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Chapter 2

It Takes Two to Tango

When Brian “Bull” Cummings (Cummings’s nickname, because of his shaved head and large size, was based on Nostradamus “Bull” Shannon, a character on the TV series Night Court) first came into Miramichi and joined the Newcastle Police Force, there was sometimes a kind of “wild west” feel to policing in the area. Drug dealing was rampant on the river. The custom of workmen celebrating the weekend’s arrival with heavy drinking was the norm; fights and brawls were common. A lot of police work involved breaking down doors to serve drug warrants. On Saturday nights, a constable could be reasonably certain that he was going to mix it up with someone before the night was over, and it was pretty likely that he’d wake up hurting on Sunday.

Early on, his fellow officers had warned him about the Tanasichuk brothers. They were a rough bunch, he was told, and one of them had expressed a deep desire to kill a police officer, so he’d better watch his back. Over the years, though, while one or another of the brothers occasionally crossed his path, he only had sporadic contact with David and did not know Maria.

Although Cummings had had little interaction with him, David Tanasichuk was well-known to the Miramichi police and to other police agencies in the province as a deeply angry man with an explosive temper and a reputation for violence. He was considered a bad man to cross, and many people were afraid of him. At the time he reported his wife missing, Tanasichuk was thirty-six, with a criminal record stretching back twenty years that included possession of stolen property, assault, breaking and entering, theft, escape, fraud, assault on a police officer and multiple convictions for possession of a restricted weapon.

In one significant case, his rage over an undercover drug operation which resulted in his prosecution had led him to plot the assassination of the presiding judge, the crown prosecutor and a police officer who had participated in the operation. Although, as a convicted felon, he was prohibited by law from owning a firearm, he had obtained a sawed-off shotgun to use in carrying out his plot.

In a rural hunting culture such as that on the Miramichi, guns are commonplace in most homes. Although, by law, guns are supposed to be registered, registration is considered a hassle and an expense, so it is common practice to simply fail to mention guns in the house, acting as though they don’t exist and thus the law isn’t violated, rather than go through the trouble of registering them. With guns everywhere and a ready supply of people in need of money, it’s not difficult for someone looking for a gun to obtain one. Sawing off a shotgun is an easy way to convert a readily available hunting tool into an easily concealed and extremely lethal weapon.

Once he’d obtained the sawed-off, David Tanasichuk had wrapped his altered weapon in a tarp to protect it and hidden it in the woods just inside the city limits, in a spot where it could be easily retrieved when he was ready to execute his plan. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for his intended victims, he had confided some of the details of his scheme to a fellow drug dealer who, it turned out, was working with the police as an informant.

As reported by the local paper, The Miramichi Leader, on October 27, 1993, the presiding judge, Judge McNamee, called the plot “a plan of wholesale slaughter” and, recognizing its lethal potential as an easily concealed weapon, he described the sawed-off shotgun as “the most sinister weapon imaginable.” Noting that it had the potential to do untold damage, he observed: “These individuals [the targets of the plot] would have no way of knowing the seriousness of this or the timing. One could only imagine what they must have gone through because of this threat…The thought of the use of this weapon almost makes one’s blood run cold.”²

David Tanasichuk was an on-again, off-again drug dealer who was suspected of having grown marijuana in the woods outside the city and of having a “back door” clientele who bought drugs from his house. Although he was prohibited from having guns and despite the fact that they occupied the same residence, Canadian law did permit Maria to have her own guns in the house. David was an avid hunter. Employing Maria’s guns and perhaps others he had secreted in tarps in the woods, he hunted deer, moose and bear, in and out of season. Despite their tight financial circumstances, he didn’t hunt solely for the meat. He hunted for the pure pleasure of stalking and killing, sometimes leaving the animals he killed lying where they died.

Also, he was an avid bow hunter.

Provincial records show that at one point in May 1989, during a period when he and one of his brothers had escaped from prison and were on the run, his path crossed that of the Miramichi region’s most notorious serial killer, Allan Legere. He was even briefly considered as a possible suspect in one of Legere’s murders, that of Annie Flam, but authorities quickly decided the Tanasichuk brothers were too disorganized. According to prison lore reported by the corrections department’s internal information system, he was fascinated by Legere, although he considered himself smarter, and therefore superior, to Legere, whom he criticized for having killed only women and old men. Some who knew him suspected him of having provided food and support to Legere during the months Legere was terrorizing the region.

David was tall and had a physique that showed his fondness for working out with weights. He had eyes described by one investigator as “shark’s eyes”—cold, gray and expressionless. His torso was covered in tattoos, primarily guns and anti-police slogans. At the base of his throat, he had tattooed the words “.” He refused to tell Maria or her friends, or even the tattooist who did it, what it meant. He had teardrops tattooed at the corner of one eye, and photographs taken of him over the years chart the progression of those teardrops from one to four.

