Wrong Side of the Law Read online

  There were a lot of summer cottages around Woodlands, and investigators suspected the fugitives were using one of them, but they didn’t know which. They couldn’t just start banging on doors, as that might alert the quarry and give them a chance to flee — or make a stand in a blazing gun battle. So they quietly staked the area out.

  Several officers disguised themselves as road crews for the municipal public works department. One policeman posed as a gardener, and another pretended to be a fishing guide, going from cottage to cottage in search of clients. All kept careful watch.

  On Wednesday, July 14, the police spies noticed that one large cottage was in a relatively isolated location. Its owner, May Birch, lived in a nearby house. She told the police she had rented the cottage to a man the previous Monday. He had a young woman and an eight-year-old boy with him. She’d seen little of the man since then, and hadn’t seen the woman and boy at all. Cars had come and gone, but she hadn’t paid them much attention. However, the police learned that the people in the cottage shooed away anybody who wandered near. They decided the place was worth a closer look.

  The officers who watched the cottage from concealment didn’t have to wait very long before they spotted the man every cop in Canada and the United States was looking for: Lucien Rivard! They were the first law enforcement officers to knowingly lay eyes on the now-famous criminal since he had escaped from Bordeaux Jail. Rivard had dyed his grey hair black and was bearded, and he had put on about forty pounds, but there was no mistaking him.

  Now that they had Rivard in their sights, the police couldn’t afford any mistakes. Undercover officers kept watch on the cottage while senior police officials drew up a plan of action. The few people in the Woodlands area who were aware of the police presence, such as May Birch, hadn’t the slightest idea that the police had located three major criminals in their midst.

  The operation to capture Rivard, Boucher, and Cadieux was carefully planned and then carried out with military precision. It involved the RCMP, the Quebec Provincial Police, the Montreal Police Department, and one officer from the Ontario Provincial Police; a total of almost fifty men. At 1:00 p.m. on Friday, July 16, a call went out to the homes of RCMP, QPP, and Montreal police officers. They were told to report to Montreal police headquarters immediately, in civilian clothes. When they arrived, a constable took them to an upstairs room. Nobody was allowed near a telephone.

  At 2:00 p.m. the officers were loaded into cars, four or five to a vehicle. Four cars carried German Shepherd police dogs. The officers weren’t told anything about the operation until they reached Chateauguay. Only then did they learn that they were about to close in on Lucien Rivard. The police were armed with pistols, rifles, and machine guns, but senior officers gave strict orders that no one was to shoot except to protect their lives.

  Artist’s sketch of the cottage where Lucien Rivard was captured, ending one of the biggest manhunts in Canadian history.

  Toronto Star.

  Roadblocks were set up to seal off the neighbourhood. A cordon of officers spaced twenty feet apart surrounded the cottage. The police dogs sat obediently silent, awaiting commands. Eight men made up the party that would actually carry out the raid. The occupants of the cottage were unaware of any unusual activity outside.

  Shortly before 5:00 p.m., May Birch was entertaining a few visitors in her home when a party of police officers suddenly burst in. They told the startled people to sit quietly while they searched the house. When the officers were satisfied that none of the suspects were on the premises, they kept Mrs. Birch and her guests inside. Two hundred yards away, hidden from view of the house by a stand of trees, their colleagues were getting ready to move on the cottage.

  At about the same time, a car towing a boat trailer pulled up at the Woodlands Yacht Club where an eighteen-year-old employee named Robin Burns was on duty. One of the men in the car asked if they could launch their motor boat there. They looked like a party of fishermen, and Burns thought they wanted to use the club’s facilities for free. Then they showed him their RCMP badges. Burns later said he had never seen men get a boat into the water so fast. The police launch churned out onto the lake and took up a position, ready to cut off any attempt by the fugitives to escape by water. By this time, an RCMP light aircraft was circling overhead, in radio contact with the police on the ground.

  When all was in readiness, the eight-man team rushed to the cottage. Four stayed outside to cover all exits. The other four burst through the front door with guns drawn. The first man they saw was Lucien Rivard. He immediately cried, “No, no! Don’t shoot!”

