I was starting to like the hitman on the phone. And the more he bared his soul, the more I regretted asking him to relive his violent past

When John got shot."

In the first interview, that's how Ken Murdock referenced Johnny (The Enforcer) Papalia's underworld-shaking 1997 murder.

In my notes I wrote next to the quote: passive." As in his voice. When John got shot. It was Murdock who shot him.

He said that phrase a couple of times. Was it a sign of detachment?

But later, Murdock said: The day I shot John."

I marked it with an asterisk. Did the change mean anything?

And why was I reaching to tease threads of empathy from his choice of words?

And then came the third interview. I didn't ask for it. Murdock said he wanted to talk.

He had been thinking a lot after the first two conversations.

For one thing, looking back, he wondered if the characters coming and going from his house on the beach strip when he was a kid - multiple stepfathers, an ex-con - and attending an all-boys school, had made it easier in his adult life to adjust to the environment in jail, where he would spend more than one-third of his life.

I don't know if going through what I did as a kid conditioned me. Maybe I didn't get rattled (in jail) because of that."

On the other hand, while he had tough times growing up, he said many people helped him, too.

As far as where I landed, it's no one's fault but my own."

I could hear him pausing on the line, exhaling smoke.

You grapple with the feelings, you feel remorse," he said. The biggest thing is, when it comes to family and friends, that was the killer for me. I was embarrassed, and ashamed, about how they felt being associated with me. I felt terrible about that."

He's been using a nicotine patch. Making some progress cutting back on cigarettes.

Do you smoke a lot?" I asked.

Only when I talk to you."

Murdock pulled his Camaro Z28 in front of the home of a man named Carmen Barillaro in Niagara Falls.

It was July 23, 1997, two months after Murdock had killed Johnny Papalia, a hit that Murdock says Hamilton mobster Pat Musitano had pressed him to execute.

In the media Barillaro was called Papalia's lieutenant in Niagara, as though he held a paramilitary rank.

Barillaro, 52, was listed by the RCMP among the top 10 Mafia figures in Ontario, having served time for crimes including conspiracy to import narcotics across the U.S. border, and in 1989, conspiracy to commit murder. Body guards often accompanied him when he travelled.

Murdock had heard that Barillaro was talking to others about killing him as payback for Papalia.

Two days after the murder, Barillaro had met with Musitano and accused him of ordering the hit, which Musitano denied.

Pat's younger brother, Angelo, sat in the Camaro with Murdock.

Ang wanted to do the shooting, and I said no, you're not shooting anybody."

Murdock knocked on Barillaro's front door.

On Sundays, Barillaro would attend church, play golf and have dinner at his mother's home.

Today was Wednesday. He answered the door.

Small talk: Murdock said he was interested in buying Barillaro's red corvette.

And then Murdock said: Pat says to say hi."

Barillaro tried to slam the door shut.

Murdock forced it open and pulled his revolver.

He ran for his office, apparently he kept a gun in his golf bag. He got halfway there, then spun around and rushed me, I just reacted to it. I think I shot twice at him. I know they found a bullet in his mouth."

As Murdock backed out of the house, Barillaro was lurching toward him, and the momentum carried Barillaro into the front door, with Murdock's hand still on the doorknob.

Murdock ripped the knob off the door and held onto it even as he hopped in the car.

Moments later, he returned to the house to wipe fingerprints off the door frame.

By this time, blood was pooling in the front hallway.

I wish I didn't see that. But I did."

He tossed the doorknob out the window of the Camaro from the Queen Elizabeth Way on-ramp.

And then, upon entering Hamilton, Murdock dumped his gun in a creek that flowed into a wetland called Cootes Paradise.

There were no straight lines in Murdock's life, and his road to prison was no exception.

In February 1998, seven months after Carmen Barillaro's murder, Murdock turned himself in to Hamilton police, but for a different crime.

He was wanted for beating up a man outside a fitness centre on the Mountain.

Murdock had an old beef with the victim, who had been convicted in the past for extortion after he tried to steal a woman's dog and collect a ransom.

Police called Murdock and asked if he would come in on his own. He walked into the east end police station.

