Canadian True Crime - The Maple Syrup Heist of 2011

Episode Date: December 15, 2022

This is the story of Canada’s most valuable theft—perhaps the most Canadian crime ever committed. It was July of 2011, and Avik Caron had a kind of nervous excitement. An opportunity had fallen into his lap to stick it to the “Maple Syrup Mafia” – and, of course, line his pockets with cash as he did so. The problem was, he didn't quite know how to do it. But with Maple Syrup worth over ten times more per barrel than crude oil, what did he have to lose?Look out for early, ad-free release on CTC premium feeds: available on Amazon Music (included with Prime), Apple Podcasts, Patreon and Supercast. Full list of resources, information sources, credits and music credits:See the page for this episode at www.canadiantruecrime.ca/episodes Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Canadian True Crime is a completely independent production, funded mainly through advertising. You can listen to Canadian True Crime ad-free and early on Amazon music included with Prime, Apple Podcasts, Patreon, and Supercast. The podcast often has disturbing content and coarse language. It's not for everyone. Please take care when listening. Hi everyone. Just a few things before we start. This episode is the last Canadian True Crime episode for this year. It's something a little lighter, filled with interesting bits of Canadian history, and best of all, no one gets physically hurt or murdered. By the time the episode is released publicly, my little family will be in Brisbane, Australia, seeing our families for the first time since 2017. So to say we're excited is an understatement. There won't be an episode on January the 1st, but I hope that you and your loved ones have a wonderful and safe holiday season, and I'll see you again.

on January 15th. Now, the other and more important thing that I want to acknowledge is devastating. On December 1st, the Winnipeg Police Service announced that they have an alleged serial killer in custody, charged with murdering four indigenous women in Manitoba. The remains of 24-year-old Rebecca Contois from Crane River First Nation were found dumped in a garbage bin near an apartment building in May. DNA led police to make an arrest fairly quickly, more on that in a second, but after a few months of investigating, they've announced three more victims, 39-year-old Morgan Beatrice Harris

and 26-year-old Mercedes-Mirin, both of Long Plain First Nation, as well as a third unidentified woman believed to also be indigenous, named Buffalo Girl by elders. The police released an image of a jacket believed to belong to her in the hope that someone will recognize it. Not surprisingly, this story is not getting the widespread coverage that I've seen in other similar cases. Now, their remains haven't been found yet, but police say that all three women were linked to the accused through DNA. The Winnipeg Police believe that their remains are in the prairie green landfill north of Winnipeg, but they announced they have decided not to search it because they say there are challenges

and there's, quote, no hope of a successful recovery. At a press conference at Ottawa on Tuesday, the daughters of Morgan Harris bravely spoke out about their heartbreak when they learned about this. I'll let them speak for themselves. Here's Kira Harris.

You are the police. You are here to help our community and give right to the citizens. How is this doing your job? If you can't find them, then why haven't you asked for help? Why can't you ask for help nationwide rather than just having a small amount of people conduct the searches? These are four women. One you have found, but now you refuse to find the last three.

What is the reasoning for that? We have the people who are willing to help and do the work for you, but you are not accepting it. And this is her sister, Cambria. They believe that they're in the prairie green landfill. and the police won't do anything and they say that they can't search because it's not feasible. Is human life not feasible? Time and time again,

our indigenous women and brothers and sisters have to come here and we have to shout and we have to raise our voices begging for change and begging for justice for our people. The police are trying to cover themselves because they know that they fail our women time and time again and it needs to stop. Your government started this genocide, and now it is your turn to help us end it. Mi-quatch.

Incredibly powerful words from the daughters of Morgan Beatrice Harris. Our sincere condolences to them and all the loved ones of these women. The government they're referring to is, of course, the colonial Canadian government, who was responsible for the Indian Act, and also the subsequent governments who continue to uphold it, regardless of political party. We often receive complaints about episodes being too political, which is something that can't be avoided

since crime is inherently political and the criminal justice system could not exist without politics. But this crime is literally political. The man charged with four counts of first-degree murder is 35-year-old Jeremy Skibicki, a white supremacist activist with a criminal record that includes domestic violence and stalking against his ex-wife.

Screenshots of his Facebook account before it was taken down reveal violent sentiments and fascist, misogynistic, racist and anti-Semitic material. His lawyer states that he's pleading not guilty. I wish I had more time to report on this, but for now, please see the show notes for more information. And with that, it's on with the show. I'll see you again on January. 15th. This story takes place in small town Quebec, starting in July of 2011. Evique Caron

had a kind of nervous excitement because an opportunity had fallen into his lap, but he didn't quite know what to do about it. The 39-year-old was not someone who played by the rules. He was a former financial planner turned fraudster, and just months earlier, he had pleaded guilty to charges related to fraud over $5,000. That time, it was an insurance agent scam, but it hadn't been the only one. Fortunately, the courts were lenient on him, and he was able to avoid jail time. Aviccaron and his wife lived in the south of Quebec, near a tiny town of about a thousand residents called San Luis Blonford. The town is located just off the highway about two hours drive northeast from Montreal towards Quebec City. Evig's wife was part owner of a massive multi-purpose warehouse

located in an industrial area and in July of 2011, a new client had approached the warehouse looking to store about 16,000 barrels. A deal was made and the client started moving in. As it turned out, those barrels contained 3.4 million litres of of maple syrup, stacked six barrels high and hundreds of barrels deep, and no one seemed to think much of it, but Avic Caron was watching with interest. Maple syrup is a large industry in the province of Quebec, and he knew that the sweet sticky liquid held some serious value. At the time, a barrel of maple syrup was worth 13 times more than a barrel of crude oil, but the The client didn't seem to be very concerned about security.