  Canada’s most wanted man was taken completely by surprise. He was on his way to the kitchen, and wearing only a bathing suit when his long run from the law abruptly ended. “Flabbergasted” was the word a police official used to describe Rivard at the moment of his re-capture. “He looked dismayed … after all, he hadn’t sent us any invitations.”

  Boucher and Cadieux were also in the cottage, and they surrendered without any resistance. However, the radio message that went out to all of the police teams in the field was, “Rivard has been captured. Rivard has been captured. Return to rendezvous point.”

  The police in May Birch’s house were grinning like schoolboys when they told the bewildered people they had just caught Lucien Rivard. Mrs. Birch was shocked to learn that she had rented her cottage to notorious criminals. “I guess it’s just one of those things,” she later told reporters who barraged her with questions. “I used to call the cottage Honeymoon Haven, but now I’m going to call it Rivard’s Retreat.”

  The yacht club was over a mile from the cottage, so Robin Burns didn’t know about the raid that had just taken place. He was surprised when the RCMP launch returned after less than half an hour. He asked the constables what they were doing. One of them said, “We’ll tell you a little secret. We’ve got good news. We just captured Lucien Rivard.”

  “I rushed over to the cottage,” Burns said later, “and looked over the fence. Then I saw Rivard. He was in the back seat of a car, wedged like a piece of baloney between two powerful Mounties.”

  Rivard was allowed to dress himself in a business suit before he was taken from the cottage in handcuffs. The police found no guns or ammunition on the premises. Rivard, Boucher, and Cadieux were taken to the Quebec Provincial Police headquarters on McGill Street in Montreal. Rivard was back in a cell, 136 days after his escape. When the sergeant who booked him in asked for his last residential address, Rivard smiled and said, “800 Gouin Boulevard.” That was the address of the Bordeaux Jail.

  Police spokesmen credited the success of the operation to the cooperation of the federal, provincial, and municipal police departments, and to the presence of a large number of officers. “We went in force and in that way prevented a siege. There was no siege, no violence, no injuries, nothing … it was smooth sailing.”

  They wouldn’t say if a tip from an informer had led them to the cottage. “If there were such a source, the police would take care that the finger is never pointed at him. His life would not be worth much otherwise.”

  The news of Rivard’s capture flashed across the country, and early sensational reports were riddled with errors. One said the cottage had an arsenal of guns and ammunition. Wild rumours circulated as people in the streets and in bars and cafes spoke of nothing but Rivard’s capture. One story had him fleeing across the St. Lawrence River in a fast boat, only to be overtaken by the RCMP. In another yarn, he slipped out of the cottage and was pursued through the woods by man hunters and dogs.

  The three thousand residents of Woodlands were coming to grips with the dramatic event that had placed their community in the national spotlight. May Birch grew annoyed with the endless parade of curious “tourists” who wanted to see “Rivard’s Retreat.” To discourage them, she had a supply of large firecrackers that sounded like gunshots when they exploded.

  Philip Goodyear, whose family was one of the oldest in the community and owned the land surr
ounding May Birch’s property, wasn’t at all pleased with all the publicity. “I’m not very happy about Rivard being captured in Woodlands,” he complained. “How would you feel if they found him in your backyard?”

  Prime Minister Lester Pearson, who was an experienced pilot, was flying an RCAF Vertol helicopter from Antigonish, Nova Scotia, to Halifax, when his office received the news and informed him by radio. Pearson was jocular in a pair of messages he sent to Senator John Connoly. “Rivard caught at 4:45 confirmed,” said the first communique. “Call an election at once.” The second said, “There is no confirmation that he has already asked for bail.”

  Overview of the area where Rivard was captured. While reports had him as far away as Spain, Rivard was about twenty miles from Montreal.

  Toronto Star.

  After landing, Pearson issued a formal statement. “Very good news. I would like to congratulate the police authorities concerned. The law can now take its course and justice be served.”

