13 Lives

by Michael Pawlowski

  By the end of the summer, the fire fighter, who was to testify that the glass chards were in the dirt outside the building, changed his story suggesting that the glass may have been on the basement floor. That meant the window was a means of ingress, not egress.

  City hall granted Falcao’s application to rebuild.

  The police notes were never transcribed and some remained illegible.

  There were no subsequent demands by Falcao’s legal council to pay the claim. She was clearly conveying the perception that she was in no rush for the settlement funds. Persistent demands tend to be common for those who are worried about the weaknesses of their cases.

  Everything was looking dismal for our defense, and then we received a call from the Crime Prevention Bureau. Ronny was changing his story.

  Within seventy-two hours, he was completing a sworn affidavit stating that Falcao told him exactly what to say, specifically that there were only two sets of keys and that at all times he had one of those with him. She had concocted his lies.

  The Crime Prevention Bureau added that it had conferred with Revenue Canada. Falcao’s indebtedness for back taxes under her name alone exceeded $120,000. Further enquiries were being made under other potential names and businesses.

  Further, the bikers, Satan’s Choice who controlled such affairs in lower Niagara peninsula, advised they would never have allowed her to have strippers in her club even if city council had agreed to same.

  Financially her hotel and its bar were destitute. Former customers were willing to testify that there were no more than twenty customers on any given day.

  It was looking good.

  The news of the jockey’s death stunned George Smythie. He had heard the rumour several times that a jockey must have been involved in the burglary at the time of the fire. Falcao had been the first to mention that prospect. The basement window’s size would have prevented a person of regular height from using the window to break into the basement. There was another aspect too that worried him about a jockey being mentioned, for George had already been told by other second-hand sources that several athletes and students were using the hotel as their source for narcotics. That particular jockey had been the subject of suggestions of illegal substances. Having already completed the mortgage transaction, George was to say the least more than a trifle worried about his investment.

  Equally demanding his immediate attention was advice to the police that a blue Comet vehicle had been seen leaving the property after the jockey’s murder. Smythie owned a blue Mercury Comet.

  He had already told the adjuster in a sub-rosa meeting that he would not under any circumstances complete their own Proof of Loss form for the amount of the mortgage. He’d give up $500,000 just to get away from her.

  The longer that the litigation dragged, the more uncomfortable George and his wife became. Actually, the legal process was not delayed at all. The Discoveries were already scheduled for February of 1988, just nine months after Statement of Claim was delivered. Still, for George any time period under the circumstances seemed just too long.

  The Fire Marshall’s Office had, by the end of August of 1987, completed its report. Nothing more was going to be done at that point in time. However, the FMO would recommence its investigation if the Discoveries produced information that prompted it to consider further avenues.

  From the distance the adjuster spied on George and Adonio as they celebrated with the native community. The lacrosse game would become the focus of their attention in the late evening. However, in the mid afternoon they danced and chanted until all present encircled their chief in celebration. Representatives of all of the community’s departments and offices participated in those festivities. Women too were busy with the artifacts and relics, their cooking and hand-made clothes. This was their show of allegiance and their commitment to their future as one in common practice and determination. The Spirit Circle encompassed more natives than Adonio could have ever imagined. His father had no reservations about participation, and did so with earnest enthusiasm. This was becoming a part of his son’s life, because this was his son’s heritage.

  The adjuster missed his opportunity on that occasion to talk to either Adonio or his father. After an hour he left realizing his ability to gain new or usable information had vanished. He would prepare himself for the Discoveries in several months’ time. Until then the denial of coverage would be maintained.

  There were no fires to any of Falcao’s building between Christmas and New Year’s Eve in 1987. She continued to display the image of an elderly feeble woman plagued by the false accusations of her insurance company. Meanwhile, away from the public’s view, she remained conniving and forceful to the extent fears were becoming all too real among those who knew her personally or through business.

  The Falcon Lady really had no reason to be too worried about any litigation. Although this was just a civil matter, the lack of criminal charges spoke volumes of the government’s inability to prove its case. The extrapolation for her lawyer was simple: if the government can’t prove she started the fire, then how is the insurance company going to succeed? The cold hard reality included: there were no criminal charges accusing her of arson; there was no demand by Revenue Canada to pay back taxes; and all of the suspicions by the Fire Marshall and the Crime Prevention Bureau did not produce any firm allegation, just a lot of innuendoes. However, Falcao had to be in total control, and vowed that would remain her modus operandi.

  The sheepish voice begged to speak. The telephone conversation took place in the first week of January. That is usually one of the busiest times in the claims department: after the two long weekends and inevitability of speeding drivers on icy streets trying to get to holiday destinations as quickly as possible. The norm is to rush such discussions so as to keep as many customers satisfied as possible. However, in this case, rushing the matter was not an option.