There were no security cameras, alarm systems, nothing. The only thing protecting the maple syrup was the padlocked gates and locked doors of the warehouse, as well as a security guard who was supposed to stop by each day for a casual visual check. The general attitude seemed to be, it's just maple syrup. But Avik Karon knew better than that. When he realized that the warehouse his wife partly owned was potentially storing millions of dollars worth of liquid gold, the hamster wheel in his brain started spinning. Could he steal some of it? And even if he could, what would he do with it? How would he convert that liquid gold into cash? Avic wasn't involved in the maple syrup business at all,

but he knew enough to know that selling maple syrup stolen from Quebec wasn't going to be an easy prospect. He was going to have to get past a group known as the Maple Syrup Mafia. We can't tell the story of the great Canadian maple syrup heist without explaining why criminals would consider it heistworthy in the first place. It's a strange, and surprising story, but first, we have to start with a quick history lesson. We all know maple syrup is high on the list of things considered to be super Canadian,

and it's often considered Canada's gift to the world. The main feature of the Canadian flag is a giant maple leaf, and many Canadian brands have incorporated maple leaves into their logos, like, you know, the maple leaves, Air Canada, Molson, Canadian Tire, Petro, Canada, this podcast. Even the McDonald's logo is not immune. The Canadian version has a tiny little red maple leaf right in the middle of the golden arches. The main habitat where sugar maple trees can be found is called the Maple Belt, which stretches through the southern parts of Ontario, Quebec and New Brunswick, as well as the northern US states just below, including New Hampshire,

Vermont, Maine and New York. It was the indigenous peoples of North America who first discovered maple syrup. Or should I say, they were the first to discover that there was sap flowing from the maple tree that could be processed into something useful and nutritious. Each spring, pressure from warming temperatures caused the maple sap to flow up the roots of the tree,

so the indigenous would pierce the tree trunk with an axe and insert curved pieces of the tree. of bark to facilitate the flow. After the sap is collected in a receptacle, it needs to be processed, boiled down and condensed into the sweet maple syrup we enjoy on our pancakes. But the pleasant taste was just the tip of the iceberg to the indigenous peoples,

who also used it to cure their meats so that they lasted longer and utilized it as a serious source of energy and nutrition. In the 1600s, the indigenous taught the first European colonists how to tap into the maple trees and process that sap into syrup. And over time, the French settlers to Quebec began to produce the syrup for profit, setting up what's known as sugar shacks near the hardwood forests and introducing their own innovations to the process.

Today, more than 70% of the world's maple syrup is produced in Canada, and of that, more than 90% is produced in the world's maple syrup. the province of Quebec. It's a common pantry item for us here, and we love to turn our noses at that generic and tasteless pancake syrup, because we have access to the pure, genuine maple syrup, the good stuff. In Quebec, maple syrup season could be considered as much of a cultural phenomenon in spring as pumpkin picking is in the fall, and visitors flock to maple tree forests to see the sap being collected. They can also visit the sugar shacks on farms to watch the sap being boiled down into maple syrup,

which they can purchase in small amounts directly from the producer, along with other maple syrup products like candies and taffy, similar to when you visit a small farm. The Canadian maple syrup industry has a very good global reputation, and this is by design. Quebec takes maple syrup very seriously, so seriously in fact that the entire industry there is strictly regulated and controlled by a government-sanctioned organisation, a legal cartel. It wasn't always like that, though. Like most things, it began with a problem that needed a solution. And that problem was profitability.

Maple syrup production is seasonal, taking place between each February. and April as the warming spring temperatures prompt the flow of the sap. For it to flow, the night temperature must fall below freezing and rise above freezing during the day, and the season usually lasts for about four to six weeks until there are no more freezing temperatures. And even in that tiny harvest window, the flow of sap can be fickle, so the harvest yield or the amount of sap collected from the trees can vary. widely from year to year. Because it's dependent on the weather, some years there's a feast,

but the industry struggles to deal with the surplus and the prices dive. Other years are a famine, where there isn't enough syrup produced to meet the demand for it, and the prices surge. Maple syrup was a lucrative product, but the short season and harvest instability meant that it was difficult to make a living from. In the late 1950s, Quebec producers and farmers gathered to discuss just how they might fix the problem. They decided that if they all work together to collectively market Quebec's liquid gold, they could strengthen and stabilize maple syrup production, increase its demand and improve its value.

The ultimate goal was to turn maple syrup from a secondary farming activity that essentially gave producers some extra pocket. money into a proper industry that they could rely on to feed their families. That group of producers established the organisation then called the Federation of Quebec Maple Syrup producers, and by 1989, all producers who sold in bulk or wholesale in Quebec were required to abide by a collective agreement. This meant that the marketing and promotion of the Syrup was put under the control of the Federation to be handed centrally with a consistent branding message. The Federation would also handle pricing and selling strategies as well as quality control measures with the goal of balancing business relationships, stabilising prices and

standardising working conditions. Growing the demand for maple syrup was a big priority for the Federation, who took an active role in promoting Quebec maple syrup on a global stage, with culinary competitions, maple syrup tastings and various large-scale brand partnerships. Over the decades, maple syrup gradually became more and more reliable as an industry. There were less bankruptcies, less farmers and producers complaining about bad harvest years, or no buyers for what they did have. Finally, they were starting to see a steadier and more reliable flow of money. But the Federation of Quebec Maple Syrup producers had even grander plans.

