The following articles appeared in the Toronto Star on July 10 and 11, 2004. The original articles are at part one and part two.

Jul. 10, 2004. 01:00 AM

Pt. 1: Making of a monster

The making of a monster

He had been assaulting boys for years

Freed once again, he turned to murder

KEVIN DONOVAN

Part 1: Douglas Donald Moore was a child abuse victim turned child abuser. A scrawny kid turned jail yard tough guy. A drug dealer turned killer over a few thousand dollars. This is the story of what made the monster. It is also the tale of a justice system that failed to fix or stop him.

In the year of Expo 67, a sickly boy was born in Montreal, the host city to a gala world's fair that drew 50 million people.

But the festivities were lost on the struggling family of Mildred and Douglas Moore Sr.

The baby, Doug Jr., was the fifth in five years. His parents existed on odd jobs and welfare.

Mildred was the rock in the family; Douglas was a drunk. Mildred saw her New Brunswick-born husband progress from a "loving individual" when they married to a bitter, unproductive partner and father. He had diabetes, back, leg and hip problems and regularly abused the medicine prescribed by doctors.

Doug Jr. and his four older siblings -- three sisters and a brother -- lived a turbulent and destructive life. Their father ruled the home by fear. He yelled and screamed. Doug Sr. also had a secret with some of the children and they were terrified to tell it.

The Moore family lived in Verdun, a Montreal suburb on the banks of the St. Lawrence River. It's an area Doug Jr. would return to as an adult criminal.

As he grew, young Doug developed a series of health problems. He had allergies and asthma, bronchitis, and had inherited a blood disorder from one of his parents. Tubes were put in his ears to cure debilitating infections, which later made him hard of hearing.

Mildred struggled to raise the children. The only other boy in the family was challenged both developmentally and physically. He had cerebral palsy and epilepsy. Doug Sr. had brushes with the law. His drinking and drug abuse intensified with each year.

Doug Jr., or "Dougie" as he was called, was smart. In later years he would rank high in IQ tests. But he was often in trouble. At age 10, he and some buddies looted a corner store of candy and chips. It was a blustery winter day and they hauled their stash in a wagon through snowy streets, making it easy for the police to track them.

"That was really dumb," Doug told friends in later years, laughing at what a poor job he had done covering his tracks.

His days were rollicking; his nights frightening. Beginning when he was 7, his father would sexually assault his son by fondling his genitals. The abuse lasted until he was 12. His father also abused other children in the family. Only the physically and developmentally challenged brother was spared.

The secret was kept throughout the 1970s. In hindsight, Mildred realizes her children tried to tell her.

"I can now see where the children tried to let me know by way of hints that something was going on but they never came out and said it until years after it began," Mildred later told court officials. Mildred was not sexually abused. She believes her husband set out to hurt her by violating some of the children.

Doug was in Grade 9 in Verdun when the family secret bubbled out.

Two of the children were in counselling. They told a therapist, then their mother. Mildred called this a "devastating discovery." She confronted her husband and petitioned for divorce, citing both mental cruelty and adultery as reasons for the breakup. Her husband moved to another suburb of Montreal. Mildred held on to the children, raising them on welfare.

The family never told police about the abuse, fearing the children would be further destroyed by the trial. Shortly after the divorce, Mildred started dating Bill, a chemical factory worker. Meanwhile, Doug turned 14. He was drinking and experimenting with marijuana and hashish. Fights and other disciplinary problems caused him to drop out of Grade 10. He became a drug dealer, selling pot in Verdun.

"I sold dope so well I could not keep up with the demand," he boasted. In time, he added amphetamines, barbiturates, acid and cocaine to his list of drugs for sale and to his own list of addictions. He saw a psychiatrist a few times to talk about his father's abuse.

Bill wanted to be the rock for Mildred and the Moore family. Seven years younger than the then 39-year-old Mildred, he had a skill, a job, and a desire to take the family away from their troubles. Doug Jr. did not like the man who would become his stepfather. They argued frequently and Doug had trouble accepting the new man in his mother's life. Still, Mildred loved Bill, and Doug eventually came around. The family cleaned out their apartment in Verdun and moved to Ontario in 1983. They settled in a new housing complex in Mississauga south of the QEW, an area known as Clarkson. Mildred took a job with a Mississauga company. Bill started work at a factory.

The Talka Village complex in Clarkson was a poorly constructed set of rowhouses built as a tax shelter for absentee investors -- typically lawyers and doctors -- who would in turn rent out the units. Peel police had a lot of problems there: drugs, break-ins, fights.

Doug Moore was 16. He had a two-door Ford Maverick. Although he enrolled in nearby Lorne Park Secondary School, he was often absent. Moore drove to Montreal regularly to visit his father and buy drugs for resale in Talka Village. He quickly became known as the local dealer, the guy who could get it if you wanted it.

"He ran the village," recalled Peel Detective Bill Scanlon.

Moore was not involved in clubs, sports, or any other activity at school. He managed to get through Grade 10 and then dropped out, taking the first of a series of carpentry jobs. He often worked drunk. While framing a house one day (he was 18 at the time) a wall fell down on him, crushing several vertebrae in his middle lower back, adding to his physical troubles. He was 5-foot-10, slender, with brownish blond hair -- a far cry from the balding muscleman he would become. It's during this period that Moore started showing a sexual interest in males.

"We would all be drinking, staying up late at night, a bunch of guys all lying around on couches. At some point in the night you knew it was going to happen. Doug would make a grab for one of the guys," recalled one friend. Several families lived in close proximity. The sons hung around together and the mothers were friends. Trudy Finch lived on one street with her three boys, aged 13, 15 and 16 (Ben, Sam and Bobby). Bonnie Carlson and her 12-year-old son, Johnny, lived across the way. They all knew Mildred Moore and her children.

The rumour going around was that Moore was "queer." He was teased a bit, but not too much. Moore could get drugs for his friends. He reacted by getting tough.

In the summer of 1985, Moore and a bunch of his friends were drinking and carrying on at a basement party. Moore had $400 in his wallet. He passed out at 3 a.m. Waking, he fumbled for his wallet, realized it was gone and grabbed a baseball bat.

"I know who took it," he told his friends, thumbing his hand toward a couch where a 17-year-old had been earlier. "And I am going to beat the living shit out of him."

Moore went to the youth's home and pounded him, breaking several ribs, his nose and shattering his jaw. Peel police arrested him, laying charges of assault and weapons dangerous. Moore told police that the youth had pulled a knife on him and he was just fighting back. A few months later, he pleaded guilty to assault and was ordered to pay a $200 fine.

