Welcome back to the Dark Mind Detective.
I'm your host, Mark Devereaux. And.
What you're about to hear is one of the most disturbing chapters
in the Robber Picton investigation.
This is episode 6 Piggy Palace, a party venue for police,
politicians and criminals. On the surface, it looked just
like another rowdy after hours club on a rural property.
But beneath the neon beer signs and the deafening music, Piggy
Palace was something else entirely.
A gathering place where off duty cops, politicians, outlaw bikers
and underworld figures partied side by side.
And it was. All run.
By the Pickton family. Why is this significant?
Because when the lines between criminals and law enforcement
blurs, when investigators are sharing drinks with the very
people they're supposed to be watching, justice becomes a
joke. Conflicts of interest aren't
just possible, they're inevitable.
And what's even more surreal? This wasn't some underground
rumor. This was known, documented,
enabled. But we're not stopping there.
After this episode, I'll. Be dropping a bonus
investigation that may be one of the most unsettling revelations
yet. It's titled The Toxic Soil of
Death. We'll explore how Picton's
topsoil business, yes, his topsoil business, spread across
Metro Vancouver in the Lower Mainland, a business that not
only contaminated with dangerous carcinogens, but may have been
laced with human remains. Kids played in it, gardeners
grew vegetables in it, and landscapers worked in it,
completely unaware. Following that, we'll be taking
a short break from the Picton series to bring you something
deeply personal and profoundly powerful.
A super episode featuring my close friend and collaborator
David Fella, a former Mafia hitman who is now fighting
terminal cancer, David has shared.
Things with me over the past year that most.
People would take to their graves.
The supercut will bring all. Of our recordings together for
the first. Time and after that we'll be
releasing one final deathbed confessional episode, David
said. Please don't publish it until
after I'm gone. I don't want the police
arresting me on my deathbed. And when we return.
We'll pick back up with Episode 7 through 10 in the top 10
anomalies of the Picton case, plus unreleased bonus material
I've. Already recorded, I got a.
Lot in the pipeline. And if this is your first time
tuning in, welcome to the investigation.
This is not just a podcast, it's A reckoning.
I just want to say that this case has challenged me more
deeply than anything I've ever worked on.
My name is Mark. It's the first time you've ever
listened to my podcast. But I go by the Dark Mind
Detective because I don't just chase the headlines or dwell on
the gore. I investigate the dark
psychology that drives these crimes, the manipulation, the
sociopathy, the systemic failures.
I look past the blood, the spectacle, into the deeper
shadows, the indifference, the trauma, the scars that take
generations. Robert Picton case isn't just
one of Canada's most horrific serial killer stories, it stands
among the most disturbing criminal cases in modern
history. I say that without exaggeration.
This was more than murder. It was industrial scale
dehumanization. The women consumed by this
ecosystem of violence and addiction were treated as less
than human. When they could no longer be
exploited for profit, drugs, or sex, they became commodities of
death, forgotten, discarded and erased.
What makes this case even more tragic is how long it was
allowed to continue. How many people knew, suspected,
or even enabled it through silence and competence.
Or worse. That question, how and why was
this permitted for so long is what drove me to spend over a
year researching, collecting data, digging into archives,
interviews and the memories that many would rather forget.
This wasn't a story of a lone predator.
This was an enterprise were murder, an exploitation came
with the price tag. I wrote a 20 part series.
Then I thought, well, maybe I should Just a podcast with the
top 10 things you should know about the Picton case to prepare
the listeners before diving into the 20 part series.
But like this case itself, the 10 part series expanded and
became 10 parts and kept involving like an accordion.
It unfolded in directions I didn't anticipate, but now I'm
ready to release it for what I built.
Not because I've answered every question, but because I've gone
as far as I can. Now there are still chapters
left. The destruction of evidence.
The whitewashing of truth, the unanswered questions that cling
to the story like ghosts, like the victims of during the Jack
the Ripper era. The women of the Downtown East
Side of Vancouver deserve justice, even if it comes
decades later. If I can contribute anything,
it's to make sure that these stories aren't forgotten, that
someone, years from now, may stumble up across the Picton
file and see something I missed, something that brings truth and
clarity and maybe even closure. When I'm gone, I hope people
remember that I did everything I could to preserve this story, to
document the facts, to shine a light on what the system tried
to bury, what was hidden in the shadows.
