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Welcome to the Serial Killer Podcast. The podcast dedicated to serial killers. Episode 128. And I am your Norwegian host, Thomas Roseland Weyborg. I hope you are well, dear listener. I know many of you enjoy this podcast in particular because I do not engage in too much banter and commentary.
And this will not change anytime soon. However, these are strange times we live in and I do feel I need to at least say a few words here in the introduction. It is my belief that after the 3rd of November this year, things will calm down quite a bit. I won't go into the politics of it.
But I do honestly think that after that date, much will return to normalcy. My hope is that it will again be possible for us in Western Europe to travel internationally, especially to North America. Until then, hang in there.
And perhaps the words of your humble host in tonight's and future episodes will serve as welcome escapism in these trying times. Tonight, we stay in the land of the Maple Leaf, Canada, and continue the expose of one of that nation's topmost depraved serial killers. His crimes was heinous. His method of torture and murder
truly wicked. However, his life story was also one of repute and interest. This being a longer series, this is the road we stay on for now. The journey of the killer colonel from the clean-cut military citizen to panties-wearing serial killer. Enjoy.
Before we start the show proper, I want to, as always, publicly thank my elite TSK Producers Club. These 21 serial killer aficionados are as follows: Andrea Anne Anthony Cassandra Christie Evan
James, Jennifer, Jesse, Kathy, Lisa, Lisbeth, Mark, Mickey, Monica, Russell, Samira, Skortnia, Vanessa, William, and Zashia. You truly keep this show alive, and you have my deepest gratitude. Thank you.
If you wish to join the TSK Producers Club, or if you just want to have access to exclusive bonus content like ad-free episodes on a wide variety of depraved and dark human behavior, go now to patreon.com slash the serial killer podcast. From this past I change
Imagine if you will, dear listener, the University of Toronto Scarborough in 1982. Back then it had not yet gotten a university charter and was known as Scarborough College. It is a satellite campus of the University of Toronto, located in Scarborough in the suburbs of Toronto.
The campus is set upon suburban parkland in the residential neighborhood of Highland Creek. It is four, and the maple leaves are turning the first shade of yellow. The air is crisp and walking towards the campus, you follow a handsome young man with an outstanding physique. He is walking towards campus with a determined look about him.
and he seems somewhat stern, but not unhappy. His name is David Russell Williams, and it is his first day of college as well. Williams began a four-year art course in politics and economics, from which he would graduate with a medium-level honors degree. Conceivably, his time at UCC had allowed him to loosen certain ties to his mother and stepfather.
who would move from South Korea to Hawaii, where Jerry Sovka was hired as chief engineer overseeing the Canada-France-Hawaii telescope. What is clear is that for the first time in his life, Williams was living independently, free from the constraints of home and boarding school.
Together with five other students, he moved into a brown-brick Scarborough College subsidized townhouse, Unit C-8. Former college roommates portray a bolder, more sociable Russ Williams as he began calling himself, reclaiming his biological father's name. Gone were the quiet, serious UCC student. He had also drastically changed how he looked.
From his former clean-shaven face with conservative crew cut, he now sported a longish ruffled haircut and a full beard that made him resemble Swedish tennis megastar Björn Borg, one of his idols. Combined with his chiseled abs and prominent muscles, he was considered a seriously attractive young man by those around him, especially the girls.
His college days also saw a change in his personal beliefs and politics. At UCC, he identified himself as belonging to the left. He had, for example, greatly admired Pierre Trudeau, who was in his final term as Prime Minister. Now, however, came the 1980s, with all that entailed in the form of neoconservatism and the massively popular Ronald Reagan.
Williams especially admired Reagan's aggressive foreign policy against alleged communist nations, and wholeheartedly supported the military operations in Grenada, Central America, and the Middle East. His admiration of militarism was also something he brought home. The six housemates varied widely in their academic pursuits, but as a group they quickly bonded.
In both years, Williams lived on the top floors of the two townhouses at his insistence, and from the outset he was the self-appointed organizer-in-chief, a neatness fanatic. The floors and furniture were kept so squeaky clean that visitors would remark upon it.