Perhaps the most impactful and controversial changes started in the year 2000, when the Global Strategic Reserve of Maple Syrup was established. It's basically a warehouse where excess maple syrup is stored to offset the unpredictability of the harvest season. So in good harvest years, when there's more syrup produced than there were buyers, instead of that syrup being discounted for sale, it would be set aside in the strategic reserve. And during bad harvest years,

when there isn't enough syrup produced to meet the demand, the surplus can be released. The Federation's website states, quote, In this way, we are virtually never out of stock and the markets remain supplied. Less than two years after the reserve was established, there was an annual general meeting where federation members voted to establish a central sales agency,

an exclusive one-stop shop that would connect bulk maple syrup producers to buyers and also ensures that producers and buyers comply with all the Federation's policies including prices and conditions of sales. It was called the Quebec maple syrup producers sales agency, and from that point on, maple syrup producers were bound by a series of rules. They could still sell in small amounts direct to consumers from their sugar shacks,

but they were prohibited from selling in bulk to anyone except the Federation's sales agency. They had to accept the prices, by the Federation, who would then store the syrup in bulk containers in a warehouse and act as a sales agent. And there was more. Two years after that, in 2004, the Federation introduced production quotas, rules that further control supply by dictating which producers can tap their maple trees each year and how many taps they can use. These changes were a hit with many producers, who were happy to focus on production of maple syrup

and let the Federation take care of everything else, the collective marketing, the promotion and the sales. But others did not appreciate these rules and found them stifling. And as history has shown time and time again, when something of high value to consumers is restricted or criminalised, a black market always pops up. Avic Karan had no idea,

how to sell stolen maple syrup on the black market. He had criminal contacts, sure, but trafficking maple syrup was a little bit outside of his scope. He wasn't about to give up, though. He just needed to find someone who operated in that space, a person who facilitates maple syrup deals between independent producers and unauthorized distributors outside of the Federation's rules.

A person also known, as a barrel roller. Avic Karon started asking around, and it wasn't long before one of his contacts, a truck driver called Sebastian Dutra told him he knew just the person. A meeting was arranged at a truck stop where Sebastian introduced Avik Karon to 34-year-old Rishar Vallier, a well-known barrel roller, considered to be one of the best in the black market maple syrup business. The industry was in Rishar's jeans. His father, Raymond, owned a sugar shack where he produced maple syrup,

but the family were also among a growing number of smaller and independent producers who were not happy with being forced into the Federation system. They could only produce the exact quota as set by the Federation, no more, and had to accept the prices and policies also set by the Federation. Many producers had built up their own local customer bases, which they were forced to abandon after the Federation's exclusive sales agency was established. Maple Syrup and Quebec had turned into a monopoly that was crushing their businesses with the full support of the Quebec government, who had enacted the Maple Syrup Sapp

and Maple Syrup Order to enforce the rules. And through all of this, they had no choice but to continue. to pay mandatory marketing fees to the Federation, despite having no option or say in the collective marketing strategy. The combination of all these rules not only affected the profitability of smaller and independent producers, but it removed any semblance of control they had over their own businesses, which made them feel helpless. To many smaller producers, it became like Big Syrup, where a small group of the largest producers made the run. rules, and all the small Indies had no legal choice but to abide by them.

There were thousands of producers of maple syrup in Quebec, and a small portion of them started to become fed up with the Federation's overstepping. Many of them had been producing syrup independently before the Federation created the monopoly and all the rules, and they wanted to return to that. In the mid to late 2000s, many of these. small producers saw the value in the Global Strategic Reserve, which carried the industry through several very bad production years, keeping the demand and supply stable. But by the end of the 2008 season, the reserve was tapped out, it had run dry. This meant the Federation lost their

control of the supply and demand of maple syrup, which wreaked havoc on prices and destabilized the market, the very thing they were trying to avoid. void. Urgent focus was put on building the reserve back up again as soon as possible. To do this, the Federation increased the quotas, allowing more producers to harvest more sap from more of their trees. Risha Valliere didn't care much about the quotas or the rules. He'd been dealing in the maple syrup black market for the better part of a decade in the year or two after the Global Strategic Reserve was established. According to court documents, he regularly bypassed the Federation to buy maple syrup in bulk

directly from producers in Quebec, including his father Raymond. And to avoid paying duties, he trafficked the syrup outside Quebec where the market was free with less rules and regulations. There, the syrup was considered legal, although the Federation, because Rishar Valier bought high volumes of syrup to sell outside Quebec, he had experienced several run-ins with the Federation and knew firsthand the aggressive tactics they used on dissenting producers. The Federation didn't take kindly to anyone questioning their rules or their methods of

enforcing them, and this made the situation worse. If there was suspicion that anyone wasn't playing by the rules, the Federation would send in undercover agents to local farmers and producers to count their trees, count their taps, search their sugar shacks and make sure they weren't producing more than their quota, or weren't selling in bulk to anyone but the exclusive sales agency. Anyone deemed to be highly suspicious would have security guards watching them like a hawk, and if they were found to be guilty,

they could have their syrup impounded, their farm seized, and face very high fines. An article by Julia Matro for Dame magazine details the story of one group of maple syrup rebels who would wait until the darkness of night to transport their maple syrup barrels from Quebec over to New Brunswick to be sold there. This is of course against the rules, and the Federation caught them and find them hundreds of thousands of dollars, effectively bankrupting them in the process. The fines were set by the Federation and also collected by them with the help of their specialist lawyers. In fact, in 2006, Rishar Vallier himself had been fined $1.8 million for the purchase of

