deadmonton 1983 - colin thatcher

During the CHED interview, reference was made to correspondence between Thatcher and the Regina City Police and Saskatchewan's Minister of Justice.

To see near full size copies of the original letters, follow this link which opens in a new tab or window.

Part of Thatcher's effort to obtain full disclosure was to clear up issues of what Regina police knew of a long distance phone call he received at the time of JoAnn Wilson's murder and how police handled that part of their investigation.

In an affidivat shown below, a Regina police officer indicated Thatcher informed Lynne Dally of Palm Springs, California about the murder of his former wife. The police officer didn't say how he knew this, leaving speculation that Thatcher's phone had been tapped.

But according to documents, Thatcher said he didn't know about Wilson's murder until a half hour after the call was made. A stamp on the never before seen affidavit bears the words "NOT DISCLOSED."

To see a near full size copy of the affidavit, follow this link which opens in a new tab or window.

For details of what else Thatcher was looking for, see further down this page for a background of his trial.

The interview with Byron Christopher came at some risk for Colin Thatcher. The man was still serving a life sentence for murder, and he feared raising the ire of the parole board who could come up with any number of reasons to revoke his freedom, such as claiming he was drinking again.

In the CHED interview, Thatcher admitted that writing the book meant reliving the early years of his experience in the justice system. He said the process was emotionally difficult.

"I'm trying not to be bitter, but there are times that I'm afraid some of it does show through. At the moment, I have to say I'm not having a whole lot of fun doing it."

He had harsh words for the Saskatchewan Justice Department.

"They will lie, they will mislead you, they'll actually cheat."

"They had this pile of evidence and they cherry picked what they wanted and the rest that was favourable to me they simply, they simply hid it, or made sure it never, never saw the light of day."

“When they want a conviction, anything goes. Mine was a very high-profile case and they were going to get me come hell or high water, even at the price of hiding evidence that would prove my innocence.”

Thatcher realised he will never be given the opportunity to overturn his conviction, but hoped his book will clear him in the court of public opinion.

Thatcher talked about his days at Edmonton Institution – the "Max" – and what the inmates there taught him.

"There was a code at the Edmonton Max at that time ... that until a guy does something wrong, nothing's going to happen to them. I'm very grateful to them for the help that they gave me to at least show me the ropes of the system so that I was able to survive."

Thatcher never spent a single day in protective custody and made several lasting friendships while serving time at Edmonton Institution.

He called prison "a horrible, horrible place," and said he got through his sentence by minding his own business and never ratting on other inmates.

"I can honestly say that with all the different prisons I was at, never once did I have any concerns about going into that prison wondering if there was somebody that was waiting for me that had a score to settle or grudge against me."

While he was grateful for the experience, at the time his thoughts dwelled solely on how to get out without having somebody chase him.

Pictured above is the inner courtyard of the Edmonton Institution as it appeared in the early 1990s. Thatcher's "B" unit would have been nearly dead center-right in this photograph. Since that time, shrubs have been removed because guests of the facility were thought to be hiding weapons there.

Then at 68, Thatcher said he was in good health. He attributed this to his time prison because that's where he started working out. Thatcher said he spent a lot of time in the Max's weight room.

"Even at my age, I can do things now that I couldn't do when I was 20, from a physical point of view."

Thatcher now maintained a private life at his family ranch in southern rural Saskatchewan and can't imagine retiring.

"No, I'll die working. I will probably die in a pen sorting cattle or something, and that'll suit me fine to go that way."

He said there is no open hostility shown towards him when he does go out.

"In my home area where I am, I've had virtually no negativity," he said. "Now, I'm not saying that it's not there, but none of it has surfaced to my face, anyway."

Still Thatcher maintained his guard, prepared to deal with unexpected confrontation.

"Any time I go somewhere, I'm always ready to leave. I never go to a place where I don't drive myself because I want to have the keys to my vehicle so that if I have to leave, I can leave in a hurry."

The only trouble Thatcher has had is dealing with the amount of technological change during the last two decades. Debit machine cards, the internet and e-mail offered the man daily challenges.

When asked what he missed most, Thatcher said it was his freedom.

"I envied people that were sitting at home and had the option of walking down to a convenience store if they wished. You can't imagine what having no freedom is like until you don't have it."

He drives himself here and there, and while he can come and go on a moment's notice, he never forgets that he's on parole.

His greatest regret?

"I should never have gone into politics, I should have stayed right on the ranch."

Official reaction to Thatcher's claim was almost predictable.

Murray Brown, Saskatchewan's director of public prosecutions, stated in an interview that Thatcher's defence lawyers got full disclosure. When contacted in the wake of the interview, he called the man's claims "nonsense."

"He's writing a book," Brown said. "He needs to fluff up some publicity."

Before the Stinchcombe decision several years after Thatcher's trial, full disclosure – the sharing of all evidence against an individual – was not a legal requirement.