A short item in the Mississauga News described the attack. Moore carried the clipping around for years. Moore did not tolerate people stealing from him, a fact that would figure prominently in his final few months of life, 20 years in the future.

Like his father before him, Moore also had a secret. The boys he shared it with were afraid of him, as he had feared his father.

To his friends, Moore was an odd, violent type tolerated for his drug connection. But to the 30- and 40-something mothers in the area he was a well-spoken young man who was always polite and well-mannered.

Moore stayed overnight at various homes, but always returned to his mother Mildred's place. He visited his father in Montreal from time to time, until the older Moore's drug and alcohol abuse resulted in failed suicide attempts, which scared the son away.

At 18, Moore attempted a sexual relationship with a woman in her late 30s -- Bonnie Carlson, one of the mothers in Talka Village. She tried to have sex with Moore, but he was impotent. "I thought he was green. I thought that was the problem," the woman told her friends.

Trudy Finch, whose three teen boys knew Moore, invited him camping with her family. "He was so nice and pleasant and always volunteering to help. `Oh Trudy, let me get you a kitchen tent, another tent, anything you need'," Finch recalls.

In 1986, Trudy Finch's oldest boy, 16, was going away for a few weeks in the summer. On the back stoop of the house, Bobby Finch confided a terrible story.

"Mom," Bobby told Trudy, "Don't trust Doug. He does things to us."

Trudy Finch called out her other boys, Ben, 13, and Sam 15. Crying, they admitted that Moore had been sexually assaulting them for two years. Often, it was in their home.

The youths said Bonnie Carlson's 12-year-old son Johnny was also a victim. Trudy Finch got Bonnie and her son, and they all drove to the local Peel police division.

Detective Scanlon and other officers interviewed the boys over a seven-hour period. Then they drove out and arrested Moore, who lived at times in an old metal camper in his mother's backyard. Moore was charged with four counts of sexual assault, as well as breaking and entering, and drug possession.

In the months before his case went to court, Moore harassed the Finch family. He would park out front of their house, follow the boys. "I am going to kill you all," he threatened. Two of the Finch boys took to sleeping with a barbell beside them. One put a knife under his pillow.

Moore pleaded guilty to the charges. He got one month for drugs, three months for the break and enter, and just one day in jail for the sex charges. The judge put him on probation for two years. The Finch family was not asked to go to court or file victim impact statements.

A Toronto psychiatrist at the Clarke Institute examined Moore in preparation for the sentencing. Moore told Dr. Robert Dickey he was drunk during the assaults and did not remember them. He told Dickey he had no sexual problems, was not gay, and did not mention the abuse by his father. Dickey concluded that Moore had an emerging sexual problem. He recommended that Moore stop drinking and seek treatment. Dickey's recommendation was one of at least five similar suggestions by psychiatrists over the next decade. Moore refused them all.

Moore, 19, served his sentence at the Guelph Correctional Centre in 1986. Another psychiatrist, Dr. Don Atcheson, noted his pedophilic tendencies (sexual interest in young children) always occurred after drinking and having an argument with a girlfriend "concerning his impotence." Dr. Atcheson wanted to test Moore to see if he was a pedophile, but Moore refused, which he had the legal right to do.

After his release, Moore was again sent to Dr. Dickey of the Clarke, as part of his probation order. Before Dickey could meet with him, Moore was arrested, this time for stalking and threatening the Finch family, victims of his previous assault.

Trudy Finch said her dog had started barking one evening. She looked out and saw Moore standing in the shadows. Finch called Peel police. A cruiser pulled Moore over on the Lakeshore an hour later. His pants and underwear were down around his ankles. He was charged with mischief for bothering the Finchs but acquitted after one of his sisters testified that he was at home the whole time.

Trudy walked over to Mildred Moore's place that summer.

"Millie, Doug is sick, you know that don't you?" Trudy asked.

"I know," Mildred said, pouring a cup of tea for Trudy.

"I can't condemn him. He needs help."

"I agree," said Mildred.

Moore struggled at his job. Drunk, he broke into the offices of the construction company he worked for, smashing windows and gouging holes in walls. He was charged and convicted of break and enter, theft and mischief. For that, Moore was sentenced to 13 months in jail in 1987, and ordered to pay $1,500 to the company. He was placed on three years probation following his release.

Trudy remembers Moore's abuse and harassment as the beginning of trying times for her three boys. One would not survive. She sought counselling for them, and a minister for her own peace of mind. To this day, she feels sorry for Mildred. "She was a fine woman. It must be a struggle for her to have a son like that. You might hate what the person does, but he is still your son."

When Dr. Dickey again examined Moore, now a convicted child molester with a record of theft and violence, he found the 20-year-old man did not appreciate the seriousness of his developing situation.

Moore was "quite defensive and somewhat belittling of the circumstances in which he found himself," the psychiatrist wrote in a report. Moore appeared to have a sexual problem related to young boys, but he would not agree to further assessment.

Moore served a portion of his new sentence (for the break-in) and was out by Christmas, 1987. His mother and Bill married. Toward the end of the year, Moore received a surprise telephone call from his father.

Douglas Moore Sr. had sobered up, remarried, and moved from Montreal to Vancouver. He had a job delivering newspapers and flyers. But doctors had just discovered he had a rapidly advancing cancer. Could his youngest son come and stay with him until the end?

Moore went west in early 1988. He was granted permission from Ontario probation authorities (he had just begun a three-year probation term) to leave the province on condition that he report to B.C. authorities when he arrived. Moore never did. He travelled with stolen identification (neighbourhood friend Dale Sheffield), used it to obtain credit and a driver's licence, and settled in with his dying father in 1988. A few months later, at age 45, Douglas Sr. died. The son took over the father's paper route.

His father's death upset him, despite the childhood abuse. Moore felt guilty that he had not been able to stop it.

Moore was now alone in a strange city.

He met a family in Surrey, a suburb of Vancouver. As he had previously, Moore (now 22) ingratiated himself with the single mother, Jenny Holland, a woman a decade or more his senior. It was a close, though non-sexual, relationship.

Jenny had two children, Karen, 13, and Justin, 12. Justin told authorities that Moore sexually assaulted him, but no charges were laid.

In Surrey, Moore became a modern day Fagin. Like the character in Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist who ran a string of pickpockets, Moore ran a string of teenaged drug dealers.

One afternoon in July, 1988, Joey Jenson, a 12-year-old Surrey boy, was sent down the street by his mother to the store. Joey passed by a house that the Holland family was planning to move into. Joey knew Jenny Holland's son and daughter from school. Moore was on the front lawn. To help the family out, Moore was cleaning and painting the place. He beckoned to Joey.

"Do you want to make some money?" Moore asked Joey.

"Um, how?" Joey replied.

