Here’s a case form my hometown of Winnipeg, Canada. I first heard about this case while reading a book on local folklore – Haunted Winnipeg. It comes as no surprise that the location of a very horrific and violent event is said to be haunted. The Marlborough Hotel is no exception. Before I get ahead of myself, I’d like to get you acquainted with a man named Wordless Westgate.
Born in Kent, England in 1901, Albert Victor Westgate was a problem child. While I couldn’t find examples or details, an account of his behaviour, written and researched by Sergeant John Burchill of the Winnipeg Police, states that he was an embarrassment to his family. Of affluent and prominent means, they sent the teenaged Westgate to Canada, settling him in Winnipeg with a monthly allowance. This assured the family that he would never return.
Right from the get go, Westgate’s behaviour proved not to improve from his being exiled. He lied about his age in 1916, enlisting in the Canadian Expeditionary Force. He served in France in the midst of World War I. He received an Honourable Discharge for his service, as well as bullet and shrapnel wounds to his head, arms, and stomach.
Upon his return to Canada, Westgate married in 1921. The couple moved into a rooming house in Kennedy St., and Westgate found employment with various taxi companies as both chauffeur and meter repairman. He proved himself to be a man of few words, earning the moniker “Wordless Westgate”, bestowed upon him by colleagues. While it definitely stuck, it would become a false descriptor in due time.
I couldn’t find any information as to what Westgate’s marriage was like, nor could I dig up too much on his wife. However, after reading the details of his life (the details I could ascertain, that is), I can determine that Westgate did exhibit a troubling pattern of behaviour around women.
Upon meeting his wife’s friend, Charlotte “Lottie” Adams, at her place of work in early 1924, Westgate became increasingly and excessively infatuated with her. He wanted her. He needed her. He was obsessed with her.
His behaviour escalated quickly and severely. By 1927, he would routinely follow her around her work place and buy her gifts. He would call and send telegrams constantly. He spoke of her as his girlfriend to his colleagues. He wouldn’t stop talking about her to anyone who would listen.
So convinced that they should be together, he begged her to leave her husband and run away with him to Minneapolis. When she refused, he became enraged. He stalked her intensely, trying to convince her to be with him. But she didn’t budge. He decided to try one last time.
On Valentine’s day, 1928, Westgate telephoned Lottie and begged her one last time to meet him. For reasons unknown, she agreed.
Two days later, on February 16th, Westgate rented a car from his employer and picked up Lottie at 11AM, not a care for the neighbours who witnessed the event. They went for a drive, where Westgate begged and pleaded with Lottie to run away with him. Lottie refused. This was not the outcome Westgate had in mind.
He parked the car and pulled a .32 calibre Harrington & Richardson revolver from the back seat. He attempted to shoot Lottie, but she fought for her life. The first shot went through the roof of the car.
She kept fighting, trying to get away from her tormentor. She bruised her knuckles, elbows, knees, and shins in the process. He managed to pull a clear shot – right through the left side of her head. For good measure, he stabbed her with a hatchet afterward. Blood went everywhere – Westgate was in a bind.
He dragged Lottie out of the car and slashed at her head with the hatchet – a possible attempt to disguise her identity, or simply out of rage. The motive remains unclear. He threw her into a ditch and covered her with snow. He knew he had a mess to clean before it set and stained. He drove away, throwing his weapons and Lottie’s belongings out the window as he went.
By 3:30 PM, Westgate had cleaned the car and returned it to his employer, begging him not to tell Westgate’s wife about the rental. He couldn’t be caught cheating, now could he?
On Tuesday, February 28th 1928, a man by the name of William Watkins found Lottie’s body while out on a walk. In due course, Westgate was arrested, having been a person of interest in Lottie’s disappearance.
He was seen by neighbours picking her up. It didn’t help his case that he’d been quite vocal about his affections – contradicting the charming nickname he’d earned years earlier. Wordless Westgate was detained at the Provincial Gaol on Vaughn St. until his trial.
Ensuring the family name would remain untouched, Westgate’s family provided the best help that they could buy. Just in time for his trial on November 13th 1928, Westgate received counsel from Charles Tupper – the grandson of the ex-Prime Minister of Canada, Charles Tupper. (Nope, that’s not a typo – they were both named Charles Tupper.)
After four days, Albert Westgate was convicted of murder on November 16th 1928. He was sentenced to hang at the Provincial Gaol on January 23rd 1929, warranting a call to John Ellis, the National Hangman.
An appeal was launched immediately. Tupper argued that Westgate was unfairly tried. He provided evidence that one juror was not of sound mind, compromising the process. As a result, the jury was “improperly constituted” to convict.
On December 20th 1928, Westgate narrowly escaped the noose. The Court of Appeal found favour with Tupper’s argument, granting a new trial date for March 18th 1929.
This trial went much like the first – Westgate was found guilty, convicted of murder, and sentenced to hang on June 5th 1929. Once again, the National Hangman was called in. And once again, Westgate escaped death.
On June 3rd 1929 – two days before the sentence is to be carried out – Westgate’s sentence was commuted to life in prison. Westgate received help from the War Veterans of Manitoba, who worked tirelessly to circulate a petition asking for clemency.