  Understandably, Marie Rivard didn’t share the prime minister’s elation. She went to the grey stone building where her husband was being held, but was not allowed to visit him. A throng of newsmen rushed her, but all she said was, “I have nothing to say. Go away.” Within a few days, Marie was permitted to see Rivard in what the press described as “a very touching reunion.”

  The police — indeed, all of Canada — were eager to know where Rivard had been hiding during his months of “freedom.” They revealed that they’d had reports on him being in at least half a dozen countries, from Peru to Japan, sometimes in two or three different countries at the same time. When detectives questioned him, Rivard said, “I guess you really want to know where I’ve been. I guess it’s been bugging you. So, I’ll tell you. I’ve been on holidays. Naturally,” he said with a chuckle, “I spent most of my time in la belle province.”

  The police said Rivard cheerfully answered all of their questions, but “always in an extremely clever, apparently well-thought-out, evasive manner … Rivard told us a lot, yet told us nothing.”

  The Americans were delighted that Rivard had been captured. Lawrence Fleishman, the United States Customs agent who had the task of getting Rivard to Laredo, praised the Canadian police for catching him. Then he added, “You people up there don’t realize what a big fish Rivard is … The sooner we get him, the better. He’s a key big shot of organized crime in North America.”

  If convicted on major drug smuggling charges in the United States, Rivard faced a term of as much as forty years in prison — a potential life sentence for a man his age. The expectation was that he would resume his fight against extradition. To the surprise of all, Rivard told his legal counsel he wanted to get out of Canada and take his chances in a Texas courtroom.

  Rivard had pulled yet another trick out of his bag. At this stage, his extradition to the United States should have been a simple matter of stamping the papers. But now he faced criminal charges in Canada: escaping custody and, in the incident concerning Jacques Bourgeois, kidnapping and auto theft. Moreover, he could be an important witness in the still ongoing Dorion Inquest. In Texas, the case could boil down to a matter of Rivard’s word against Michel Caron’s.

  In Ottawa, the Opposition demanded that Rivard be kept in Canada. They accused the Pearson government of trying to get rid of Rivard in what amounted to a political cover-up. The Conservatives said there was too much about the bribery attempt and Rivard’s escape and long evasion of the law that was still a mystery. They also wanted to know where Rivard got the $16,500 that was in his possession when he was captured. (That money was later identified as part of the loot from a postal truck robbery in Montreal.) Conservative MPs like Erik Nielsen inferred there were shady deals going on between the Liberals and Rivard.

  In spite of Opposition protests, the Canadian government agreed to deliver Rivard into the waiting arms of the Americans. The reasoning was pragmatic. If the Texas court found Rivard guilty, he’d be locked up in an American prison and would no longer be the Liberals’ problem. Should he be acquitted, he’d still be deported as an undesirable, and could then be tried for crimes committed in Canada. That would take time, and meanwhile the uproar over the Rivard Affair would have died down.

  While Rivard waited to be extradited, police searched the cottage and the grounds around it for the stolen gold. They found nothing. However, Boucher and Cadieux were held on charges of knowingly giving aid to a fugitive from the law. Cadieux was also wanted for forgery.

  On July 22, a motorcade of police cars took Rivard to the Montreal airport where he was put aboard an RCMP aircraft. Accompanying him were two United States Customs agents and two Canadian police officers. At Plattsburg he was transferred to a Coast Guard plane. When the plane landed at Ellington Air Force Base in Houston, it was immediately surrounded by twenty United States Marshalls and customs agents with drawn guns. The heavy security was employed not out of concern that Rivard might try to escape, but to protect him from a possible Mafia “hit.”

  In a Houston courtroom, a judge read out the charges against Rivard, and set his bail at half a million dollars. When Rivard heard that, he chuckled and said, “I might as well forget it.” Back in Canada, Marie was also in jail, waiting for her sister to pay $5,000 bail. Marie had been subpoenaed as a witness in the trial of Raymond Denis, and was being legally detained due to concern she would fail to appear in court. Marie was later allowed to leave Canada to attend Rivard’s trial.