Painting a bedroom, Moore said. Joey asked how long it would take.

"Follow me," said Moore, and led Joey through a back door and into a bedroom.

According to Joey's later testimony, Moore grabbed him and ordered him to take his pants off. When the frightened boy complied, Moore fondled the boy's penis, then performed fellatio on him. Then Moore took down his own pants and made the boy fondle his (Moore's) penis until he ejaculated. Moore made the boy clean him up, then handed him $2. He asked Joey where he lived. Joey stammered a false response.

"Four houses up the street."

"Just go on to the store," Moore said. "If you phone the police, I know where you live."

Joey ran to the store. He was so scared he forgot what his mother asked him to buy. He went to a pay phone and called home. Moore came into the store. His mother repeated the grocery list. Joey did not tell his mother what happened for a month.

Moore finished painting the house. Jenny Holland and her family moved in. Along with running drug dealers, Moore continued to deliver papers and flyers. Jenny's two children helped him by sorting and colour-coding the flyers.

Jenny's 13-year-old daughter Karen liked Moore, but called him "quarter-full-of-shit" because part of his green eye (the other was blue) was brown. She later recalled how Moore enjoyed hanging out with older women, but despised men.

"There was this sheer disgust when he dealt with males. You could just tell that this guy had some bad stuff in his past and that he hated men," Karen said in a recent interview.

Meanwhile, Moore's assault was weighing heavily on Joey Jenson. He let his hygiene slip, became depressed and moody. The local RCMP detachment picked up Joey after a report that a bicycle was stolen. Constable Dale Johnstone brought the 12-year-old into an interview room. The "theft" turned out to be a misunderstanding. Johnstone finished the interview, closed his notebook and stood up to go. Joey cleared his throat.

"Um, what would someone do if, um, they knew somebody touched somebody inappropriately," Joey asked.

Johnstone sat down. I know where this is heading, the veteran Mountie thought. To Joey he said: "You would tell the police."

Later in the week, Johnstone and two other officers tracked Moore down. They found him, asleep, in a rented home. As he typically did when he was caught, Moore readily admitted the offence. But he had a question for the constable.

"Is this going to get out in the papers?" The RCMP officer said he probably would not be putting out a release, and Moore sighed in relief.

The B.C. courts held a preliminary inquiry. Joey Jenson testified. Moore sat through the proceedings, then pleaded guilty to sexual assault. Joey continued to be traumatized. Word leaked out in the community and he was teased by friends and bullies.

Moore was assessed by two B.C. psychiatrists in preparation for his sentencing. They found that Moore was in the 90th percentile on an intelligence scale, meaning that he was smarter than 89 per cent of people his age. But emotionally and sexually, he was a mess. The doctors concluded he had "homosexual pedophiliac tendencies," and a difficulty relating to adult women his own age. He did not know if he was straight or gay. Moore told the doctors that, in addition to his father's abuse, he was also abused by older female teens when he was a child. The doctors recommended a "sophisticated and long-term treatment program" for his sex, drug and alcohol problems.

As the clock ticked toward sentencing, Moore got a job framing houses. (RCMP recalled a report that he sexually assaulted a friend of the Jensen boy, but the Star could not find records of the case.)

Driving a motorcycle one day, Moore wiped out and crashed into a car, injuring himself (fractured ribs, broken nose, fractured kneecap) and the other driver. He ran away and police charged him with leaving the scene. He was later given 30 days in jail for that crime.

Still recovering from his injuries, Moore went to court in November, 1989, to hear what sentence he would receive in the Joey Jensen assault case. The judge had been asked by defence counsel to give a low, provincial sentence, but the judge ruled that "protection of the public is paramount." He sent Moore to prison for four years.

An additional factor the judge said he considered was that Moore, over the years, repeatedly failed to abide by terms of probation or day parole. He did not show up and report when he was supposed to, and he reoffended while on probation. The judge did consider Moore's twisted childhood, but ruled that he needed a tough sentence.

This was Moore's first penitentiary term.

While in prison, he completed his Grade 11 education and started working on his Grade 12. He appealed the four-year sentence but the B.C. Court of Appeal denied it, saying four years was appropriate. They noted he was resisting treatment for his pedophiliac tendencies while in prison.

Nineteen months into his four-year sentence (in June, 1991), Moore was released on day parole. He went to a Vancouver halfway house, stayed a month, then skipped town. A Canada- wide arrest warrant was issued.

Moore traveled east using the name Dale Sheffield, whose I.D. he had stolen six years earlier. In the winter of 1991, Moore returned to his old neighbourhood in Mississauga. He went looking for another victim.

Tim Kyle was a cheery, "happy-go-lucky kid who always had a great big smile on his face." He and his brothers and sister lived with their mother, Mary Kyle, and stepfather in Talka Village, Mississauga.

Christmas, 1991, was shaping up to be a lot of fun. Dec. 20 found Mary in the kitchen making shortbread cookies after dinner. It looked as if she was going to run short on butter.

"Run to the A&P and get me a pound, Tim," she called to her 14-year-old son.

Tim went west along Lakeshore Rd. to a plaza with an O'Toole's restaurant and the grocery store. He ran into two buddies along the way and they clowned around throwing snowballs. It was dark, close to 9 p.m.

Working in O'Toole's kitchen that evening was Bobby Finch, one of three brothers who had been sexually assaulted by Moore five years earlier. Moore walked into the bar looking for Bobby. Moore was wearing a black leather jacket; his hair was long and he was muscular from working out in B.C. prison yards. Bobby spotted him and ducked back in the kitchen.

Angry, Moore ordered a beer. Young Tim Kyle, on an errand for his mother, was just walking into the pub. Tim's stepdad was in the bar and Tim wanted to know if he was coming home soon. "In a minute," the stepdad promised. Tim went outside to get the butter at A&P and see his friends. Moore followed him out, glass mug in hand. "Do you want some beer?" Moore asked. Tim kept walking.

"Do you do any drugs?" Moore asked. He was slurring his words. "I had some earlier," Tim lied, thinking it would make him sound older and tougher. He walked faster.

Moore moved in close. With his fingers he spread one of Tim's eyelids wide. "Your eyes don't look bloodshot," Moore remarked.

Tim's two buddies walked up. Moore turned on them.

"You guys can go home. Your friend will see you tomorrow," Moore said.

Tim, a year older than his two friends, told Moore he was in charge of looking after them. He did not want them to leave. Tim walked around the side of the plaza. One friend lingered out front, another hid behind a big garbage dumpster. Tim wanted to turn around and run back to O'Toole's but was afraid Moore would grab him.

A second later, he did. Moore pulled Tim in between two dumpsters.