  The caller identified himself as Adonio. I was glad he called. “I need to speak to you,” he continued. Twenty minutes later the conversation concluded. His primary interest was fear for his parents. When asked to advise the reason, the teenager stated candidly that, “The woman had the jockey killed.” He was obviously relying on hearsay opinions because the police had never reached that conclusion. The death was still being called, “Suspicious.” I was careful what I said realizing that Adonio might just repeat a version of what I said to others. More importantly he timidly implored my help, “If you can.” I offered as much assurance as I could, knowing it would never be enough. Adonio tried to tell me about his parents’ business. He was only repeating what I already knew. “Never get involved with her,” he wished. I let him proceed because he definitely was a young person in need of an ear.

  We also met right after work the next day as he had requested. So much of what he had already said was just repeated in ­person. Ultimately he got to his primary point. He wanted to see my facial expression and hear my words. I promised to leave his parents out of the issue for as long as I could. He didn’t really favour that advice and stared straight at me without saying another word. He then heard me say that I could not make any promises because so much depended upon The Falcon Lady and the lawyers. Was his parents’ evidence required to confirm Falcao’s involvement in prior arsons? More than likely it was. Still I said what he wanted to hear, and he left satisfied.

  I never told our lawyer about this meeting or any of my personal enquiries or activities. He had the police, reconstruction engineers and the expert firms on which to rely. I didn’t want him hearing too many opinions or suggestions and potentially using them as being the absolute truth. Further he was representing ten insurance companies on the subscription policy. I heard the interests of a select few persons and maintained their confidence.

  Anyone undergoing the process of Examinations for Discovery is indubitably going to be at least slightly apprehensive. The adjuster was extremely so on that Februa
ry morning. The only calming aspect was the fact that he knew Falcao’s lawyer. That attorney was a gentleman in other matters and candidly was expected to be so in this case. I had rehearsed every aspect at least six times making sure that I would never mix reality with suggestion as there had been so many incidents and varying reports in the last fourteen months.

  Surprise was the reaction with less than five minutes of ­questions. The Falcon Lady’s lawyer limited his questions to confirmation of the policy coverage, initial-notice of the fire, date the Proof of Loss form was received, and the date coverage was denied. He never asked why we were denying coverage as the Statement of Defense had clearly established the reason.

  Before leaving the room, the lawyers talked off the record about their plan for the rest of the morning, that being Ronny’s Sworn Interrogatory. Because he had produced two statements, the latter incriminating Falcao, they wanted his evidence under oath on the court record. Together the three of us headed to the waiting room.

  We stopped dead in our tracks. The Falcon Lady was sitting there facing us. She was not to have been there because her discoveries were not scheduled until March. She rose smiling. It is hard to say it was an evil grin because I had never met her before. Defense counsel no doubt immediately thought it was inappropriate for her to even be there. She spoke to her lawyer. His expression became ghostly white.

  Our lawyer asked the receptionist if Ronny had arrived. Her answer didn’t please him.

  The Falcon Lady’s lawyer then called our defense lawyer aside. They were in a private room for more than five minutes. When they left, our lawyer’s face was beet red. Obviously he was extremely irate. After taking me back to the discoveries room he said, “He’s dead.”

  Shock was total with the news that Ronny had died the night before. Of course our defense on the argument of exclusive opportunity had also just died.

  Back at our lawyer’s office, our counsel asked his assistant to adjourn Falcao’s discoveries. He then closed his office door and sat me down with a stern expression. His tone was serious. “How much is your life worth?”

  I didn’t answer.

  He stared at me.

  I pulled a quarter from my pocket and flipped it. When placing it on his desk, I declared, “Heads.” I then ended the meeting by telling him I’d be back to him “next week.”

  Before that happened, actually on the fourth morning after my discoveries, I received a call from the police officer who had been given control of the closed investigation. Ronny had just been discovered floating in the Welland Canal.

  The Falcon Lady knew of his death three days before the body was discovered. She had never at any time reported him missing. Suddenly she was suspected of murder, not just of arson and drug dealing and tax evasion.

  Adonio called me just before Christmas in 1988. The nineteen-year-old was on his university winter break. He was absolutely elated not only with the settlement but in the manner we were able to protect his parents. That alone relieved so much of his stress. His comments revealed that Falcao’s plotting had involved members of the aboriginal community. However, none would ever admit to it.

  There was not a stone she left unturned. Every possibility of complicating our defense by having parties and persons confound each other, she accomplished. Ronny was dead, but there was no proof that Falcao caused his death. The evidence that she started the fire could be challenged. There remained no charges relative to the arson, drugs or tax evasion. Either everyone was totally afraid of her, or they were grossly incompetent. Even Falcao’s lawyer admitted later that he had “his doubts.”

  The other nine insurers remained squeamish. Even though among them they shared eighty percent of the risk, there was no decisiveness. They all continued to state that they would just go with the decision of the lead insurer who had twenty percent of the risk. The process of negotiations rested with myself.

  Our first offer was $500,000 that matched the amount of Smythie’s loan.