Piggy Palace, a party venue for off duty cops, politicians and
criminals. The Picton family ran Piggy
Palace, an after hours club where off duty police,
politicians, bikers and underworld figures partied
together. Why is it bizarre?
The Farm and the Picton's properties was a Nexus of
criminal activity and social mingling between law enforcement
and criminals, making conflicts of interest and corruption
highly plausible. The story of Piggy Palace stands
as one of the most disturbing chapters in Canadian history, a
place where the boundaries between community celebration
and sinister activity blurred in a way that would eventually
horrify a nation. To truly comprehend Piggy
Palace, we must peel back the layers of the interconnected
elements, Vancouver's vibrant yet shadowy underground culture,
the Downtown East Side's trouble yet rich history, and the social
conditions that allowed predators to operate while
authorities look the other way. This isn't merely a story of a
notorious party venue. It's an examination of an
environment that nurtured it, the culture that accepted it,
and a system that failed to recognize the danger lurking
within its walls. In my book, Picton Land, which
I'm still developing, Piggy Palace occupies a central
position, a physical manifestation of the darkness
that can fester when society turns a blind eye to
exploitation and vulnerability. What you're about to hear isn't
a simple tale of good versus evil, It's a nuance exploration
of how communities, authorities and individuals can become
unwitting participants and tragedy.
Let me take you back to a Halloween night in the mid 1990s
through the eyes of a witness who still feels the chill of
that evening decades later. A longshoreman who requested
anonymity. He attended a Halloween
celebration at Piggy Palace with an old friend and Co worker.
His account will transport you to the heart of this notorious
venue. I arrive.
It was pitch black around 9:00 PM, he his voice dropping to
almost a whisper. Rain was coming down, turning
the ground into a muddy mess. The property was littered with
motorcycles and old cars, their metal gleaming Dolly in the
sparse light. And at the center was a massive
pig roasted on a split, the flames casting an eerie dancing
shadow across the grounds. He paused as if he was seeing it
again. Children in Halloween costumes
darted around through the darkness like ghosts, some
dressed as witches, monsters and ghosts and goblins playing in
the mud without supervision. There was hardly any lighting,
just enough to see the shapes moving.
I noticed numerous women who I recognize from the streets of
the Downtown Eastside. The party wasn't concentrated to
1 area, it's spilt across an entire property with people
disappearing into the main house and nearby trailers for God
knows what. What truly haunted him years
later was a moment that sent ice through his veins.
I remember walking past a small shack with nothing but a dim 40
Watt light bulb hanging over the door.
I could hear machinery running inside, a low a mechanical hum
that seemed to vibrate in my chest.
In that moment I experience of what I can only describe as a
death chill. The hairs on the back of my neck
stood up. My feet felt frozen into the
ground, almost like they'd grown roots.
An overwhelming sense of dread washed over me, a primal
warning. Something deeply wrong.
I heard something. It was almost like a a low
whimper. It wasn't exactly what I saw.
It's what I felt. I knew immediately I had to
leave. I turned away and I made my way
home shaking. It wasn't what I saw, it's what
I felt. It's almost like I felt
something whispering at me, like get away from here, leave now.
But there's something about that low whimper was almost like
something I can't shake. I never stopped thinking about
it ever since. This Lonshoreman's account
wasn't unusual or exaggerated by many others who visited Piggy
Palace, sharing Similar's impression.
Wild Atmosphere's rampant drug use a roasted pig as a central
feature of these gathering. I was about to eat some pork,
Lonshoreman added, his face contorting at the memory.
Then I saw Robert Picton tearing the pig apart with his bare
hands. I decided against it.
His hands were filthy. I'll never go again.
The crowd was extremely raunchy, cocaine everywhere, and truly
dangerous people. I wanted nothing to do with it.
Piggy Palace was officially registered as a nonprofit
society dedicated to raising money for sports and
organization and other worthy groups.