"Take down your pants or I'm gonna hurt you," said Moore, twice the boy's age and size. Tim started to cry. Sobbing, he did what Moore asked. Moore began fondling the boy, then told him to bend over. One of his friends suddenly ran around the corner.

"Run!" Tim shouted. "He's trying to bum me."

Moore started after the friend. Tim pulled up his pants and took off. Moore threw his beer mug. It struck Tim in the back of the leg. The boys scattered. Tim first ran across Lakeshore Rd., then doubled back.

He saw his stepdad and other men outside the bar. One of the friends had alerted them. Police were called, but before they could arrive, Moore was spotted coming back. The local men gave chase, grabbed Moore, knocked him down and started beating him. Police arrived and pulled them off. Moore had been returning to the bar to get a gym bag he had left behind. It contained candies, a street map of Mississauga and Oakville, Vaseline, and two condoms.

A frantic friend called Tim's mother, who arrived at O'Toole's in time to see her son drive off in the back of a police cruiser.

"I felt sick. I started thinking about all the `what ifs'," said Mary Kyle, recalling the events. "I kept thinking of what he did to my son, what he could have done. It was my fault, I started thinking. I sent him for the butter."

Peel Constable Geoff Gorlick and several other officers took Moore in for questioning. He gave his name as Dale Sheffield, using his stolen I.D. He was charged and released under that name, then rearrested when neighbours told police of their mistake. Moore was charged with sexual assault, impersonation, assault with a weapon (the beer mug) and breaking the terms of his British Columbia probation.

Seeing a short item in the newspaper about the arrest caused the mother of three of Moore's previous victims to call Peel police. Trudy Finch reached one of the detectives.

"You have to lock him up forever. If you don't find a way to keep him in he's going to kill somebody," she warned.

A preliminary hearing was held. Tim testified. Moore sat quietly in the prisoner's box, staring at Tim's mother for most of the morning. The judge found enough evidence to send the case on to trial. Before the trial started, Moore pleaded guilty. The judge ordered a pre-sentence report. It was prepared by probation officer Duane Sprague, who interviewed Moore, his mother, and reviewed Moore's record.

Sprague's report dredged up Moore's tormented upbringing. "His formative years were turbulent and disruptive," Sprague wrote. Moore "has yet to understand" why a father would victimize his own children, Sprague added.

Moore's mother, Mildred, told Sprague that her son's "repressed denial" of the sex abuse his father carried out caused his criminal behaviour. In pleading for leniency toward her youngest child, Mildred said her family was only now beginning to heal from the wounds caused by Douglas Moore Sr.

When interviewed for the report, Douglas Jr. told Sprague that he recognized the need for treatment. "I may have a problem," Moore conceded.

Sprague recommended a complete psychiatric assessment, followed by professional treatment. Failing that, Sprague told court "this type of activity may continue in the future."

At the sentencing in late 1992, the judge ruled that Moore had to complete his four-year sentence from B.C. (imposed November, 1989) and then begin a new four-year sentence for the latest attack. That would keep him in jail until 1997, unless the National Parole Board allowed an early release.

Meanwhile, Mary Kyle, Tim's mother, watched her cheery son go downhill. She became overprotective of him after the attack ("I wouldn't let him be a boy any more") and never let him go anywhere on his own.

When news of the assault went around the community, Tim was bullied and teased. He fought back, hitting a bully with a tennis racquet, and was convicted of assault with a weapon. He went on to other crimes, a serious bout of drug abuse, and did not pull out of the addiction until he was in his early 20s.

Tim had been a tender boy who shooed cats from birds and cried when an animal was hurt.

Mary had a recurring dream after Moore went to prison.

"I went to see him in jail. I was carrying a gun. I was sweating. Somehow I got past the metal detector. I sat down at a table across from him. In the dream I pull out the gun and blow his brains out. Then I wake up and start thinking, `This guy is somebody's son. What's the poor mother going through?"

In the fall of 1995, Moore neared the two-thirds mark of his eight-year sentence, making him eligible for day parole and release to a halfway house. A three-member panel of the National Parole Board considered the case. Mary and Tim Kyle wrote victim impact statements. Board members also looked at Moore's history, and his time in prison. They noted he had recently refused a psychiatric exam leading up to the hearing, was continuing to resist treatment, and had become a "senior player" in the jailhouse drug trade.

Moore was denied early release, the panel ruling there was too great a chance he would seriously harm or kill someone. The panel wrote: "You have established a pattern of persistent sexual deviance involving young boys with an apparent indifference to the impact of your actions on them and have demonstrated little remorse."

That decision seemed to shock Moore into action.

He enrolled in a prison sex offender program and did so well, he was asked to remain in the program to "serve as a positive role model" for the next group.

He took counselling. Psychiatrists tested him and determined he was not a psychopath, which is a person who wilfully does damage without remorse. Doctors and therapists decided he now understood what made him offend, and was intent on avoiding high-risk situations. Doctors noted he was now aroused by adult males, not young boys. Moore told the board he had come to terms with the fact that he was gay.

However, one psychiatrist (the name is blacked out on the parole report) cautioned that Moore was still attracted to young boys, that he had anger management issues and that he was an alcoholic (booze had contributed to most of his past offences).

Still, the National Parole Board granted Moore's release six months before the end of his sentence. Victim impact statements were not requested this time. The board reasoned that Moore needed the six months to adapt to community life. After 4 1/2 consecutive years in prison, Moore was released to a Hamilton halfway house on June 12, 1997. His time there was uneventful, with one exception. A local newspaper published a story describing how Moore, a convicted pedophile, was living in a halfway house. A fellow resident roughed him up shortly after the story came out, cutting him with a knife. Moore recovered from the injury.

Just before the New Year, he was completely released.

Jul. 11, 2004. 10:02 AM

A pedophile turns to murder

KEVIN DONOVAN
STAFF REPORTER

Douglas Moore was a serial pedophile and, eventually, a killer. Yesterday's story traced his life from a Montreal suburb, where he was sexually abused by his father, to Mississauga, where he attacked four teenaged boys, to Vancouver, where he assaulted a 12-year-old boy, and back to Mississauga, where he assaulted a 14-year-old boy. He was imprisoned in B.C., and later in Ontario. Today's conclusion begins with Moore's full release from a Hamilton halfway house in late 1997.

The Doug Moore freed to the streets of Hamilton at the age of 30 was a far cry from the slender young man who had been sent behind bars for sexually assaulting boys.

He had bulked up in prison; his muscular back was crisscrossed with tattoos, a castle on one side, an eagle on the other. Both nipples were pierced; he wore a ring through each. His wavy brown hair was thinning.