  Her delay was atrocious. She had expected $2,000,000 plus interest and an award for punitive damages, and so she displayed no inclination to budge. In fact she chose not to respond as she felt the insurance companies would make a better offer before she even had to decline it. It was her way, outside of the violence, that she conducted business.

  Our second offer was $600,000.

  She finally countered at $1.75 million.

  Our third offer came in at $700,000.

  She answered by asserting that we only went up $200,000, whereas she had already dropped more than $250,000.

  We then stalled to disturb her even more. At the beginning of November, five months after our first offer, we tabled what we described as, “Our final offer of $750,000 all inclusive of all costs and legal fees.” We sensed her lawyer wanted to get paid and get her out of his life.

  That offer would have broken down in this way: $500,000 to her mortgage company, at least $80,000 for legal fees, and less than $170,000 in Falcao’s pocket.

  In mid December that offer was accepted, and the release was signed in exchange for the settlement cheque prior to Christmas.

  The following August, Adonio asked me to meet him at the Six Nations Festival. He wanted to personally express his gratitude that the case had been resolved, and that his parents were spared. Smiling, he declared his pride in “the achievement that’s possible when people work together.” Such expressions were heartwarming as none of the insurance companies including my own employer, our lawyer, the police and all of the authorities had ever expressed their gratitude.

  Hearing the beat of drums and chant while watching the colourful dance and attire during all of the celebrations was inspiring as much as it was spiritual. Adonio remained true to the wisdom of his heritage, and to his family and community. The young man would no doubt continue to excel in life with his foundation remaining solid in indigenous culture.

  1991

  REV. JAMES TOPPINGS

  The impassioned verse of Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae’s poem gripped the hearts of many Canadians during the Christmas season of 1915. Ypres was a distant field in a far off land, unknown to many, yet it had become the muddy tomb of more than eight hundred thousand souls. Prime Minister Borden, into his fifth year of leadership, was quite unable to extricate the nation from such devastating carnage. Throughout the country, poverty and recession held hands down the aisle of diminished expectations. The issue of conscription was about to ignite hostilities in Quebec. In Southern Ontario, residents were about to experience a new scourge: Le Club de Hockey Canadien who were about to win their first Stanley Cup.

  Within an improvised cubicle of Verdun hospital’s maternity ward, James Toppings was born on January 16, 1916. Ten weeks later the Montreal Canadiens won the championship and thus began the foundation of his ardent affair with his most-favoured team.

  His was a loving family with parents who provided a quality Christian lifestyle based on hope and charity. The expansion of his parents’ trust was grounded in their faith knowing that the virtues they instilled would never be brushed aside by frivolous temptations. Sunday Mass with frequent reception of the sacraments enhanced the young boy’s spiritual life. Pilgrimages to Trois Rivieres, Quebec City and Beaupre increased his enthusiasm for Catholic practice.

  At age twelve, James entered Loyola High School. His classmates were predominantly bilingual. Being absolutely conversant in two languages opened many opportunities not only in school but throughout life. Acquaintances were not limited by ethnic background once additional linguistic skills were mastered. High school thus became the forum where James developed his love for languages, history, the classics and of course religion.

  After graduating from high school at age sixteen in June, 1932, James spent the next year working odd jobs and doing as much as possible to put food on the family table. The Great Depression had ripped every segment of society apart. Jobs were scar
ce and pay was pitiful. Surviving on one family income was not possible.

  The following July he entered the novitiate in Guelph, Ontario, and two years later took his preliminary vows. His time there introduced James to new ethnic cultures: the German, Dutch, Amish and Ukrainian. He became part of their communities as much as he could, while enjoying the venues of St. Jacob’s, Elmira, and Kitchener. Similarly he discovered his love for the outdoors and took every opportunity for long treks and even paddling. Witnessing their community efforts to ensure a quality life for everyone became, for James, a vision of God-among-men. All were considered equal within their community and beyond their normal parameters. Amish buggies on their way to the market, Ukrainian children in play grounds, and multi-ethnic sports teams: all of these simply affirmed that life was just not English or French or even just both.

  After taking the initial vows, James began an earnest study of classic literature: Greek, Roman and medieval. This was not confined to just the normal texts, but included rare editions. Once again his understanding expanded with Middle Eastern, East Asian and Norse culture.

  The multi-ethnic experience continued in Toronto during his three-year course at the Jesuit Seminary. There he freely acquainted himself and enjoyed the company of so many from the Greek, Polish, Italian, and East Asian communities. The world was becoming so small while the compulsion to embrace it was ever more increasing.

  In the year after the war started, James having graduated from the philosophy program returned to Montreal to teach at his old alma mater, Loyola High School. There he taught languages, found his niche with Grade Nine students, and coached football and hockey teams. The Montreal to which he had returned was significantly different from the city he left just six years before. It had become a cosmopolitan centre for immigrants fleeing the torment and tribulation that had been sweeping every grain of life out of Europe. High school was no longer just fluent French Canadian students. Many languages were spoken in the hallways, making some aspects of communication a sincere challenge. James learned patience.