It wasn't just a hidden underground venue operating in
the shadows. It functioned openly, with a
carefully constructed veneer of legitimacy that allowed it to
exist in plain sight. It was located at 255 Burns Rd.
And it's worth mentioning too, it was on a different property
than Robert Pickton's Slaughterhouse, which was on
Dominion Ave. about a mile down the road.
It wasn't just visited by badass people.
The guest list included two mayors, several City Council
members, local businesses, civic leaders, hockey moms, even high
school and elementary school students.
They all came for what was described as functions, dances,
concerts and recreations at Piggy Palace.
So when I I post both my Robert Picton case on my Instagram
page, the Dark Mind Detective and I had so many people contact
me. People had their high school
graduations, their people have done fundraisers for their
sports teams. It was a very thriving place.
Two faces, the community part. And then it had the raunchy wild
parties, drugs after hour apart. So much more sinister is what
makes the Piggy Palace story so profoundly unsettling.
The massive scale of the operation events ranged from
raves with pounding electronic music to live band performances.
From community fundraisers to wild drug fueled parties.
These gatherings could attract up to 2000 people approximately.
About the ominous physical setting, Piggy Palace operated
out of a large converted shed but had state-of-the-art sound
equipment and a big sound stage. This industrial, makeshift
venue, poorly lit, isolated and sprawling, created the perfect
environment for activities that would never have been tolerated
in a more visible or regulated space.
So according to Scott Chubb, who became a police informant who
actually broke the case wide open.
We'll get into Scott Chubb's story later on.
He worked the door and cover charges typically range from $10
to $20 per person. He said on any given night he
never collected anything less than $10,000 in cover charges
and one particular night he collected over $43,000.
And this translate you do the math that say they were charging
$20.00 at night translate to 2150 people passing through the
door. Bill Hickscox provided another
most revealing insider perspective on Piggy Palace.
As someone who worked directly at the Picton's Brothers Farm,
his observation carries a particular weight.
According to Hickscox, the special events at Piggy Palace
weren't just wild parties, disturbing undercurrents of the
entertainment. He noted that these events
regular featured A rotating group of sex workers brought in
from the Downtown East Side, women who were often vulnerable,
struggling with addiction, and easily exploited.
Hickscox didn't mince words when describing the overall
atmosphere, calling it chaotic, concerning by what he described
as a creepy environment throughout the farm.
It was rough, sketchy and dangerous.
The clientele represented a strange and volatile mix.
Hardcore bikers along ordinary residents and occasionally even
civic leaders who should have known better, create an
environment where normal boundaries and protections broke
down, where the vulnerable became invisible, and where
predatory behavior could flourish undetected.
The breaking point came following a particularly massive
New Year's Eve celebration on December 31st, 1998.
In response, authority took decisive action, slapping the
Pictons with a court injunction that banned future parties.
The language of the court order was ambiguous, noting that
police were henceforth authorized to arrest and remove
any person attending public events at the farm, a clear
indication of how seriously officials have begun to take the
situation. The final nail in the coffin for
Piggy Palace came in January of 2000, when the society lost its
nonprofit status for failures to provide mandatory financial
statements. This administrative action.
While seemingly bureaucratic effectively ended the venue's
ability to operate even under the thinnest vineyard of
legitimacy. The scale of these operations,
the diverse mix of attendees, a dual nature of Piggy Palace as a
both a community gathering spot and a haven for illicit
activities, created a perfect storm.
A place where predators could operate with relatively
impunity, hidden behind a facade of community service and
entertainment. To understand Piggy Palace, you
need to see it as part of a larger tapestry.
Vancouver 1990s which I was born and raised.
I was in my early 20s. It was a city with a thriving
underground nightlife for those of us who grew up there.
Booze cans and after hour clubs, they were fixtures of the city's
nocturnal landscape. I was too young in the 80s to
know about them, but by the time I finished high school in the
90s, these underground nightclubs have become a part of
Vancouver's identity. When licensed bars and clubs
shut their doors at 2:00 AM, the night was just beginning for
those who knew where to go next. The Vancouver I knew back then
was a lot edgier, grittier than the gleaming glass metropolis of
today. The city pulsed with a raw
energy after dark, a place where boundaries blurred and rules
bent. It wasn't just about drinking
after hours, it was about the whole parallel culture operating
in the shadows of the official cities.
