Canadian True Crime - The Twisted Story of Sergeant John Wilson [replay]

Episode Date: March 13, 2026

A gripping, action-packed miniseries about a mountie who finds himself at the centre of a sordid love triangle.Pieced together from a treasure trove of real love letters, forged letters and police and court memos, this series paints a vivid snapshot of Canada as World War I raged on.— This two-part series is a carefully selected replay from our archive, and was originally titled The Murderous Mountie. Part 2 available tomorrow. We'll be back with new episodes in April.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.

Hi everyone. Quick note before we start. As I explained in yesterday's update, we'll be back with new episodes in April, so this is a specially selected replay from the archive. It's one of my favorite cases and it has a pretty special origin story. A few years ago, my journalist friend Danielle Parody tipped me off about something fascinating sitting in the collections at Library and Archives Canada. It was a massive file connected to a strange love triangle that unfolded during the First World War. Inside were hundreds of pages of documents, love letters, forge letters, police notes and court memos, all piecing together a story with multiple twists and turns that ended in a brutal murder. When I saw this treasure trove of

archival material, I knew there was a story that had to be told. So we purchased scans of the entire file and handed them over to Toronto true crime author Nate Henley, who I know would appreciate the rabbit hole. Nate combed through every page, added additional research from the news archives, and built the narrative that I then adapted into the podcast series you're about to hear, called The Murderous Mountie. There's a special presentation of some of these letters and notes on our website for you to look at, link in the show notes. And because the story begins in Scotland, we hired Scottish voice actors to read some excerpts from the letters, which brought some extra colour to this series. The Murderous Mountie went on to be named

the number eight podcast episode in Canada for 2003 in Apple Podcasts. So I've decided to share it again to meet our sponsor commitments while we prepare for new episodes in April. I really appreciate your patience and understanding. This is a two-part series. This is a two-part series, and part two will be released tomorrow. We'll be right back to begin after this short break. Canadian True Crime is a completely independent production, funded mainly through advertising. The podcast often has disturbing content and coarse language. It's not for everyone.

Please take care when listening. The date was September 27, 1918, and 32-year-old Mary Wilson was on a train from Regina in the Prairie province of Saskatchewan. Just a month or two earlier, she'd been living with her husband, John Wilson, in Regina, where he worked with the Dominion Police. But then, he was suddenly posted to Saskatoon, about 260 kilometres north. Mary was newly pregnant, and John told her to stay put in Regina until he had purchased a home for them to live in, and then he would send for her to join him in Saskatoon.

Born Mary Hutchison in Scotland, she was a very long way from home. And although it wasn't ideal for her to be pregnant and alone in a foreign city, at the time she really had no choice but to agree to her husband's plan. But that was over now. Mary Wilson was finally on that train to Saskatoon and would soon be reunited with her husband. Photographs of Mary reveal a pleasant-looking. woman with dark eyes and hair neatly arrayed upwards in a popular style of the day. That September, the temperature hit 24 degrees Celsius, but Mary had been living in the prairies

long enough to know that autumn evenings could be cold, so she was bundled in multiple layers, a white button-down blouse and blue skirt over her underclothes with lace-up boots. Mary's train pulled into Saskatoon at 4pm and her husband John was waiting for her in the new car he'd recently purchased for work, a grey dought, a Canadian-made vehicle that resembled the iconic Ford Compact Model T. After the couple had exchanged greetings,

John threw Mary's small suitcase in the car and invited her to get into the passenger side. At his instruction, she'd left all her other luggage and personal items in Regina with the plan to send for them separately, likely because of her delicate condition. Mary already knew that they had to make one stop for John to take care of some police business,

but after that they would be headed onwards to their new home. John drove out to the countryside north of Saskatoon, the flat landscape consisting of farms, trees, grain crops and vast empty spaces. Mary had plenty of time to look at the scenery because the grey dought could only go about 30 kilometres an hour and the roads were not exactly smooth. As John drove the car,

he occasionally sipped from a bottle of liquor and he didn't talk much. He certainly didn't mention to his wife that he had a fresh marriage licence in his pocket, made out to himself and his secret girlfriend, Jessie. On the marriage licence paperwork, John had declared himself a bachelor. John Wilson and Mary Hutchison met in their early 20s while working at a drapery company in Carlook, a village near Glasgow, Scotland.

