An Unexpected Gift
The Murder of Wayne Greavette
On the evening of December 12th, 1996, twenty-one-year-old Justin Greavette of Ontario, Canada, handed his father a package.
Forty-two-year-old Wayne Greavette had worked at a beverage packing plant in the small town of Guelph for most of his life. He and his wife, Diane, had been high school sweethearts, and had gotten married when they were just seventeen.
Wayne hadn’t been expecting anything in the mail, but given that the holiday season is sometimes one of pleasant surprises, he didn’t think anything of opening it to see what was inside.
After opening the small cardboard box, Wayne discovered a handwritten letter, along with a brand-new flashlight.
Wayne then took the flashlight out of an unaffiliated piece of wooden packaging, walked over to join his family on the living room sofa, then attempted to switch it on.
In an instant, Wayne and his family were showed in white hot sparks, as shrapnel ripped through flesh and upholstery alike. Wayne received the bulk of the injuries, and although he was stunned and terrified by the blast, young Justin rushed to call 911.
The recording of this call is freely available online, but is extremely distressing to listen to. When asked what the nature of his emergency was, all Justin could do was wail “there was a bomb, and my dad just blew up!”.
First responders rushed to the Greavette residence to administer vital first aid, but sadly, it was far too late; Wayne had been killed almost instantly by the small but violent detonation.
Forensic investigators observed that the package was wrapped in white and green wrapping paper. Inside was a box labelled Domaine D’or Cabarnet, which used to hold a bottle of red wine.
At the top of the box, a rectangular hole had been neatly cut off. Investigators suspected that this was to remove the barcode and UPC which could be used to trace the wine to where it was purchased.
Apart from the flashlight and the letter, several flyers were used to pack the wine box. Most of these flyers were widely circulated in Southern Ontario. However, one stood out: a flyer advertising Copeland Lumber, a building centre located at 700 Main Street East, Milton, which suggested the mailer might be local to the area.
Two strands of hairs were recovered from the debris, but since neither had their roots attached, it was impossible to generate a DNA profile. The Ontario Provincial Police soon enlisted the help of the FBI to generate a more complex mitochondrial DNA profile, but the process failed to generate any solid leads.
The flashlight used to house the bomb was a Duracell-brand Floating Lantern, around twenty-three centimeters long, and fifteen centimeters tall.
According to Justin, the flashlight might have been glued shut, as he was unable to open the flashlight when trying to get it to work.
A small amount of explosive emulsion called Superfrac was used in the bomb, a material more commonly associated with mineral mining. Superfrac can be easily bought from the manufacturer without a license, but investigators stated it was more likely to have been obtained via theft.
The bomb was also packed with roofing nails to maximize its destructive effect, and was powered by a single-cell AA battery.
The package’s enclosed letter was a business proposal written by a “William J. French”.
In it, the letter’s author states that he and a partner were planning on starting a new venture known “Acton Home Products” in early 1997, and that he would like a quote from Greavette on some potential equipment repairs. The author also mentions that he and Greavette had worked together in the past, and writes with a generally friendly tone.
The letter mentions two names, that of “Lisa” and “Joe”.
“Lisa” is commonly believed to be Leesa Ervin, while “Joe” was a man by the name of Giuseppe Zottich. Both had worked with Wayne at the beverage packing plant he was employed at, with Leesa working as a secretary, while Guiseppe was employed was a delivery driver. Although once thought to be significant, their names are mentioned in a purely innocuous manner, referencing only their employment at the packing plant.
Despite addressing Wayne as if they had once done business, no one in the Greavette family knew who “William J. French” was. Much of the information in the letter had been completely made up, and was believed to be designed to lull Wayne into a false sense of security, so that he’d operate the torch and secure his own demise.
One thing however, was chillingly and abundantly clear.
Whoever had written the letter was well aware of what would occur when Wayne switched on the torch, as the postscript of the letter read:
“Didn’t realize you had moved. Had some trouble finding you. Have a very merry Christmas and may you never have to buy another flashlight.”
When it came to suspects, police were able to generate one particularly promising lead with alarming speed.
After questioning the staff at the nearby Acton post office, police discovered that not one, but two different people had enquired as to the Greavette’s new address in November of 1996. Local law enforcement was able to produce a series of composite sketches based on eye witness statements, but unfortunately, the sketches failed to generate any promising leads.
Another person of interest in the investigation was a man named Ed Galick.
Ed was Wayne’s boss down at the packing plant, and trusted him so much that he would place Wayne in charge whenever he was on vacation. Ed was also very close with Wayne’s family, and was known as “Uncle Ed” among the Greavette children.
Yet such a close relationship belies a rocky past.
Wayne’s wife, Diane, had also been employed at the packing plant, at least up until Ed demanded that Wayne personally fire her for poor performance.
On top of that, Ed had once accused Wayne of skimming cash from the business, and had even alleged that Wayne used narcotics while on the clock.
The contention eventually led to Ed’s dismissal from the packing plant, yet he remained vocal in his assertions that Wayne was a thieving drug addict. He and Ed went from the best of friends to vicious enemies, and although Ed has never been formally linked to his old friend’s murder, it’s been suspected that Ed’s estranged son may have intervened to avenge his father’s perceived injustice.
The fact that Wayne’s financial situation was going from strength to strength may have also angered Ed. At the time of his death, Wayne and Diane were preparing to establish a spring water bottling facility on a piece of land they’d purchased known as Moffat farm. Wayne was mechanically gifted, and he took care of the facility's machinery while Diane worked on the logistics.
Once the plant opened, the venture could’ve potentially made the Greavettes multi-millionaires, so it’s no coincidence that someone sought to snuff him out before he got it off the ground.
It seems impossible that such a crime could ever go unsolved, especially considering the sheer amount of physical and circumstantial evidence.
Yet more than 25 years later, police are no closer to identifying Wayne’s murderer than they were back in 1996. Whoever hated him so much that they’d construct an elaborate explosive device is probably still walking free, having taken the life of a loving family man, and completely gotten away with it.