Slippers had to be worn by the roommates, shoes left by the door. Chores were allocated with a rigorous in-house schedule that earned its protagonist the nickname "Drill Sergeant." The first clear signs of the obsessive compulsiveness that would define such a large part of his character were becoming evident. Another thing that was becoming apparent was William's enjoyment of playing tricks on people.
At the time, everyone thought it was all in good fun, as in his UCC days, he never became a party animal, eschewing both drugs and booze, except for the rare occasional beer, and usually headed off to bed before the other residents of CH. But he rapidly became known as an orchestrator of elaborate, often invasive practical jokes.
Frequently, the pranks were childish. Hiding in a housemate's closet, waiting for him to come home and settle down, and then springing out with a loud yell, Saran wrapping the top of a toilet bowl and daubing pretend cracks on a mirror. Others were more creative, such as gluing pennies into a doorframe so the knob wouldn't turn.
And in one memorable case, illustrative of a remarkable mechanical expertise that in later years made him an amateur authority on Swiss watches, Williams disassembled a front door lock, adjusted the internal tumblers, and then put it back together so it needed a different key. He delighted in seeing a hapless victim walk into one of his traps.
and was famous for unleashing his loud, braying laugh when they did. Now, I don't know about you, dear listener, but if I had had Russell Williams as a housemate in my college days, and he had hidden in my closet like that, I would certainly have nightmares about it, knowing now what he ended up doing later in life.
In autumn of 1983, Williams met his first proper girlfriend. She was a Japanese exchange student named Misa. By every estimate, he was devoted to her. But if the feelings were mutual, it didn't show. She refused to let Russell kiss her publicly, and they seldom embraced at all in view of others.
When she told him they were through, he took the news very badly. One former friend said it was the only time he ever saw him cry. The breakup with Misa sent Williams into a depression, and he struggled to achieve reconciliation. He sent her a dozen long-stemmed roses and would hover around places on campus where he knew she would be.
But she sent the roses back and told one of his roommates to tell Russell to back off. She was furious and upset that he didn't accept her termination of their relationship. On leaving university in 1986, Williams was at a loss as to what to do next.
Still in Scarborough, he rented the basement of a well-kept townhouse not far from the campus and found himself a couple of part-time jobs. One was waiting tables at the Red Lobster, a seafood chain. The other was a summer position as a clerk in the university's financial services department, where he pulled another prank that can only be described as bizarre.
Long retired and now living in Britain, June Hope worked in the personnel unit across the corridor from the finance department. She remembers Williams as a quote-unquote "a nice kid, tall and good-looking, with a prominent jaw, a jazz aficionado who seemed lonely and one who wouldn't talk about his mother and father very much except to say they were abroad."
One morning, Hope walked into her fourth-floor office, or at least tried to. What greeted her was a sea of crunched-up balls of old-style computer paper, the type that was aligned to the printer by means of a ribbon of holes along the margin. Hope remembers that paper completely filled the room. She couldn't find her desk, her chair, or her computer—
It was all obscured by paper. She had opened a door and was met by a wall of paper. The previous night, Williams had persuaded one of the secretaries to let him into Hope's office, where he had spent hours crunching up the paper and spreading it around. Miss Hope was gobsmacked and speechless after being met with a wall of paper.
and as she stared she turned and heard a click noise behind her an amused williams was standing there with a camera recording her moment of astonishment unimpressed she asked him if he had nothing better to do with his time and he replied that he did not very soon however he did he had resolved to become a pilot
The film Top Gun is legendary, and although today it is viewed with a mixture of nostalgia and comedy, at a time it was hugely popular, and one of its absolutely biggest fans was none other than Russell Williams. For those of my dear listeners that have not seen Top Gun, do so.