Mary came from a deeply religious and impoverished working-class family, who lived in Slamanon, a small village. village in central Scotland. Her father wanted to be a minister, but couldn't afford to attend divinity school so he became a coal miner instead. Mary had five siblings, including a sister named Elizabeth, who was a keen writer known for her descriptive details. Here's how she would write about Mary. As a girl, she was like a wee fairy. She was so thin with a mass of long golden curls. She was always brave and would have laughed at what had made me weep. Fairy qualities aside, Mary, who was known as Polly to her friends and family, was by all

accounts an upbeat, pleasant young woman. A 1919 letter from a parish minister would describe her as sweet and amiable, liked and trusted by everyone who knew her. Mary's husband, John Wilson, had a considerably different upbringing. His parents had been relatively wealthy owners of a grocery store and grain business in Carlook, but they had long since passed away. While John and his three siblings shared in a decent inheritance, John's older brother was the one who took the reins of the family business. Problem was, he was a terrible businessman, focusing on the single single

goal of amassing personal wealth. It didn't take long before the business was in trouble. In the meantime, John was trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. He tried his hand at apprenticing at a tomato greenhouse. He took a job as a junior railway clerk, then as a draper, a person who sells cloth and dry goods. Mary Hutchison worked as a dressmaker at the same outlet, and the rest was history, literally. John Wilson and Mary Hutchison were married in 1908, and a year later, Mary gave birth to their first child, a son named George.

After that, John decided to build some greenhouses for tomato farming and convinced a few relatives to join as partners, including Mary's sister Elizabeth and her husband. The business did quite well, But the partners had no idea the profits were being secretly diverted to prop up the failing family business. Eventually, in 1911, the bank foreclosed on all the family's business enterprises, and both John and his older brother ended up bankrupt.

John Wilson was now a failed farmer with a reputation for dubious ethics, but he soon had a new plan. He would move to Canada and start all over and eventually send for Mary, little George, and the second child she was now six months pregnant with. Or maybe he would just earn some decent money in Canada and then return home with it. John wasn't quite certain.

His plan was to figure things out once he settled in Saskatchewan, with his ultimate destination being the bustling city of Saskatoon on the flat south-central Saskatchewan prairie. While he was gone, Mary would look after the household in Scotland and prepare for the arrival of their second child, which she of course would have to face without him. Her husband promised to write letters and send money back to them often. John Wilson departed for Canada in July of 1912.

He didn't have a lot of money, so he couldn't afford to travel in school. style. He booked a ticket on a low-end ship that took two weeks to cross the Atlantic, a sluggish pace compared to speedy ocean liners which made the passage in days. Then again, just three months earlier, one of those speedy liners had collided with an iceberg off Newfoundland and sink, resulting in the deaths of more than 1,500 passengers and crew. No doubt, the tragedy of the Titanic played on John's mind during his lengthy voyage. He landed in Halifax, Nova Scotia and took a train west to Saskatchewan,

observing the rugged, stony terrain of northern Ontario, turn into the flatlands of the prairies. John had made an excellent decision in selecting his destination. He was one of countless people from the British Isles tantalized by the prospect of new beginnings in the dominion of Canada. The Canadian government had been particularly eager to welcome settlers to the recently established western provinces of Saskatchewan and Alberta, and a flood of promotional posters, brochures, flyers and other material was being churned out. Promotional material heavily emphasised the fertile soil, cheap land and vast opportunities, depicting the West as some kind of rural heaven. And it was working, the Western provinces were booming at the time, with plenty of

jobs and opportunities for young, able-bodied men, like John Wilson. In the decade from 1901 to 11, Saskatchewan's population had exploded from about 90,000 residents to just under half a million, and the city of Saskatoon's growth rate was even higher. This growth. This growth, Both, of course, came at the expense of the indigenous inhabitants of the land, who were forced into reservations. After John Wilson arrived in Saskatoon, he took a job working with a bridge construction crew, then as a city gardener. He learned that back in Scotland, Mary had given birth to their second child, a daughter she named Helen. John continued to try and get ahead in Canada, toiling in various manual labour positions. Eventually, he decided to tempt fate again

and venture into the entrepreneurial world. He was in a new country now, perhaps this time the results would be different. He purchased some property near Prince Albert, Saskatchewan, and started farming tomatoes once more, hoping for a taste of his past success without the problem of his older brother. But there was a new problem, the volatility of prairie weather, a hailstorm in the summer of 1914, wiped out his entire crop.

John was done. Having failed twice in farming, he pondered his next move. In Europe, events were starting to unfold that would prove disastrous for millions, but inadvertently fortuitous for John. The June 1914 assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, the next in line to the throne of Austria-Hungary,

was the spark said to have ignited World War I. Armies mobilised and three months later, Europe was at war. While Canada had technically become semi-independent in 1867, the nation was still culturally and politically tied to Great Britain, so when Britain went to war against Germany, the Canadian army scrambled to find new recruits to join the effort. And John Wilson tried to enlist, bursting with patriotism, or maybe just because he needed a job. But he was rejected on physical grounds by a military doctor and Prince Albert. As it turned out, this rejection provided him with an enormous opportunity.