He took a job at a factory, heating aluminum and pouring it into moulds for auto parts. Moore was a good worker but it was a dangerous job. His leg was badly scarred after molten aluminum dripped down his calf.

In 1998, he rented an apartment in Hamilton on Main St. His brother moved in. They shared the $819 rent and Doug watched over his brother, who had physical and developmental disabilities.

Moore had the harsh look of a man who had done hard time. He concocted a story, which he told to new friends.

"I was in for manslaughter for 10 years. I got in a street fight when I was younger. I hit a guy and he fell back, banged his head on the curb, had an aneurysm and died," Moore would say.

One group of new friends was the Norton family. Moore met Linda and Peter Norton through one of his sisters.

The Nortons were foster parents under contract to the Peel Children's Aid Society. They took in hard-to-manage children, often those with developmental challenges. The couple's foster home was in Belfountain, a quaint town a half hour north of Brampton.

Moore was trying to build a new life for himself. He enrolled in anger management therapy with the John Howard Society. He met a young woman, Sandra Martin, who had a 9-year-old son.Moore became a father figure to the boy; they went everywhere together. Sandra was overweight and unemployed.

But Moore still had his demons. In quick succession, he had a string of motor vehicle-related charges. A police officer in Hamilton saw him wheeling around the street erratically. He pulled him over, smelled alcohol and charged him with drinking and driving. Moore was acquitted.

A few months later he was charged with dangerous driving in Mississauga. He was convicted in October, 1999, put on one year probation, and his licence was suspended for two years.

He was charged again in May, 2000. Police stopped him for a traffic offence. He was driving while his licence was under suspension; police found a folding flick knife with a 23-cm serrated blade in his pocket. Moore said he needed it as protection for his "bisexual lifestyle." He pleaded guilty two days later and was sentenced to 45 days in jail. He lost a new job at an aluminum smelting factory in Cambridge as a result.

Getting out of jail, Moore, his brother and Sandra moved into a rented townhouse in the Meadowvale area of Mississauga. Moore was in love with Sandra. He encouraged her to lose weight and get off welfare. She landed a job managing the local Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet.

Moore kept in close touch with his mother, Mildred, who had relocated the family to Mississauga in the early 1980s after a bitter divorce. Moore's father had tormented and sexually abused Doug and other children. Mildred had remarried; Moore's biological father died of cancer in 1988.

In 2000, Doug Moore's neighbourhood revolved around the Meadowvale Town Centre. As he had in B.C., the now 33-year-old ran a string of teen drug dealers.

Moore told the foster parents the manslaughter story. With a group of young adolescents to raise, the Nortons felt it wouldn't hurt to have Moore around.

Linda, the foster mom, reasoned it this way: "Doug was a guy who had been in jail for a mistake. He would tell the boys, `Hey, don't fight, don't get into trouble or you will go to jail like I did.'"

Among the boys were Alan, Tom and Jimmy, all in the 12-14 age group, all with developmental disabilities. Linda and Peter treated the foster children like their own -- the kids had lived with them most of their lives. Alan, for example, was taken away from his mother at age 3 by children's aid. The Nortons happily took him in. At age 14, Alan was mentally still a young child, and always would be.

Moore would arrive at the Belfountain foster home like a tornado, squealing into the country driveway, tires spitting gravel. He'd step out and be instantly swarmed by the foster kids. Peter Norton was physically not well, so Moore became the guy who would roughhouse with the boys.

"Now beat it kids!" Moore would say, smiling. "I've got work to do." Then Moore, who was handy, would do whatever job needed doing. He'd fix a light switch, repair a toy, renovate part of the basement. A neat freak, he'd sit and have a tea, then leap up with a cloth if he saw a spot on the ceiling. The Nortons never saw him take drugs and his maximum was two beers. Since Peter could not take the kids swimming, it was only natural that the rough but friendly Moore would go with Linda when she took the foster kids to a nearby pool, then Moore would shower off with the boys.

Moore sometimes reflected on his past when he chatted with Linda.

"I am so angry at what my father did to me. That's why I had this life of drinking and fighting and carrying on," Moore would tell her.

"It's my great regret that I could never be a social worker," Moore said another time. "It would have been great to work with kids."

The Peel Children's Aid Society requires foster parents to obtain a clear criminal record check on any adult who will look after their children overnight. The Nortons were aware of that rule.

One day, Moore and Sandra Martin had a birthday party for Sandra's son at Moore's Meadowvale townhouse. The foster parents and their children were invited. Two of their boys were upset to learn they could not stay for the sleepover. Linda Norton bent the rules because she trusted Moore.

Another time, Moore drove to Peterborough to buy a boat. Linda let one of the two boys tag along, since it was not overnight. Frequently, he took boys on short jaunts to the hardware store.

Meanwhile, Moore had a new job, filling bottles at the Crystal Springs factory in Mississauga. He'd work a solid day, then either go up to Belfountain, or back home to Meadowvale.

His relationship with Sandra Martin was rocky. Moore's brother and Sandra did not get along. (His often foul-mouthed brother frequently told her to "shove it up your ass.") Doug beat up his brother one day on his front lawn. His brother moved back to their mother's home.

Sandra was now a money room supervisor at Woodbine racetrack. She had slimmed down, changed her hair style. Moore told friends loudly that he bought her everything, even paid for her hair appointments.

But he confided in female friends that all was not well in the bedroom. He said they squabbled over whether to have the lights on (his preference) or off (her preference). To one friend, Moore, now 36, confided he had only ever been with older women, and did not know what to do with a younger woman (Sandra was 30).

In early 2003, Moore went through Sandra's purse and found condoms after she had been away for a weekend. Moore complained she was always on Internet chat lines and accused her of having an affair. They talked of splitting up. Sandra changed her work schedule so they would not be home at the same time.

But their Meadowvale townhouse was always full. Local teens, whose drop-in centre at the mall had been closed, hung out there. The streetwise ex-con was always available to listen to their gripes and concerns, usually about adults, the system, school. Moore was a magnet: He had drugs and a friendly ear.

Single mothers sent their boys to Moore, asking him to "straighten" them out.

Among that group was a 14-year-old, Philip, from Orangeville, who was doing drugs and skipping school. Then there was Sandra Martin's son, now 12. The Nortons even sent their 19-year-old nephew, his girlfriend and their baby to live with Moore for a while. Moore himself made them dinner and lunch each day.

Another visitor was 15-year-old René Charlebois, a Meadowvale high school student. Rene was friends with Philip from Orangeville, and both purchased drugs from Moore. It was a scene reminiscent of 1986, when Moore lived with his mother in Talka Village in Clarkson, only Moore was now the father figure.

Always the pleaser, Moore was happy to oblige. He usually took one of the young boys with him on small renovation jobs.

