Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Tragic Story of Andrew Bagby, His Toxic Relationship, and Baby Zachary’s Fate PART5 #32

Episode Date: December 30, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truecrime #andrewsstory #toxiclove #justiceforandrew #babyzachary  Part 5 concludes the tragic story of Andrew Bagby, reflecting on the resolution of the case, the pursuit of justice, and the ongoing care for Baby Zachary. It emphasizes the lasting impact of toxic relationships, the importance of accountability, and how the community remembers both Andrew and his child.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, andrewsstory, toxicrelationship, tragiccase, babyzachary, realhorrorstories, trueevent, murdertrial, shockingtragedy, crimeandjustice, familyimpact, childprotection, realcases, justiceforandrew

By the summer of 2002, Andrew's parents, David and Kathleen, found themselves caught in a kind of nightmare that no parents should ever face. Their son was gone, murdered in cold blood, and the woman suspected of taking his life was walking free in another country. As if that wasn't enough, she was pregnant with his child. For the Turner family, that fact brought a complicated storm of emotions, grief, anger, longing, and hope, all colliding at once. When baby Zachary was born in July 2002, he immediately became their reason to keep going. The boy had Andrew's blood, his name, and to David and Kathleen, his very existence felt like a piece of their son had been returned to them. But they also knew the obvious, Zachary's mother was surely, and if anyone was capable

of putting him in danger, it was her. So, almost from the moment Zachary entered the world, the Turners began fighting for custody. They didn't do it lightly, and they didn't do it out of spite. They genuinely believed their grandson's life was at risk in his mother's care. But this wasn't going to be a quick or easy battle. While the legal fight dragged on, David and Kathleen made a decision that spoke volumes about who they were. They chose not to openly antagonize Shirley. They understood her vindictive streak all too well, and the last thing they wanted was for her to retaliate by cutting off their axe.

to Zachary. So instead, they played along. They were polite, cooperative, even warm toward her, carefully maintaining the illusion of harmony. In reality, it was a survival tactic, a way to stay close to their grandson without giving Shirley a reason to lash out. For months, they lived in this strange balancing act. Every smile at Shirley, every calm nod, every careful word was part of a strategy, keep the peace, protect the baby. Then, in November 2002, a shift came. Shirley was sent to jail while Canadian authorities debated whether or not to extradite her to the United States to face charges for Andrew's murder.

For David and Kathleen, this felt like a small miracle. At last, they were granted temporary custody of Zachary. It was a bittersweet victory, their son was gone, but now, they had his child in their arms, save from the woman they considered dangerous. But even from behind bars, Shirley still found ways to pull strings. She set conditions for her compliance. If the turners wanted to keep caring for Zachary, she demanded they bring him to the prison once a week for visits. She insisted on a daily phone call. She even requested that the boy be given a photo showing her and Andrew together,

a twisted attempt to maintain her presence in his young life and to rewrite their story as one of unity, not tragedy. David and Kathleen hated every second of it, but they complied. They weren't in a position to argue. All that mattered to them was Zachary's well-being, and if following her bizarre conditions was the price, they would pay it. Then, in January 2003, came yet another blow. In a move that left Andrew's parents stunned, the judge overseeing Shirley's case ordered her release.

The reasoning. Presumption of innocence. Despite the mountain of evidence tying her to Andrew's murder, the judge declared she posed no psychological risk to her son. With that decision, the six months of peace David and Kathleen had enjoyed were over. Zachary was returned to his mother. The turners were devastated. Once again, they were forced into the painful role of outsiders, their grandson's safety hanging by a thread.

From that moment forward, Shirley did everything in her power to distance Zachary from his grandparents. She made excuses, threw up roadblocks, and looked for any way to reduce their time with him. But David and Kathleen refused to give up. They fought tooth and nail, legally and emotionally, to remain part of his life. Meanwhile, Shirley's behavior spiraled further out of control. On July 4, 2003, she met a young man at a bar. It started casually, just two people sharing drinks, conversation, and eventually a bed.

They slept together twice. But when the man later learned, through a friend, about Shirley's connection to Andrew's murder, he wanted nothing more to do with her. That rejection sent Shirley into a tailspin. She called him. Not once. Not twice. Not even a dozen times.

Over the course of a month, she placed around 200 phone calls, many of them threatening, angry, or manipulative. She even used one of her old tactics, claiming she was pregnant. The young man wasn't buying it. He went to the authorities three separate times to report her harassment, making it clear she was violating the terms of her bail and was unfit to have custody of a child. But there was a catch. He refused to file an official criminal complaint or reveal his identity publicly. Without that, the police's hands were tied. They couldn't formally investigate, and surely,

once again, slipped through the cracks. When confronted about the accusations through her lawyer, surely, of course, denied everything. That was her pattern, deny, manipulate, twist the truth until the waters were so muddy that consequences slipped away. As Zachary's first birthday approached, Shirley planned a party at a fast food restaurant. David and Kathleen were there, smiling for their grandson, who lit up in their arms. But something happened that day that haunted them later. At one point, Shirley picked up Zachary, and instead of settling into her embrace, the child burst into sudden, in consolation. cries. His discomfort was clear, his little body tense, his face scrunched with distress.

