Conventions Can Be Murder

By Jim Hagarty
1991

It comes as quite a disappointment to learn that the Canadian government has once again given in to protesters, in this case the group Victims of Violence, and killed – pardon me – cancelled a planned conference for murderers.

After all, killers have feelings too. (Well, okay, they’re a little short in the feelings category but they do have lots of rights, don’t they?)

At a low cost to the taxpayer of only $20,000, the government had planned to hold the three-day conference for 100 convicted killers – 13 women and 87 men – at Joyceville penitentiary near Kingston to examine how well treatment programs are working for long-term inmates. The convicts, all sentenced to life in prison, had also planned to discuss ways of lobbying Ottawa to drop the parole eligibility date for first-degree murder from 25 to 15 years.

The prison’s acting warden, Janis Grant, said correctional authorities and the inmates were planning to exchange ideas in a “brainstorming” session. One critic of that plan, who cannot be named, wondered whether or not it would be difficult to have a “brainstorming” session when there were so few brains among the proposed participants on both sides.

Picky, picky, picky.

The plan was to bus inmates to Joyceville from prisons across Ontario for workshops, speeches and “mingling.” Apparently, the event was becoming such a popular attraction, some inmates swore they’d kill to get there. They were promptly informed, however, that they had already fulfilled that part of the registration requirements. In a similar vein, some had planned to go to the convention dressed to kill but this was being discouraged for the same reasons. Nevertheless, given the acknowledged tendencies of the conference delegates, it was expected after a few of the “mingling” sessions, conference attendance would drop from 100 to about 75 by the second day and only 50 or so by Day 3. Some observers did concede this possibility as perhaps the only positive outcome of the conference.

A wellknown professional bleeding heart was scheduled to speak at the conference. An informed source said she planned to tell the murderers that they are fine; that it is society that is all screwed up. It was predicted her speech would go over very well.

Workshop subjects were rumoured to range from, “Dress To Impress At Your Next Parole Hearing,” to “Changing Murder’s Image For The ’90s.”
One seminar entitled, “How Stereotypes Are Hurting The Serial Killer,” was to include suggestions on how mass murderers could enhance their public relations, tips such as marrying in prison, finding God, writing books, etc.

All in all, this conference had all the signs of knocking ’em dead, so to speak.

But then along came Victims of Violence, angry that those who had brutally killed their relatives and friends should be wined and dined at the taxpayers’ expense at a three-day conference. They wanted the $20,000 to be spent to help police solve more murders. And though they were successful in convincing the government to cancel the event, I fear they may have missed a glorious opportunity for at least a little revenge.

After all, anyone who has attended a three-day conference, especially a government conference, complete with workshops, seminars and lectures, would know how severe a punishment such an experience can be.

And after a few good government “brainstorming” sessions, the next lives some of those convicts might have thought about taking could very well have been their own.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.