One lady he did a renovation job for was Donna McKennon, who had worked at Kentucky Fried Chicken with Sandra Martin. Moore installed a new side door for her. He took forever to do the job, always bringing either Philip or Sandra's son to help. McKennon, who had known Sandra's son for several years, noticed a difference as the months passed.

He'd been an excellent student, chatty, outgoing. Now he was a timid, almost surly boy, sitting at the kitchen table with hunched shoulders while Moore measured -- again -- the door opening. Sandra confided to Donna that the boy was wetting his bed and hiding his schoolwork.

One day, Moore arrived in a rented car. He and Sandra's son had been in a car fire on the 401. He needed a new car but his credit was poor. Would Donna help?

"Stupid, stupid me, gullible me, I did," recalled McKennon. She signed a $30,000 lease agreement for a Kia Sorento SUV, and drove it off the lot for Moore, as if it were hers. He would drop off cash for the monthly payments, using it as an opportunity to also drop off drugs to a nearby customer. He helped pay her back by knocking out a wall in her kitchen to expand the room.

Moore was no longer on the radar of police or probation authorities. His last stint of probation (for the Hamilton flick-knife case) ended in 2002. He received the occasional speeding ticket, but nothing else. Because his sex abuse record predated the provincial sex offender registry (which started in 2001) he was not listed in the database.

Peel Children's Aid was aware that a "Dougie" was hanging around the Belfountain-area foster home, based on monthly visits paid by social workers and recorded in their notes. But nothing untoward was mentioned.

Moore's previous victims -- six of their allegations had resulted in convictions -- were getting on with their lives. Sadly, one of the Finch boys (from the 1986 case in Talka Village) had died of a drug overdose. The others had a variety of personal and legal troubles, but were generally coping. Other boys, who had never disclosed their attacks, struggled in lives, marriages, and as fathers themselves.

Between his renovation jobs, his water bottling, and his drug dealing, Moore was flush. It was not unusual for him to have stacks of cash in his house.

Into Moore's world came two young men, 22-year-old Robbie Grewal and 20-year-old Joe Manchisi.

Robbie Grewal was always on the move.

"Life is to live. Why sleep?" he'd say before heading out to a club. He was sports crazy, the kind of guy who played soccer, hockey and other games effortlessly. Robbie was a sharp dresser and a smooth talker. He was his sister Nav's shadow growing up and he was devoted to his mother. His father passed away in 1993 and he lived with his mom in Meadowvale.

Robbie had had a shock in 1999. An older cousin he liked and respected committed suicide. Robbie started using drugs, then dealing drugs. He was a good salesman, so the money flowed. Several years earlier, he had been convicted on a minor drug possession charge.

But in the last year he had been putting his life together. In memory of his father he had a tattoo -- DC, his dad's nickname -- etched on his left arm. He was enrolled in Sheridan College. He got rid of his pager and cellphone and was trying to leave drug dealing behind.

Joe Manchisi was a 20-year-old with a lot going for him. He was good looking, the son of a friendly and well-known Milton family.

The Manchisis have been in real estate, automotive tires and restaurants over a 34-year life in the town west of Mississauga. Like his father Joe (Giuseppe), young Joe was smart and sharp. He could cook, he did well in school and he was loyal to his friends. He worked with his dad, and travelled with him to Italy and Mexico on numerous vacations. He was a good son to his mother (the couple divorced years ago) and lived with her in Milton. His only legal trouble occurred when he was 15 -- a fight led to a community service order. Now, in 2003, he was enrolled in business at George Brown College in Toronto, with plans to work with his family. His father never knew Joe to use drugs.

Both young men had girlfriends. Peel police say the men knew Moore from the Meadowvale drug scene. Moore was a dealer; Grewal and Manchisi were dealers. From time to time they would buy drugs from each other for resale.

Early in the morning on Sunday, Oct. 26, 2003, the noise of a sliding patio door woke Douglas Moore, who had been asleep upstairs in his Meadowvale townhouse. Sandra was asleep in the adjacent room, and her son was dozing in a room down the hall. Philip, the teenager Moore was looking after, was asleep in the basement. Moore shrugged off the sound and went back to sleep.

Waking an hour later, he realized he had been robbed. His stash of marijuana was stolen. So were credit cards and cash, $3,800 in stacks of $50, $20 and $100 bills. He rummaged around and found gold chains and rings gone, more than $5,000 worth by his guess.

Moore was enraged, as he had been in Talka Village as an 18-year-old when he'd taken a baseball bat to a 17-year-old thief. Now, in 2003, he roamed the neighbourhood, looking in garbage cans for his wallet. He called police and filed a burglary report.

Moore called up Safe-Tech Alarm and arranged for his home to be wired. He told people he was convinced Robbie Grewal and Joe Manchisi were the thieves.

"They took my weed and my money and the little bastards knew where everything was kept," he complained to Donna McKennon when he dropped by to make a car payment. "When I catch the little bastards, I'm going to beat the fuck out of them."

In rants to others, Moore vowed to "kill the little fuckers."

Nov. 12 was a Wednesday. Robbie Grewal was asleep at his mother's place in Meadowvale. His mother came home from work at 10:30 a.m. to meet a painter. While she was there, Joe Manchisi bombed into the driveway in his blue Honda Civic. Joe came into the house, Robbie got up in a hurry (not even stopping to brush his teeth), said goodbye to his mother and was out the door with Joe and into the blue Honda. Robbie didn't have wheels because he had crashed two cars in the past few years, one of them a '95 Trans Am convertible.

"We're just going to Tim Hortons around the corner," Robbie called to his mom. The night before, he'd told his sister he had an 11:30 a.m. appointment, but did not say why.

What happened next is unclear. The Tim Hortons was a regular hangout spot for Moore. Investigators speculate Moore met Manchisi and Grewal, possibly at the coffee shop. They likely talked about drug deals; Moore may have accused the young men. Somehow, police say, Moore got them back to his nearby townhouse. Moore killed Grewal and Manchisi (police have not said how) and stowed their bodies in his garage for two days.

By nightfall that Wednesday both the Grewal and Manchisi families wondered where their sons were. The Grewals called Joe's cellphone and dialed his pager. No luck. Maybe Robbie was sleeping off a big night? Joe's mother worried, but figured her son was with a friend. These were men, after all, not young boys. Joe was 20, Robbie was 22.

Two nights later, on Friday evening, both families spoke by phone. They tried to calm each other. Maybe the boys had taken off on some southern vacation, one family member suggested hopefully.