Two weeks after the army turned him down, a poster in Prince Albert caught his eye. It was a recruitment drive for the Royal Northwest Mounted Police, a paramilitary organization and predecessor to the RCMP, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Later, John Wilson would say the reason he decided to apply for the Royal Northwest Mounties was that he was hoping the organisation would send troops to Europe to fight, which would allow him to get closer to home in Scotland while also doing his part for the war effort. But realistically, it's more likely that he just wanted secure employment

and steady pay as a Mountie. After all, the Royal Northwest Mounties had enough to do at home in Canada, enforcing the law and controlling the indigenous population. So if John Wilson wasn't accepted into the Canadian army, what made him think he would be successful with the Royal Northwest Mounted Police? Well, now that Canada was officially participating in the war, the force had been tasked with searching for war spies and saboteurs,

particularly in Western Canada where there are a high number of immigrants that were being referred to as foreigners. Obviously, these foreigners did not include the white English-speaking settlers from Britain that the Canadian government historically preferred. The prairies presented challenging terrain that wasn't so attractive to the favoured settlers, so a controversial decision was made to open up immigration to farmers from central and eastern Europe. This included a large number of peasants and farmers from Ukraine, who saw a large number of peasants and farmers from Ukraine,

who saw an opportunity to escape the oppressive conditions of their homeland, half of which was controlled by Russia and the other by Austria-Hungary. Ukrainian farmers had been brutalized by these authorities, who kept them indebted, miserable and landless, but they built up a reputation for being tough, hardy and used to horrible weather. So when the Canadian government invited them over and offered them the ability to own land, they couldn't believe it. Ukrainian started pouring into the prairies in such large numbers

that today, Canada is home to the largest population of Ukrainians outside of Ukraine. But the English-speaking settlers soon started to get irritated about the sudden influx of Eastern Europeans they referred to as foreigners. It's an age-old story. The main complaints were that they didn't speak English or follow British customs. In worse, some of these foreigners harbored progressive political ideas and weird religious beliefs. A Russian Christian sect called the Dukabors like to strip naked in public to express their grievances, a move that was particularly shocking to the prudish and moralistic white settlers.

And as World War I unfolded, their suspicions only were. intensified, especially towards Ukrainians who had come from the area controlled by Austria-Hungary, which was an ally of Germany and technically the enemy of Canada in the war. Many Ukrainians, along with other nationalities in Canada, were confined in internment camps and closely monitored for most of World War I. And those who weren't confined were assigned to the Royal Northwest Mounted Polaroids. for strict monitoring and told to report to them regularly. This increased scope of duty resulted in a recruitment drive to get more Mounties.

And that's how John Wilson, a 30-year-old army reject with no policing experience, was accepted to join the organization. John was reasonably tall and spoke English, good enough for a force that badly needed new recruits. He was given regimental number 6020 and listed his wife Mary Wilson as his next of kin on his enlistment form. He started his training in Prince Albert Saskatchewan that fall, with endless drills, lessons in marksmanship, fistfighting, first aid and criminal law. Recruits also had to master horseback riding as a practical move. Cars were scarce at the time, so Mounties often rode horsemen. while on patrol. Horses were better than cars anyway when it came to chasing suspects in

dense woods or across farm fields. After John's training was completed in the summer of 1915, he was assigned to a small Saskatchewan community called Blaine Lake. Part of his job was to enforce the law over vast spaces featuring scattered settlements and dirt roads, and he was also expected to root out spies and subversives. It wasn't a fun or glamorous job, and John put in long hours for the low pay of a new recruit. The Blaine Lake area had a local Dukabur community, known as wildly eccentric pacifists. They refused to sign up for the army draft, which was seen as treasonous, not admirable. The reports and letters John wrote during this period contain many mentions of the Dukkah's Jacobors and his interactions with them.

At first, Sergeant John Wilson was diligent with his duties with the Royal Northwest Mounted Police, but his head was soon turned at the sight of a potential love interest. Her name was Jesse Patterson. 16-year-old Jesse was one of four children who had recently moved to Blaine Lake with their parents. Jesse's father, Mr. Patterson, purchased a... a horse-boarding stable there and rented stables to nearby horse owners while the family lived next door. One of those horses belonged to Sergeant John Wilson of the Royal Northwest Mounted

Police, and that's how he got to know the Patterson clan. Jesse's good-natured father figured the new Mountie might be lonely, so he invited him to dine with his family. It would be a decision he would later regret. 30-year-old John Wilson accepted the dinner invitation with the Paterson's. While eating, he took note of 16-year-old Jesse. He liked what he saw. John began spending a lot of time at the Patterson abode, developing a serious interest in Jesse despite the disturbing age gap between the two.

