending. Reggie in the last three or four years never attended church. When the mass started to our greatest astonishment, the church was full. They came from near and far; many were unknown to Helen and I. The service was magnificent, something you would dream about, and most who attended were astonished especially with Father Gallant’s homily about someone he never knew. Cindy opened the service with Sarah McLaughlin’s, “I will remember you” and Melvin and Michael Ford closed the service with a church --- “Snow white dove”. Many people told us it was the nicest funeral they had ever attended. It was very gratifying to use, Reggie got a wonderful sendoff. I firmly believe that without Art’s superior knowledge of Reggie and the elements and who to contact, we would have been waiting a long time to solve Reggie’s disappearance.

To finish the story, Art had a cross made and shortly after, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. went out and erected a cross where Reggie was found. Art and I had cu a road in with the power saw and Bob, Jean and family cut the weeds and did a fine trim. It is a very nice and serene spot now even though it is in the middle of a swamp. Helen and I go out there quite often; it gives us piece of mind.

I started thinking his area is ripe to be clear-cut like the rest of the island so I decided to see who owned it and if I could buy a small piece of it especially where Reggie was found. It would be a shock if to land out there someday and everything would be cut out clean. A few days later I arrived out to the site and on the road into the field where the car was found, they were clear-cutting a wedge piece of property that the government did not own.

I contacted the Government land office and was directed to Don McAskill, he was great ad the land was not for sale, but they should be able to do something and political help would be helpful. I contacted Andy Mooney and he contacted the Minister, Hon. Jim Ballem. HE said, “ Do whatever s necessary to secure the sight”. It is now called the “Reggie MacDonald Memorial Site” on the forestry maps, it will never be cut and will be maintained by the Department of Forestry and they will plant trees out there. Our Island emblem, the “Lady Slipper” grows there. We are very thankful to the government