Ever had that moment where you’re watching a true crime doc and think, “How does someone even get to this point?” Yeah, me too — especially when I first dove into the Robert Pickton case. This Canadian pig farmer turned serial killer has haunted my nightmares since criminology school, and not just because I grew up a few hours from his farm. (My husband Ryan always jokes that’s why I refuse to eat pork. He’s not entirely wrong.)
Pickton was convicted of murdering six women, but confessed to killing 49. FORTY-NINE. That’s practically a small classroom of people. And his goal? To make it an even 50 — as casual as someone trying to round up their Instagram followers.
The Farm Boy Who Became a Monster
Born in 1949 in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia, Pickton’s early life reads like the setup for something sinister. Isolated rural upbringing? Check. Limited social skills? Check. Access to a remote property where screams wouldn’t be heard? Double check.
What fascinates me about Pickton is how utterly unremarkable he seemed on the surface. He wasn’t the charismatic Ted Bundy type or the obviously disturbed Dahmer variety. He was just… a farmer. (The most dangerous predators rarely announce themselves with neon signs, do they?)
After inheriting the family pig farm in the early 1990s, Pickton created what locals called the “Piggy Palace” — a party venue that attracted Vancouver’s downtrodden. Behind this façade of community gathering lurked something far more sinister than anyone could imagine.
The Perfect Hunting Ground
Pickton’s farm wasn’t just his home — it was a calculated killing field as methodically designed as any horror movie set.
The location was strategic (as subtle as a bloodstain on white carpet once you see the pattern): isolated enough to commit murder, equipped with means to dispose of bodies (pigs will eat literally anything, including human remains), and close enough to Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside to access vulnerable victims.
His targets were primarily sex workers and women struggling with addiction — people society had already pushed to the margins. People whose disappearances might not immediately trigger alarms. (I’ve spent countless nights wondering how many women might still be alive if someone had connected the dots sooner.)
The Psychology Behind the Slaughter
What makes someone like Pickton tick? Criminologists point to a few key factors that show up in many serial killers:
1. Need for control and power over victims
2. Dehumanization of certain groups
3. Possible childhood trauma (though details about Pickton’s early life remain murky)
4. The thrill of getting away with it
Most chilling to me is Pickton’s apparent desire for recognition. His confession about wanting to reach 50 victims suggests he saw murder as some kind of twisted achievement — like he was collecting human lives the way some people collect stamps.
When he told an undercover officer that he was “one short of 50” and wanted to kill one more to make it even, it wasn’t just a confession — it was a boast. (I remember reading that transcript in class and feeling physically ill.)
The System That Failed His Victims
The Pickton case exposed massive failures in how Canadian authorities handled missing persons reports, especially those involving Indigenous women and sex workers.
Police received tips about Pickton as early as 1998, but a proper investigation didn’t begin until 2002. By then, dozens of women had vanished. The decision to stay charges on 20 additional murders meant many families would never see justice for their loved ones.
I’ve often wondered if Pickton would have been caught sooner if his victims had been middle-class white women from Vancouver’s west side. (The answer keeps me up at night.)
The Aftermath and Legacy
Pickton is currently serving a life sentence with no possibility of parole for 25 years. Reports of his death circulated in 2023, though these were later debunked.
He died in 2024 after being assaulted in prison, authorities said Wednesday. He was 74.
His case fundamentally changed how missing persons cases are handled in Canada, especially those involving marginalized communities. It forced a reckoning with systemic biases in law enforcement and highlighted the vulnerability of women in the sex trade.
The psychological profile of Pickton continues to be studied by criminologists worldwide. What makes his case particularly disturbing is how ordinary he appeared — a reminder that monsters don’t always look the part.
I still check my doors twice at night when I think about Robert Pickton. Not because I think he’s coming for me (he’s safely behind bars), but because his case reminds me that evil often wears the most unassuming disguise.
And if there’s one thing true crime has taught me, it’s that the person you least suspect is often the one you should watch most carefully.