John would later recount that up until that point he had his head down, working hard for the force. During all this time, I had nothing to do with girls until the fall of 1916, when I became acquainted with Jessie Patterson. She was always so good to me, above everybody else. At first, Jesse had no clue that John was married, much less that he had two young children back in Scotland, one that he hadn't even met yet. He certainly didn't volunteer any information about his private life. Jesse just thought he was a dashing Mountie bachelor and was delighted by the attention he showered on her. Throughout 1917, as the grinding war in Europe

continued, John and Jesse saw each other as frequently as possible. He received decent performance reviews for his work with the Royal Northwest Mounties, even earning a cash bonus for his work on a murder case, but he still really wanted to join the war effort, this time for a slightly different reason. John would claim he was having reservations about his relationship with Jesse and wanted to put some distance between them. Even though the army had rejected him before, he considered trying to enlist again, but that plan was hampered when he suddenly developed tuberculosis. TB is a serious illness caused by bacteria that typically attacks the lungs. In an era before antibiotics, tuberculosis or TB was a killer,

with no known cure beyond rest, sunshine and nutritious food. John Wilson got so sick, he had to take a discharge from the Royal Northwest Mounties in late August of 1917. and because he was too weak to travel, he was forced to remain in Blaine Lake. He stayed with the Patisons and became more reliant on young Jessie as she endeavored to nurse him back to full health. Later, she would enter nursing school and become a professional caregiver.

For now, she was content to focus her healing efforts on one patient. John would later write, I was very sick all that winter. Jesse Patterson looked after me and was very kind to me. She was absolutely pure and innocent in all this. And many nights I lay awake in bed, trying to make up my mind to leave her for her sake. But I think I was not right in my mind by this time and remained at Blaine Lake until April 1918. Pure and innocent as she might have been, Jesse was clearly as smitten with John. as he was with her, despite their age difference.

But Blaine Lake was a small community, and soon, rumours started to spread that former Sergeant John Wilson was actually already married. Jesse's parents confronted him about it point-blank, and John fessed up with the truth, or a version of it at least. While he said he had been married, he was now divorced, and the reason he didn't say anything earlier was because he was ashamed.

John added that divorce papers were on their way from Scotland and once they arrived he would show them to anyone who asked. It was all nonsense, of course. John was still married to Mary, who was by this point barely getting by in Scotland. She was still working as a dressmaker, but it was hardly a well-paying occupation, and now she had two young children and a household to look after.

John had kept his promise to send letters and money for some time, but the money stopped coming. Friends and family helped out when they could, but Mary was getting desperate. And the letters John promised to write were arriving less frequently, and when he did send one home, it was often to offer Mary a bizarre excuse as to why he didn't send money to her and the country.

kids. Mary's sister Elizabeth, a prolific writer, actually wrote about one of those letters. Once he told her he had £17 ready to send her, but his horse got buried in the snow on the way to the post office and had to be dug out. My sister quite believed that and other equally glaring lies. She loved him and could see no wrong in him, and it was not for us to wound her by showing her his falseness. According to Elizabeth, the last letter her sister Mary received from her husband was dated April of 1917, right around the time that he first met Jesse Patterson. That letter was filled with cheerful news and a promise to return home.

Mary joyously prepared the house for John's arrival, believing her family would soon be reunited. But months went by and she never received another word from him. Mary Wilson was loyal, she was also determined and tough-minded, and she was now extremely concerned. Fearing her husband's silence meant he might be dead or ill. She decided to take things into her own hands and travel to Canada to find out for herself. Mary Wilson received government permission and booked her to.

ticket. Leaving her children in Scotland to travel to Canada to look for her husband was not a decision lightly made. Ship travel across the North Atlantic was dangerous at the best of times, and that danger was heightened as war raged on land and sea. German submarines were lying in weight, ordered to cut off supplies to France and Britain by sinking every vessel they encountered, including passenger ships. But Mary was unfazed by the risk of a German submarine attack. She departed Scotland in April of 1918, a year after she received her husband's last letter,

and she wanted answers. She didn't send him any kind of advanced letter or telegram to let him know that she was on her way. Perhaps, in the back of her mind, she had an inkling that John may have been deliberately ignoring her. Whatever it was, she had to find out the answers for herself. As Mary set sail for Canada, John Wilson was starting to ruffle some feathers there. When he took his discharge from the Royal Northwest Mounted Police,

he told them his plans were to wait until the weather started to turn cold and then he would move to a warmer climate to recuperate from tuberculosis. But he didn't do that. A memo from the police organization at the time states, It was later learned after taking his discharge that Wilson opened an automobile agency in Blaine Lake and did not leave the country as stated. Apparently, John Wilson's recovery from tuberculosis

was not hampered by the cold weather. As soon as he felt well enough, he had moved out of the paper. Patterson family home, but decided to stay in Blaine Lake and become a car salesman. When John wasn't busy selling cars, he was taking care of other matters, like maintaining that house of cards he'd built on a foundation of lies. John suggested to his secret teenage girlfriend, Jesse Patterson, that it would be nice for her to write a letter to his sister back in Scotland. He even offered to take Jesse's letter to the post office.

and post it himself, helpful guy that he was. After an appropriate amount of time, Jesse received a lengthy response from John's sister, apparently written from her deathbed at the Royal Infirmary in Glasgow. The letter, dated March 4th of 1918, began, Oh, Jesse, I am dying, and the doctors say the end will be here in about one hour. If I could only have lived until I had seen you and John.