Thatcher suggested that if Saskatchewan did give him full disclosure, they could prove it by releasing the material now.

"It's a way to get some publicity, to make a claim like that, but it's nonsense," Brown said.

The Saskatoon Star Phoenix and the Regina Leader Post ran the story on their front pages the next day.

The story also found a place on the pages of cbc.ca, canoe.ca, macleans.ca, Prime Time Crime, Wikipedia, the Victoria Times Columnist, the Vancouver Sun, the Calgary Herald, the Winnipeg Free Press, the Ottawa Citizen, the National Post, the Globe and Mail, the Windsor Star, the Guelph Mercury, the Thunder Bay Chronicle Journal, and the Nova Scotia Chronicle-Herald. Most stories credited both 630 CHED and reporter Byron Christopher.

Missing from this list are the Edmonton Journal, the Edmonton Sun and four Edmonton television outlets.

Despite the fact Thatcher spent ten years in the Edmonton Max and that the story was broken by a local reporter, no Edmonton media outlet, apart from CHED and sister-stations CHQT Cool 880 and CISN-FM , has made reference to the story.

Update:  On August 1st, 2007 the Thatcher story was mentioned in the Edmonton Journal's Culture Venting column.

Two Journal readers "broke" the story for the paper with their comments.

Also, the Journal failed to reprint a story first carried by their CanWest MediaWorks sister publication, the National Post, critiquing the use of the "Mr. Big" sting operation. On August 18th, 2007 the Post reported a film was being made about the technique and the article referenced the arrests of Dennis Cheeseman and Shawn Hennessey in connection with James Roszko's ambush of four RCMP officers near Mayerthorpe, Alberta.

CTV NewsNet began airing a segment late on July 28th, and the Thatcher story was featured about halfway through that night's CTV National News with Sandie Renaldo. The reporter was Jill Macyshon.

"One of Canada's most famous killers, last year Colin Thatcher told a parole board all he wants now is peace – intent on living far away from the glare of the media, here, on his family's ranch near Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan," Macyshon reported.

"During one parole hearing Colin Thatcher said he feared being stalked by reporters. Funny then that he has chosen a path that will push him right back into the spotlight: Colin Thatcher is writing a book."

Thatcher still fears being stalked by reporters and has turned down numerous requests from national media over the years. Given the treatment he felt he had received in their reporting, there was no reason why the man should surrender to further vilification.

Funny then indeed that Thatcher gave his first post-prison interview to a local reporter from Edmonton, a man who hadn't judged him in previous reports and who let him have his say in a lengthy broadcast.

CTV National News offered two screen shots taken without accreditation from this website, The Last Link on the Left, as evidence that Thatcher's request for disclosure was being denied.

CTV also aired a statement made by Regina Police Service spokesman Elizabeth Popowich which seemed to indicate less-than-full disclosure was accepted policy.

"Police reports and information given to us often contains confidential information belonging to many other individuals and so we don't release," Popowich said.

The news program contacted Garrett Wilson who wrote a book on Thatcher. On camera Wilson said Thatcher is a headline seeker who craves attention (but Wilson didn't explain why the man has only granted a single interview in the eight months since being released on full parole).

Wilson said he didn't believe the book would be published.

"There will no book for the reason that all the evidence pointing to Colin Thatcher's innocence can be put on the back of a postcard," Wilson said.

"All the evidence pointing to his guilt would fill a small library and does."

Garrett wrote the book Deny, Deny, Deny: The Rise and Fall of Colin Thatcher.

The question of whether Thatcher's book would be published and have its author's desired effect would be answered in the future.

The answer to the present-day mystery of why Edmonton became a black hole regarding the news of Thatcher's book may lie in the muddle of pack journalism and poor judgement, the result of concentrated media ownership and reduced newsroom numbers. Or maybe it is a case of wounded pride.

The Thatcher interview was the second major story 630 CHED broke in a week, the result of relationships their reporter, Byron Christopher, has developed over years.

On July 24th, 2007 oil-patch 'activist' Weibo Ludwig contacted Christopher to tell him he had been charged with aggravated assault following an altercation with several oil-company people near his property in northwestern Alberta. The rest of the Edmonton media then played catch up with the story after CHED had scooped the market.

Three days later, CHED scored another exclusive with the Thatcher interview. But instead of contacting CHED to use and quote from their material (as news outlets across Canada did), local media coverage of the announcement was conspicuous by its complete absence.

Luckily for Edmontonians, the CTV National Network is broadcast in the area. Readers of local newspapers were less fortunate.

JoAnn Wilson	JoAnn Wilson	Colin Thatcher 1984	Ross Thatcher	Colin Thatcher ca. 2000

Arrested in May of 1984, Colin Thatcher saw only the inside of prison walls until he was granted day parole in May 2006.

His appeals ran out in May 1987, and his first attempt at early parole was rejected in 1999. Four years later a similar request was denied. When granted full parole, it was with the unusual condition that he report any romantic relationships to authorities.