The story was that the Tanasichuks had met when Maria was visiting her fiancé at the Springhill correctional facility. Once she met David, that engagement was off and ever after, David Tanasichuk was the only man in the world to her. It was, by all reports, a very strong attachment. Friends and relatives who spent time with David and Maria together said it was like a match made in heaven. The two of them shared a passion for outdoor activities, for hunting, fishing and riding through the woods on their three-wheelers. Sometimes they would be seen walking around Miramichi, holding hands. They did everything together. When they fought, friends reported, they cried, kissed and made up. Afterward they were closer than ever.

David nurtured a deep hatred for the police and this was something the Tanasichuks shared. Maria had escaped from a harsh family life in her early teens and had become involved with drinking and drugs, stealing and men who liked young girls. That behavior had gotten her sent to a reform school for girls as a teen. Her early experiences soured her on the criminal justice system and left her as hard-edged and suspicious as her husband when it came to dealing with the police. She rarely talked about her time in custody, even with close friends or family, except to tell her sister on the occasional home visit that it was an experience no one would want to have. She was adamant that she was never going to be incarcerated again, a resolution her relationship with David would ultimately cause her to break.

Maria’s sister, Sharon, describes a childhood in a poor family with eight children that was largely devoid of love and affection. Many homes in Miramichi in that era still had dirt floors. Catholic families had many children, the economy was poor and the financial and emotional costs of alcohol abuse were common problems for families trying to get by with too little. Maria’s family life was harsh and spare, in a home where her father, though kindly, had nerves damaged from the war and her mother was frustrated by poverty and overwhelmed by so many children. Care and attention came only when a child was sick and even that was meager at best. Pleasure was rare and presents even rarer.

According to Sharon, they usually got nothing for Christmas and they had learned not to expect anything. But one magical Christmas, when they were around eight and nine, both girls got their first dolls. During that long winter, they spent countless hours loving them and playing with them. To mark the specialness of these rare gifts, Sharon and Maria not only named their dolls, they also gave each other new names to use as they became loving mothers whose babies laughed and cried.

By her mid-teens, like many other young girls in the province, the strong-willed Maria had little supervision or correction. After a stint in reform school beginning around the time Maria was fifteen, she didn’t return to Miramichi but moved to the larger city of Saint John to stay with her brother. There she became romantically involved. At fifteen, she was hardly more than a child herself when she had her son, B.J., and she spent seven years in a common-law relationship with B.J.’s father.

The relationship was reportedly abusive, due in part to the father’s temper and in part to Maria’s sometimes careless mothering. As a very young mother without the support of her family, Maria struggled with the challenges of rearing a child while desiring the partying, drinking and drugs available to unencumbered friends her age.

During those years, she became close to B.J.’s father’s family. Her former sister-in-law, Cindy Richardson, remained a good friend to her over the years and was devoted to B.J. Cindy described Maria as always lively and fun—people describing Maria often used the word “bubbly”—but said that because of Maria’s drinking, drugs and partying, the family became concerned about B.J. when he was tiny and asked social services to become involved.

Eventually, Maria left the relationship and Saint John and moved back to Miramichi to raise her son away from the larger city’s temptations and be nearer to her family and her closest-in-age sister, Sharon. She had had enough of city life and looked forward to quieter times in Miramichi. By then, she had met David Tanasichuk and, wanting to become a better mother to B.J. and knowing she needed to be clean and drug-free to be allowed to visit David in prison, she weaned herself off drugs through sheer willpower. Living on public assistance was a severe, barebones existence, but Maria saw that her son was always well dressed and well fed, even if it meant that she had little money for her own needs. Like a lot of people on the Miramichi, they didn’t have much, but despite their tough circumstances Maria and her sister, Sharon, shared food when they could.

With Maria’s return to Miramichi, the two sisters were able to resume the friendship they had had as children, a comfort to Maria during the lonely years when David was incarcerated. Sharon’s daughter and B.J., who were close in age, became good friends.

Maria was an attractive woman, medium tall, with lovely long brown hair, large brown eyes and carefully shaped brows. Until despair over her son’s death rendered her depressed and couch-bound, Maria had been slim. She wasn’t a fashion plate; even if she could have afforded fancy clothes, she was far too outdoorsy for that. Even as a child, she’d been a tomboy and preferred fishing and climbing trees to more girly activities. She favored the comfort of jeans or tracksuits and sweatshirts, but she was very particular about her appearance and was absolutely passionate about her jewelry. Maria had a large collection of gold chains, necklaces and rings that had been gifts from David. She regularly wore a lot of her jewelry, and she took great pleasure in showing her friends each new piece. Even in casual pictures, she can be seen wearing a lot of gold. It was always gold for Maria, not silver. She loved to look good when she went out.