I would have died content. After this dramatic opening, John's sister heaped praise on him, describing him as a good boy and her mother's favourite child. She also described him as a supertrooper, who joined the Scottish Highlanders and made a splendid-looking soldier. He used to be proud to walk down the street with him, as people would turn around and look at him. He had lots of money and made friends with all the boys in his regiment.

He got the goal. gold medal for two years in succession for being the smartest soldier in the brigade. John never served in the Scottish military, but no matter, the nonsense continued unabated. Apparently, John's sister really liked him. Jessie continued reading as the letter turned to John's sister disparaging Mary, depicting her sister-in-law as a shameless gold-digger from the very first second she entered John's life. One Glasgow holiday, John hired a pleasure steamer and took all the boys in his company on a pleasure trip. He took all the girls from a dressmaking shop on the trip, and that was where he

met the woman who ruined him. A few weeks later, he told me he was getting married. He had hardly known the girl a month, and I did not like her. I was sure she was only after his money. John's sister wrote that he had tried to break off the engagement, but alas, Mary threatened legal action. So through gritted teeth, John went through with the marriage, which, according to his sister, cost him $1,000. Now, Jessie was too young and inexperienced to know that a Scottish person would never have described money in terms of dollars. Their currency was shillings and pounds. The letter continued, John's sister writing that he was miserable in his marriage to marry and that the couple never indulged in any husband and wife connections.

If the point was unclear, the letter went on to claim that John was not the biological father of his own son, George. Apparently, poor John came home one day to find his scheming wife in bed with another man, a devastating discovery. apparently. The letter ended with John's sister making a pathetic plea. He has had a hard life, Jesse, but you are his first love, and I know he will make you happy. He must love you very dear, or he would not give up all his property for you. He is upright and honourable, and you can trust your life to him. I can die happier now, knowing that he is in your care. This letter reportedly sent for him.

from John's sister in Scotland to his mistress Jessie in Canada, had red flags galore, especially for anyone familiar with rural Scottish life in the early 20th century. For starters, Mary Wilson had come from a strict religious family where marriage vows were taken very seriously, so it was extremely unlikely that she would have jumped in bed with another man. And as for John's sister, Why would a person dying in hospice expend so much energy glorifying a sibling they hadn't seen in years to a girlfriend they'd never met?

But as ridiculous as it was, John's forgery had Jesse fooled, and now he was on a role. He followed up by forging an even more unbelievable letter to Jesse, this time from a Scottish reverend then in his mid-70s who knew the Wilson family. well. In this letter, supposedly from Reverend Francis M. Huxwell, Jesse read that all of John's siblings were now dead, which wasn't true, but tied up the loose end with a dying sister. Echoing the same details that sister had written in her letter, which of course was also forged, the Reverend told Jesse that John was the favorite child, and his wife Mary was an awful woman. The Reverend wrote that he was willing to bend his own principles after seeing how miserable John was in that marriage.

I do not usually approve of divorce, but in this case I advised John to get one long ago. The idea of an elderly Scottish minister urging a husband to ditch his wife seemed unlikely. But again, Jesse was too young and inexperienced to understand these nuances. And never challenged John about whether the letters were authentic. John's reasons for this forgery campaign soon became clear.

He proposed to Jesse Patterson and she agreed to marry him. Jesse wasn't completely naive, however. She reminded her new fiancé about his promise to produce his divorce papers. John assured her they would turn up any day now. He had no idea that the woman he said he had divorced was on a ship headed for Canada to find him. Divorce papers did not arrive, but Mary Wilson did. Her ship docked in Halifax, Nova Scotia, on April 12, 1918,

and after she passed the requisite medical exam, she headed west to find her husband. She took a train to the prairies, likely marveling at the immensity of the land outside her train window during the journey and the changing terrain. But Mary Wilson was on a mission. She wasn't in Canada to sightsee. The train took her to Regina, Saskatchewan,

the last place she believed her husband had been posted with the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. She immediately placed a call to the local detachment, identifying herself as John Wilson's wife, who was trying to get in contact with him. The official receiving this call checked his files, and then suggested that Mary contact the Prince Albert detachment because they might have a better idea where John was.

Mary hung up and prepared to make her next call. In a strange coincidence, John just happened to be hanging around the Prince Albert detachment that very day. He had recovered from tuberculosis and had opened his car dealership, but he still wanted to join the war effort. After he heard that the mountain, were forming a Calvary unit for overseas duties, John rocked up to the Prince Albert detachment to apply,

thinking he would be a shoe-in. But plenty of other men had the same idea, and the Mounties ended up with more applications than they needed. When John learned he didn't make the cut, he walked over to the office of the superintendent. As they were chatting, the phone started ringing, and the superintendent was startled to hear the person identify herself as John Wilson's long-absent wife.

