A workplace accident at age 15 changed his life forever. His fight for compensation would take another 72 years
Dennis Madigan was 15 when he landed his first summer job pumping gas and changing tires at a Barrie service station. With no training, he was just a “young gaffer who didn’t know much,” a teen happy to save up for school. But his entire life’s trajectory would change in a flash one August afternoon when Madigan interrupted his 12-hour shift to have a smoke. “The cigarette didn’t light,” he recalls. “I did.”
The teen hadn’t realized there was fuel on his clothes; Madigan’s survival is a miracle. And it isn’t the only unlikely part of his story: in June, he learned he will finally receive compensation for the workplace accident — more than 70 years after it happened.
At 87, Madigan has lived in near-constant pain since that summer day, receiving little treatment other than the emergency care in the aftermath of his full-body burns.
Now, he has landed a noteworthy win, in a decision underscoring a crucial principle of the workers’ compensation system: when there is roughly equal evidence for and against an injury claim, workers must get the benefit of the doubt.
But to get there, it took years of appeal at the Workplace Safety and Insurance Board. It took legal wrangling over defunct legislation, archival sleuthing, tribunal hearings and representation from a former WSIB chairman who came out of retirement to help Madigan.
To Odoardo Di Santo, the case brings into focus why fair compensation is crucial — and why, for some, the barriers to justice are insurmountable.
“(The board) tried to find a reason to deny the benefits,” he says. “They tried, time after time, to avoid considering the evidence.”
Ontario’s workers’ compensation scheme is a no-fault system founded on a historic compromise. Employers pay into the WSIB through insurance premiums and collectively share liability for workplace accidents rather than risking expensive court battles. In exchange for giving up their right to sue, workers get reasonable access to benefits no matter how a workplace injury occurred.
But while it is mandatory for some workplaces to fund the system, others can choose whether or not to participate — a detail that would become crucial to Madigan’s dealings with the board.
Madigan now looks back at his momentary smoke break that August afternoon as “stupid.” He was also, Di Santo notes, a child working from dawn till dusk.
“That should never have been allowed in a decent society.”
Madigan’s life was saved by a passing motorist who saw a burning boy careening down the street “like a ball of flame,” according to a 1949 story in the Barrie Examiner. The man stopped and threw his coat around Madigan; the flames dampened, the teen spent the next three months recovering in hospital. On top of bandages and blood transfusions, he received three skin grafts.
But things would never be the same.
“Let’s put it this way. I don’t know what a normal day is like,” says Madigan.
He’d hoped to one day work on the railroad like his father; his doctor told him his limitations would make that impossible. Seared from the neck down, Madigan’s body could no longer sweat properly, causing an odour that left him a social pariah at school.
“I was never invited to sit with anyone for lunch, or to a party or a dance,” he says.
That was its own kind of pain. Madigan dropped out without finishing Grade 9.
“I never really reached my potential,” he says.
To Di Santo, all that could have been different — had Madigan’s recent victory come seven decades earlier.
At the time of Madigan’s accident, Ontario’s health-care system didn’t cover his extensive medical bills. Instead, his bluecollar family was left to pick up the tab. While the teen struggled to recover, his father wrote to the workers’ compensation board seeking financial help.
“The receipt of your letter was the first intimation we have had concerning your son’s accident,” says a response from the board dated March 30, 1950.
Then, four months later, came the rejection letter. Madigan’s employer was not required to pay into workers’ compensation and had not elected to opt in, the board ruled. The Madigans were on their own.
The case lay dormant for almost six decades. In the intervening period, Madigan lived with the aftermath of his injuries with little care except creams to soothe skin that still split like “paper cracking.” Then there was the emotional toll.
“I have never let anyone see how badly disfigured I was,” Madigan would later tell the board in a written statement. “I guess today you would call it post-traumatic stress.”
Madigan says he has never seen a psychiatrist — the kind of thing compensation benefits could, theoretically, cover. Had his claim been accepted, he could have also received rehabilitation and training in an appropriate job, says Di Santo. Instead, Madigan worked most of his life at a B.C.-based meat packer.
Madigan has faced personal trials, too. His scars, he says, were “a problem” for his first wife; she left him, taking their two children. Nonetheless, Madigan found blessings. He went on to meet a supportive partner, remarried and built “a good life with her” in Vancouver.
In 2007, supported by his brother, who had always taken an interest in his case, and prominent Ontario New Democrat politician Elie Martel, Madigan decided to ask the WSIB to reconsider his claim. The request was denied. In 2014, he tried again; this time the board agreed to a review.