That evening, in his garage, police say the burly Moore coaxed 14-year-old Philip from Orangeville to help him cut up the two dead bodies. Using large plastic moving containers, they divided the body parts. Inside the house, Sandra Martin sat with her 12-year-old son. Police allege Sandra kept her son away from the garage, knowing the bodies were being dismembered. (Sandra and Philip were later charged with being accessories after the fact in the deaths of Manchisi and Grewal.).

Moore loaded the plastic containers into a car with Philip's help. They left Mississauga and drove east to Montreal, passing near the Verdun home where Moore had lived as a child, and the town his father had moved to after the divorce.

Back in Ontario, the Manchisi and Grewal families were losing hope. Saturday morning, three days after the boys had headed for Tim Hortons, the Manchisi family filed a missing person report with Halton police (covering the Milton area) and the Grewals filed a similar report with Peel police (covering Mississauga).

The families believe police did not take the reports as seriously as they should have. These were families that had seen on television and in newspapers the massive searches for Holly Jones and other missing children. The Grewal family, in particular, felt that Robbie's minor drug record made the cops lax in their search.

After making his report, Joe Manchisi Sr. went to his real estate office and called in nephews, other relatives and staff from his nearby restaurant. He'd found address books and scraps of paper with names and numbers on them in his son's bedroom.

"We are going to find Joe," he told his family and staff Saturday morning. "Call everybody. Check the Internet, try anything to find them."

Some of the people they called suggested they try a guy named Doug Moore, who lived in Meadowvale. A nephew got him on the phone, and Manchisi thumbed the speaker phone switch.

"Do you know Joe Manchisi?" the father asked.

"No," Moore replied gruffly.

He asked more questions, telling Moore that friends said the man did know Joe.

"Do you know how old I am?" Moore grunted. "What would I have to do with this guy who is 20 years old?"

Moore hung up.

Manchisi was disturbed. He had never given his son's age in the conversation.

They kept calling and talking to friends. "It's this guy Moore," one youth told Manchisi. "He thinks they robbed him and he said he was going to kill them." It was tough getting the friends involved. Manchisi eventually convinced one to give a statement to Peel police.

The Grewals were hearing the same story.

Peel and Halton police were given this information.

"Don't worry," a Peel detective told Nav Grewal, Robbie's sister. "Moore is a big dog who doesn't bite."

Joe Manchisi Sr. heard the same story. "Joe, this Moore guy is a pedophile," a veteran Halton sergeant told him.

"These guys are not usually dangerous." (Peel homicide detectives say Moore was initially just one of several suspects because Grewal and Manchisi were alleged to have robbed several other drug dealers around the same time).

While the families were making the calls that Saturday, a tree cutter in a Montreal suburb found a torso in the bushes. It was in an area across the river from Notre-Dame-de-Grace, the town where Moore's father had lived after the divorce. The hands and head were removed. An identifying tattoo had been sliced off the corpse's shoulder. Quebec police would not identify the body for four months.

Moore went about his business. He visited the foster home, bottled water at Crystal Springs, and kept dealing drugs. Peel police's missing person's bureau checked him out, and interviewed him after Joe Manchisi Sr. raised his name.

Moore denied knowing anything about the missing boys, but admitted to dealing drugs. "Sure I deal drugs," he told the police. "I sell drugs but you have to catch me first."

Detectives asked some of his friends about Moore. Learning that Donna McKennon had leased a car for him, they went to her work one day in November.

"Do you know Doug Moore?" the detectives asked Donna.

"Sure, he does some work for me, some renovation work."

"Why did you lease a car for him?"

"It was just a favour."

The police told her he was a drug dealer. "Did you know he had been in jail?" McKennon answered truthfully that she did not.

As they left, the detectives asked if she knew anything about "the two missing boys." She answered that she did not.

Five minutes after the police left, Moore walked in to her workplace and peppered her with questions. "What were they after?" McKennon said they were asking about drugs, and she noticed Moore sighed in relief.

"But they did mention something about some missing boys. Why would they do that?"

Moore chuckled. "I don't know," he said, and left.

Robbie and Joe disappeared on Nov. 12, 2003.

One month later, on Dec. 12, Grade 10 Meadowvale student René Charlebois left school at 3:30 p.m. René was an intelligent, good-looking teen with lots of plans for the future. But in the last year he had been using drugs and hanging around with teens of whom his family did not approve.

René normally walked home after school. He would come home, turn on his computer and message his friends, including Philip, who was living nearby with Moore. That day, René did not arrive at home. At 9 p.m., his mother filed a missing person's report with Peel police.

What happened to René is unclear. He was sighted in the Meadowvale area at least twice over the next week. One person told police René was seen at the Meadowvale Town Centre with two men. He was known to be a drug customer of Moore's. Police will only say that Moore and another person abducted René and killed him. One theory is that he knew about the Manchisi-Grewal murders and had to be silenced.

Christmas, 2003 came and went. Rob Grewal's 23rd birthday was marked by his family in January, with no news on his whereabouts. There was no word about Joe Manchisi, no word about René Charlebois. The Charlebois family was publicly upset with police; they claimed they had dismissed René as just another runaway. Police denied the charge.

Detectives knew that Moore had sold drugs to Charlebois, but they had no evidence he had abducted the youth. As for Manchisi and Grewal, Peel police wanted to search Moore's home, but lacked evidence to get a warrant.

In February, Doug Moore and Sandra Martin split up. They moved out of the townhouse, but rented two apartments in the same neighbourhood building.

One Saturday morning in early March, Moore paid a visit to Donna McKennon. He was "speeding" and seemed hyper. Sandra's son was with him; the boy seemed more shy and withdrawn then ever.

Moore was acting oddly because he had heard police were asking questions, not about the missing youths, but about something else. Linda Norton, the foster parent, had told Moore one of her former charges (Alan, who had moved away but still visited on weekends) had alleged that somebody at the Nortons had molested him. Linda told Moore this, not thinking that he could be the abuser.

"The police want to talk to me," Linda told Moore.

"What are you going to say?" Moore asked.

She said she didn't know about any abuse and would say that.

Meanwhile, the local OPP detachment was moving ahead on the investigation. They talked to Alan and two other boys who had lived at the Belfountain area home.

The allegations were horrendous. From 2000 to the present, Moore had sexually assaulted the three boys, including incidents of anal intercourse and fondling. Though developmentally handicapped, the boys had been interviewed and told their story. The abuse happened on the overnight stay at Moore's house, the trip to Peterborough, and at other times.

Caledon OPP asked Linda Norton to come in for an interview. "All hell broke loose," she recalled. Police told her that Moore was a convicted pedophile, not a man who had done time for manslaughter.

Peel Children's Aid moved swiftly. They told Linda that her contract was terminated and her foster children would be removed. They gave her the night with them.