He passed the phone over to John, who uttered a greeting before hearing the voice of his estranged wife for the first time in years. A subsequent memo from the Mounties read, He appeared to be surprised when he learned that his wife was speaking to him. The superintendent watched as John steadied himself and then made a show of appearing happy to hear from his wife. He gave Mary a very dramatic account of his bout with tuberculosis, saying he'd been so sick that it was impossible to write home. Every ounce of his strength was required to recover

from the potentially deadly ailment. While Mary might have doubted this explanation, she eagerly agreed to meet. After all, she had come to Canada to find her husband, and now he had been located. Mary had no idea about the existence of Jesse Patterson. All she knew was that she and John were reunited, and he appeared happy to see her. The next step was them to find a place to live together. John went along with it, and the pair moved into a Regina boarding house together. But it was not a happy reunion.

John mostly ignored Mary, except for when he was. He wanted sex. Before long, Mary fell pregnant with a couple's third child, and John took a new job. She had no idea that he was plotting his next move. The Dominion Police was an old force founded in Canada in 1868, with a mandate to guard parliament buildings, protect government leaders, gather intelligence on enemies of the state, and later arrest counterfeiters. But in late May of 1918, the Dominion Police were given a new role, Enforce the Controversial Military Service Act.

The Canadian public generally supported the war effort, but on the ground, many were growing weary about the increasing amount of Canadian casualties, with no end to the fighting in sight. Young men were becoming decidedly unenthusiastic about signing up to go to war, So the government introduced conscription to force them. The Military Service Act required all able-bodied Canadian male citizens aged 20 to 45 to sign up for the draft, and the Dominion Police were reformulated to track down anyone who should have signed up but didn't. These people were referred to as deserters, pacifists and draft dodgers.

As John Wilson learned the ropes of his new job, he penned a stream of love letters to Jesse. He used them to garner sympathy from her, because he also had to provide some kind of explanation for his sudden absence. He wrote that he'd fallen sick again and was in a medical tent recuperating from a lung ailment. Dearest, if only you knew how miserable it is here for me alone, I chum with no one, and every night when I go to the tent, I wonder if there's any other person in this world with as few friends as I have. Jesse, I would gladly give my life any time if it would help you any. You are all I have in this world to care for, and I love you with all my heart. You have been the kindest friend I have known since Mother died.

Of course, John made no mention of the fact that he was living in Regina with his actual wife, who he had just conceived a third child with. In fact, the letters John wrote to his teenage mistress, Jesse, suggested that physical intimacy was not yet a part of their courtship. In one love note dated June 18, 1918, John wrote, I will kiss you this time whether you slap me or not. In another, he wrote, What a pleasure it will be to love and to care for you

and never to be parted till death comes. Poetic and sensitive as these letters to his teenage mistress might have been, John continued to be inconsiderate and disrespectful with his wife. He never wanted to be seen with Mary outside their apartment during the daylight hours. The way he treated her was so callous that even their boarding house landlady was shocked. According to another Royal North West, Mountie memo, the landlady, quote, noted that Wilson very seldom took his wife out and when he did so,

it was always in the evening and they would walk towards Wisconsin Park, apparently avoiding public spaces. John would later admit that he was a jerk, and his poor treatment of his wife was because he was struggling internally. He, quote, couldn't keep away from Jesse Patterson. Mary had no idea why her husband was so moody and distant, but that was soon to change. One day after he'd hung up his coat and made himself scarce,

her eye was drawn to something near his coat pocket. There was an open letter bulging from it, practically begging Mary to read it, so she did. To her shock, it was a love note to her husband from someone named Jessie who didn't seem to know he was married. Mary confronted John, who confessed all. Well, sort of. Yes, he and Jessie had a relationship, but he explained that Jesse was just a foolish young woman who mistook friendship for love.

He had no clue as to why she thought he loved her romantically. John promised Mary he would sort things out and make sure Jesse knew for sure that he was married and off limits. Mary was hopeful for a time, but she soon found another love letter from Jessie and realised her husband had been lying. Shaken, she commiserated with their boarding house landlady who felt very sorry for her. That summer of 1918, Mary started to sink into a deep depression. Meanwhile, John busied himself with his duties with the Dominion Police. while maintaining a steady correspondence with his, quote, We Girl, Jesse, who is now training to be a nurse in a Prince Albert hospital.

In one letter, he told Jesse that his boss had praised his skill in rounding up eligible young men who were trying to avoid the draft. When we left Regina on Tuesday, we were going to raid the German wedding at Humboldt and then come on to Prince Albert. But when we got to the dance at 11.30 p.m., we got only. we got only 17 of them and found there was from 20 to 30 in the bush so we had to wire for armed soldiers.