It is a fun film and it epitomizes the excesses and color of the 1980s. The plot of the film is as follows. United States Naval Aviator Lieutenant Pete Maverick Mitchell, played by Tom Cruise, and his radar intercept officer,
LTJG Nick Goose Bradshaw fly the F-14A Tomcat aboard USS Enterprise during combat with evil communist Soviet MiG-28s or MiGs. Goose is almost shot down while Maverick saves the day. Due to this, Maverick is sent to the naval fighter weapons school called Top Gun.
There, Maverick encounters his nemesis, Iceman, played by Val Kilmer. Tom Cruise's love interest in the film is Charlotte Charlie Blackwood, a Top Gun instructor. The two alpha males, Maverick and Iceman, battle over her affection and try to overgo each other while in the air.
In the film's final battle, Iceman and Maverick join forces, and the epic final line of You can be my wingman anytime is spoken with the following extreme 1980s high-five salute. Of course, Cruise's character Maverick ends up with the glory and the girl.
The film's portrayal of only the best will do military mantra spoke directly to the extremely disciplined and structured Williams. Also, he had high hopes that if he showed up in a pilot's uniform, piloting a badass F-14 fighter jet, he could get Miso back. Williams took flying lessons at Toronto's Buttonville Airport.
and when he was accepted by the military early in 1987, he didn't hesitate. Yet, in one of the other twists in the early life of Williams, he came close to becoming a police officer instead. At around the same time he applied to the Air Force, he also applied to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and the Mounties came calling first. He had a telephone call from the RCMP,
They'd sent him a letter accepting him, but he was still waiting for the Air Force and he wanted to wait for their reply until he accepted the Mounties' invitation. Surprisingly to Williams, the RCMP had no intention of waiting for anyone. They said to him, and I quote, No, no, if we come calling for you, which we have, we don't wait for you. You're either our guy or you're not, end quote.
When Russell said he wanted to wait for the Air Force, the Mounties said goodbye and that he would not be accepted again. Williams's short-lived aspirations to be a police officer are worth noting, because years down the road, he would keep many police busy as a predator and serial killer. Once again, your humble host is very much reminded of Patrick Bateman.
Nothing in Russell Williams' life seemed to signal anything dangerous and sinister. He was almost too clean cut. As the song goes, he was hip and he was square. He didn't get drunk. He didn't do drugs. Didn't fool around with lots of women. Was extremely neat and organized. Well-dressed, well-groomed, and in extremely good physical shape.
he was on a road to success and great things there was something inside of him something dark and twisted that had started to twist and churn even though it had yet to rear its ugly head
And so it was that the future rapist and serial killer Russell Williams in mid-1987 packed a couple of suitcases and headed west for basic training at Canadian Forces Base Chilliwack in British Columbia. The Canadian Armed Forces in 1987 was an unhappy, often bewildered organization still struggling to define itself.
Under left-wing liberal defense minister Paul Hellyer, an eccentric figure who later in life became obsessed with space aliens, the three branches of the military had been integrated during the 1960s, with a unified rank structure and under a single command.
On paper, there was good reason for the overhaul. The Army, Navy and Air Force had long been tugging a succession of governments in competing directions. In practice, integration was a good idea that went disastrously wrong and damaged the military for years. The restructuring was intended to consolidate and unite, but it had the opposite effect.
The top-down, one-size-fits-all approach engendered wide hostility among all three branches, each of which resentfully defended its bits of turf. Their assault was an operational chain of command that was at best inefficient, at worst incoherent. Williams, the pilot-to-be, was hardly affected by any of this. On the contrary,
The disorder and general malaise offered opportunity for a confident 24-year-old with exceptional organizational skills and great technical aptitude. In many ways, he was exactly the quasi-corporate breed of modern officer the politicians said they were looking for. Forward-looking, an informal but committed team player,
Comfortable with high tech and the mushrooming communications revolution, from the start he belonged to an elite. At the downtown Toronto Military Recruitment Office, where he first applied, plenty of other walk-ins said they wanted to be pilots too. And at that time, only about one in ten made it to the next phase, the week-long aircrew selection process.