Linda and her husband Peter were crushed. They ordered pizza, told the boys they would have to be strong, and that they would be moving to new homes. Everybody cried -- for the Nortons, these kids were their children. Professionally, Linda was furious. She had worked hard as a foster parent, been president of the local foster parent association and was well liked by others in the group. "Everybody knows Doug doesn't hurt kids," one of the boys piped up.

Moore called twice that night. Linda hung up both times.

Caledon OPP called Peel Police, because some of Moore's sex assaults had occurred in the Peel area. Peel detectives told OPP that they were looking into Moore on the missing persons cases. The two investigations dovetailed.

Social workers took the foster children the next day, Friday, March 12. That night, police went looking for Moore with a warrant related to the sex-assault charges. They went to Sandra Martin's new apartment, but he wasn't there. Police allege Martin called Moore on a cellphone and warned him, allowing him to escape from his apartment in the same building.

Monday, March 15, they tracked him to a Burlington motel. Associates of Moore had told police the 36-year-old ex-con had vowed not to go back to prison and might be suicidal. The tactical squad kicked the door in and hit him twice with the charge from a stun gun, leaving burn marks on his stomach and his back. Moore was bumped around during the arrest, his body and bald head bruised.

Moore was charged with 11 counts of sexual assault on the three boys, and taken to court for a bail hearing.

He was not released, and his case was put over for a week. He was kept in a cell at Maplehurst Detention Centre in Milton.

His mother visited him. Moore steadied himself with a hand against the jail cell wall. One ear, the side and back of his head were black and blue. His face was cut.

"They beat me, mom," Moore said. "They told me to lay still, then kicked me in the head. Then they kicked the other side of my head and said `Hey, we told you to lie still.'

"What they are saying about me, it's not true," Moore said, referring to the sex-assault allegations.

Mildred left the jail, furious with police.

Four days later, on March 19, a body was found in an Orangeville-area landfill site. Police collected DNA (using hairs left behind on brushes and razors) of the three missing youths. It would take almost two weeks to determine whose body they had found. Soon after the discovery of the body, detectives found evidence (they won't say what) that allowed them to get warrants; a forensic team descended on Moore's former townhouse.

Meanwhile, police were scouring the area for the blue 1992 Honda Civic that Manchisi and Grewal had been driving when they vanished. A caller told police it had been spotted in Orangeville.

Somebody (police have not said who) was holding the car for Moore. After Moore was arrested, that person called Martin, asking what should be done with the car. Martin checked with Moore in jail.

The answer from Moore came back: "Burn it."

Police allege that Martin, on March 27, paid $400 to the person to destroy the car, but police seized the Honda before it could be torched.

On March 30, the body in the Orangeville dump was identified as 15-year-old René Charlebois.

Peel police worked on building a case against Moore for the murders. No charges were laid, but the news that Charlebois' body had been found had reached the jail. Police interviewed Moore. It's not known what he said.

On Thursday, April 1, Moore's mother visited her son. They chatted. Moore repeated he was innocent of the various allegations. "I'll call you tomorrow, mom," Moore said as she left the jail.

The next morning, at 3:30 a.m., a guard found Moore hanging, dead, in his cell. Braided strips of a bed sheet were tied to a window, his hands were tied tightly, and his feet were loosely tied. His cellmate had slept through his death. (Moore's death has been ruled a suicide, but a mandatory inquest will explore the circumstances. Police have told Moore's family that inmates have a way to tie their own hands when they commit suicide).

Later that morning, six officers drove out to his mother's home to break the news. But her son's lawyer had already called. "Get the hell away from here," Mildred's husband Bill shouted at police. Bill had been a rock for Mildred's family through their difficulties with her first husband, the divorce and Doug's troubles.

The news filtered out. Linda Norton (the foster mom) broke down in tears. Moore's victim from the 1991 Mississauga attack, which led to his imprisonment in 1992, almost drove off the road when he heard the news on the radio. He'd thought Moore had been sent to jail forever. He kicked himself, hearing there were more victims after him. "I should have given that victim impact statement in person," he told his family.

In Meadowvale, many of the teens who had hung with Moore gathered to mourn his passing.

Donna McKennon got the news from Mildred's husband Bill. He had called her to arrange the return of a set of Kia keys that Sandra Martin had dropped off (the Kia was impounded by police).

Bill had always stuck up for his stepson. "His mom's taking it really hard," he told Donna, then added: "Don't believe that Doug is the monster they make him out to be."

The next week, Quebec police announced that the dismembered body they had found in November was Robbie Grewal's. The tattoo with his father's nickname -- DC -- had been sliced off and his hands and head removed. Shortly after, Joe Manchisi's remains were found in a park.

Each body was found across the river from a place important to Moore in the past. One was his mother's home in Verdun, the other was his father's place after the divorce.

Moore died before he could be charged with the murders. While charges of being an accessory after the fact have been laid against two people for killing Manchisi and Grewal, police have not charged anybody with Rene Charlebois' death. Police say Moore had an accomplice, who has not yet been charged.

In the days following Moore's death, a number of things happened.

Joe Manchisi said goodbye to his son and (coincidentally) a Halton cop and close friend who died of an aneurysm. Both were eulogized in the same funeral home at the same time. The Grewal family said goodbye to Robbie in a funeral that was a celebration of his life. René Charlebois was mourned by a family that believes faster action by police could have saved his life. The Norton family learned that Peter, the foster father, had terminal cancer. Sandra Martin told a court hearing she plans to contest her criminal charges. Douglas Moore was cremated.

"I don't think he did the things they say he did. I don't think Doug was an angel but I don't think he killed those boys," Mildred said recently. "I may not like some of the things he has done in his life but he's still my son and I love him."

The Manchisi and Grewal families travelled to Montreal to see where their boys' bodies had lain through the cold Quebec winter. Joe Sr. laid an angel on the spot.

He drove back to Milton. His second wife, Christine, was about to give birth. Giacomo Manchisi, 9 pounds, 2 ounces, was born to the couple after 28 hours labour.

Kevin Donovan can be reached at 416-869-4425.

This is the end of the Toronto Star article. Considering the kind of person he was, we are unlikely to find out anything more about Douglas Moore. The young men Robbie Grewal and Joe Manchisi were not quite as blameless as suggested in the article, since they thought it was safe to rob a drug dealer. It is really quite dangerous, as the article shows. Foster parents do not have the means to check on the criminal background of persons entering their home, though Children's Aid does. But instead of accepting responsibility for their failure, Peel Children's Aid has made the foster family, the Nortons, the scapegoats. In several places, the author says that police made some finding, while keeping the evidence secret. It is hard to see any good reason for keeping secrets in a case in which the four principal characters are dead.