1.5 million pounds of maple syrup outside the Federation. As yet, he hadn't paid the fine. Thanks to the increased production quotas, it only took a year or two for the Federation to build back the global strategic reserve of maple syrup to a point where it could be relied upon to control the market. This was good news for the industry as a whole,

but many smaller and independent producers were not so pleased for several reasons. The rules of payments specify they're only paid for the amount that sold on the market that year, year. So when there's a surplus of maple syrup that doesn't sell, it's added to the Global Strategic Reserve, which is in a sale, it's storage. And there would be no payment until it was released by the Federation and sold on the market. And when it came to getting paid, it wasn't as easy as rocking up to the Federation with barrels of maple syrup and exchanging them

for cash money. What actually happens is that the producer has to be able to be able to be able to be able to that the producer hands over their permitted quota of syrup and waits until the full amount of Federation sales for the year are tallied. Then each producer is paid a portion of those profits, depending on how much of the total harvest was sold, and the surplus goes into the reserve. Because the reserve was operating as a legal, government-sanctioned cartel, there was nothing producers could do about any of this except wait until the reserve. next year and hope they'll get the full amount then. But according to a later report by the Montreal Economic Institute, 2009 was the last year that all the annual maple syrup harvest in Quebec was sold

and they had to dip into the reserve. The next two years there was a surplus and producers saw more and more syrup going into the reserve while they only received a partial payment, around 65 to 7, of the value of the maple syrup they produced. And in 2011, the stars aligned and there was a bumper harvest year for maple tree sap, so much so that the Federation had to expand the reserve to a bigger facility. They found a place that, according to their website, covers an area the equivalent of five football fields and can store 55 million pounds of maple syrup, or 94,000 barrels. As a comparison, a barrel of crude oil is currently worth about $80 US, but the same barrel filled with maple syrup is worth about $900 US or $1,300 Canadian. So when full, that warehouse could be

holding about $84 million US dollars of maple syrup. But that facility wouldn't be ready for a few months at least, so the Federation scouted out several large warehouses to rent in rural Quebec towns to tide them over. One of them was in the tiny town of San Luis de Blanford, partly owned by the wife of a Viccaron. That warehouse would hold only a portion of the reserve, about 16,000 barrels of maple syrup, potentially worth 20 or 30 million dollars. It was a third. It was a third of theft risk, but a Federation representative would tell a reporter for Global News's 16 by 9 show that they didn't think anyone would want to steal maple syrup in the first place, and also it was insured. The warehouse had a padlocked fence, a foreman keeping a casual eye on security,

and the section they rented was locked. The Federation didn't invest in any additional security systems, alarms or cameras. Through Avic Caron's criminal contacts, he had been introduced to Richard Vallier, and at the truck stop meeting, he offered the barrel roller a large quantity of pure maple syrup to sell at a good price. The offer was accepted. As the instigator of the scheme, Aviccaron would be in charge of stealing the maple syrup from the warehouse, which shouldn't pose too many problems since his wife was part owner of the

building and there wasn't much to speak of when it came to security. After he figured out how to get the syrup out of the warehouse, he put a crew together to manage it, putting track driver Sebastian Dutra in charge of transportation. The syrup would then be handed over to Richard Valier, who would arrange for it to be trafficked out of Quebec and out of the Federation's jurisdiction where it could be sold. Richard already sold Maple Speraer. Richard already sold. syrup to an exporter in New Brunswick called SK Export Inc, who resold the syrup to companies who processed it into maple products and exported it outside Quebec and outside Canada. The company's owner, 69-year-old Etienne Saint-Pierre, originally owned a maple tree farm and sold

his product to Quebec. But as the Federation introduced more rules and became more of a monopoly, he grew annoyed with the impact it was having on his own business, which was in New Brunswick and so not under the Federation's jurisdiction. He started to export maple syrup directly from New Brunswick to buyers in the United States, and in the mid-2000s, he started reaching out to producers in Quebec, offering them better terms and discretion if they sold directly to him. Like Richard Valier, Etienne Saint-Pierre had several run-ins with the Federation, who did not like what he was doing. He too had been fined several hundred thousand dollars. When Richard approached him about a new sudden influx of syrup coming to New Brunswick,

he agreed to purchase it to export via his established channels. The maple syrup heist operation began in August of 2011, only a month or so after the Federation rented that warehouse space to store the excess syrup. To avoid suspicion, Aviccaron rented his own separate space in the warehouse for his crew to use as a decoy. They were then furnished with the appropriate keys and passes to legitimately get in and out whenever they wanted. For months between midnight and sunrise, the crew would show up at the warehouse with a tractor trailer,

which they then loaded with barrels of maple syrup. The person in charge of this leg of transportation was Sebastian Jutra, the same truck driver who played matchmaker between Avi Caron and Risha Valliere. One thing he and the crew had to keep in mind was that the Global Strategic Reserve inventory was inspected and audited once a year. So it was possible that someone from the Federation could show up at any moment. But they knew that they wouldn't actually be opening the barrels because the maple syrup had already been inspected, quality checked and graded

by the time it gets to the reserve. The annual inventory inspections only focused on counting the number of barrels and a visual check that everything looks right. Since the inspectors can't tell what's in the barrels, the daring maple syrup thieves decided to replace the heavy barrels of maple syrup with heavy barrels of water. A straight swap of barrels was out of the question because the Federation used distinctive blue-white-colored barrels.