These venues existed in a legal Gray area, unlicensed, hidden,
and operating well beyond official closing times.
They materialized in the most unexpected places, repurposing
spaces. I used to frequent one called
The World, which during the daylight hours was a legitimate
language school. Then on weekends it's
transformed into a throbbing after hours club where hundreds
danced until dawn. Their own versions there was
Jamaican after hour clubs up pulsed with reggae and dance
hall. I actually liked those ones
because they always had really awesome food and believe it or
not they were pretty chill too. Chinese venues operated out of
upscale houses, often featuring high state gambling alongside
drinking bikers. Some of the biker after hours
had poker tables, blackjack and roulette tables conversion.
The warehouse in Yale Town occupied a formal industrial
space filled with electronic music that echoed off its
concrete walls until the morning light filtered through the high
windows. What's critical to understand
that these weren't normal, small, secretive operations.
They were known entities, places where hundreds, sometimes
thousands, of people would gather.
Police were aware of them, City officials were aware of them,
yet they operated with minimal indifference, creating places
where normal rules and protections didn't apply.
I never went to Piggy Palace myself, but I heard whispers.
I definitely knew some people that went there.
You'd hear about this after our place that was on some pig farm,
they would say, and some people actually really liked it.
They liked the environment. But yeah, it just sounded kind
of kind of freaky for me even back then.
There was these other properties that you would hear about.
There was this one, I can't remember the name of it, but it
was a mansion that had some large acreage grounds with this
outdoor swimming pool. It was known for swinging
parties. I knew strippers that would go
to these events. They would be like good food
there and they'd be meet couples and they'd do swinging and
they'd have all these different rooms for different types of
activity. Yeah, I, I never went to that
myself, but I I've heard and talked to people who went to
that one. And then you'd hear about
properties out, let's say in Maple Ridge, even out in
Chilliwack where they have these big buns and fire events.
So this was a thing, especially in the 90s.
And then there was, I believe where all the bikers went in
Nanaimo, I believe it's called Angel Acres.
It was a big party. I think that was like a once a
year party, I believe. I don't know, I, I, but these,
what you'd hear about these things.
I I never really strayed off the beaten path out of the downtown
core or maybe some after hours that were in Kitsilino.
But you know, through your circles and networks, you'd hear
about these different spots. Like I was saying, the, the
mansion for swingers out in Langley, bonfires and party
events. And so Piggy Palace, believe it
or not, didn't really stand out as unusual.
Maybe the activities that went, but a place where people went
and partied and after hours kind of off the books in a Gray zone
was not an uncommon thing of Vancouver of the 90s.
Like, as I said, as outrageous as Piggy Palace might seem in
isolation, it was an extreme example of a phenomenon that was
woven to the fabrics of 1990s Vancouver.
The city operated with a certain looseness, then an understanding
that some of these rules were flexible, especially if the
right palms got greased. I worked in a lot of legitimate
nightclubs that were fronts for deeply illegitimate activities.
I worked. I worked in a club in New
Westminster that was run by Chinese organized crime.
Another one on Kingsway that was controlled by a coalition of
Indo Canadian gangsters and Mexican cartel representatives.
Their head of security was an ex fighter who served in Hezbollah
and he was actually a cool guy believe it or not.
I used to play pool with him. He was a super chill dude.
Right? I just was lucky I never made a
MAD or got on the wrong side of him because yeah this guy was.
Apparently he could take care of business for what I heard.
Vancouver in the 90s wasn't just a pretty postcard city, it was a
place with a thriving underground economy where
criminals organization operated businesses that served as an
interface between the legitimate world and the underground.
Piggy Palace didn't emerge from a vacuum, it grew from fertile
soil that has been cultivated for decades.
One of the fascinating threads that connects Piggy Palace and
Vancouver's broader nightlife culture.
So Dave picked and reportedly got the idea for Piggy Palace
when he was hired to demolish the Caribou Pub that I knew I
worked there a few times as a bouncer.
