A small, tight-knit community in northern Ontario is reeling this morning after a brutal murder that has left investigators following a trail of bloody clues across the frozen streets of Kapuskasing. The victim, 62-year-old mechanic Wilfrid Gdro, was found stabbed to death in his own bathroom early Tuesday, January 12, 1988, sparking a manhunt that has already led to one arrest and 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 a chilling conspiracy of greed and betrayal.
The first sign of trouble came just after 7:15 a. m. when neighbor Suzanne Gravel heard screams and crashes from the Gdro residence.
She saw a short, stocky man in his early 30s flee the house, climb into a blue pickup truck, and drive away without headlights. Inside, police discovered Gdro lying in a pool of blood, still in his underwear, with shaving cream on half his face and more than a dozen stab wounds to his neck, chest, and arms.
“The bathroom looked like a slaughterhouse,” said Detective Wayne Fchett of the Ontario Provincial Police, who was flown in from Toronto to lead the investigation. “Blood was splattered on the walls, the floor, even the toothbrushes. It was clear this was not a random act of violence.”
The killer left a bizarre trail. Witnesses reported a man matching the suspect’s description—wearing only ripped pants, sneakers, and a thin plastic rain poncho in subzero temperatures—buying ski pants, boots, and a jacket at local stores, paying cash each time. Hours later, police found the abandoned blue pickup truck behind a paper mill, along with a pair of bloody winter boots in the snow.
The truck was traced to Richard Boucher, a 33-year-old cocaine dealer and strip club promoter from Timmins, about two hours south. Boucher was stopped at a police roadblock while trying to leave town in a taxi, but he gave a false name and fled. He was arrested two days later, on January 14, but refused to speak.
“He just sat there glaring at the floor, not saying a word,” Fchett recalled. “But we knew he was our guy. The question was why.”
The answer came when Fchett dug into Gdro’s finances. The victim, known for his extreme frugality—he reused bathwater and watched TV in the dark to save electricity—had a substantial savings account. But bank statements showed large, regular withdrawals over the previous months, money that had vanished without explanation.
That led investigators to Gdro’s live-in girlfriend of 12 years, Agot Brashau, 53. She had told police she hid in a closet during the attack and claimed she had no idea who the killer was. But her calm demeanor during questioning raised red flags.
“She didn’t cry once,” Fchett said. “That’s unusual for someone who just lost their partner in such a violent way.”
A phone trap set by police confirmed their suspicions. A constable, posing as a concerned friend, called Brashau and told her he knew what she had done. Her response was damning: “I haven’t told the police anything, and I have enough money to make sure nobody else does either.”
“That was the moment we knew she was the mastermind,” Fchett said. “She had hired Boucher to 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁 Gdro so she could inherit his savings.”
The motive was pure greed. Brashau had grown tired of Gdro’s penny-pinching ways. She had already been siphoning money from his account for months, using it to pay Boucher for the murder.
The hitman was introduced to her by her niece, who owned a bar where Boucher provided exotic dancers.
“Wilfrid paid for his own murder,” Fchett said grimly. “Every cent of the hit money came from his own savings.”
The case took a darker turn when Boucher, facing first-degree murder charges, took his own life before trial. Brashau was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison. She served 20 years before being released on parole in 2009.
The small town of Kapuskasing, where residents rarely locked their doors, has been shaken by the revelation that a trusted partner could orchestrate such a cold-blooded killing. “This is a place where nothing ever happens,” said a local shopkeeper. “To find out that someone you know planned this… it’s terrifying.”
Detective Fchett, now retired, still reflects on the case. “It was a classic crime of greed. She wanted his money, and she was willing to 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁 him for it.
The saddest part is, he probably never saw it coming.”
As the community begins to heal, the bloody clues that led police to the truth remain a stark reminder of the darkness that can lurk behind closed doors. The investigation is closed, but the questions linger: How could a woman live with a man for 12 years, then hire someone to stab him to death? And how many other quiet towns hide similar secrets?
For now, Kapuskasing mourns a man who was cheap with his money but generous with his love—until greed turned that love into a death sentence.
