dispelled when they found blood on the inside of the letter. Not only was it impossible for Bulgea to have shot himself and then fold the note, it was unlikely he could have handled the shotgun without leaving evidence that he had done so. The gun had been wiped completely clean of fingerprints. But notwithstanding evidence pointing to his involvement in the death of Bulgea, Pawluk may still have avoided a murder conviction had he not on two separate occasions confessed to killing his wife.
The first time he unburdened himself occurred before Bulega died. A neighbour dropped by for a visit following Julia’s disappearance. Without prompting, Pawluk told his startled guest that he no longer had a wife. Asked what he had done to her, he said he shot her with a .22 rifle and buried her body under a manure pile. [8] Pawluk’s second confession came after Bulega’s murder, while he was being held in the Headingley jail awaiting trial for killing his wife. A friend serving a six-month sentence for obtaining goods by false pretences shared a cell with Pawluk. Again, without prompting, Pawluk confessed to killing his wife. “I hope, now that they have me, they will hang me right away. I don’t want to be continually pulled around in the courts.” [9]
Manitoba’s cemetery of the executed, where the unclaimed bodies of men hanged in the province between 1932 and 1952 were reinterred after a flooding Red River destroyed the area in which they were first buried. The body of John Pawluk and a handful of other men were moved about a mile west of the jail. There they were interred in a small cemetery located in the middle of a field.
Author’s photo.
Pawluk need not have worried. Despite taking the stand to deny making either confession, a jury took less than an hour to return a verdict of guilty. Pawluk did not react when he was sentenced to death, and after his judge left the courtroom he calmly relit a half burned cigarette and walked back to his cell with a smile on his face. There were no smiles two months later when the forty-nine-year-old was led out of the death cell that connects to the gallows at the Headingley jail. Less than sixty seconds after Pawluk started his walk the trap was sprung. The Winnipeg Free Press summed up the feeling of those who witnessed the execution. “Had he been less talkative it might have been difficult to connect him definitely with the killing.” [10]
John Pawluk was hanged on August 21, 1936, and buried near the Assiniboine River on the grounds of the Headingley jail. Thirty-eight years later his and fifteen other bodies were disinterred and reburied in a small enclosure a mile west.
James Alfred Kelsey: A Tendency to Talk Too Much
James Kelsey was a good person who did a terrible thing, but were it not for his tendency to talk too much, he would almost certainly have gotten away with the perfect murder, despite the fact that the person he and his brother beat to death was a close family friend.
In December 1959, Kelsey and his brother Lloyd Cross lived in Welland, Ontario. Although he had no record and was never involved in crime, Kelsey listened when his sibling talked of a way the pair could make some easy money. They were drinking at the Reeta Hotel when Lloyd said all they had to do was hire Sam Delibasich, a family friend and local cabbie, to drive them out of town. Then they would knock him out, take his cab to Toronto, and sell it to a used car dealer. On December 9, that is what they did. They asked Delibasich to drive them to St. Catharines. When they were only a few miles out of Welland the brothers asked the taxi driver to turn down a deserted side road, and then told him to stop. The three men smoked cigarettes for a bit before Kelsey quietly drew from his clothes a hammer and hit Dalibasich over the head. Cross then grabbed the weapon and hit their friend a second time. The badly injured driver managed to get out of the taxi and he started running across a field, closely
The first time he unburdened himself occurred before Bulega died. A neighbour dropped by for a visit following Julia’s disappearance. Without prompting, Pawluk told his startled guest that he no longer had a wife. Asked what he had done to her, he said he shot her with a .22 rifle and buried her body under a manure pile. [8] Pawluk’s second confession came after Bulega’s murder, while he was being held in the Headingley jail awaiting trial for killing his wife. A friend serving a six-month sentence for obtaining goods by false pretences shared a cell with Pawluk. Again, without prompting, Pawluk confessed to killing his wife. “I hope, now that they have me, they will hang me right away. I don’t want to be continually pulled around in the courts.” [9]
Manitoba’s cemetery of the executed, where the unclaimed bodies of men hanged in the province between 1932 and 1952 were reinterred after a flooding Red River destroyed the area in which they were first buried. The body of John Pawluk and a handful of other men were moved about a mile west of the jail. There they were interred in a small cemetery located in the middle of a field.
Author’s photo.
Pawluk need not have worried. Despite taking the stand to deny making either confession, a jury took less than an hour to return a verdict of guilty. Pawluk did not react when he was sentenced to death, and after his judge left the courtroom he calmly relit a half burned cigarette and walked back to his cell with a smile on his face. There were no smiles two months later when the forty-nine-year-old was led out of the death cell that connects to the gallows at the Headingley jail. Less than sixty seconds after Pawluk started his walk the trap was sprung. The Winnipeg Free Press summed up the feeling of those who witnessed the execution. “Had he been less talkative it might have been difficult to connect him definitely with the killing.” [10]
John Pawluk was hanged on August 21, 1936, and buried near the Assiniboine River on the grounds of the Headingley jail. Thirty-eight years later his and fifteen other bodies were disinterred and reburied in a small enclosure a mile west.
James Alfred Kelsey: A Tendency to Talk Too Much
James Kelsey was a good person who did a terrible thing, but were it not for his tendency to talk too much, he would almost certainly have gotten away with the perfect murder, despite the fact that the person he and his brother beat to death was a close family friend.
In December 1959, Kelsey and his brother Lloyd Cross lived in Welland, Ontario. Although he had no record and was never involved in crime, Kelsey listened when his sibling talked of a way the pair could make some easy money. They were drinking at the Reeta Hotel when Lloyd said all they had to do was hire Sam Delibasich, a family friend and local cabbie, to drive them out of town. Then they would knock him out, take his cab to Toronto, and sell it to a used car dealer. On December 9, that is what they did. They asked Delibasich to drive them to St. Catharines. When they were only a few miles out of Welland the brothers asked the taxi driver to turn down a deserted side road, and then told him to stop. The three men smoked cigarettes for a bit before Kelsey quietly drew from his clothes a hammer and hit Dalibasich over the head. Cross then grabbed the weapon and hit their friend a second time. The badly injured driver managed to get out of the taxi and he started running across a field, closely
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