So when I worked at the nightclub in New Westminster,
when someone was sick from the Caribou Pub, they would ask us
to sub for them. And so, so if I was available
and they had, you know, when their bouncers or regular
bouncers were unavailable, they would ask us to kind of fill in
the spot because the head doorman at nightclub I worked at
was friends with the head doorman at the Caribou Pub.
Now I want to say something. I have been to a lot of bars
across Canada and the United States.
And I used to work for an agency that would send me to nightclubs
across Canada to do nightclub like nightclub entertainment.
So I've, as I said, I've been to a lot of bars.
The Caribou Pub was the toughest, roughest place I ever
set foot in. It was not a place for the faint
to heart. Filled with lot of sawmill
workers that worked in close proximity, lots of bikers, the
biker Mamas who I could say were the most formidable people in
that room. You did not mess with the biker
Mamas. Oh, no, yeah, they were super
intimidating actually, and they didn't give any fucks
whatsoever. The the the hardcore bikers, if
you were polite and gentlemanly to them, they were cool.
They never had any problems with them.
But man, not from the biker Mamas, you know, Jeez, I I'll
tell you a quick story. So I worked with her.
I was a guy named Don who was like a big muscle Italian guy,
kind of looked like Stallone, right?
Similar. They had similar look and he
threw a biker Mama out because she was being so drunk and
obnoxious. So you know what she did?
She walked by a table and grabbed a fork off the table and
then went up to him really nice and going hey I'm sorry for my
behaviour my bad and went to go shake his hand and soon as she
as soon as dawn grabbed her hand she stabbed him in the shoulder
with a fork and the fork was all sticking out of his shoulder.
Everyone had a big laugh, including the all the other
biker Mamas and a crowd that went to the Caribou pub would
have felt perfectly at home at the Piggy Palace party.
You know rough, tough blue collar clientele.
They would have totally loved Piggy Palace it it was actually
a very smart business move of Dave Picton.
It's important to note that not everyone who attended Piggy
Palace was a predator or a criminal.
Most were ordinary people looking for a good time, a drink
after hours, or a community gathering.
But the environment, the unregulated, isolated, and
operating outside the normal societal constraint created the
perfect conditions for predators to blend in, to become just
another face in the crowd while hunting for victims wouldn't be
missed. Piggy Palace became a place
where 2 worlds collided, the everyday world of community
gathering and the shadow world of exploitation and predation.
This collision was possible because Vancouver's after our
culture had already normalized these spaces that existed beyond
the reach of regulation and oversight.
In my series when I first started, name was Vancouver True
Crime. And one of the things I talked
about or my series called Vancouver, the Beautiful and
ugly, the bipolar nature of Vancouver, the beautiful
postcard images, the gorgeous beaches, you know, the outdoors,
the healthy, attractive Vancouver and then this gritty
underground economy and which was a very bipolar and I'm sure
a lot of cities have this, but I feel that the Vancouver has the
most extreme of these two images that clash with each other.
I think an important aspect when you look at the Piggy Palace
case, and it's something I'm going to emphasize throughout
the series. Piggy Palace, Robert Picton's
farm could not existed without the Downtown East side.
They have this symbiotic relationship with each other.
When people hear the Downtown East Side, if you're from
Vancouver or you're familiar with it, if you're not from
Vancouver, the Downtown Eastside is a neighborhood with a lot of
addiction, poverty, and open drug use.
It would be considered it would be similar to let's say Los
Angeles's Skid Row or the the Tenderloin District in San
Francisco would be a a good comparison if you are listening
and you're American. So when people hear the Downtown
Eastside, they immediately conjure conjure image of
addiction, poverty and despair. These problems are real and
shouldn't be minimalized, but it only represents one layer of
this neighborhood with a rich and complex history that
deserves recognition. Before it became synonymous with
social problems, the Downtown East Side was an economic and
cultural heart of early Vancouver.
It was a vibrant industrial area humming with commerce, shops,
ports, warehouse, creating a bustling hub of activity and A
and and lots of jobs. Lot of high paying, good paying
jobs. Within this industrial landscape
existed A distinct community that contributed to Vancouver's
multicultural identity. Multicultural identity
Strathcona is one of the oldest residential area welcoming waves
of immigrants who built their lives and communities despite
discriminations and hardship. Japan Town along Powell St.
thrived as a cultural and commerce center till the forest
internment of Japanese Canadians during World War 2A wound that
the neighborhood never really recovered from.