Aircrew selection encompassed aptitude tests, a rigorous physical exam, and visual and spatial orientation tests. Recruiters also tried to assess the personalities of the applicants. Fighter-pilot potential, for example, is different from transport pilot material. Of the original intake of pilots-to-be, only about 1% made the cut.
Williams was one of those one percenters. Once through the door, his first stop was basic training, better known as boot camp, which as an officer cadet meant a 14-week stint at CFB Chilliwack in south-central British Columbia. Basic training is an intense experience designed to weed out the keen but weak ones, which it does very well.
The course is and was a blend of rudimentary military skills, such as weapons handling and first aid, together with classroom sessions on leadership fundamentals and ethical values. Above all, the emphasis is on fitness, and despite his strength and excellent physical condition, Williams found the experience grueling.
As a person who has gone through hell week in the military, I can attest to what it probably would have been like. Several weeks with little food, days on end out in the bush, always either running or marching rapidly, and always hungry and always tired.
Sleep was a luxury doled out in miniscule portions, and the officers would have been constantly yelling and challenging Williams to see if he could hack it. He did hack it, and from there he was dispatched to the CFB training school in Portage-la-Prairie, Manitoba, for a few weeks' instruction in the basics of flying.
Then it was on to CFB Moose Jaw in Saskatchewan, often referred to as 15-wing Moose Jaw, a long-time training base for pilots. There, Williams learned to fly by mastering the Avro manufacturer's two-door jet, a big lumbering airliner descended from the famous British Lancaster bomber.
Williams was adamant that he wanted to fly, but he was not going into helicopters. He was not going to be some ragtag Vietnam helicopter transport pilot. He wanted to be a real-life maverick, straight out of Top Gun. The most powerful designer drugs are the digital ones we use daily, and we get high off them when touch, tap,
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But it's good to have some things that are non-negotiable. For some, that could be a night out with the boys, chugging beers and having a laugh. For others, it might be an eating night. For me, one non-negotiable activity is researching psychopathic serial killers and making this podcast. Even when we know what makes us happy, it's often near impossible to make time for it.
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Never skip therapy day with BetterHelp. Visit betterhelp.com slash serialkiller today to get 10% off your first month. That's BetterHelp, H-E-L-P dot com slash serialkiller. It took Williams a little under three years to earn his wings, which is about the average. Now he was a fully qualified military pilot,
and it was during the next stage in his career that it began to be apparent what a good one he really was. From Moose Jaw he returned to the training school at Portage-la-Prairie, this time as an instructor with the rank of lieutenant. In those days, not many pilots went straight from learning to teaching, but Williams did. He was that talented, not just with flying,
but with his ability to teach others effectively. His boss gave him shining service reports, and it didn't take long for Williams to attain the rank of captain. One thing Williams' elite performance as a pilot in the Canadian Armed Forces did not get him was the admiration of his lost love, Miso. He was long gone, and he got his wings, and apparently Williams did manage to finally move on too.
So, successfully in fact, that he found a new girlfriend, a girl who was quite different from the domineering and cold Miso. Mary Elizabeth Harriman was an only child, five years older than her husband, and after marrying Williams, she retained her maiden name.
When they met, she had a University of Guelph bachelor's degree in Applied Science, specializing in nutrition, and had just completed an MBA in adult education at St. Francis Xavier University in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. Now she was working with the Dairy Nutrition Council of Alberta, part of a lifelong commitment to health-related courses.
She went on to join the Ottawa-based Heart and Stroke Foundation, for whom she would work for many years, rising to the prestigious position of Associate Executive Director, the post she held when her husband was arrested. The federal government's lobbying database, which keeps track of how corporations and associations try to influence policy,
shows that she had by then spent more than ten years pressing for tougher government action in combating smoking, trans fats in food, and childhood obesity. Before getting married, Williams and Harriman shared a rented apartment in Portage-la-Prairie, listed in the phone directory under both of their names.
Then, one day before they married, they paid 75,000 Canadian dollars for a detached home on Wilkinson Crescent. The small, non-denominational wedding ceremony took place at the Winnipeg Art Gallery on the 1st of June, 1991. At the time, Williams was 28, and Mary was 23 years old.