It was the start of a seven-year battle.
The board first upheld its original decision: Madigan was ineligible for benefits because at the time of his accident, his employer wasn’t required to pay into workers’ compensation.
The justification was based on a historical oddity; in 1949, gas stations didn’t have to provide injury coverage unless they also ran a garage business, and were therefore required to be licensed under the Highway Traffic Act. But Madigan’s employer, Andy Watt, only leased the pumps from the Barrie garage. Watt had since passed away, but decades-old correspondence with the board suggested he didn’t know what the Highway Traffic Act was.
From this, the board inferred that the gas pumps were unlicensed — and Madigan ineligible for benefits coverage.
Madigan fought them on it. He argued he’d done more than just pump gas; he’d changed tires, and cleaned the garage restrooms. The case went through two reviews and two internal appeals; at each turn, the claim was rejected. That left him with just one avenue: the Workplace Safety and Insurance Appeals Tribunal, the last level of recourse for injury disputes.
By this time Di Santo, who served as the board’s chairman in the early 1990s and was also a former MPP for the New Democrats, had come out of retirement to represent Madigan in what he saw as a miscarriage of justice. Once again, the team lost.
But they were not ready to give up.
Tribunal rulings are final. Only in rare circumstances, where there is evidence of “significant defects,” are decisions reconsidered.
Di Santo, who advocated pro bono on Madigan’s behalf, successfully argued that the case met this threshold. He believed adjudicators at every level had erred in judgment — basing their ruling on “hypothetical” assumptions about what occurred all those years ago rather than actual evidence.
This time, the tribunal agreed. It noted that initial decisions were based on a “partially illegible” letter from Madigan’s former boss. While the Barrie service station may not have been licensed at the time, a proper reading of 1949 highway laws showed it should have been: Madigan regularly did work associated with a garage business. As a result, his employer should have provided workers’ compensation coverage.
“It is well accepted that a failure to register a business with the board is not, in and of itself, a bar to a worker receiving benefits,” the decision reads.
Most importantly, the ruling emphasized a key tenet of the compensation system. Although Madigan’s case was complex and required extensive historical guesswork, injury claimants do not need to come up with conclusive evidence to win benefits; Madigan should have been given the benefit of the doubt.
“The standard of proof in workers’ compensation proceedings is the balance of probabilities,” the decision notes; where there is roughly equal evidence on both sides, the case must be “resolved in favour of the claimant.”
To Di Santo, Madigan’s case is an example of why upholding that principle is crucial: here was a vulnerable boy injured in a horrific accident who, at the time, had few resources to advocate for himself other than his family’s efforts.
“Every human has the same value in front of the law,” says Di Santo. “You don’t take advantage because his father was almost illiterate, and just say, ‘We’re not going to compensate you. Goodbye.’”
While the details of Madigan’s case are unique, Di Santo says many of the fundamental issues he grappled with aren’t.
According to a 2020 government review, it takes Ontario workers an average of more than two years from filing a rejected WSIB claim to land a tribunal hearing. That timeline can “represent a real challenge for those facing financial insecurity,” the review notes, even though workers tend to be successful if they ever reach this appeals stage. In up to twothirds of cases, the board’s decisions are overturned in whole or in part.
That indicates chronic faulty decision-making that pushes accident victims into a “long fight” for compensation, says Di Santo — an unfair penalty to workers, and a departure from the founding values of the system.
In a statement, a spokesperson for the WSIB said the board wants “anyone with a work-related injury or illness to get the help and support they need to recover and safely return to work,” noting that there is now a streamlined appeals process that didn’t exist at the time of Madigan’s claim.
“Our commitment to making decisions with trust and integrity is centred on treating people fairly with a consistent and reliable decision-making process,” the statement said, adding that the board adheres to the “balance of probabilities principle” in its decisions.
The tribunal has now ordered the WSIB to decide on the “nature and duration of benefits” Madigan is entitled to. For the 87-year-old, that is a new source of anxiety. The board says this process “often includes collecting information such as medical and earnings information.”
“In cases dating back decades this can take a bit longer than any of us would like. We work to resolve these claims as quickly as possible,” the board said in a statement.
While Madigan’s seven-decade wait is not yet over, he has at least made a significant step — one that comes with a sense of redemption.
“I didn’t believe it until my brother phoned,” he says. “It really made me feel good.”