Since his release, Thatcher attended a Saskatchewan Legislature ceremony held December 18th, 2006 to honour former Premiers of the province (Colin's father Ross was premier from 1964 to 1971). But other than an occasional appearance at a Roughriders football game, Thatcher has rarely strayed from his family farm.

In the time since his full parole, Thatcher worked on a book that he describes as a critical look at the Canadian penitentiary system. It will no doubt include the ten years he spent at the Edmonton Institution maximum security facility.

He has also been working on getting full disclosure from Regina City Police and Saskatchewan Crown prosecutors.

Thatcher maintains police and the Crown withheld evidence, both from his defence lawyer Gerry Allbright (now a Saskatchewan Court of Queen's Bench justice) and the courts. He feels that had this evidence been entered into his trial he would have been acquitted.

As it was, it took a jury four days of deliberation to find him guilty. Jurors were faced with the challenge that either Thatcher killed his ex-wife, had someone do it for him or was innocent. Thatcher's defence had to eliminate two of those three scenarios to prove his innocence, not one of just two scenarios as is the case in a conventional charge to a jury.

Defence lawyer Allbright once said, "The Crown had two half-baked theories and, since they couldn't prove either one, they threw the two together and came up with an either/or situation."

The unusual charge faced by the jury in R. v. Thatcher now holds a place on the curricula of Canadian law schools.

Thatcher was once told by a cop that police have three cabinet drawers full of "stuff" that was not submitted to the court process. The "stuff" could refer to telephone records that could substantiate Thatcher's claim he was at home at the time of JoAnn Wilson's murder.

The material could reveal whether informants were paid or had outstanding charges against them reduced or withdrawn.

The information could shed light on the confusion over the colour of the .357 Smith & Wesson magnum thought to be used in the crime; was it stainless steel as a gun dealer described it, or blue as a police informant once characterised it?

And the withheld evidence could also shed light on the true owner of the car Thatcher had supposedly used on the night of the murder (the vehicle eventually became a Moose Jaw taxi cab after blood was washed out of it by one of the police informants).

Beginning in March 2007, Thatcher began writing to the Regina City Police and Saskatchewan's Minister of Justice, seeking access to the material he feels they possess.

Both Regina City Police and Saskatchewan's Minister of Justice refused the access to evidence sought by Thatcher.

To see copies of the original letters, follow this link which opens in a new tab or window.

Jack David, publisher of ECW Press in Toronto, said he was initially skeptical of Thatcher's ongoing claims of innocence. Then he read the manuscript.

"If people actually read the book, I think some people will be convinced, like I was, that there's reasonable doubt there," David said.

"In some ways, it's a mystery. As various clues come along, it unfolds. We don't ultimately find out who did it, according to him. We just find out why he didn't do it."

Thatcher details evidence uncovered by his private investigator (Bruce Dunne, a former Calgary police homicide detective) that includes telephone call records and credit-card receipts that challenge witness testimony.

The evidence was rejected by an appeal court and was never presented to a jury.

The hardcover book is to sell for $34.95. Thatcher said he would not do a public book tour, instead granting a limited number of interviews ... the first with Edmonton crime reporter Byron Christopher.

Early discussion was centered on whether Thatcher's right to freedom of expression should be limited in cases where that expression could end up re-victimising the victims of his original crime.

Typical thoughts surrounding the matter were aired on CBC Radio's The Current.

The April 24th, 2009 segment, featuring Joe Wamback, Chair and Co-Founder of the Canadian Crime Victims Foundation, and Maggie Siggins, author of A Canadian Tragedy: JoAnn and Colin Thatcher, A Story of Love and Hate, can be heard here (beginning at the 2:37 mark).

When the publication date of Thatcher's book was announced, only four provinces had various forms of criminal notoriety legislation.

Ontario led the way in 1994 with the Victim's Right to Proceeds of Crime Act, modelled after "Son of Sam" laws in the United States – read more »

New York State led the movement after it became known that publishers were offering large amounts of money to serial killer David Berkowitz for his story. The U.S. Supreme Court struck down the New York law in 1991.

The same statute was also struck down in California, encouraging O.J. Simpson to write "If I Did It," his hypothetical account of the murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman. Simpson had been acquitted of their murders.

A Florida bankruptcy court later awarded rights to the book to Goldman's family to satisfy an unpaid civil judgement against Simpson.

A Canada-wide law was attempted in 1995. Supported by victims' organizations but criticised by writers' groups, the bill died in the Senate three years later.

Manitoba, Nova Scotia and Alberta each passed their own criminal notoriety legislation, generally allowing governments to seize profits and forward them to either the victims of the crimes in question or general victims' support funds.

The laws allow for fines of up to $50,000 to be imposed not only on offenders, but publishers and movie makers as well.

The Ontario, Nova Scotia and Alberta laws only apply to people who live in those provinces, but Manitoba's law goes further.