Back at Portage-la-Prairie, William's two-year stint as a pilot trainer was nearing its end, and as it did so, there came a small glimpse of the unmistakably narcissistic facet of his personality that ultimately would have such a bearing on his hideous life of crime, his love of taking pictures of himself and of being a showman.
The occasion was in 1992. A much admired, now obsolete Air Force demonstration team, nicknamed "Musket Gold" was to perform its final air show, flying four bright yellow single-engine CT-134 Beach Musketeers that were soon to be taken out of service.
McCade, Williams' boss, handpicked him to be one of the four pilots, and the Musketeers, as they were dubbed, spent weeks training for the team's swan song. The exercise went off flawlessly.
And Williams added a special touch. He brought along a VHS video camera and filmed himself inside the cockpit, smiling wildly against a backdrop of the other musketeers wheeling and maneuvering their planes high up in the sky.
He edited the footage and added a soundtrack, the airy song Exile, by the Irish artist Enya, featured in the 1991 movie L.A. Story. You also heard a snippet of it in the introduction to this episode. The other pilots were given copies of the video as mementos. The air show was a huge personal success for him, and he was promoted to captain soon after.
His two years at Portage-la-Prairie were a natural springboard for the next phase in the steady upward trajectory of his career. In July 1992, Williams and Harriman sold their home for a small profit and headed for Canadian Forces Base Sharewater in Nova Scotia.
Harriman took a job with a provincial nutritional awareness program located on the eastern shore of Halifax Harbor. CFB Sharewater was home to the 434 Combat Support Squadron and one of the smallest air bases in the country. Williams' new mission was at the controls of one of the base's three CC-144 Challenger jets,
Small, versatile planes designed primarily for electronic warfare and coastal patrol work. Williams and Harriman spent three uneventful years in the community, which they later told friends they viewed as a backwater. But for both, it was also a stepping stone.
Harriman's work with Nova Scotia's nutrition program opened the door to her job with the Heart and Stroke Foundation, while for Williams, opportunity beckoned in the form of a spot with a highly prestigious 412 squadron in Ottawa, known as the VIP Squadron. In it, he would transport VIP personnel, both foreign and domestic.
Williams enjoyed the work, and plaques from appreciative clients such as Governor General Romeo Leblanc, Prime Minister Jean Chrétien, and Deputy Prime Minister Sheila Copps hung on the walls of his upstairs home office. This office was in the new house the couple had bought for Canadian dollars $165,000
In August of 1995, upon moving to Orléans as Ottawa's suburb, Harriman and Williams kept their house on Wilkie Drive for 14 years, the longest he lived anywhere in his life, and the two became familiar figures to their immediate neighbours.
Their cars, Harriman drove a BMW, Williams his Nissan Pathfinder, would pull up in the driveway at day's end, and the couple were invariably pleasant to their neighbors, who were always glad to see them. Sometimes, after one of his daily runs, a perspiring Williams would grab a Gatorade, amble over, and exchange a few words with whoever was around.
occasionally the couple would take williams's much-prized bow-rider boat for a spin together he would fish she would read pleasant as they always were with their neighbors however williams and harriman kept very much to themselves
Visitors to the couple's home were few and far between, and not once in all those years were any of their immediate neighbors invited to their home for drinks or dinner. According to a neighbor who fed their cat when they were away, they were, I quote, very, very, very private people, end quote. Williams spent more than four years with the VIP squadron,
then reach for the next rung in the Air Force ladder.
In November 1999, he was promoted to Major, and appointed Director General, Military Careers, the "Career Director for Military Pilots of Multi-Engine Airplanes". Mostly a desk job, it entailed assessing, and in large part determining, the futures of the senior Air Force military pilots, Majors, Captains, Lieutenants, who flew the Canadian Forces' big planes.