So here's what they decided to do. They would load the Federation barrels of maple syrup onto the tractor trailer and transport them to a secondary location, the sugar shack owned by Richard Valier's father, Raymond. There they opened up the Federation barrels and siphoned the maple syrup out and into the new barrels. After topping up the Federation barrels with water from a nearby lake, they put them back on the tractor trailer

and returned them to the warehouse before sunrise. That was Avi Karan's part, and the next leg of the journey for the stolen maple syrup was in the hands of Risha Valier and his crew. He had arranged a small network of trusted contacts, truckers, transporters and exporters, to help him transport the syrup out of Quebec, where it was no longer criminalised and could essentially be sold as legal syrup, although the Federation were obviously not cool with that. They paid producers about $1,300 Canadian per barrel of maple syrup before selling it to distributors through its exclusive sales agency.

But the stolen maple syrup was discounted for a quick sale at only $1,000 a barrel. In New Brunswick, Etienne Saint-Pier was a long-time exporter of maple syrup and a customer of Richard Vellier. and when he received his share of the syrup, he would put labels on the barrels that made them look like they contained New Brunswick maple syrup. It would then be exported on to other provinces as well as the US and Europe. There were other buyers, including a company in Sherbrooke, Quebec, who exported it out of Canada and to companies who used it to process into maple products. The operation went remarkably smoothly, and a operation went remarkably smoothly, and over the next few months,

Evik Karon's crew returned to the warehouse time and time again, making sure they'd returned the Federation's barrels and left before any eagle-eyed warehouse staff arrived for the day. The crew counted on the fact that as long as the Federation's barrels looked the same and felt appropriately heavy if and when an inspector showed up, it would likely be a while before anyone noticed that what was in the barrels wasn't pure syrup.

They knew the scheme had an expiry date though. Eventually, someone somewhere was going to realize what had happened, whether it be an inspector showing up at the wrong time, or someone realizing that the maple syrup they had purchased, was tasting more like funky lake water. But until then, the crew were careful about which barrels were refilled with water, swapping the ones in the middle of the stack or deep at the end of the warehouse so they could buy themselves some more time.

They figured that the Federation would eventually have to release more maple syrup from the reserve and would probably take their easily accessible barrels first before they got to the inner barrels. And hopefully by the time they got to the barrels that had been tampered with, the crew would have closed up the operation, the maple syrup would have been trafficked out of care, Quebec, out of Federation territory, and perhaps out of Canada, they expected it would be impossible to trace where it was from.

Slow and steady wins the race, and little by little, the crews managed to steal, traffic, and sell an astonishing amount of maple syrup, filling their own pockets in the process. There were a few hiccups along the way, though. In early 2012, about five months into the operation, the freezing winter temperatures had caused the small lake near Raymond Valier Sugar Shack to freeze over, making it very difficult to get water to refill the Federation barrels. The crew decided to change plans and rented a Montreal warehouse to do their business, bringing on more people to manage it and help with syrup transportation. Eventually, the crew refined their plans even more, deciding they would save a trip by showing up at the Global Strategic

Reserve Warehouse with empty barrels, and they would do the siphoning and refilling on site with the use of a forklift. While some of the workers knew what was really happening and were happy to be taking part in a scheme to get revenge on the Federation, others weren't in on it. According to court documents, one of the employees who worked for the Federation happened to notice water around one of the barrels that day. The warehouse manager was in on the scheme. He'd been hired by Avic Caron to oversee things, and so he offered the Federation employee a large amount of money to stay quiet,

and even more if he wanted to actually join the cause and help. He agreed, deciding to stand on both sides, of defence, working for the Federation while overseeing the theft of maple syrup from its reserve. Through additional hires and paying people off, more and more people were brought in on the scheme. As the number of cooks in the kitchen grew, the less serious and risky the operation seemed to be to some crew members. But the original crew members, the instigators and the ringleaders, had become a little paranoid. Not so paranoid that they wanted to stop, though, since everything was going well and they were enjoying the extra influx of cash. As an extra layer of protection against having their personal

phone numbers traced, they got a bunch of burner phones to communicate with, saving each other's contacts under a false name. Some people who lived in the area near the warehouse rented by the Federation did notice some suspicious activity. According to reporting by global news, one neighbour noticed that the volume of traffic on the road leading to the warehouse was unusually busy during that time, with trucks that seemed to be on the road at all hours of the night. He also noted that the gate was also left open and the lock was cut. But the whole operation continued for the next few months of 2012, with the Federation none the wiser that over a total of 10 months, hundreds of thousands of gallons of maple syrup had been siphoned out of their global strategic reserve, millions of dollars worth.