Should convicts transfer to prisons outside the province, the law also applies to people whose crimes took place in Manitoba.

It's not believed that any funds have ever been distributed to victims as a result of provincial legislation.

ECW Press Publisher Jack David said Thatcher researched the issue of whether a law prevents him from accepting royalties on the book and found that none existed in his home province of Saskatchewan.

That soon changed when Justice Minister Don Morgan announced the Saskatchewan government would fast-track a law to try to prevent Thatcher from cashing in on his book.

The law would be retro-active to June 1st, 2007 in order to snare any advances that may already have been paid to Thatcher.

Under The Profits of Criminal Notoriety Act (referred to by many as "Thatcher's Law") money seized under the legislation would be used to compensate victims of specific crimes or their families, and to support victims of crime in general.

The legislation does not forbid anyone from recounting their crime, but it prevents them from making money from their story.

"This Act is focused on restricting profit rather than limiting publication," Morgan said.

"We support freedom of expression as a cornerstone of our free society. However, we find it unacceptable that people could profit from their criminal fame and we will prevent this."

The Saskatchewan legislation borrows from Alberta law to include "an expression of thoughts or feelings" about a crime.

The Act also prevents people from profiting from the sale of memorabilia, such as autographs, personal objects and items related to a crime where the profit would be increased by their criminal notoriety.

The Act does not apply where a crime is recounted for law enforcement purposes, in support of crime prevention or in support of victims services programs.

"We realise some stories have a value to society, and may serve as a positive inspiration," Morgan said.

On May 6th, 2009 the act quickly received two of the three readings required to make it a law.

Full support came from Saskatchewan NDP justice critic Frank Quennell.

"I don't think it's appropriate for this legislative assembly to sit silently by and allow the perpetrators of outrageous crimes to profit from those outrages," Quennell said.

The Saskatchewan Party government had initially been cool to the idea of introducing such legislation. Morgan explained the public demanded that the government take quick action in advance of the Thatcher book release date.

The law was passed in eight days and went into effect on May 14th, 2009.

What follows are full quotes from Christopher's interview that Macleans either edited or did not include.

Christopher:  I guess the obvious question is – why the book? A matter of setting the record straight?

Thatcher: Mostly I wanted to document what the Crown did in that case – the evidence they withheld, the cherry-picking that they did of their evidence. That basically describes the trial.

They had this big bundle of evidence and they cherry-picked it. What suited their purposes they used and introduced. What was favourable to me, or didn't suit their purposes they simply withheld and they kept it.

I really believe had we had the evidence that is presented in this book that this case would not have survived the preliminary hearing stage.

But we didn't, and I was convicted and it wasn't until after been through all the appeals process that slowly things started to come out.

And so I wanted to put it down. Some of this has been in the media before, but I wanted to put it in a chronological order that it came out and tie it all together and leave a record behind of what actually happened, because it's a lesson.

It should never happen to anyone again. I can't believe that it is still happening to me. I still ... after all these years I have been trying to get disclosure from my case, the routine disclosure that everybody gets now and takes for granted.

To this day I cannot get it. You tell me why. I don't know why, other than the obvious. They're afraid of what's there. They're afraid to release that.

That's why I wrote the book. I wanted to leave something behind of what actually happened.

Christopher:  What about for the Canadian public ... do you feel this book is a 'manual' for lack of a better word, on how to approach the judicial system, or at least to be cautious about it?

Thatcher: I think it is a caution that it can happen to you.

If it could happen to me – and I had some resources to fight them at the time – but if they could do this to me and get away with it, as successfully as they have to this point in time, I think they could do it very easily to a lot of other Canadians.

Somebody who's on the bottom, lower end of the economic scale, he hasn't got a hope if they decided to descend on them and operate that they did against me.

Now mind you, some of these things that they did to me I don't think they would probably dare do in this day and age. But on the other hand, I didn't think they'd dare do it at that time, and they did it with total impunity. So there's a warning there: it can happen to anybody.

Christopher:  Anyone wanting to buy this, are they going to be looking at a 'Son of Sam' kind of book? Give me an overview ...

Thatcher:  This is certainly not a 'Son of Sam' book and I want to say very emphatically there are no recollections or recounting of a crime in this book.

The book starts at the time of my arrest which was 15 months after the murder. So there is absolutely no recounting of the crime in there at all.

It is a 20-year chronology, starting at the time of my arrest, through being arrested, going through the bail procedure, the preliminary hearing, the trial, the appeals that followed, the correctional system, the section 690 application where I think a good chunk of the Crown case started to fall apart, my further appeal into the Federal Court, then the 'faint hope' case that I had, ultimately having to work my way through the parole system.

Christopher:  There's been an issue since word got out you were writing a book that you shouldn't profit in any way from it, and there are thoughts some of the money should go to women's shelters ... what are your thoughts on that, having a portion of the funds of the book go elsewhere?