In August 2003, Williams became a student once again. The Master of Defense Studies research project was part of the military's command and staff course, and Williams chose as his topic the US invasion of Iraq earlier that year, an attack he termed the first political and military action of its kind.
grandly titled "Managing an Asymmetric World: A Case for Preventive War". The 57-page thesis he wrote would earn him the military graduate degree he needed to reach the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. In his thesis, Williams argues for the policy now more commonly known as the "Bush Doctrine".
Hindsight always having twenty-twenty vision, we now know what an utter disaster the Iraq War was, and Russell's avid defence of it might have earned him a scrape on his otherwise stellar reputation among his peers. It did not, however, earn him any scorn among his superiors. As a direct result of his thesis, Williams was promoted to lieutenant-colonel,
and in june of two thousand four he took charge of the four thirty seven transport squadron at c f b trenton his leadership there was viewed by all as the image of professionalism and he enjoyed admiration and absolute loyalty from his men
So much so that in 2005, he was given a six-month posting as a commander of a semi-secret Canadian airbase in the United Arab Emirates called Camp Mirage. His workload there was borderline extreme, with an average work week of over 80 hours. But he never once complained and seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.
While at Camp Mirage, he was for security reasons almost never left alone. After his return to Ottawa, after his tenure overseas, he would no longer have anyone following him after he left for home, after work. On the second weekend of September 2007, Williams drove the 125 miles from Ottawa to his rural retreat on Cozy Cove Lane.
Living close by was a family, father, mother, son and daughter, who probably knew Williams and his wife better than most people in Tweed. Few local residents were even aware of the low-profile eight-wing commander, but this family certainly liked him. The two couples had bought their cottages at around the same time, and Williams and Harriman had visited the family's home on several occasions for dinner.
in the summer months they had sat together outside overlooking the lake playing cards and if the parents liked williams so did their teenage son and younger daughter williams sometimes took the children tubing pulling them around stokoe lake in his outboard powered boat
The boy had an interest in guitar, which Williams encouraged, and in the summer of 2009, the daughter would be given a key to Williams and Harriman's cottage so she could look after the couple's new cat, Rosebud. Now, in September 2007, at the age of 12, the girl became the first target of the family's trusted Colonel Friend.
Williams broke into the family's home twice, and possibly three times that month, always while they were away, and like virtually everyone else in Tweed whose homes he invaded over the next two years, they never noticed anything missing, and had no idea they had been robbed.
Not until several weeks after Williams was arrested in February 2010 did they learn to their horror what their neighbor had been doing. That first break-in took place in the late hours of the 8th of September and early hours the 9th of September, a Saturday Sunday.
Twenty-five time-stamped photographs Williams took and stored on his computer hard drive in Ottawa show that after entering the family's house through an unlocked door, he was there for more than two and a half hours, all of that time spent in the girl's bedroom. While he was there, he established a pattern that he would often replicate during his scores of subsequent break-ins in Tweed and Ottawa.
He rooted through the girl's underwear drawer, stripped naked, and posed for his carefully positioned camera, draping her clothing around his erect penis and ejaculating on it. On leaving this, his first victim's house, he took with him six pieces of underwear. He came back three weeks later, either once or twice, again arriving late at night.
The first 20 photos, all similar to the ones he took the first time, were made before and after midnight on the 28th of September. Then, shortly after 8 o'clock the next morning, he took 22 more, suggesting he either returned or had spent the night in the girl's bedroom.
Many more pictures were taken that day, both inside the girl's bedroom and outside, in some nearby woodland, where Williams photographed himself naked, wearing her underwear. The template was set, and in several ways, these first two or three break-ins are illustrative. They took place on weekends under cover of darkness, while the homeowners were away.
Modus operandi over the next two years that go some way toward explaining how he was able to lead his double life.
Forever!
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The next episode, number 129 in number, will continue his saga. So, as they say in the land of radio, stay tuned. Finally, I wish to thank you, dear listener, for listening.
If you like this podcast, you can support it by donating on patreon.com slash theserialkillerpodcast, by leaving a review on Apple Podcasts, facebook.com slash theskpodcast, or by posting on the subreddit theskpodcast. Thank you, good night, and good luck.