The area was also home to a significant Black community with
jazz club speakeasies that created a vibrant nightclub
scene decades before the rage. The rave culture of the 1990s.
One of the most poignant connections to this musical
heritage is Jimi Hendrix. Grandmother Nora Hendrix lived
in the neighborhood. Young Jimi spent time there
absorbing the sounds, a rhythm that would later influence his
revolutionary approach to music and becoming the world's
greatest electric guitar player in human history.
So this history, this history has been overshadowed by recent
troubles. It's a tragedy, really, that
these vibrant historical traditions haven't been
preserved and celebrated, has been largely erased from public
consciousness, replaced by the stereotype and fear, drug
addiction, lawlessness that have indeed taken root like a cancer.
But focusing exclusively on these problems prevent us from
seeing the full humanity of this area and its residents.
What makes the Downtown Eastside unique is a status of what I
call the Gray Zone, a place where activities that would
quickly suppressed elsewhere or tolerated and overlooked.
This isn't about official policy.
It's about a complex web of factors that create a space
where normal rules don't fully apply.
Consider the stark contrast. If someone begins to deal crack
or cocaine or meth in front of a luxury boutique on Robson St.
which is like the fancy high end shopping district, the police
response would be swift and decisive.
The same activity on Hastings St. continues for decades
without any real intervention. The differential enforcement
creates a a de facto zone of tolerance that persisted for
decades. This Gray zone didn't develop
overnight and merged gradually as industries moved out of the
area, leaving behind economic depression, vacant buildings.
As unemployment opportunities disappeared, poverty increased,
creating conditions where addiction and homelessness could
take root. The neighborhood became a refuge
for those on the margin of society, a place people with
nowhere else to go, with few resources to change their
circumstances. What's critical to understand is
the symbiotic relationship between the Downtown East Side
and Picton Land, as I call it. They existed in some kind of
dark harmony. The Downtown Eastside Gray zone
created a population of vulnerable citizens who were
easy targets for exploitation. The isolation of the Picton's
property provided a space where exploitation far from public
views. Both areas operated under
different rules in the rest of society, places where
authorities maintained a certain distance, whether through
neglect and difference or active complicity, both spaces allowed
predators to operate with relative impunity, hidden among
populations that were already marginalized and overlooked.
This relationship wasn't coincidental, it was structural.
The same social forces that created and maintain the
Downtown Eastside as a containment zone for poverty and
diction also created the conditions that allowed places
like Piggy Palace to exist without adequate oversight or
intervention. Despite decades of challenges,
the Downtown Eastside maintains a strong sense of a community
cultural identity. Organizations like the Carnegie
Community Center, Wish Drop in Center, and numerous Indigenous
LED initiatives provide support, advocacy, and cultural
programming that helps preserve the neighborhood's heritage.
The area's artistic legacy is particularly significant.
The Downtown Eastside has been home to numerous artists,
writers and musicians that have created works that challenge
stereotypes and gives voice to marginalized experiences.
In my 20 part Picton series, I explore the concept of cursed
land, a place where historical trauma seems to linger,
affecting everyone who comes in contact with it.
This isn't just superstition, it's recognition how violence
and suffering can leave lasting imprints on both physical spaces
and collective unconsciousness. Many cultures, including
Indigenous traditions, recognize that land can retain energy of
an event that occurred there. The Badlands of North Dakota,
sites of burial conflicts during the Indian Wars, often described
as haunted or cursed by both Indigenous people and ranchers
who settled there. The feeling isn't just
psychological, it's described as something palpable, a heaviness
in the air, an inexpectable sense of dread and sorrow.
I went to a candlelight visual in February of 2024 with the
Indigenous community. This is when the RCMP were on my
Dark Mind Detective on Instagram.
I talked to a lot of people who have connections.