Thatcher:  Well the legislation as it is written does not encompass this book.

The legislation refers specifically to, that this should happen, should there be the recounting or recollection of a crime.

It's going to be very obvious to anyone who reads this book – and that includes those who will evaluate it from the Crown's perspective – that there is no recounting and recollections of a crime in that book, and that the book does not fall within the legislation that was recently passed.

Christopher:  Throughout your book you make references to the news media. The job of the news media of course is to be impartial, but you say that quite often it had an agenda ... and I'm paraphrasing here but you felt they took some delight in taking shots at you.

Thatcher:  Of course I was selling newspapers for them. The more spectacular they made it, the more I was selling for them. I guess that was back in the days when people read newspapers.

I didn't see a whole lot of national media in my situation. They were certainly there at the trial, but it was such a circus ... every morning I would leave the remand center and literally we had to fight our way the throngs of media, through the cameras.

And this would go on day after day. They would take the same pictures day after day and basically run the same stories.

I guess they were selling papers. I guess they had a good thing going so they were running with it. Were they fair and balanced? I suppose as fair and balanced as the Crown was.

Christopher:  You make mention in your book that you toyed with the idea of using the media, but chose not to.

Thatcher:  That was a huge mistake.

My attorney Gerry Albright just loathed to talk to the media and he convinced me that judges did not like attorneys and they did not like defendants who spoke with the media.

We made our decision to do our talking in court. And probably with most trials that's the proper decision, but this didn't take into consideration the media hordes that appeared.

When you get that many reporters, they've got a job to do ... they're there for a story and if they don't get it from the defence, they're going to go somewhere else.

What we ran into was that the Crown was only too happy to fill the void that we left for them. And it was our own fault because it isn't that they didn't try to talk to us, we turned them down.

But the Crown was only too pleased to talk to them, so every night on the news and in the newspapers you got the spin from the Crown ... and nothing from us. And that I think was our fault. So that was a mistake on our part.

Christopher:  Was anyone ever charged with perjury?

Thatcher:  No. (laughs) Are you kidding? Of course not. How many Crown witnesses have you ever heard being charged with perjury?

If some of these people had been defence witnesses it may well have been a different story, but I can't think of any case where a Crown witness has been charged with perjury. I think you'd have to do a lot of research to find something like that.

Christopher:  Would it be your wish that the Attorney-General's Department in Ottawa order a 'review' of your case because of your book?

Thatcher:  What they have in Ottawa now under Section 690 ... these closed-doors ... wouldn't interest me in the slightest.

What I really believe, in this country we should have a forum where if the defence has something or the convicted person has something there should be a forum where you lay it down.

The Crown is there to challenge it. Do it in an open courtroom atmosphere and deal with it out in the open.

If the defence – the accused – has no evidence, the Crown will tear it apart in a hurry. Do it out in the open. This behind-the-door stuff is nonsense in my humble opinion.

Christopher:  Speaking of outcry, I'm sure there will be people who read the book and say you're looking for the attention.

Thatcher:  Well I'm sure there are some who are going to say that.

It doesn't happen to be true in this case because if I wanted attention there are lots of easier ways to get attention than by writing a book.

I have turned down countless interviews since I've been released. My purpose in this book is that I wanted to leave behind a written record of what happened.

It can be accepted or rejected. That was my purpose. Attention, heavens, that's the easiest thing in the world to get, that's not what I was seeking at all.

Christopher:  At the very end of the book you mention that you’re still bitter over what has happened. Do you think that will ever go away?

Thatcher:  It’ll never go away. And fortunately I don’t have to encounter some of those who were involved in the frame. Some of them have actually tried to talk to me when they’ve encountered me on the street and I have chosen to keep walking. If you can believe it, one of them attempted to talk to me at a football game. I happened to sit at an aisle seat and he tried to talk to me there. I was so taken aback that he would try this.

Christopher:  What was said?

Thatcher:  He told me who he was. I didn't know who he was initially. And I guess it was my expression that told him I didn't really care to talk to him and he left. I see people like this and I know what they did, I know what they got away with and it does anger me because there are never any consequences for these people.

I mean, how many cases have you seen?

In Manitoba, I guess. They're the most open place about dealing with these instances, but you've got (Guy Paul) Morin, (David) Milgaard, (Donald) Marshall (Jr.) and (Thomas) Sophonow and (James) Driskell ... the list goes on and on.

There's never any consequences for the people that did it to them. That is what angers me.

If you followed the Milgaard inquiry, look at some of the testimony that went down in the Milgaard inquiry. I mean, my goodness. And no consequences for those people? You just gotta shake your head. I mean, what's the point of an inquiry? They make them so toothless that they have no real relevance, they just gather dust for years after.

Christopher:  Do you think Canadians are naive about the justice system ... they don't care ... or they figure they'll never get involved in it?