Homicide detectives believed Murdock had killed Papalia nine months earlier. The assault charge allowed them to hold him while they tried to prove the murder.

But each time they visited Murdock in Barton Street jail, he refused to talk.

Eventually detectives asked if he would simply listen to a wiretap recording, with no questions asked.

He agreed.

The recording included the voice of Pat Musitano, talking to associates about how Murdock could no longer be trusted.

I heard what I heard and walked away. The detectives kept their word, they didn't ask any questions. And then I thought about it for a long time. I thought: you don't know who's who anymore. You are being loyal, but it's all you. And I thought: I'm done. You can't be friends with someone who basically wants you dead ... I did what I did, and this is what I'm getting in return?"

He thought about the hits he had been asked to do but refused to execute. And how he had wanted to do the right thing in 1985, and admit to killing Salvatore Alaimo.

He phoned a Hamilton lawyer. Murdock asked about a plea deal and suggested life with no chance of parole for 20 years.

Later, Murdock heard from the lawyer that 13 years was an option.

And I said I don't care."

With the Barillaro hit, he had become one of Canada's most prolific hitmen; Real Simard confessed to having killed five mobsters in Montreal and Toronto for the Cotroni Mafia in the 1980s.

Murdock agreed to admit to the Alaimo, Papalia and Barillaro murders, in addition to naming Pat and Angelo as the ones who asked him to do the latter two.

He would not talk about any other friends or associates.

I said I'm not giving you anything else."

The Musitano brothers were arrested in November 1998.

The appearance of all three men in court drew unprecedented security, including members of a Hamilton police tactical team standing guard outside the courthouse on Main Street East.

The brothers pleaded guilty to conspiracy to commit murder - but in the death of Barillaro alone. In court, their lawyer suggested that Murdock had killed Papalia for his own reasons.

The brothers were sentenced to 10 years in prison.

In court, Pat and Ang sat looking at Murdock with utter disdain and disgust," reported the Spectator.

I stared at them, too. It didn't matter to me."

Murdock received a life sentence with no eligibility of parole for 13 years.

An editorial in the Spectator called the sentence an insult to justice.

I read that editorial, I was perturbed by it. I was taken aback. Why would they write that? I mean I understand where they are coming from, but at the same time, that was my plea deal. I plead guilty to everything I did. I wanted it over and done with. I thought that was fair."

Before Murdock began his sentence, RCMP officers tried to wring more out of him over the course of two weeks during an interrogation at a Canadian Forces base at Camp Borden, near Barrie.

They wanted names. He says FBI officers took part in the questioning, too, believing he had developed contacts during his time in Florida.

I had a lot of friends, and they fired a lot of questions at me. I just wanted to get out of that room ... I think they tried to trip me up to try and squash my (plea) deal. I told them I've got nothing to say, and that's not the deal. And they pressed. And one of them said, Then you're getting 25 (years) to life.' I said, Well then I guess I'm getting 25 to life.'"

His saving grace, he says, were three Ontario Provincial Police officers responsible for him during the process. Murdock found in them a source of emotional support, when they stood with him during breaks, and listened and offered words of encouragement.

That might have been by design, but they also went beyond what I expected. For that I will always be thankful."

After the questioning was over, in a courtyard, Murdock stood with the OPP officers, and cried hard.

All the pressure: not just that day, but for years. It's kind of like a layer cake, and I guess it all came out."

Just before he was sent out West to begin his 13-year prison sentence, Murdock was permitted to meet with family at a conjugal visit prison facility in Kingston.

Two shifts accommodated his visitors. His wife came, and so did his mother, and his stepbrother and stepsister, and Stan Murdock, the one he would always think of as his only true father.

His biological father, Jim, also visited, and the two talked occasionally on the phone in the years that followed.

And for the first time in Murdock's life, he met his two blood brothers - the ones his mother had put up for adoption as newborns.

Murdock says the two men grew up with loving families, but still harboured pain not knowing their biological family all those years.

They have rejection issues, and I get that. But I also told them that I've got the same issues, except I had to actually live there. So yes, they were rejected, but then they were loved by someone else. I never had that choice. I told them, listen: I wish I was the one who was adopted out. Because our life was shit, for the most part."