Because John had been deemed unfit for duty multiple times, he was thrilled to be able to finally make himself useful for the war effort. In a follow-up letter to Jesse that August, he offered another disturbing anecdote. I have to attend several big cases in the city police court on Thursday. as two of our men were trying to arrest some Germans, and the Huns used guns in evading arrest,

but they are all safe under lock and key now. Jesse, you might think sometimes that I am a big silly, but dearest, I just love you with all my heart. Jesse wrote back, telling him that she was heartbroken. For starters, she wasn't feeling well, but her mother had asked her, why couldn't she just marry someone else. The lack of divorce papers had become a major issue that was driving a wedge between Jessie and her parents. Once again, she insisted that John finally produced the divorce paperwork as promised. That summer, John also wrote to his relatives back in Scotland, asking for money that he said

was to buy a house for Mary and their new child. Mary's sister Elizabeth and her Her husband Archie, once devastated partners in that greenhouse business fiasco, generously sent John 100 pounds but were disappointed when he never wrote back or acknowledged it. As it turned out, no house was ever purchased. John did, however, buy Jesse a car, which pleased her greatly. John actually had another opportunity to end his money troubles. He had been offered a promotion as Chief Inspector with the Dominion Police in Saskatoon and it came with a $200 a month raise.

In a letter to Jessie, John bragged about the possible promotion. Nothing but death can separate us now. But he decided not to take the job. John had always been obsessed with money, but in this instance he'd had a rare moment of self-reflection and decided he just wasn't qualified. He was offered another posting in Saskatoon as a sub-inspector, which he accepted. John Wilson left his pregnant wife Mary and Regina and moved to Saskatoon.

He promised her that he would buy some property and set up a home for them, and then he would arrange for her to join him there, and they would start their new life together. He also wrote a creepy follow-up note to his mistress, Jesse, referring to the then 18-year-old as his little girl and promising to buy her a lady's gun. Sergeant John Wilson did not excel as a sub-inspector for the Dominion Police for several reasons. For one, he was boozing openly on the job. He'd always liked a good drink, but his escalating alcohol habits had been noted by many of his colleagues. They also noticed that when

John collected fines from men who violated the Military Service Act, those fines had a way of vanishing before making their way to the central bookkeeper. If John was aware that his colleagues were onto him, it did not change his actions. And he remained lovestruck, penning countless letters to Jesse and Prince Albert where she was nursing. In one, he mentioned the possibility of buying a wee cottage for the two of them once they were married. When he wrote to his pregnant wife Mary back in Regina, John mused about getting a nice three-roomed house for their growing family. There was no mention about their two eldest children back in Scotland, though.

Finally, Mary received the letter she was waiting for. John was ready for her to join him in Saskatoon. He asked her to catch a train north to the town of Korn. Colonset, about 70 kilometers away from Saskatoon where he would be waiting for her. Because Mary was by this point about six months pregnant, John told her to leave her luggage behind in Regina, and they'll have it sent later. He also had some advice for her. As you'll remember, Mary was known as Polly to close friends and family. You will need to wear warm clothes, Polly, as it is cold, dry.

but it is not so very bad in the car, and that will be better than you waiting for me in Regina and wearing your life out. I remain your loving husband, John. A week before Mary was to catch the train, John took his new car, the grey daughter, in for servicing. The morning of September 27th, the day that Mary was to catch the train from Regina, he suddenly contacted her by phone with a last-minute change. He asked her not to get off the train at Colonset Station, but instead continue on and get off at Saskatoon Station. Mary agreed.

John spent the morning at the office and then headed to a retailer called Wheatley Brothers, described in the 1915 Saskatoon Directory as jewelers and opticians and issuers of marriage licenses. John had no interest in gems or glasses. He wanted the marriage license. He told the clerk he was an unmarried bachelor and wrote the name Jesse Patterson on the form as his wife to be. With the marriage license in his pocket,

John got back in his gray daughter and drove to the Saskatoon train station, where his real wife, Mary, would soon be pulling up in a train. He had already written to her to let her know that they wouldn't be driving straight to their new home in Saskatoon. He said they had one pit stop to make first so he could take care of some police business. The next morning at around 5am, a farmer located about 50 kilometres north of Saskatoon near the sleepy hamlet of Waldham was just waking up. His name was Isaac Newfeld, and something caught his eye when he glanced out the window. There was a thick

plume of smoke in the distance. He went about his business only to have a stranger start banging on his door around 5.30 a.m. He opened the door to a tall, bedraggled man who seemed dazed and reeked of smoke. The stranger asked for a glass of water, and after gulping it down, he said, That damned car burned down. He blurted out his tale of woe, which apparently started earlier that morning. He said it'd been driving along a dark country road when his car suddenly caught on fire. He said he'd steered the car towards a bank at the side of the road, figuring there might be some water in the bank that could extinguish the flames.

But instead, the car became embedded in earth and weeds, so he had to abandon it to get help. He walked up the road to the nearest farmhouse, and here he was. The farmer wasn't quite sure what to make of this. He would say that this stranger acted kind of like he was drunk or had been drinking. The man appeared to be alone and didn't mention that there was anyone else with him. Isaac was wary but gave him the benefit of the doubt and agreed to accompany him to the crash site, a kind gesture, given how busy area farmers were.