You know, some actually have family that still work for the
Pickton brothers. They still have, they still have
companies, they still do trucking, he snow removal for
the City of Port Coquitlam, demolition, construction
projects. You know, they're still
thriving. So I, I talked to a lot of
people whose, you know, family still work there, people who
actually been to the piggy palace parties even as kids, you
know, for pork roast events. I've talked to people with that.
I talked to one lady. It was very interesting.
She contacted me through my Dark mind detective platform on
Instagram and she, you know, again, keeping her identity
private. She was working with someone, an
investigating officer who was deeply affected by the Picton
case. He made a statement that
continues to haunt me. He believes right, And this is
something I plan to do more research as time goes on.
He made a statement and he believed that the violence
associated with the Picton property was intergenerational.
It has been going on longer than Robert Picton's activity and the
woman seemed credible. And so this perspective suggests
that the horrors discovered on the Picton farm wasn't an
aberration, but part of a continuum, a manifestation of
violence and exploitation that has deep roots in a land and its
history. And so I've been really
exploring this concept of cursed land and this becomes a metaphor
for intergenerational trauma. To understand how someone like
Robert picked and could have operated for so long without
detection, we need to examine the families contacts that
shaped them. The Picton family appears to
establish a long pattern of exploitation and mistreatment
long before Roberts crimes came to light.
Patterns that created an environment where cruelty was
normalized and vulnerability was weaponized.
These weren't just isolated incidents, but a consistent
approach to business, family relationships, interactions with
perceived as others, The family operator for particular
worldview. A harsh perspective that divided
people who mattered and those who didn't.
This mindset created a fertile ground for exploitation to
flourish. Dave Picton, who managed various
business operations, established A reputation that would spread
through the community. His approach to business
relationship was characterized by financial exploitation.
He was known for being chronically cheap, consistently
underpaying workers or avoiding payment altogether.
Bounced checks. Workers reported receiving
checks that couldn't be cash, forcing them to return.
Repeatedly demand payment. Retaliatory theft.
Frustrated employees sometimes resorted to stealing equipment
as their only means of receiving compensation for their labor.
Workers were treated as interchangeable, expendable,
creating high turnovers and a constant stream of new,
vulnerable people passed through the property.
This created a cycle of mistrust and exploitation, with workers
feeling undervalued and disposable.
More importantly, it established the Picton property as a place
where normal business ethics didn't apply, where exploitation
was a standing operating procedure rather than the
exception. Perhaps the most disturbing
rumor surrounding Robert Picton's family involving their
distribution of meat. These allegations that Picton
gave out meat to employees, community members with
insinuations of this meat may have been contaminated with
human remains. The Picton's property proximity
to the mental health facility created opportunities for
exploitation as a family appears close to the Colony Farms,
Riverview Hospital and other psychiatric centers that house
vulnerable people. Sometimes it became part of
Picton's Operation Day labor exploitation.
Outpatients from nearby mental health facilities were used as
cheap and free labor with little regard for their well-being or
compensation. It's also worth mentioning, too,
that these facilities also contributed to the Downtown
Eastside. When they started to shut down
and phase out these psychiatric centers, many of them ended up
on the Downtown East Side. So there's like another strange
connection between the Pictons and the Downtown East Side.
One of the one another grotesque thing about Robert Picton.
Apparently he like dumpster diving for the food thrown out
by these institutions. That was when it was served to
workers and patients. The Picton family, how they
operate, targeting those who are already marginalized, minimalize
the risk for consequences for their actions.
The mentally ill, the addicted, the sex workers.
This exploitation didn't begin with business practice.
It seems to appear to be rooted in the family's internal
dynamic. There is a disturbing story
about Robert Picton's mom of throwing a boy into a ditch
after Dave Picton hit him with a truck.
Apparently he got his learner's license.
He was driving the dad's truck and he was driving fast down the
road and hit a little boy and the mother, and the boy was
apparently still breathing. The mother just threw him in a
ditch and they try to cover up the crime.
Of course, Dave Picton only got a slap on the wrist.
I think he lost his license or something, maybe paid a fine.
But yeah, no, no real consequences.
A pattern that suggests profound lack of empathy and
normalization of cruelty. The family was known for being
insular, with many described as hillbilly US versus them
mentality that created a sharp division between family members
and outsiders. This worldview fostered a sense
of loyalty to family above all else, even when that loyalty
required turning a blind eye to disturbing behavior.