Westgate was then sent to Stony Mountain, where he only served fourteen years of his sentence. To add insult to injury, while incarcerated Westgate had it made. He was responsible for the care of the prison vehicles and often acted as the Warden’s chauffeur to and from Winnipeg. This offered him a taste of freedom before he was paroled for good behaviour on June 3rd 1943.
Westgate’s release included conditions: He was to remain in Winnipeg, and he was to check in monthly with the Winnipeg City Police Department. To adhere to these conditions, Westgate moved into a rooming house on Spence St. and got a job as a mechanic.
His wife – though still legally married to Westgate – left him to his own devices and moved to Vancouver. By all accounts, Westgate was a free man. But, he would soon find it difficult to keep to one of his conditions.
Grace “Edith” Cook had the misfortune of meeting Westgate in August of 1943 when she moved into the same rooming house after a terrible row with her father. Edith had a habit of engaging with the attractions of older men in uniform. Westgate, 42 years old and an army veteran, fit this description perfectly. It helped – or didn’t help, rather – that she found him kinder than her own father.
Upon meeting Edith, Westgate fell into his old habits very quickly. His infatuation led to the same stalking behaviour he previously exhibited with Lottie. Westgate kept her from dating other men by plying her with gifts he couldn’t afford – including a gold Gruen Tara watch.
Westgate kept her hooked to his lies by making grandiose promises he had no way of being able to keep. He promised Edith a job in Vancouver, with room and board. Edith could live with him and his wife, he told her. They planned for departure to Vancouver on December 5th 1943. But there was one problem: Westgate was not allowed to leave Winnipeg.
He tried everything, but he was not granted permission to leave. Somehow, the lie about his sick wife in Vancouver did not sway those in power. He couldn’t even get a bank loan for the travel costs. With no way and no means, Westgate hadn’t a clue how to get to Vancouver with Edith. Not that he planned on telling her that, of course.
By the end of November, he gave Edith money he borrowed from a colleague and told her to buy herself a new pair of shoes. He insisted that she avoid going back home before they’re set to leave. He made a reservation for her at the Marlborough Hotel. (See, it all comes full circle.)
At 7PM on December 2nd 1943, Edith checked into room 503 at the Hotel and was soon joined by Westgate. They were seen together on Friday the 3rd when they ordered a late dinner at 10:30PM.
On Saturday, she returned home to pack and promised he mother that she’d return one more time to say goodbye before she left. Edith went back to the hotel with Westgate at 12:30PM one final time, where they were seen by multiple witnesses throughout the day.
In her excitement, Edith modelled the shoes she bought especially for the trip. Westgate couldn’t take it anymore. His lies had gone far enough and he couldn’t see a way out. So, he did the only thing he thought he could do. He threw her on the bed and strangled her.
He took her shoes and watch – the gifts he’d used to lure her in – and left the hotel. He returned the shoes using Edith’s original bill of sale and gave the watch away. He proceeded to have dinner, then went to see Inspector Bishop of the Winnipeg City Police Department for his monthly check-in, and finally went back to his rooming house to go to bed.
Concerned that her daughter never returned for the promised farewells, Mrs. Cook decided to take action. She went to Edith’s last known residence – the rooming house on Spence St. – and inquired with the landlady. Mrs. Cook’s next stop is Westgate’s room, after learning about their ‘friendship’. He denied having seen her and sent Mrs. Cook away. She officially reported her daughter missing at 3:55AM on Sunday morning.
The visit irritated Westgate. He panicked. Unable to get back to sleep, Westgate left his room and headed to a coffee shop at 5AM. Once again, Wordless Westgate’s big mouth got him into trouble. He sat, he sipped, and a waitress overheard his manic mumbling. “I shouldn’t have done it” he told himself over and over again.
By 11:30AM, Edith still hadn’t returned home. With her husband in tow, the Cooks once again asked Westgate about Edith. He hedged his bets. He told them she may have taken a room at the Marlborough Hotel – leaving out the fact that he, himself, had made the reservation. However, he did divulge that the last time he’d seen her there was on Friday night. He agreed to go to the hotel with the Cooks to check in on her.
The trio proceeded to room 503 and knocked. There was no answer. They noticed a strange smell in the hallway. at 4:30PM on Sunday, December 5th 1943, after getting the hotel room door open, the Cooks discovered Edith’s body on the bed. Westgate was the one who volunteered to call the police.
While he wasn’t immediately arrested, Westgate was held for questioning under a Coroner’s Warrant as a material witness pending examination of the scene and the body. Once it was revealed that Edith died by means of strangulation, Westgate was immediately arrested and detained.
His trial went much like his previous two nearly 20 years prior. On May 2nd 1944, Charles Tupper (by this point known as Sir Charles Tupper, K.C.) acted as counsel for Westgate at the behest of his family.
After a six day trial, Wordless Albert Westgate was found guilty and convicted of murder on May 8th 1944. His was sentenced to hang at the Headingly Gaol on July 24th 1944. An attempt at an appeal was unsuccessful.
It would seem that the third time was the charm for National Hangman John Ellis. Westgate was executed at 1:17AM on July 24th 1944. By running is own mouth, Wordless Westgate was truly his own undoing.
— — —
Like what you’re reading? Follow me on Twitter or Facebook for the latest updates!
Or, Buy me a coffee!
Sources
Haunted Winnipeg by Matthew Komus – available on Amazon
Winnipeg Police Service – Historical Stories – Wordless Westgate by Detective Sergeant John Burchill