CHAPTER 3

Michael Syrnyk dodged a bullet. His arrest had led to charge of trespassing and possessing break-in tools but nothing more serious. Fortunately for him, Winnipeg police had no way of linking him to the pair of bank jobs or the weapons haul. The officers questioned Syrnyk about other unsolved break-ins, figuring he was a bit of a specialist given the tools he was carrying at the time. Syrnyk said very little to the officers the night of his arrest, at first even refusing to give his name. The police identified him as “John Doe”. Syrnyk eventually settled down and gave them his identity, satisfied they didn’t know anything more about his recent criminal background and that it was best to not cause any additional trouble for himself. Sure enough, he was on his way in a matter of hours, spending a few hours in the Winnipeg Remand Centre until being released on bail. Before he left, police took Syrnyk’s fingerprints. This was not the ideal situation for a man who had some big plans. But it could have been much worse. Syrnyk knew he would have to be more careful if he wanted to succeed as a criminal.

July 1996

The anxious days and sleepless nights were taking a toll on Syrnyk, whose fragile mind was proving to be his own worst enemy. He figured it was just a matter of time before the police showed up at his door, arrest warrant in hand, ready to lock him up for much more than just a few hours. The fear of getting caught by police was never-ending and Syrnyk decided to take drastic action. Under the cover of darkness, he made another trip to the river and gave some more of his arsenal a watery burial.

Syrnyk realized now, eight months after his initial arrest, that the brush with police had shaken his already fragile confidence to the core. He dealt with his criminal charges by pleading guilty and walked out of court moments later with a small fine and a criminal record. With the court case behind him, Syrnyk felt it was time to get out of Winnipeg. It would be easier to clear his head and get re-focused. Syrnyk said a few quick good-byes to his family, and then boarded a Greyhound bus with a one-way ticket to Calgary.

******

Virgina Alice Jones, daughter of David Jones and Doris Kalika, was four months pregnant when she walked down the aisle and married Mike Joseph Peter Syrnyk on March 1, 1969 in Winnipeg. She was 24 and a lifetime resident of Winnipeg. He was 22, originally from Moncton, New Brunswick. The blushing bride gave birth to their son, Michael David, on August 26. Exactly one year later, Virginia was pregnant with their second child. Brent Stephen was born May 20, 1971. The early years were stressful, as money was tight and tempers would often flare. Alcohol was usually at the centre of the problems. With the two boys in school, Virginia went to work as a receptionist at the Assiniboine Credit Union in downtown Winnipeg making $375 a week before taxes. Mike Sr. was working as a butcher and meat manager making $500 per week. Life only got harder for the Syrnyk family as the children grew up. “Why don’t you guys just get a divorce?” an angry Brent and Syrnyk would often tell their parents, who seemed more intent on fighting with each other than looking after the kids’ needs. “You don’t even treat each other like humans.” Syrnyk was especially disgusted at the way his parents treated each other, but kept his emotions inside for fear of angering his father or hurting his mother.

Virginia and Mike Sr.’s marriage reached a breaking point in 1989 following years of arguments and even violence. On October 25, Virginia called the police on her husband, reporting she had been assaulted. Mike Sr. was charged, and released on bail with conditions to have no contact with his wife. Virginia and her two sons, now in their late teens, continued to live together at the family’s modest home on Blackwater Bay in Winnipeg. Mike Sr. went to stay with a friend in St. James.

On November 6, Virginia filed for divorce and a restraining order preventing her husband from having any contact with her. She painted an ugly picture of their 20-year marriage in a series of affidavits. “The marriage between myself and the respondent has been a difficult one. The respondent, when he drinks, tends to be violent towards myself and has assaulted me frequently since the beginning of our marriage. I stayed with the respondent to ensure that my children had a good home and in the hope that he would reform his ways,” she wrote. Virginia said she was afraid of her husband, especially when he gets drunk. “The numerous assaults which have taken place have been occasioned by the respondent getting drunk. After several of these assaults in the past I have had to see my doctor who has noted the bruises I received.” Virginia claimed she was swimming in debt – although she had racked up the expenses in recent months as her marriage deteriorated. Credit cards were stretched to the limit. Visa carried a $2,400 debt. A Petro Canada card had a $500 balance. Virginia owed more than $1,000 to Eaton’s and The Bay. And she still owed $8,000 on a bank loan.

Virginia’s affidavit sparked an angry response by Mike Sr. on November 20. “The petitioner is correct in stating that the marriage has been a difficult one. For the last 10 years, the marriage has not been happy for either my spouse or myself. In retrospect, a separation should have occurred long ago and in fairness, it is probably correct that we stayed together for the kids’ sake and for our own financial security only,” he began. “Your deponent acknowledges some violence existed, but the petitioner is not being forthright in attributing sole blame for such violence to me. In fact, neither the petitioner nor your deponent are what I would consider to be alcoholics, however, we both on occasion, drink to excess. During such times, fights have erupted which did involve some shoving back and forth, however, your deponent has never punched the petitioner during the course of our marriage.” Mike Sr. said he “was not proud” of the violence which existed but claimed it was always a result of “antagonistic” behaviour from his wife. “Your deponent has had cold water thrown on him, while he slept in bed. He has had his covers pulled off him while sleeping in bed. On many occasions, he has had his shirts ripped and buttons torn off his clothing,” the affidavit stated. Mike Sr. claimed problems in the family, such as when Brent or Syrnyk would skip school in years past or when an evening out together involved another woman talking to him, Virginia would lash out with violence. He said he stopped sleeping in the same bedroom as his wife weeks earlier, which led to continuous arguments. Mike Sr. accused his wife of going to a party on October 23, getting drunk, passing out and not returning home until two days later. He began moving all his items downstairs on October 25, and Virginia got upset because he had taken a quilt she claimed was hers. Another argument broke out over his use of a radio. Mike Sr. claimed a shoving match ensued, which was broken up 18-year-old Brent. In his counter-affidavit, he also took issue with many of the financial figures his wife used, claiming she was exaggerating their monthly expenses.