The Tanasichuks lived mostly on public assistance and the profits from drug sales. David only occasionally held down a job and Maria never worked. Some friends speculated that this was because the Tanasichuks’ reputation in the community was such that Maria thought it would be useless to even bother to try and find a job, as no one would hire her. Although they—and Maria in particular—had close relationships with friends, family and neighbors, in the wider Miramichi community they had a reputation. Maria’s best friend, Darlene Gertley, illustrated that reputation with the story of an encounter shortly after she moved to Miramichi and had her first child: “One time, I went down to the [gas station] and the lady asked how I was getting along and did you make any friends. And I said, yes, Maria and Dave Tanasichuk, and the woman said, ‘Oh, stay away from them.’ And I asked why. And she said, ‘They’re bad news. They’ve been in jail more than church.’”

At the time that David Tanasichuk reported his wife missing in January 2003, the long-standing adversarial relationship between the police and the Tanasichuks had changed. In the Fall of 2000, Detective Brian Cummings had met Maria Tanasichuk for the first time under tragic circumstances. That September 1st, a large group of teens—literally hundreds of kids—had held an end-of-summer, off-to-college party in the woods where they would be out of the public eye. During the course of the evening, a fight broke out between Maria’s son, B.J. Breau, and another young man. As kids stood around cheering and jeering, B.J. was knocked down. While he lay on the ground, the other boy began kicking him viciously. One blow struck B.J. in the chest and severed his aorta. He died before he could be taken to a hospital.

As a result of the investigation and legal proceedings arising from B.J.’s death, the Miramichi police, in particular Detective Sergeant Paul Fiander, head of the detective bureau, and Detective Cummings, developed a new relationship with David and Maria. No longer did the police come to the door of the small apartment as potential opponents inquiring about drug dealing or stolen goods; now they came as compassionate public servants dealing with the grieving family of a murder victim. B.J.’s death was devastating to both David and Maria. He was Maria’s only child (she lost her only pregnancy with David to an ectopic pregnancy) and he was like another son to David. David had a son of his own from a prior relationship, but it was his stepson who lived with him and he had helped raise B.J. for a decade.

In his iconic book on homicide procedures, Practical Homicide Investigation, Vernon Geberth describes the important relationship between investigators and the victim’s family this way:

“Secondary victims are those persons left behind when a…child…is prematurely deprived of their life due to a homicide. These persons are the survivors. The homicide detective has a profound duty and an awesome responsibility in dealing with the surviving family in the murder investigation process.”³

Then he lists the duties of the responding detectives. They include dealing with the emotions of the surviving family, establishing a base of inquiry which does not further traumatize the survivors, providing information about the circumstances of the death and the progress of the investigation and guiding the family through the complicated and confusing criminal justice system. The detective, Geberth says, becomes an advocate for the deceased and the surviving family throughout the process.

It was through this role that the new relationship between the Tanasichuks and the police was born. Because of their concerns about David’s fierce temper and consequent fears that he would be tempted to avenge his stepson’s death by taking matters into his own hands rather than letting justice take its course, the police were more closely involved with the Tanasichuks than with the families of many crime victims. It was also true, though, that Miramichi is a small city where people tend to know each other. Often, there is not the same distance between police and citizens that sometimes exists.

Over the course of their dealings with B.J. Breau’s family, certain members of the Miramichi police, typically Detective Cummings and Detective Sergeant Fiander, spent a great deal of time with David and Maria. Both officers, themselves fathers deeply devoted to their own sons, were very sympathetic to the plight of parents trying to deal with the devastating loss of a child.

As she struggled to comprehend the loss, they saw Maria’s demeanor begin to change. Through her upbringing, her personal experience with the criminal justice system and her marriage to a convicted felon, Maria had developed a resentful and suspicious attitude toward the police. As she experienced their kindness and support during her awful grief, a softer woman emerged.

It was impossible to be unmoved as they watched this lively, fun-loving, dynamic woman become couch-bound by depression. In the months following B.J.’s death, Maria began spending her days huddled under her special “sooky” blanket and cuddling the small, stuffed red devil bear that had been her last gift from her son.⁴ Some days she never got out of her pajamas.

The detectives also understood how ordinary citizens can struggle to comprehend the slow and oftentimes infuriating mechanisms of the criminal justice system. In the case of B.J.’s death, that included such decisions as whether the perpetrator, who was just shy of his eighteenth birthday, should be charged as a juvenile or an adult. Supporters had collected 1500 signatures on a petition for the court to have B.J.’s attacker, who had allegedly threatened to “get him” earlier in the evening, tried as an adult. The authorities chose not to take this route. It became the task of the police to explain these decisions to the Tanasichuks, support them through the resulting horse-trading that went on regarding the nature of the sentence and then through the sentencing itself, always with an awareness of David’s impulsive nature and his potential for a violent reaction. Many who knew him expected violence from David.