Thatcher:  I think you hit it, they're naive and they think it'll never affect them, yes. That certainly described me 20 years ago on both cases ... naive and never thinking I'd be involved.

Colin Thatcher and I met at the Edmonton Institution. I was working for CBC Radio News at the time.

Thatcher was a prisoner in B Unit, top floor. His cell faced the baseball field outside.

He usually kept to his cell when reporters were around. I noticed Thatcher did not come out to the gymnasium during family events, which I attended so I could snoop for news stories.

This was in the mid-1980s when reporters actually went to the Max trying to sniff out stories. The Edmonton Sun, more than any other media outlet, was good at this. The name of the best Sun reporter for this was David Quigley.

Our first talks were off-the-record. We finally did Thatcher's first media interview in one of the meeting rooms just off the main hall leading to the units.

He sat on a plastic chair with his arms folded, wearing the standard green prisoner's uniform with "Thatcher" printed in white on the front in the upper left corner.

Thatcher took off his uniform and apologised for his body odor, explaining he had just been working out in the gym. It's not often we reporters get that kind of courtesy and it stood out.

I could tell right away that Thatcher didn't trust me.

So I popped the cassette tape out of the CBC-issued Sony 142 tape recorder and said, "Look, this is a straight-up interview, no loaded questions ... but if at the end of this you think I've fucked you, keep this tape."

We did the interview and I left with the tape.

I would see Colin Thatcher at the Max from time to time. He was often in the weight room.

Once he was lying on his back and struggling to lift some heavy weights. I overheard his partner, Gord Lussier, say to him, "Come on Colin, you can do it, you can do it."

They made for an interesting pair: Thatcher, a former Saskatchewan cabinet minister and Lussier, a former bank robber all scarred up from knife wounds. (More about Lussier can be read here).

I once drove out to the Max to interview a prisoner about some issue (forget now what the issue was). The con was being held in segregation part of the joint, known as 'seg.'

I sat down in one of those small meeting rooms, usually used by lawyers, and the guard brought the prisoner to me.

Gord Lussier appeared handcuffed with his hands in front of him. He seemed bothered by the cuffs – I couldn't tell if they were too tight or he felt awkward about having them on for the interview.

I asked the guard to take them off. He said no, the cuffs were there for my protection.

I told him not to worry because I could whip Lussier's ass with one hand behind my back.

It was a joke of course. Truth is, I'd need both hands and two tasers.

The guard didn't laugh, but he undid the cuffs and told me I was on my own. Lussier, rubbing his wrist, sat down and said a quiet 'thanks.' We did the interview.

I was about to leave the room when Lussier asked, "How's Colin doing with his (federal review)?"

I said nothing was happening, far as I knew.

Lussier then asked me to give a message to his partner, and I was about to write it down when I thought, 'hey, why not get Lussier to record it?' So I turned on the tape machine.

For a bank robber, Lussier was eloquent, with a thoughtful, touching message.

I never held on to the cassette tape (damn) but Lussier's message went something like, "Hey Colin it's Gord here ... I just want to say that I've praying for you. I hope you're doing okay. I think of you all the time."

I walked over to B Unit where Thatcher was being held and asked a guard if he could take him from his cell.

Thatcher and I met in a small meeting room near the bubble in B Unit (near where Ricky Luo was later strangled with a sock stuffed down his throat so no one could hear him – the prison version of a gag order, if you will).

Thatcher sat down with a what's-going-on look on his face.

I told him I had a message from Gord Lussier. Thatcher didn't know where Lussier was being held, if he had been moved to Prince Albert, was in seg or what.

The downside to not having a prison newspaper is that no one seems to know what the hell is going on.

Thatcher asked, what is it?

I hit PLAY on the tape machine and Thatcher put his ear close to the speaker so he could hear everything.

He asked if he could hear it again. I played the tape a second time.

Thatcher didn't comment on Lussier's message. He just nodded his head and looked reflective. He thanked me and walked back to his cell. I went out to my car in the parking lot.

Lussier has served his time. He's now living in the Toronto area. He'd be in his 60s now, maybe a commissionaire sitting behind a desk, reading a novel and wearing a nice white shirt.

Or maybe he's pushing a walker in a retirement home for bank robbers, I don't know.

Now, back to my original Thatcher story ...

Another time, during a lock-down stemming from a murder, I was going by B Unit when one of the guards called me in to see a "mess."

It was a female guard, and she was all worked up that the prisoners – confined to their cells 23 hours a day because of the lockdown – had decided to throw their food against the walls of the hallways as a protest.

It was a mess all right.

Mashed potatoes and gravy dripping off the walls, the floors so splattered with food and liquids I had difficulty walking down the range. I didn't want to slip and fall on my ass, not in that mess.

The female guard kept yelling, "Look at this mess!, look what they did!"

I walked down to the far end of the range. At the very end, the floor and walls were nice and clean.