Round Two began on November 28 with another affidavit from Virginia. “The respondents affidavit does not accurately set forth the degree or nature of the violence which the respondent inflicted on me. Our fights did not just involve shoving…but were very violent at times. Many of the incidents of violence took place in front of our children throughout the years and they would certainly be able to attest to the degree and nature of violence,” she wrote. Mike Sr. fired back, denying that either Brent or Syrnyk were witness to any violence in the home. “This is clearly not the case and, furthermore, I am aware of the fact that the children do not wish to become involved in this dispute for either the benefit of myself or my wife,” he said.

And so it went, back and forth, on and on until January 22, 1990. The ugly legal battle was taking a financial toll on both Virginia and Mike Sr. and the game of domestic “chicken” ended when Virginia was the first to get out of the way. “The petitioner, Virginia Alice Syrnyk, wholly discontinues this action against the respondent, Michael Joseph Peter Syrnyk,” read a one-page document filed in Court of Queen’s Bench. Just like that. Although their problems certainly weren’t over, Virginia and Mike Sr. decided to take their fight out of the courtroom and back into the home where it had been for 20 years. It would be cheaper that way – although the cost to their children had yet to fully be measured.

******

The image was burned in his mind; a permanent souvenir of Calgary he wished didn’t exist. The bank teller, a pretty young woman, overcome with fear as Syrnyk handed her a note demanding money. He had never seen someone cry like that before, a never-ending steam of tears flowing from her wide eyes. An older lady had taken over for the frightened girl, stuffing the envelope with money while giving Syrnyk a look that seemed to be saying “You bastard. Look what you’ve done”. Syrnyk had tried for months to wipe away this memory, to forget her face. He couldn’t.

Syrnyk actually did two hold-ups while in Calgary on the same day and both went off without any glitches. He didn’t even bother with a goofy disguise, content just to put some sunglasses over his hazel eyes and a baseball cap to hide his shaggy hair. No women’s wigs or moustaches this time. There were two clean getaways, no obvious evidence left behind and a nice wad of spending cash. Of course, Syrnyk didn’t really need a lot of money, as he was staying in a relatively cheap hotel, only venturing out occasionally to hit a massage parlour or to peak inside a gun store. Syrnyk knew he would have to re-load soon.

Syrnyk’s return to Winnipeg hadn’t been the homecoming he was hoping for. His parents were fighting worse than ever and again living apart, this time for good. Brent was living alone in an apartment and Syrnyk split his time between Brent and his mother. He avoided his father as much as possible. The tension in the family was thick.

Brent was the one person Syrnyk felt he could really trust, but still had difficulty opening up. In the fall of 1997, Syrnyk’s rage was ready to explode.

******

September 10, 1997

Winnipeg police were called to a disturbance inside a home on College Avenue, located in the city’s North End, just before midnight. Two uniformed officers went inside the residence, leaving their cruiser car parked on the street just outside the neighbouring home. As they stood inside taking statements from the occupants, four loud blasts filled the air. The sound of shattering glass followed. Police immediately recognized the sounds as coming from a shotgun and drew their own weapons. They carefully crept outside the home, scanning the scene for the source of the blasts. Nothing was seen. Police radioed in a call for immediate backup, saying shots had just been fired in the area. Several cars quickly swarmed the neighbourhood. Police noticed nine holes in the driver’s side door of the police cruiser. Three spent, 12-gauge shotguns shells lay in the nearby grass. Police found another seven holes in the front vinyl siding of the home they’d been standing inside of, including two pellets that had penetrated the triple pane living room window. Sixteen pellets had struck the front concrete steps, while two others were lodged inside a flowerpot on the top step. A total of 36 pellets were recovered, consistent with four rounds being fired. Why had this happened?

Syrnyk sprinted into the darkness still clutching his shotgun, headed towards his waiting car. The four shots had been perfect but his anger still hadn’t subsided. God help whoever crossed his path tonight. Syrnyk continued driving, being careful as always to use his traffic signals and keep his speed down, for fear of attracting attention and being pulled over. He didn’t have a clear game plan, but knew he wasn’t finished. There was too much rage. As the clock passed midnight, Syrnyk saw a police station in the distance. It was the District 6 headquarters on Pembina Highway, in the south end of the city. An empty, full marked Ford Explorer was sitting outside the police station. It was a supervisor’s vehicle. This was too tempting. Syrnyk parked his car, walked a short distance and stopped. He raised the shotgun, taking aim at the Explorer. Syrnyk squeezed the trigger 12 times, each blast releasing a myriad of pent-up emotions. He pictures his parents – especially his father – each time he fired the gun. Syrnyk sprayed the driver’s side rear doors and the bumper, blowing out several windows. He calmly turned around, got into his car and drove away.