But the morning of July 30, 2012, something happened that caused a sudden influx of panicked text messages. Translated from French, Avic Caron texted, We have a problem. It's urgent. Are you there? A guy from the Federation saw the truck. Risha Vallier replied, Calm down, please. I am calm. Sebastian Jutra entered the chat. The Fed is on their way to do their annual inventory.

Make a lot of dust. We are going to play with the lights. They will be low. And then finally, Sebastian Jutra. The alarm went off in the warehouse. Is everything okay? That July morning, an auditor arrived at the San Luis Blountford warehouse for the annual inspection.

It was an intimidating stack of thousands of barrels, six barrels high and hundreds deep, but he proceeded to pick a spot to start the inventory. Each barrel full of maple syrup is estimated to weigh about 270 kilograms, or 600 pounds, heavy enough to make climbing a stack of them quite safe. But that morning, one of them nearly toppled over when the inspector stepped on it. Something was not right here. He tapped on

one barrel and noticed it sounded different from the others. He contacted the Federation immediately, and when they arrived, he told them that he suspected many of the barrels were actually empty. When the Federation realized that they had been had and may have lost up to $30 million worth of maple syrup, they sent out an urgent request to the police. The Quebec police knew the score and launched a large-scale investigation immediately, starting with a thorough search of the barrels in that warehouse. The empty barrels had given themselves away pretty quickly, but over the next few weeks, subsequent inspections of the warehouse's 16,000 barrels

revealed the full extent of the problem. Many barrels appeared full, but when they were opened, it was discovered that they didn't contain maple syrup. And that's not all they noticed. The white-blue barrels used by the Federation were always impeccably clean, and special forklifts were used to keep them that way, forklifts that grabbed the barrels around the top-edged lip, kind of like how a can-opener clamps on. Investigators noticed that not only were some of the barrels in the stack dirty with dense and scrapes, fingerprints and footprints, but there was also clear evidence of rust marks.

The Federation advised them that this was all highly irregular and determined that the barrels must have been moved around using a forklift they would never use, one that gripped the middle of the barrels. Investigators looked into the forklift situation some more. San Luis Blanford was only a small town, so they figured it shouldn't take too long to canvas forklift rental companies. Quebec police assigned a sizable budget to the investigation so they could bring in more offices as well as the RCMP,

the Canada Border Services Agency, and United States Immigrations and Customs Enforcement. It was quickly determined to be some kind of inside job, and because there were no security cameras on site, the focus quickly turned to people who had access to the warehouse. Investigators began interviewing each person one by one. When they were asked if they saw anything strange happening or if they noticed anyone at the warehouse when they shouldn't be,

investigators noticed that a number of names seemed to bubble up frequently. According to court documents, some people reported frequently seeing a tractor trailer owned by a company called Sebastian Express at the warehouse. The company was reportedly transporting fruits and vegetables. Meanwhile, investigators had canvassed all the places that rented forklifts and obtained the details of recent clients. One of the names that came up was Sebastian Jutra, the owner of Sabre. Sebastian Express. He was brought in for questioning and confirmed he had been contracted to

transport maple syrup, but insisted he didn't know where it came from and didn't know it was stolen. He denied all knowledge of what happened. But eventually, investigators were able to convince him to give up more and more information. They followed the trail of the men believed to be the ringleaders in the operation, and a month into the investigation. And a month into the investigation, investigation, they raided the warehouse of S.K. exports at Kedgwick, New Brunswick. There, they recovered about 700 barrels of maple syrup. The owner, 69-year-old Etienne Saint-Pier, confirmed that he frequently bought Quebec syrup from Rishar Vallier, and he also confirmed that he was aware of the Federation and its rules. But because his

business was in New Brunswick, he didn't consider himself under the same umbrella. During this time, the general public had no idea that several law enforcement teams were effectively investigating Canada's most valuable theft in history, the biggest in Quebec. But no one really knew until about six weeks into the operation, when the Federation publicly announced that they had discovered a large quantity of maple syrup had disappeared from their warehouse, and they were working with the police to investigate. The whole situation seemed almost comical with the media reporting that with a serving size of one tablespoon of maple syrup per pancake, the stolen maple syrup would have been able to service 103 million pancakes. Other media outlets reported with headlines like, police hunt sticky fingered maple syrup thieves and sweet heist for the thieves who stole $30 million of maple syrup.

The news started hitting international headlines, and many had a laugh about how it was the most Canadian crime ever committed. But to Avik Karin and Rischar Vallier, this situation was anything but a comedy. Richard texted this message. Have you heard the news? Throw the phones out now. The party's over. That was the end of August 2000. By December, investigators had questioned over 300 people.

As well as those involved with the warehouse, they'd spoken to key people in maple syrup production, marketing and transportation. They issued more than 40 search warrants in New Brunswick, Ontario, and in the northern states of America, with the help of those US customs offices. Investigators had two objectives, to bring the people responsible to justice and to try and recover the syrup that had been stolen or as much of it as they could. They discovered the warehouse in Montreal that had been rented after the lake froze over and when they raided it they found a post-it note with Rishar Valier's name on it.