He was in prison 13 years, mostly in a B.C. institution, and most of it in segregation for his own safety, he was told. He cooked food in a kitchen adjoining his cell.

Murdock was kicked out of one institution after fighting an inmate. In 2009, he was granted day parole and lived three years in a halfway house; his parole was revoked by the Parole Board of Canada in 2010 for using cocaine, and reinstated in 2011. He was granted full parole in 2015.

His initial employment included driving a truck and working construction on a hospital renovation. He violated his conditions when he sent a social media message to a former Correctional Services of Canada officer that was deemed threatening; Murdock said he had meant to tease the officer and apologized.

In its most recent report about Murdock, in September 2021, the board granted his request to remove a condition that had prohibited alcohol, so that you might have a glass of wine after work or with dinner."

The board noted that issues arising during Murdock's release period are limited and dated," and he is now considered at a low risk to offend both generally and violently," and has a strong work ethic."

The road for Pat and Angelo Musitano, meanwhile, had ended far differently.

The sons who mobster Dominic Musitano had long ago asked Murdock to protect, are dead.

On May 2, 2017, Angelo, 39, was sitting in his pickup truck outside his home in Waterdown, when a man ran up the driveway and opened fire on him.

On July 10, 2020, Pat Musitano, 53, was shot in the parking lot of a Burlington plaza while standing next to his SUV - the third attempt on his life in three years.

Murdock had mixed emotions when he had heard the news.

He felt sad about Ang, who he had known since Ang was maybe six years old. He had been like a little brother.

And Pat?

Kind of felt like karma. I have a long memory. First thing I thought about was his voice on those tapes ... He rubbed a lot of people the wrong way."

In 2020, a man wanted in Angelo's murder was found dead inside an abandoned car in Mexico.

With all the scorched earth behind him, Murdock has survived.

Does he fear someone will come after him?

Fear is kind of a strong word. Concerned, sure. What person wouldn't be concerned? You try to keep a small footprint, type of thing. But you're not really running from anything."

He has returned to Hamilton once since he was convicted, and it was when he was still in custody. That was around 2004 when he flew back under police guard to attend the funeral of one of his stepsisters.

He hopes to come home this summer to visit family. He says that even on full parole, his movements are restricted, and he needs to inform his parole officer if he attempts travelling.

That will never end, but I don't look at it as a bad thing, it's necessary evil after what I've done."

Upon his release from prison, he says he was offered witness protection by Correctional Service of Canada officials, but declined.

They suggested he change his name, and he did, but plans to change it back to Murdock.

For one thing, people seem to keep finding him. And for another: It's who I am."

Murdock lives alone in Western Canada. He does not socialize. Bars don't interest him. He gets close to no one, and keeps people back home at a distance, too. It seems the safe thing to do.

He has not seen his wife since his conviction, but they are not legally divorced. She has asked to come see him, but he said no.

I just want her to do well. She's been through lot. I'm not being cold, I just don't see the percentages in communication."

He is in touch with his daughter from his first marriage.

He works long hours and likes it that way. His boss asked him about his backstory, and Murdock told him. The boss thanked him and said he just wanted to know the truth.

In the evenings, Murdock listens to jazz, blues and rap music. He watches the NFL and Formula One racing by himself. He enjoys documentaries and gets in the occasional debate on Twitter; he says he's a free-thinking independent politically and is a fan of Joe Rogan and Jordan Peterson. He does not have much of a filter when it comes to airing his opinions, sometimes to a fault.

He's had two shoulder separations on the same shoulder, but healed and is working out hard again. The family room in his home is essentially one big weightlifting pit.

He says he has been in zero fights since he got out, and avoids being in a position where someone tries to start something with him.

Because I know what's going to happen: I'm going to hit back, and then I'm going to go to jail and he's going to the hospital. I'm not giving up my freedom again, and I don't want to hurt anybody, either. I've hurt enough people in my life."

He says a psychiatric evaluation before he left prison diagnosed him with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and also depression, which he figures he has had as long as he can remember.

He reaches out to a psychiatrist when he feels the need to talk, but doesn't take medication.