Perhaps the most telling, Robert picked and reportedly looked
down on anyone with addictions or dependency, particularly
Indigenous individuals. This contempt for those
struggling with substance use or mental health issues reflect A
broader society prejudice, but serves as a practical purpose.
It made it easier to just justify exploitation,
mistreatment. If someone seems less than
human, just an addict, just a drunk, then treating them with
cruelty becomes easier and rationalized.
So one of the things that I would hear in my research that
when he would take these women to the farm, he would say, hey,
I'm going to help you out. I'm gonna help clean you up and
almost kind of set them up. If some kind of if, in my
opinion, this is like real emotional cruelty.
And then he said if you ever touch drugs even once you're
done and then other times 2 is reported to work himself up, he
would accuse them of stealing from from him.
Where's my stealing his wallet or something.
Like he seemed to have to work himself up before he would do
violence for him. And also too, it's kind of like
a a horrible power trip head game.
So he liked playing these kind of cruel mental games with these
vulnerable people that became his victims.
The Picton case represents as the one most profound systemic
failures in Canadian criminal history.
Multiple institutions, police departments, social workers,
municipal governments, and broader society failed to
protect the most vulnerable members of the community.
These failures allowed a predator or predators to operate
for years, claiming dozens, if not hundreds of victims while
hiding behind the facade of community gathering places.
The investigation into the Picton Farms revealed not just
the horrific crimes of one man, but a web of neglect,
indifference and exploitation that was allowed to fester for
decades. Key systemic failures, including
jurisdictional fragmentation, the division between Vancouver
police and RCMP jurisdiction, created information gaps,
coordination problems and delayed the investigation of
marginalized victims. Women from the Downtown
Eastside, particularly Indigenous women and sex
workers, were not considered priority victims when reported
missing. Besides, the statistic and
systemic analysis are real people whose lives were forever
altered by these failures of not only with the loss of their
loved ones, but the knowledge that many other deaths could
have been preventable if authorities have taken their
concerns seriously. Many families reported that
their loved ones missing, only to be dismissed or ignored by
police who viewed sex workers, indigenous women and those
struggling with addictions less worthy of protection. 1 mother
described making repeated visits to the police station, bringing
photos, detailed informations about her daughter
disappearance, only to be told she'll turn up when she runs out
of money or drugs. Such casual cruelty of dismissal
compounded the trauma of families already facing their
worst nightmare. Indigenous communities in
particular have been deeply affected by the Picton case,
which highlights disproportionate violence faced
by Indigenous women and girls. The case became a symbol for
what later be recognized as a national crisis of the Missing
Murdered Indigenous Women and girls.
For many Indigenous families, a picked in case wasn't an
isolated tragedy, but a century long pattern of violence and
dismissal that traces back to colonization.
The Downtown Eastside community, already struggling with poverty,
addiction, and marginalization, was further traumatized by the
revelations about Pick. The knowledge that a predator
who's been targeting their community for for years while
authorities failed to act deepened a sense of abandonment
and betrayal. As one community activist put
it, we were screaming into the void for years that women were
disappearing and no one with power cared enough to listen.
One of the most important legacies of Robert Picton case
has been an effort to remember and honor the victims.
For too long, these women were dismissed as just prostitutes or
drug addicts, their humanity and dignity denied.
The story of Piggy Palace and the Picton case is not a simple
tale of one man's crime. It's a complex web of
historical, cultural and systemic factors that created
conditions of these horrors to occur.
For Vancouver's long history of underground nightclubs and
marginalization on the Downtown Eastside, from the exploitation
practices by the Picton families and failures of policing social
services, multiple threads come together to form this dark
tapestry. To understand this context does
not excuse or diminish the crimes of self, but rather it
helps us to see these atrocities could happen and more
frequently, how they might be prevented in the future.
It shows us the responsibility that these events extended far
beyond one individual or one family.
It implicates A broader societal structure and attitude.
Thank you for listening the Dark Mind Detective.
Thank you for listening. If you're a journalist,
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I'm Mark Devereaux and this is the dark Mind detective.
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