And then, in the week before Christmas of 2012, the police started making arrests. 34-year-old Richard Valliere and 39-year-old Avig Karan were charged with theft, conspiracy, handling stolen goods and fraud. Several days later, Quebec police reported they had arrested a total of 18 people, with seven suspects still yet to be located. Investigators had determined that over a space of 10 months, the thieves had managed to siphon the maple syrup out of 9,000, 5.5. of the 16,000 barrels stored at that warehouse, almost two-thirds worth. The stolen syrup was only about 13% of the entire global strategic reserve at the other warehouses,

but its value was estimated to be around $18 million. Through extensive questioning and old-fashioned investigation work, the police had been able to track a large amount of syrup out of Quebec and into the legal syrup market in New Brunswick. They traced syrup that was exported across the US border to a candy processing plant in the state of Vermont. The owner often purchased maple syrup from Canada to process into maple flavored candies and insisted he had no idea that the syrup he purchased was stolen from the Federation. While a bunch of the stolen maple syrup had been recovered, including those barrels found at Etienne-Sampier's warehouse, much of it was condemned

as a serious health risk. As it turned out, investigators had discovered quite a bit of evidence that suggested both crews became sloppy and careless over time. Evict Caron and his crew was supposed to be refilling the Federation barrels with water before they put them back. So how did the inspector not only find one empty barrel, but so many others. Investigators knew that the operation started with Sebastian Dutra, picking up the Federation barrels and transporting them to Risha Valier's father, Raymond's sugar shack, where they siphoned it into new barrels, refilled the Federation barrels with lake water, and returned them. Investigators also knew that when the lake froze over, the crew had rented a warehouse in Montreal to do the siphoning and

refilling instead. And at some point, a decision was made to save a trip and just do it all on site at the Federation warehouse, using the rented warehouse to store the syrup they had stolen. What appears to have happened is that after several months of the operation, the crew would have seen for themselves that there was very little oversight with the global strategic. reserve and perhaps questioned why it was necessary for them to siphon and refill every barrel that same night. They started leaving without refilling the empty barrels, perhaps making a note to do it next time. That never happened. It seemed that the only risk factor they took seriously was that inventory inspection, which happened only once a year. They assumed they would

be tipped off before it happened, and even if the inspector did show up unannounced, the chances of finding the empty barrel so deep into the stack of 16,000 was assessed as low. That assessment was wrong. But investigators also discovered something else. At some point, the crew stopped using their empty barrels and switched to putting the stolen maple syrup in plastic containers designed for storing hazardous chemicals. Because of that, hundreds of thousands of pounds of recovered maple syrup was deemed to be not fit for human consumption and had to be destroyed. According to court documents, some of the people who worked for Risha Valiere consumed this syrup and it made them sick. In total, six people were arrested in relation to the theft. Some charges were dropped. Others went to trial

and some people pleaded guilty. Sebastian Dutra, owner of Sebastian Express, was one of them. He pleaded guilty and cooperated with the police, confirming that he was the one who first introduced criminal generalist Avic Caron to his specialist counterpart, barrel roller Rischar Valier, and he was the one who transported the stolen maple syrup from the Federation's warehouse. Sebastian was sentenced to 42 months imprisonment for his role and was lucky to escape a fine for the stolen maple syrup. He would serve a total of eight months. He also testified against the other participants at their 2017 trials.

At first, many of the people arrested denied knowing anything about the stolen maple syrup. Others, including the maple syrup rebels that Rishar Valier had brought into the scheme, claimed that their participation wasn't theft. They were only fighting against a federation that created a monopoly, a legal cartel, and force their hands with all the rules and enforcement tactics. Rishar's father, Raymond Valier, who owned the Sugar Shack where the barrels were first siphoned and refilled, would be quoted as saying,

stealing from thieves is not stealing. He was among those who considered it a victimless crime, a Robin Hood type arrangement. The 62-year-old was convicted for possession of stolen maple syrup and sentenced to two years' house arrest. He was also fined almost $10,000 that had to be paid within one year, or he would face going to jail for six months. It came out that as much as $200,000 in cash was exchanged for each syrup transaction.

Investigators had found cash and shoe boxes during their raids and also discovered a large rotation of burner phones through which they were able to track the text messages. To investigators, the scheme operated the same as any major drug deal and as one maple syrup rebel would point out in an episode of the next, Netflix documentary Dirty Money. Quote, Here in Quebec, drugs are decriminalised,

but they have criminalised maple syrup. The Federation managed to turn buyers into criminals. Even though Avic Caron was the one who noticed the syrup stored in his wife's warehouse and initiated the whole thing, it was Barrel Roller Richard Vallierre, who was portrayed by the prosecution as being the main ringleader of the height. At trial, Richard's defence was that at first he didn't know that the maple syrup was stolen from the Federation. He simply said yes to Avic Caron's offer to purchase maple syrup.

He was a barrel roller after all. He testified that about a month into the operation, he realized where the syrup had come from and he told Avik that he wanted out. He testified that Avik pulled a handgun out. He testified that Avik pulled a handgun out. and threatened to kill him and his family if he didn't buy the rest of the syrup, saying, I know where you live. In the witness box, Richard Vallier broke down in tears at this point and told the jury that he was led to believe that Aviccaron was connected to the mafia, not the maple syrup mafia, but the Montreal Mafia.

He said he was terrorized by these threats and turned to alcohol and sleeping pills to help him relax. The Crown pointed out that this was the first time Rishar had ever claimed he'd been threatened at gunpoint. He never told the police that, nor did he tell anyone else until testifying. He responded by saying that he'd been too scared, because after they were both arrested, Aviccaron had threatened him in the holding cell. The Crown also pointed out text messages between them that suggested the relationship was friendly and showed the jury a photo taken in March 2012, which was just over the halfway point into the operation.