I knocked on Thatcher's door. He looked out through the slit in the door and said how'd you get in here? I said I'm doing a story on whimps who refuse to take part in protests.

Colin Thatcher spent much of his time in the chapel. He seemed to get along well with the chaplin.

It was me who told Thatcher that he was being transferred to Bowden.

He pleaded with me to tell him the source (a guard) and when I revealed it he said, "That guy is solid. It's true."

Thatcher then began to organise his stuff to the move to Bowden. When Thatcher pulled out of the Max in a van, a guard called me and said he's on his way.

I then did the scoop on CBC Radio. It ran on the 8:30 am news.

Thatcher said when he got to Bowden, a lot of the trucks and cars going by on Highway 2 were tooting their horns that day. I told him I aired the story about his move. He said, "Oh that's why."

I was down to interview Thatcher once in Bowden to get an update on his 690 application.

There he seemed more relaxed, and so he should since Bowden is not maximum security. The bad thing about Bowden is that the place is crawling with sex offenders.

In a small interview room, Thatcher leaned forward to tell me about an inmate being housed in Bowden. The story was so revolting that Thatcher had trouble telling it. He would start and stop, shaking his head. Then he'd start again.

A man who worked at a funeral home in St. Paul had been convicted of sexual offences.

Thatcher couldn't bring it upon himself to tell me what the guy did. He wanted to say it but stopped.

Finally he blurted out: HE HAD SEX WITH DEAD PEOPLE.

I looked at him and said, so, what's your point?

Thatcher wouldn't tip me off about anything happening in any of the prisons he was in. That was always disappointing. He pretty well kept to himself.

Prisoners told me they respected him because he didn't run away and hide in protective custody.

Many also wouldn't talk about Thatcher. I guess they figured it was none of my business.

My story proposal went out to a number of news organisations on July 19th, 2009.

The full copy of the email sent to various media can be seen here.

I gave them a deadline of 19:00 EDT July 24th to reply, indicating that if I hadn't heard back from them by that time I assumed they weren't interested.

Here's the list of news outlets I had solicited:

The Regina Leader-Post, a newspaper part of the CanWest media empire, said it was interested. A fee was negotiated with terms, etc.

Marlon Marshall, associate editor, later said the paper would first try to get Thatcher on its own (as it should) and would get back to me. He asked for a week. I said fine. I also told him I was shopping the story around.

When Marshall did phone back I told him I'd gone with a different media outlet that was not in direct competition with the Leader-Post. He asked which one, but I wouldn't reveal this – explaining it was nothing personal but that the other outlet was a "better fit."

I was aware that within a day or so after speaking with Marshall (and informing him of the actual release date of Thatcher's book – September 1st – that his newspaper did a short story on when Thatcher's book would be on store shelves.

The full Regina Leader-Post article, as published, can be seen here.

The Toronto Star: did not hear back.

Global-TV Regina: did not hear back.

Note: if the deal with the Leader-Post had gone ahead, Global-TV Regina would likely have been involved in the Thatcher interview. The one condition I had was that they only have one camera, and no questions of Thatcher from the camera-person – and no attempts to have a word with Thatcher right after my interview. The Leader-Post had already agreed to this.

The National Post: did not hear back.

"Independent" online outlet rabble.ca: did not hear back.

The Sun Newspaper chain (through the Toronto Sun): did not hear back.

Rogers Radio Network: did not hear back.

This wasn't the first time Rogers had communicated with silence.

In May 2007, I sent Rogers a story proposal regarding notorious pedophile Karl Toft's first interview. Not a peep. That's disappointing, given the many scoops Rogers' reporters nail every year (yes, that's a joke).

Macleans Magazine - interested.

They weren't pushy – real professionals all the way.

A number of people from Macleans either wrote or phoned, nearly half a dozen in all. I think I talked to everyone on staff except the cleaners.

Macleans struck me as very thorough, either in leaving back-up numbers in case someone wasn't in that day, or if they had any questions about information in the interview. They took far more interest in the product than protecting their rights. This is the way journalism was 25 years ago.

The Globe and Mail: editor David Walmsley responded:

That was a class act – an acknowledgement and response. For those who say "we don't have time" ... not true. It took Walmsley only seconds to respond.

The Edmonton Sun: had called them earlier about the exclusive interview with Thatcher. Their response: interested but couldn't afford it.

CBC Radio News, Toronto: gave them the particulars, on the phone, but they never called back. I had also called them months earlier.

The Canadian Press: interested, but couldn't afford it.

ACCESS and CTV News: spent nearly two months dealing with them.

In May 2009 I twice appeared as a featured guest on Alberta Primetime, a public affairs program ACCESS broadcasts province-wide.

I later told them I was lining up an interview with Colin Thatcher and wondered if they would be interested.

ACCESS and their parent network CTV appeared very eager initially (like, wow ... interested). Then they said they couldn't afford it.

I also wasn't invited back to the Primetime show.