At least I know what it is, and this is how it will be."

Most nights he smokes half a joint of medically prescribed marijuana, and nurses a half glass of wine, before going to bed.

Unsettling images from the past sometimes visit his sleep, before he rises early, always.

Our final talk was on a Saturday.

Murdock was now speaking as though trying to peel back the layers of his own mystery.

The thing is, as a kid I had a good work ethic, the whole nine yards," he said. You go from being an innocent kid, afraid to fight, and never think about shooting anyone. Then you become something that you never thought was in your essence."

He wondered if his childhood had set the stage for his inability to emotionally connect with others. Seemed like it had always been that way, whether losing male friends or leaving girlfriends.

I still don't really talk to people. I go to work every day and go home and that's it. It's not much of a life."

His voice sounded shaky.

The lighter flicked. He blew out smoke.

No path is preordained, I thought later. But no one entirely transcends their past, either. It may fade from memory but lives within, still shaping us.

He often spoke of his vow to protect the Musitano kids." I wondered if on some subconscious level, he fought and killed to retroactively protect not Pat and Ang, but the beaten beach strip boy whose childhood soundtrack included gunfire in his kitchen.

Murdock said he has no one to blame for his actions but himself.

But it was his mother who brought him into the world, chose to raise him, delivered violence to him as a child, and allowed outlaw influences into his life.

He grew up to be tough and loyal. And broken.

During the few months we were in touch, I dreaded Murdock calling to retract things he said, or ask to see the story in advance, as many do to no effect.

But he never did.

The more we talked, the more he reminded me of guys I knew growing up; the unvarnished observations, and paradox of manners - apologies for the delay responding, Jon" - and rough-edged language.

I felt for him. And liked him.

And lamented coaxing him back through the darkness.

Near the end of the final conversation, he said he didn't understand why I was writing the story now. It has been a bad stretch for Murdock. He lost family recently, including Stan Murdock around the time of his birthday in 2020, and this spring, his biological father, Jim.

He said he thought he was OK after the first two interviews, but recently it had been getting to him.

He was having trouble keeping the memories at bay like he usually could.

I did some pretty hideous things, and I paid for it ... I wish things had been different."

At one point it sounded like he was crying.

I'm emotional now," he said.

I felt heat rising in my skin, sitting bent over in the chair in my office, staring at the floor, elbows on my thighs and fingers clasped as though in prayer, unable to account for what was going through me.

That's when I asked Murdock if he hoped I would not write the story, as though I was seeking some kind of absolution from him.

He did not grant it.

I told him I could hear the pain in his voice.

Does talking about it help in any way?" I finally said.

It does," he said. You feel rough for a bit and then feel better afterwards. The thing is, maybe over time, this will finally be dead inside me."

With that, Murdock said he was about to head to a hardware store and pickup some equipment.

I'm going to work the day away, sir," he said.

There was a ways to go. It was not yet high noon, his time.

Epilogue

Murdock didn't tell me about the obituary.

I had gone looking for it.

It was for his mother.

The obituary for Edna Francis Godbout of Hamilton said she died from a heart attack at 80, on Dec. 1, 2021.

She was buried on Murdock's 59th birthday.

The obituary mentioned some of the men in Edna's life, all of whom she outlived, including Stan, Bert and John.

It continued: She was a daughter, mother, and sister and will be remembered as a very unique one. She will be giving hell to someone up there, but down here she was our mom, and she will be missed so badly...She can't be replaced or duplicated: Thank God.'"

It read plain-spoken and from the heart.

The author?

Murdock.

In the past, his mother had asked to visit him out West, but he refused.

He didn't want to talk, either.

But eventually he changed his mind, and they got talking on the phone.

That's when she apologized for how she had treated him long ago.

The final couple of years of her life, she descended into the fog of dementia.

Murdock did not stop talking with her on the phone, though, to the end. He wanted to keep hearing her voice.

His mother had framed the beginning of his story.

And he wrote the end to hers.

She was a complicated individual but had a heart of gold," wrote the son.

All I want to remember is that she always tried her best with what she had. Love her always and hope to see her again."

Jon Wells is a feature writer at The Spectator. jwells@thespec.com