So, with all of these details in mind, including the fact that I can think of no serial killer on record who started murdering at such an advanced age as Mr. McArthur, that homicidal necrophiles tend to have long and devastating criminal careers with elevated victim counts, and that they also tend to be highly versatile and variable – a process known as polymorphism – in their victim selections, usually zeroing in on vulnerable or marginalized communities regardless of gender or age, why is there still no systematic inquiry under way into what Mr. McArthur was up to, if anything, between roughly 1978 and 1993?
More precisely, what is the status of the investigation into his movements during those same years when he led a largely nomadic existence across Eastern and Northern Ontario, as well as throughout the expansive and burgeoning GTA, as a travelling sock and underwear salesman? Who is cross-referencing cold cases, missing-persons cases and the dozens of still unidentified human remains recovered from these same areas to Mr. McArthur’s old sales routes, hotel stays and known visits to his department store clients? Sadly, to date, it still seems no one. As what stands to be one of the most complicated and political multijurisdictional investigations in provincial and perhaps even national history, the Ontario Provincial Police in particular are hoping that Mr. McArthur remains strictly a Toronto blight. In reality, when looking at substantively similar offenders, most of his victims are likely in rural OPP territory. One need only read my 2015 book, Murder City, to get a sampling of this agency’s tragicomic track record with cold cases and the prevailing institutional attitude that highways are only for catching speeders and texters, not killers.
In the United States, the FBI’s Highway Serial Killing Initiative tries to be more thorough. The specialty unit currently estimates that there are 450-500 active serial killers currently traveling the country’s Interstate network under the cover of legitimate business travel; and that’s in 2019, when every car and cellphone leaves digital breadcrumbs and CCTV cameras are ubiquitous. In the lonely hinterland of 1980s Northern Ontario, Mr. McArthur would have been a ghost. With a car and convincing story, there is no limit to what he could have done and to whom. Consider also that, by that point, he may very well have cut his teeth as a sexual murderer and even a necrophile.
With his looking increasingly like a viable suspect in the original “Gay Strip” murders of the 1970s while working in downtown Toronto – at least 14 similar murders that suddenly stopped in 1978 when Mr. McArthur hit the road as a travelling salesman – we may very well be talking about a serial killer who was already highly experienced before going mobile. We may, as such, be talking about eventual victim numbers equal to or greater than those of Robert Pickton. The victims won’t all be gay men, either. There were no gay strips or villages in Sudbury or Timmins in the 1980s. But there were lots of runaways, drifters, sex trade workers, drug addicts and other people on the margins that Mr. McArthur knew no one would immediately go looking for. The question is: Will they now?