Five years ago today flashlight bomb took Wayne Greavette's life

Wednesday December 12, 2001
Credit: Vik Kirsch
The Guelph Mercury

The unsolved Dec. 12, 1996 murder of the married father of two, who died when the flashlight bomb delivered to his farmhouse by Canada Post detonated, remains one of the most bizarre crimes in the annals of Puslinch Township.

Today, his family - widow Diane, son Justin, 25, and daughter Danielle, 22 - is fighting back.

The family is worried the crime will never be solved, despite what Diane said have been the best efforts of Ontario Provincial Police.

She's convinced someone out there has clues and has been afraid to step forward.

But with half a decade gone, the Greavettes are hopeful enough time has passed for those individuals to feel comfortable giving police what they need to apprehend the killer.

A day doesn't go by that the family's thoughts aren't with a loved one taken from them at age 42.

"I loved him dearly," said Diane Greavette. "We always think of him. We're trying to get on with our lives, but we can't."

"Why am I without a husband? Why are my children without a father?"

To jar memories, the Greavettes are blanketing the region with posters offering a $5,000 reward for information leading to a conviction. They also have a home page on the Internet: www.unsolvedmurders.ca.

Despite fears for the family's safety with the killer still at large and the motive unknown, Diane is speaking out for the first time since the explosion that also slightly injured Justin, who was in the room when his father turned on the flashlight, ostensibly an anonymous gift. After the killing, the family disappeared into the Greater Toronto Area, fearing for their safety.

Diane has never spoken to the media until now, bristling at suggestions in some newspapers that her husband was an outlaw biker, or public speculation he might have been involved with the Mafia or a drug cartel.

"A lot of people are still left with that in their thoughts," she said.

Nothing, she said, could be further from the truth. Her husband was a quiet, hard-working man devoted to his family, she said.

He wasn't involved in anything illegal or in any trouble that she knew. That wouldn't have been in his character, she stressed. Police have also consistently maintained the murder wasn't biker-related.

In any case, "Nobody deserves what happened here," said Diane, an attractive, slim blonde whose eyes were red with emotion as she spoke to a Mercury reporter at an area inn.

Diane has not remarried, saying she's still in love with the sweetheart she met as a teenager.

"I know him for the man he was. He was well-loved and respected by all of us. We had a good family home. I know we didn't hurt anybody. We didn't rip anybody off. We didn't owe anybody any money."

Diane said it's not fair the killer is about to celebrate another Christmas "and our lives have been destroyed."

Police have had frustratingly few leads. On Nov. 5, 1998, they took the unusual step of calling a press conference at the Puslinch Community Centre to reveal some details of the killing, in hopes the publicity would prompt new information.

"That was a big step for them. They were trying to do everything they could to get someone to come forward."

Police hoped they could flush out letters people may have saved that were typed on the same machine or font used to create the letter accompanying the package bomb that killed Greavette at the family's Concession 11 farmhouse.

The letter, which surprisingly survived the blast, featured a key flaw: a back slash after a period. (.\)

The letter was produced on a Smith Corona typewriter equipped with a daisy wheel 10/12 font sold by the identifying number 59543. The typewriter was marketed under a variety of brand names, while the fonts were sold under the Smith Corona label in department stores.

The letter may have been a ruse to put the victim at ease. It was from a non-existent company seeking business with Greavette, a machinist selling bottled water from natural springs on the family property.

OPP Det. Insp. Mike Coughlin said the case remains active and is regularly discussed by officers. From time to time, bits of information come to light, though Coughlin conceded, "There's not an abundance of information."

He welcomed the family's efforts to appeal for a break. "Any information that comes from any source is welcome."

Meanwhile, Diane finds it hard to contain her anguish.

"It's been five years and still to date there's been no arrest made in the murder of Wayne," she said, her voice rising in anger.

"This person is still out there. We want to be protected. Somebody knows something."

She's unnerved by the thought the killer may be a distant business or social acquaintance.

"Did I have this person in my house? Did I give him coffee? Was it somebody that was close to us? Somebody did a very drastic thing. There have to be answers. We're pleading to the public for help.

"It's five years. People are forgetting what happened. This man has been taken and there's a murderer out there. I'm so angry."

She praised police for their persistence on a cold trail. "I think they've done everything they could possibly do. If they had something, an arrest could be made."

Diane said Justin, who is working and still single, has found it difficult to cope. Danielle, who is also working and single, is doing somewhat better. Danielle's anger, however, bubbles to the surface periodically. "There is no closure," Diane acknowledged.

Wayne's father, Alf, has died, but the uncertainty has battered his mother, Muriel, 83.

"She truly believes she will die not knowing who did this," said Diane. "She's devastated. She wants to see justice done."

Wayne's siblings, all in Ontario, are also agonizing, Diane added.

Diane and Wayne met on the beach at Bel Ewart, a tiny Lake Simcoe community, when Diane was 15. He had been raised there and she grew up in Mississauga.

"We were best friends. We did everything together."

They lived together two years before tying the knot, and purchased the Puslinch property in 1995. Wayne developed a career rebuilding and servicing packaging machinery for the food industry.

He worked for an Acton area company, Serge Beverage Equipment, in which he was a part owner until a falling out with other partners in 1993, Diane said. The partnership was dissolved and the Greavette family went out on its own, forming D & L Equipment Services (named after Diane and a family friend, Lisa).

The Greavettes wanted to turn natural spring water on their 104-acre Puslinch property, which included an apple orchard, into another enterprise, a bulk water business. It was a natural step, she said, for a man familiar with the food and beverage industry.

Wayne Greavette was cremated, but he won't be truly laid to rest until the killer pays, his widow said.

"When we get closure to this, then we as a family can rest him in peace. I don't think he's resting peacefully now."

Anyone with information can contact the Greavettes through the Web site or police through the anonymous Crime Stoppers toll-free line: 1-800-222-8477.

Any information may be important to the case.

"What may be trivial to them may be a key to us," said Diane.

"Let the police determine whether or not it's important."

To reach Wayne's memorial site at MemorialsOnline.com , please Click Here.

If you have any information on these or any other crimes, please contact one of the following:

Your Local Police
Crime Stoppers: 1-800-222-TIPS (8477)
the OPP at 1-888-310-1122
or Email Unsolved Murders tips@unsolvedmurders.ca

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