He would recall that as they walked down the road, the stranger seemed kind of nervous. About half a mile down, they came across a smashed and still burning grey dood. Here's how Isaac would describe it, as noted in a police report. car was on wheels but one wheel the front one was broken all seats and upholstery were burned and windshield broken there is some brush nearby grass about one and a half feet high in the culvert top of car was not up he said he was in the car when it went over the grade he was not hurt apparently i saw no blood around where he might have cut his hands his hands were all right he said his overcoat was burned including some farm laborers from nearby who showed up to Gork and find out what happened.

One of them would say, We asked the owner of the car how he got in that position, and he said he looked round to the back of the car and saw fire and at that time accidentally switched off the grade. I saw the tracks where he switched off. The tracks for about a half a mile down the road south were going all zigzag across the road. The zigzags on the road were large and showed he was going awful fast. It didn't go unnoticed that the man originally told Farmer Isaac Newfeld that he intentionally steered off the road. He clearly wasn't thinking straight, and they would all tell the police that

he acted as if he were drunk. They watched as the man went to a part of the car that wasn't on fire, grabbed a spade, and babbled as he started tossing shovelfuls of dirt on the blaze to smother it. He informed those gathered that he was a member of the Dominion Police in Saskatoon, and as for the cause of the car fire, he stated that he must have put too much gas in the tank back in town, and the fuel that dribbled out then combust it. The farmers didn't buy it. They might have been considered simple rural folk, but they were observant witnesses who quickly picked up on this Dominion police officer's weird behaviour. and inconsistent recollections.

One of the farm labourers would tell police that the story didn't seem reasonable or believable. At that time, Isaac Newfeld's brother Jack, another farmer who lived nearby, drove up in a car and joined the group. He'd been drawn over by the smoke still billowing into the air. He got out of his car and walked over to the dramatic scene, a man furiously shoveling dirt on a burning vehicle.

He recognised that man. It was Sergeant John Wilson, one of five Dominion police officers who dropped into his place about a week earlier asking for gas, saying they'd come from Blaine Lake. And here he was again, with his car burning. Despite the weird stories and behaviour, Jack Neufeld generously invited the sergeant over for breakfast. John put his shovel down, grabbed a suitcase and shotgun from the vehicle, then got into Jack's car.

When the car pulled up outside the home, John slammed open the car door, stumbled out and threw up on the lawn. The farmer noticed his face was white and he looked pretty sick, but he soon righted himself and they went inside for breakfast. John told the farmer he had to get to Blaine Lake as soon as possible to testify at a trial. There was no trial. He wanted to get married as soon as possible to his secret teenage fiancé. Jack Newfield agreed to help him out and give him a ride, possibly to get rid of him. The farmer brought along four of his older children, all six of them packing into the vehicle for what might. have been an animated drive to Blaine Lake.

On the way, Jack's adult daughter, Katie, glanced at John Wilson's satchel and saw some stains that she instantly recognized as being blood. She asked him how they got there. He told her he'd killed some geese. Back at the crash site, some of the farm laborers had also heard John mention something about goose hunting and tossing a trophy bird in the car. They would tell police that when they glanced inside the burning car, they saw some shotgun shells and a suitcase on the back seat. But none of them saw or smelled any sign of a dead bird. We'll continue to unravel this story in part two,

starting from when John Wilson is dropped off in Blaine Lake and what he does next. And back in Scotland, what Mary's family decides to do when they notice she has suddenly gone radio silent. All comments and dialogue were real, thanks to Scottish voice actor Paul Warren, who provided the voice for Sergeant John Wilson. And Jesse Hawke, our production assistant, just happens to be Scottish and agreed to voice the letters written by Mary's sister Elizabeth. Special thanks to them both. Part two will be released to all in a week. And if you're subscribed to one of our premium feeds, it's available ad-free right now on Amazon Music included with Prime, Apple Podcasts, Patreon and Supercast.

For more information and for the full list of resources we relied on to write this series, visit canadian truecrime.ca. The podcast donates monthly to those facing injustice. This month we have donated to Women's Shelters Canada, an organization that supports over 600 shelters across the country for women and children fleeing violence. You can find a shelter near you by going to sheltersafe.ca. Special thanks to Danielle Parody for research and Nate Hendley for additional research and writing. Check out Nate's highly regarded true crime books including The Beetle Bandit,

which won the Crime Writers of Canada Award of Excellence for non-fiction. There's a link in the show notes. Audio editing was by Nico from the Inky Porprint, aka We Talk of Dreams, who also composed the theme songs. Production assistance was by Jesse from the Inky Porprint, with script consulting by Carol Weinberg. Script editing, additional research and writing and sound design was by me, and the disclaimer was voiced by Eric Crosby.

We'll be back in a week with Part 2. See you then.