To anyone else, it might have looked like a baby simply reacting to noise or hunger. But to David and Kathleen, it was confirmation of what they had feared all along, that Zachary didn't feel safe with his mother. Surely, however, spun it differently. She turned to Kathleen and said, almost smugly, that Zachary obviously loved her more. And then, in a moment of strange theater, she announced that Kathleen should just take him. She left the gathering in tears, only to reappear later in anger. It was the classic Shirley pattern, oscillating between self-pity and rage, drawing everyone else into her storm. By August 18, 2003, the situation reached its breaking point. That day, Zachary was with

his grandparents when Shirley called and asked for him back. Legally, they had no choice but to comply. She still had custody. They handed him over, their hearts heavy, their instincts screaming. The next day, their worst fears came true. David and Kathleen couldn't reach Shirley. They couldn't find Zachary. Panic set in immediately. They knew, deep down, that something terrible had happened. And then the news came. On a quiet beach in Newfoundland, a couple on vacation stumbled across a body. It was Shirley. Nearby, authorities found Zachary. Both were dead.

As investigators pieced together the chain of events, the picture that emerged was devastating. On that final day, Shirley had purchased medication from a pharmacy. With Zachary in tow, she drove to the home of the man she had briefly dated, the one who had cut ties after learning about her past. There, she left behind photographs of herself and the baby, as well as a used tampon in the car, an attempt to tie herself and Zachary to him, to implicate him in whatever came next. Then she drove to Foxtrap Marina, a place that looked out over the Atlantic Ocean. There, she mixed antidepressants into Zachary's baby formula and fed it to him. The dosage was enough to render the child unconscious. Afterward, she consumed a toxic amount of the same drugs herself.

She took off her sweater, wrapped it around Zachary's tiny body, and tied into her chest. And then she jumped from the dock into the cold waters below. Forensic reports later confirmed that Zachary didn't suffer. He was unconscious when it happened. But that fact offered little comfort. The horror of what Shirley had done, the deliberate, planned murder of her own child, was almost too much to comprehend. Authorities concluded that Shirley's actions were driven by vengeance. She wanted to punish everyone who had rejected her, Andrew, his family, the young man who walked away from her. By leaving evidence in the man's car, she even

tried to frame him, to ruin his life as well. The ripple effects were immediate and crushing. David and Kathleen, who had already lost their son, were now robbed of their grandson in the most brutal way imaginable. Their grief turned to fury as they spoke out publicly. In a press conference, they didn't mince words. They declared with absolute certainty that surely had been responsible for Andrew's death, and now, for Zachary's.

They condemned the legal system that had allowed her so much freedom. They pointed out, bitterly but truthfully, that the judge's leniency, the willingness to treat her with compassion, to give her the benefit of the doubt, had not only left Andrew's murder unpunished but had paved the way for Zachary's death. This system failed us twice, they said. It allowed a murderer to go free, and then it allowed her to take the most innocent life. of all. The tragedy was almost too big for words. It wasn't just about one family anymore. It was about a justice system that had bent over backward to protect the rights of an accused

woman, only to neglect the safety of a helpless child. And for everyone who knew and loved Andrew, the nightmare felt endless. They had hoped that through Zachary, a piece of Andrew would live on. Instead, they were left with silence, absence, and anger that could never truly fade. The story didn't end with the deaths of Zachary and his mother. In fact, what followed was a wave of outrage, grief, investigations, and soul-searching that stretched far beyond one family's private tragedy. It became a public reckoning, forcing hospitals, courts, and governments to face just how badly they had failed the most innocent victim in the entire case. After the funeral, when the shock had settled into that heavy, immovable grief that never really goes away, David

and Kathleen Turner had to pick themselves up again. They had already been through one round of heartbreak when their son Andrew was murdered. Losing Zachary almost felt like a second death for Andrew. It was as if the universe had said, here is hope, only to rip it away in the cruelest way possible. But the turners weren't the type to suffer in silence. They needed answers. They needed accountability. It wasn't long before professionals started speaking out too. One of the most chilling evaluations came from a doctor who had supervised Shirley during her residency. In an interview with an officer from the office of the child and youth advocate, he didn't mince words. He described her as a manipulative psychopath, someone who knew how to charm when it suited her

but had no real empathy underneath. Coming from someone who had actually worked with her in a professional capacity, it was a damning statement. That comment, shocking as it was, lit a fire under the medical community. The hospital where Shirley had trained realized they couldn't just brush this off. They overhauled their residency evaluation system, tightening up the process so someone like her wouldn't slip through so easily again. Meanwhile, the spotlight turned on Shirley's psychiatrist, the man who had helped her during her legal troubles.