  That trial date was set for September 7, and then was postponed. For much of the time, Rivard was kept in an undisclosed location out of concern that he could be the target of underworld assassins. When Rivard finally did have his day in court, his lawyer was unable to convince the jury of his innocence. On September 21, Rivard was found guilty of being the mastermind of an international heroin smuggling ring. When he heard the verdict, Rivard seemed unmoved, but he blew a kiss to Marie. Sentencing was set for a date in November.

  By that time, Canada was in the midst of a federal election. From his jail cell in Texas, Rivard wrote to journalist Ron Haggart of the Toronto Star, and Haggart ran the letter in his column on November 11:

  As you know I’ve been out of circulation since June 19, 1964, except for a couple of months last spring when there 10 million eyes looking for a $15,000 reward. Then, I was really out of circulation … I do not know the program of any of the political parties … There’s no doubt they all have a good program, but I can’t sincerely give you my predictions. I do not know what goes on outside of here, as I am kept incommunicado; even my wife does not know where they are keeping me. Canada is a big, prosperous country … it’s the best country in the world to live in, and let’s hope they will keep it that way … I suffered a lot of wrongs in Canada and very bad publicity. I do not hold a grudge against anybody. I forgive them all … many times a little lie becomes a big story, and naturally there’s always a victim.

  Rivard was sentenced on November 12: twenty years in the federal penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia, plus a fine of $20,000. His partners Gagnon and Jones were sentenced to fifteen years each, and Groleau to twelve years. Caron, whose arrest in Laredo had sparked the whole affair, got ten years. Soon after Rivard began serving his sentence, the warden told him that he and Marie would not be allowed to correspond in French. All letters had to be in English. “Bilingualism is something they have yet to hear about in the United States,” Marie said in an interview. “It’s a good thing we both speak and understand English. Lucien writes very well in English, but I have a little trouble writing in that language.”

  Marie and Rivard wrote to each other almost daily until he was paroled and deported in January of 1975, having served nine years of his sentence. Rivard made Canadian newspaper headlines again when he arrived at the Montreal airport. Marie was there to meet him. New controversies swirled around Rivard when the Quebec government decided not to press charges for escaping custody, kidnapping, or car theft. Nor would there be any investigation into Rivard’s
possession of a large sum of stolen money at the time of his capture in 1966. Once again there were rumours about friends in high places.

  After that, Rivard lived quietly in the Chomedey area, refusing requests for interviews. Once, a reporter spotted him in Montreal’s old courthouse and asked what he was doing there. Rivard replied that he just wanted to see what it was like to walk through that building without wearing handcuffs. Rivard died at the age of 86 on February 3, 2002, taking to the grave many secrets concerning organized crime and political corruption — or so a lot of people believed.

  Rivard’s legacy was extraordinary for a Canadian criminal. In December 1965, he topped Prime Minister Lester Pearson as “Canadian Newsmaker of the Year.” He became one of only a handful of underworld figures to have an entry in the Canadian Encyclopedia and mention in the Dictionary of Canadian Biography.

  As a heroin smuggler, Rivard was involved in a despicable business. But his Great Escape and his cavalier bearing as a “Gallic Pimpernel” turned him into a folk hero, though he championed no cause but his own. He summed it up best himself in a letter he sent to Lester Pearson, dated March 30, 1965, when he was the most hunted man in Canada. “Life is short, you know. I don’t intend to be in jail for the rest of my life.”

  Chapter 12

  Micky McArthur:

  “I’d Rather Die with a Gun in My Hand”

  Mitchell Gordon “Micky” McArthur once stated that a criminal’s most deadly weapons are intelligence and charm. Only five-foot-six in height, weighing just 130 pounds, and having what police called a “baby face”, McArthur didn’t look like a hardened criminal. But the smooth-talking hoodlum had an outgoing personality with charm to spare. If cunning can be said to be synonymous with intelligence, then McArthur was gifted.