It was also maple syrup harvest season, and Risha Valier, Sebastian Dutra, and three other alleged accomplices took a vacation in Cancun, Mexico, where they ordered a souvenir photo that showed them partying and having fun. Rishar testified that he sold roughly 10,000, $10 million worth of maple syrup and cleared about one million of that for himself. He admitted that he splurged on vacations with his family and had never paid personal income tax or company tax for any of his three companies.

Rishar Valier was found guilty of fraud, trafficking and stolen goods and theft. At sentencing, the judge said that the penalty needed to be proportional to the gravity of the Fiting Canadian law that states when stolen property can't be returned to its owner, the fine must be equal to the value of the stolen goods. He was sentenced to almost eight years in prison and had $600,000 confiscated. And because the stolen maple syrup wasn't able to be recovered, he was ordered to pay almost $10 million in fines. And if he didn't pay that fine within 10,000,

10 years, another six years would be added to his prison sentence. New Brunswick exporter Etienne Saint-Pierre testified at his trial that he didn't consider what he'd done to be fraud, and he even presented a federal certification that reportedly allows him to buy syrup in Canada. He told the court, you can't prove what tree that syrup came from. The 73-year-old was found guilty of fraud and and theft and was sentenced to two years' house arrest with a fine of $1.3 million, which had to be paid over the next 15 years or else he would be sent to prison for five years. When it came to Aviccaron, he ended up pleading guilty to theft and trafficking.

At his sentencing hearing, the then-43-year-old told the court that he wanted the operation to end in November of 2011, after his sentencing hearing, the then-forty-year-old told the court that he wanted the operation to end in November of 2011, after just four months. But he claimed that the members of the Montreal Mafia, who he didn't name, had involved themselves in the scheme and were putting pressure on him to continue. While the police's evidence showed

he likely received more than $3 million in profit, he told the judge that he'd only pocketed about $430,000. The judge concluded that there was no evidence the theft was carried out under the direction of a criminal organization, like the Montreal Mafia. Avic Caron was sentenced to five years in prison, with a fine of $1.2 million. He was furious and immediately argued with the judge that his defense lawyer had misled

him by telling him to plead guilty. He demanded that he be granted a trial with a jury, and when the judge refused, Avic Caron swore at him, banged on a door in the prisoner's box and tussled with a guard who tried to restrain him. A total of 17 people were convicted in connection to the theft, which the media coined the Great Canadian Maple Syrup Heist, also one of the most outlandish and unbelievable agricultural crimes ever committed. There were, of course, appeals. Richard Vallier argued that his fine of ten years. $10 million was excessive, and he would never be able to pay it back in time.

The appeal court determined that his fine should be more in line with the amount of profit he received, rather than the value of the syrup stolen, and lowered his fine to $1 million. The Crown announced it would appeal the decision to the Supreme Court of Canada. In February of 2022, Rishar Vallier appeared before the parole board. of Canada and admitted that he took part in the heist for profit and because he had developed a taste for luxury goods, but also because he was seeking revenge on the Federation. He said he now realized the impact that the theft had on many innocent maple syrup producers. How flooding the market with stolen maple syrup at cheaper prices affected the demand and supply dynamic and they had no

choice but to discount their own syrup. He was granted day parole. Just two months later, in April of 2022, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled to reinstate Richard Valier's original fine of almost $10 million. In the aftermath of the Great Canadian Maple Syrup Heist, there had been many questions. The Federation, sheepishly admitted they didn't think anyone would steal the maple syrup, even though it's not the first time maple syrup had been stolen in Quebec. They admitted they weren't overly concerned about security, but wouldn't be making that mistake again. They invested $4 million to upgrade their new storage facility, complete with the appropriate security system. But others pointed out that the heist wouldn't have happened

in any other province but Quebec, where the Federation has... has the monopoly. In 2015, the Quebec government commissioned a report on maple syrup, noting that the province's grip on the global maple syrup market was being challenged by increasing maple syrup production in the northern states of the US. The report warned that the monopoly system is effectively strangling the Quebec maple syrup industry

and called for the legal cartel to be disbanded, along with the strict quotas and regulations. Nothing appears to have changed. In each of the 10 years after the maple syrup heist in 2011, there's been a surplus in production, where barrels and barrels of maple syrup were sent to the Global Strategic Reserve, only giving producers a partial payment. Finally, in December of 2021,

the Federation announced it was still. time to release some more syrup from the reserve. Apparently, the maple syrup industry experienced record years in 2019, 2020 and 2021, and when people started cooking more during the pandemic, it drove up even more demand for maple syrup. The Federation released almost 23 million kilograms, or 85,000 barrels from the reserve, which hopefully meant to be able to. that a whole bunch of producers finally got paid. Thanks for listening, and as always, thank you so much for your kind ratings, reviews, messages and support.

It's so much appreciated. For the full list of resources we relied on to write this episode and anything else you wanted to know about the podcast, including how to access our ad-free premium feeds, visit canadian truecrime.ca. Thanks also to everyone. I'll be Eric Crosby for voicing the disclaimer, and We Talk of Dreams who compose the theme song. I'll be back on January the 15th with another Canadian true crime story.

See you then.