On May 3, 2006, the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Newfoundland in Labrador held a disciplinary hearing. They concluded he had committed professional misconduct by helping her pay her bail. To outsiders, that detail might have seemed small compared to the bigger tragedies. But to the medical world, it was huge. A psychiatrist lending money to a patient under such circumstances was a glaring breach of ethics. The board fined him, ordering him to cover a third of the $60,000 it had cost to investigate him.

They also required him to undergo psychiatric counseling himself, a twist of irony that wasn't lost on anyone following the case. The doctor later admitted he was disappointed in the ruling. But David Turner, on the other hand, felt satisfied. It wasn't about revenge for him, it was about precedent. If this case could force professionals to think twice before crossing boundaries, maybe something positive could emerge from all the pain. That same year, in October 2006, another major review hit the headlines.

A forensic court judge released the findings of a public investigation into Shirley's actions and the systems that had surrounded her. His conclusion was as blunt as it was devastating, Zachary's death was preventable. According to the report, the Social Services Network in Newfoundland had failed catastrophically. They had treated Shirley with kid gloves, focusing more on her rights and her comfort

than on the vulnerable baby in her care. The judge slammed the lack of communication between agencies, pointing out that red flags had been ignored over and over. The assumption of innocence, while noble in principle, had been applied with reckless blindness. It had been prioritized over common sense and child safety. The provincial government didn't try to dodge responsibility. They accepted the judge's findings, as well as the 29 recommendations he laid out. These weren't small tweaks.

They were sweeping proposals designed to make sure another child would never fall through the cracks the way Zachary had. For David Turner, activism became a way to channel his grief. In 2007, he published a book titled Dance with the Devil, a memoir of murder and loss. Writing it was agonizing but also cathartic. It gave him space to pour out the chaos inside him, the horror of losing his son, the devastation of losing his grandson, and the anger at the system that had failed them both. The book didn't just tell his story, it made readers across his own. Canada and beyond confront uncomfortable truths about justice, custody, and domestic violence.

Then, in 2008, another project added a new layer to the public understanding of the case. Filmmaker Kurt Quinn, who had been Andrew's childhood friend, released a documentary title Dear Zachary, a letter to a son about his father. The film was heartbreaking from start to finish. Quen wove together home videos of Andrew growing up, moments of laughter, teenage adventures, and the everyday charm that made people love him, with raw interviews of his parents, friends, and colleagues. But what made the documentary truly gut-wrenching was the context. Quinn had originally started the project as a kind of love letter to Zachary, something that would show him who his father was once he was old enough to understand.

After Zachary's murder, the film became something else entirely, a tribute, a memorial, and a blistering indictment of the systems that had allowed tragedy to strike twice. The documentary struck a nerve. It won jury and audience awards at the Cinequest Film Festival, burned nominations from the Chicago Film Critics Association, and picked up the Sigma Delta Chi Award for Best Documentary from the Society of Professional Journalists. Critics praised it not just for its emotional weight but for the way it turned personal pain into a universal call for change. By 2009, the case had become so embedded in the national conversation that it reached the floor of Parliament. That October, a member of parliament introduced a piece of legislation known as Zachary's bill. The purpose was simple but powerful, to give courts the authority to deny bail to individuals accused of serious crimes if granting them freedom, a risk to their children. The idea wasn't a trample on the principle of presumed innocence, it was to recognize

that when kids are involved, the stakes are different. Children can't protect themselves. Courts needed the ability to prioritize their safety above all else. The bill received unanimous support in the House of Commons and found champions in the Senate too. On December 6, 2010, Zachary's bill became law, officially in by Canada's Governor General. For David and Kathleen, it was a bittersweet victory. Nothing could bring Andrew or Zachary back. But at least other children might be spared the same fate. At least some good had been wrestled from unbearable loss. The legacy didn't stop at laws. Scholarships were created in honor of Andrew and his son. The Doctor. Andrew David

Bagby Family Medicine Scholarship supported around 50 residents specializing in family medicine. Another scholarship fund in both Andrew and Zachary's names provided aid to students at the university where Andrew had studied. Each award represented not just financial help but a reminder that lives cut short could still ripple forward, shaping the future of others. Even with these tangible changes, the case continued to spark debates across Canada. families, lawyers, and politicians questioned how custody disputes were handled when domestic violence or criminal charges were in play. Should parents with violent histories automatically lose custody? How could the justice system balance fairness to the accused with protection of the

vulnerable? And most hauntingly, how many other children were quietly living at risk because the system hadn't learned from Zachary? The Turner family had never wanted the spotlight. They were ordinary people thrust into extraordinary, horrifying circumstances. Yet by refusing to stay quiet, they had turned their grief into momentum for reform. Their voices carried into courtrooms, legislatures, and classrooms. And now, knowing all the details, the question isn't just about what happened back then. It's about today. How do we judge the justice system's actions?

Do we believe it did its best under difficult circumstances? circumstances, or do we agree with the turners, that compassion for the wrong person directly cost a child his life? The truth is messy, but one thing is undeniable, a system meant to protect the innocent ended up enabling tragedy. And the memory of Zachary, small, vulnerable, utterly blameless, remains a reminder of what's at stake when institutions fail to act. The end.