Then CTV National appeared to be interested. "We'll get back to you," they said ... then 'ownership' of the story became an issue.

Then CTV Saskatchewan appeared very interested and felt that something would be worked out.

When a month passed and there was no word, I said "Make a decision in a few days or I'll move on and look for other outlets."

The deadline came and went, and I never heard a word from them as to how close we were, what the obstacles were, or anything.

Note: CTV National News had covered CHED's scoop in July 2007 about Colin Thatcher's first interview since getting parole. A woman at CTV National reached me on my cell looking for Thatcher's phone number (like duh), which I wouldn't give up.

I referred her to the website Last Link on the Left so she could see copies of letters to and from Colin Thatcher, the Department of Justice in Saskatchewan, and Regina Police, regarding Thatcher's requests for full disclosure of the evidence against him.

They actually used Thatcher's letters on screen without giving credit to the source.

I called back and left a message. Haven't heard from them in over two years.

What the hell was the CTV reporter thinking? And didn't their boss question, "Where did you get those letters?"

I wonder which code of ethics they have posted up on their walls.

Yes, that's another joke.

I also contacted Shaw Television in Edmonton .... left a message with Samantha Potkins, producer of a local current-affairs program.

I was told when I called that Potkins was on another line. A day or so later I called again and left a second message.

Potkins didn't call back for a week, and by then I was out of Alberta for three weeks. I never called back. Disclosure note: Shaw owns Corus Entertainment, my former employer.

In late July 2009, Macleans made good on their promise and committed to publishing the interview in their August 31st edition.

It was 9:00 a.m. and I was in my hotel room, still drafting questions for the interview when the phone rang. It was Thatcher; he was out at reception.

I gave him my room number but I didn't wait for him to knock on the door. I walked down the hallway to meet him and together we walked back to my room.

Thatcher plunked himself down on a large leather chair in the corner. I then showed him a hardback copy of Final Appeal. Thatcher hadn't seen it – at least in finished form. I sat at my desk, going through notes for questions while Thatcher flipped through his book.

I asked Thatcher why Final Appeal had no photos.

"I don't know," he said, "I gave them some."

It was my idea to interview Thatcher face-to-face. He had suggested to do it over the telephone because he felt it would be quicker. I also suggested that we do it at his ranch.

He said no, "I want my anonymity." It was the second time he's turned me down for a meeting at his ranch.

He suggested we do the interview in a park. That was okay with me.

Thatcher and I walked to the front lobby. I checked out and Thatcher pulled up in front of the hotel with his Dodge Ram and I climbed in.

We drove through Moose Jaw, travelling south and veering off in a different direction until we stopped at a park. It was a warm, sunny day.

We recorded the interview on a picnic bench under the shade of some big trees. It was a nice spot, and save for a dickhead who pulled up momentarily with a beat-up pick-up truck and rotting exhaust pipes, it was fairly quiet.

It's not often you get to do an interview and hear birds singing.

The interview ran close to 90 minutes, far longer than I expected. When I finished my questions, I asked Thatcher if he had anything to add. He shook his head, we shook hands and I thanked him for his time.

We parted company minutes after that. Thatcher wasn't interested in having coffee. He said he had some ranching business to tend to.

That worked for me too; I had a long ride back to Edmonton. I had no breakfast ... actually didn't have a bite to eat until 4:00 p.m. that day. I guess I was excited.

Most of the next day (Tuesday, August 11th) I spent transcribing the Thatcher interview, then emailing it to Macleans Magazine in Toronto.

I think Macleans got more material than they expected. It was hard to tell what kind of prominence the Thatcher story would have in the magazine – that's none of my business I guess.

I was aware that a photographer from Macleans had travelled from Winnipeg to Regina to take pictures of Colin Thatcher the week before.

I made sure I got my own photograph of the man I've known for over 25 years.

The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation Archives hosts an excerpt of the network's news program The National as broadcast on the night JoAnn Wilson's body was found. Of interest is the police sketch of a suspect which looks nothing like Thatcher (and the generous amount of hair Peter Mansbridge once possessed).

The CBC also maintains an in depth profile of the Colin Thatcher case, complete with a timeline.

Also on the internet is CourtTV's Crime Library feature A Marriage Gone Wrong, written by Rachael Bell, which serves as an excellent overview of the matter.

For further study several books have been published about Thatcher and the trial. They can be found in bookstores and in local libraries.

• A Canadian Tragedy, JoAnn & Colin Thatcher: A Story of Love and Hate by Maggie Siggins,
• Deny, Deny, Deny: The Rise and Fall of Colin Thatcher by Garrett Wilson and Lesley Wilson (no relation to the deceased or each other) and
• Not Above The Law: The Tragic Story of JoAnn Wilson and Colin Thatcher by Heather Bird.

The Siggins book was the basis for the 1989 CBC-TV movie Love and Hate: The Story of Colin and Joanne Thatcher [sic], which won five Gemini Awards.