LAWLOR

Waterloo Region Record - - LOCAL - gpaul@there­cord.com, Twit­ter: @GPaulRecord

The judge said he was struck by a com­ment McCreadie’s daugh­ter made: “How some­one can do that I will never un­der­stand.”

Lawlor had three-way sex with McCreadie and John Davie in the woods on the edge of the park on the night of April 9, 2014. Davie tes­ti­fied Lawlor wrapped a scarf around Davie’s neck dur­ing sex and tight­ened it.

Davie said he loos­ened it and then left Lawlor alone with McCreadie. He said he never saw McCreadie again. His body was found the next day, close to the spot where Davie had left the pair.

Davie, the Crown’s star wit­ness, had been ca­sual friends with McCreadie for four years.

“All I can re­ally say to my friend Mark is that I wished I had known, that some­thing would have trig­gered me not to leave him alone,” Davie said Thurs­day in an in­ter­view in front of the court­house.

“I’m not go­ing to say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think I was in the right place at the right time. Un­for­tu­nately, it hap­pened, but if I wasn’t there, he would have got­ten away with it.”

In an in­ter­view with po­lice, Lawlor said he had been “vi­o­lently raped” by a man a year be­fore McCreadie’s mur­der.

He said he was ini­tially ashamed, but then said he be­gan drink­ing and “cruis­ing for per­pe­tra­tors.”

The trial was told Lawlor planned to kill an­other man be­fore mur­der­ing McCreadie but re­lented when the man com­pli­mented him on his lis­ten­ing skills.

Lawlor of­ten drove around with a knife and rope.

He had noth­ing to say be­fore be­ing sen­tenced.

“Not at this time,” Lawlor said when asked by the judge if he wanted to ad­dress the court.

McCreadie was a sep­a­rated fa­ther with two grown chil­dren and a grand­daugh­ter. He had worked at Brewer’s Re­tail (now The Beer Store) but was on dis­abil­ity when he was killed. He had moved from Toronto to Kitch­ener to care for his mother, who has de­men­tia.

“My fa­ther was a car­ing, charm­ing fam­ily man,” Tammy McCreadie, 34, wrote. “He had a very big heart and would do any­thing for his friends and fam­ily. He would do any­thing to help some­one in need.”

McCreadie, who lives in Toronto, said she grad­u­ated from col­lege just be­fore her fa­ther was mur­dered.

She said she de­vel­oped post-trau­matic stress dis­or­der and fi­bromyal­gia af­ter the mur­der. She has se­vere panic at­tacks and has trou­ble sleep­ing.

“I can no longer trust peo­ple. I am re­luc­tant to make new re­la­tion­ships or have a boyfriend be­cause I am in fear that there is some sin­is­ter hid­den mo­tive be­hind their ac­tions. I feel that once I’m in a vul­ner­a­ble sit­u­a­tion, that’s when they will try and hurt me.”

McCreadie, who sees Lawlor as a “risk to so­ci­ety,” said she would like to speak to him to see if he feels any re­morse.

The 25 years of pa­role in­el­i­gi­bil­ity for Lawlor dates back to the day he was ar­rested in April 2014, mean­ing he will be al­most 80 be­fore get­ting a chance to leave prison.

Lawlor looked teary-eyed when say­ing good­bye to his two sis­ters be­fore be­ing led off to prison.

Davie said he was “very pleased” that Lawlor will be be­hind bars for decades.

“I al­most fell vic­tim to him my­self,” he said. “Too close for com­fort.”

The woods be­hind Vic­to­ria Park used to be “a place of true pri­vacy, con­fi­den­tial­ity, just a safe zone area for gay and bi­sex­ual men to go to,” said Davie, a 20-year vol­un­teer with the AIDS Com­mit­tee of Cam­bridge, Kitch­ener, Water­loo and Area.

The woods weren’t just used for sex, he said, but for con­ver­sa­tion and a feel­ing of com­mu­nity. That is over, he said.

Lawlor, mean­while, stud­ied the­ol­ogy and pas­toral coun­selling between 2008 and 2010, ac­cord­ing to his LinkedIn pro­file

The pro­file says he worked at UW as an “ad­viser sup­port­ing stu­dents liv­ing with men­tal health con­di­tions.” That’s false, a UW spokesper­son said in 2014. He worked as an ad­viser to stu­dents with dis­abil­i­ties. Shortly be­fore the mur­der, Lawlor learned his con­tract would not be re­newed.

At the time, peo­ple ap­ply­ing for stu­dent ad­viser jobs got ref­er­ence checks but not po­lice checks.

Be­cause he was par­doned, Lawlor’s man­slaugh­ter con­vic­tion prob­a­bly wouldn’t have been re­vealed by a po­lice check.

Get­ting a par­don is more dif­fi­cult to­day. The Om­nibus Crime Bill tight­ened things up in 2012 af­ter it was re­vealed that in­fa­mous se­rial sex­ual preda­tor Gra­ham James had been granted a par­don.

Tammy McCreadie, mean­while, has no anger to­ward Lawlor.

“In fact, I feel sorry for him. He’s deal­ing with demons and dark­ness in­side him. I have more anger to­ward my­self be­cause I did not spend more time with my fa­ther when he was alive. You al­ways think you have time.”

McCreadie has many fond mem­o­ries of her dad, in­clud­ing a child­hood trip to the amuse­ment park on Cen­tre Is­land in Toronto.

“My fa­ther was a hus­band, a fa­ther, a grand­fa­ther, a nephew, a cousin, a grand­child, a friend and hu­man be­ing who didn’t de­serve to die. He will be for­ever missed by his fam­ily and friends and will never be for­got­ten.”

I feel sorry for (Lawlor). He’s deal­ing with demons and dark­ness in­side him. TAMMY MCCREADIE

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