In the real world, the criminal justice system is not as swift as it appears to be on TV shows. Cases take time to make their way slowly through the system, a pace that—with multiple hearings, continuances and adjournments—can be agonizing torture for the family, who must go to court repeatedly, confront the perpetrator and appear as representatives of the deceased.

Over the period of nearly a year between B.J.’s death and when his assailant was finally sentenced, Brian Cummings found himself becoming quite close to David and Maria. Their apartment was only a short drive from the police station. Sometimes his visits would be to update them on the case. At other times, it would be a “wellness check,” just a quick stop in to wish them the very best. Occasionally, because their finances were tight, he would bring them treats, dropping by around suppertime with a lobster for Maria to cook, because he knew that she loved lobster. He’d bring chicken or steak for David, who didn’t like lobster. Occasionally, if time permitted or the need seemed great, he might stay and eat with them.

The relationship was close enough, in his mind, that Cummings even briefly considered inviting them to his wedding, until he realized that the presence of a convicted felon would mean friends of his in the justice system would then be unable to attend.

At some point in the process, David Tanasichuk took a surprising step to demonstrate his good faith and his willingness to rely on the judicial process to secure justice for his stepson. He wrote a letter to the local paper, The Miramichi Leader, affirming that he would abide by the law and not seek revenge on B.J.’s killer, as many expected him to do.

In a letter that appeared in the September 12, 2000, edition of The Miramichi Leader, he began:

“As me and Maria mourn the loss of our son, B.J., I feel compelled to write this letter to express some of our thoughts.”

David went on to assert that although his son did not lead a life of privilege and had limited career options, “…Let me tell you, Mr. Cadogan, B.J. may not have come from your upper class rich family, but we did provide him with everything within our means, and anyone who knew B.J. could tell you, we did without so he would not. Do you really judge a person’s worth by the amount they or their families have, or by the love they give or receive?”

David continued, “The next issue I want to bring forward is the fact that Billy-Joe’s murderer has been given bail. Our son is dead, and he walks free waiting for trial. I’ll quote the judge in this case, ‘The accused has a right to an education.’ That makes me want to vomit. What about B.J.’s rights? I just wonder if this is a prime example of the justice we will get in this case. If this is true, then may God have mercy on us all.”

He then confronted a widespread assumption head-on: “…For the hundreds of people out there who are spreading this rumor that I may take the law in my own hands, I say to you all, ‘give it a rest.’ I truly believe that this is not what B.J. would have wanted me to do. B.J. would have wanted justice to run its course. So that is what I shall do.

“I just pray that there is justice for B.J. Because if there isn’t, may Satan have mercy on our souls [Tanasichuk considered himself to be a satanist]. Because that is where we’ll all be, in Hell. I’ll be waiting at the gates.”⁵

Another example of how changed the relationship had become between an angry felon who hated cops and sold drugs out his back door and the local police detectives concerned B.J.’s burial plot. B.J. Breau was buried in St. Michael’s Cathedral graveyard, within walking distance of the Tanasichuks’ house. Maria went there regularly in the harsh winter weather to shovel a path to her son’s grave. Then she knelt and tenderly cleared the clinging ice and snow from the letters on his headstone.

B.J. had been buried in one of the plots the church provided for those who could not pay. After B.J.’s burial, Maria went to the cemetery and tried to get the adjacent plot reserved so she could be buried next to him. There she learned that it was church policy to assign these burial plots in the order in which people died. When her attempts to secure the plot failed, the strong-willed Maria told her husband that if the only way she could be buried next to her son would be to be the next to die, then that’s what she was prepared to do.

In a move that would have been inconceivable before B.J.’s death, David Tanasichuk went to the police station and approached Detective Cummings and Detective Sergeant Fiander, explaining that he needed to ask a particular favor. He told the detectives about Maria’s ultimatum. Was there anything they could do, he wondered, to ensure that that plot could be reserved for Maria? In despair over the possibility of losing both his wife and his stepson, David cried when he asked the detectives if there was any way they could do this for him.

To David’s great relief, the detectives were able to intercede on Maria’s behalf and secure a promise that the adjacent plot would be saved for her. When David and Maria saw that they were going to get what they wanted, a thankful David returned to the police station to speak with Detective Cummings. He told the detective that if he and Maria were ever successful in becoming parents, they wanted Cummings to be the godfather.

That was the situation and the state of the relationship when Cummings went to the apartment to talk to David about his missing person report.