“I made my own graveyard,” Robert Pickton once boasted to an undercover officer. Not exactly the kind of thing you want to hear from the guy living next door, right? But for dozens of women in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside during the 1990s and early 2000s, Pickton wasn’t just a creepy neighbor – he was their final destination.
The infamous 14-acre property in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia looks unassuming on paper. But trust me, this wasn’t Old MacDonald’s farm. It was a labyrinth of horror hiding in plain sight.
Welcome to the Piggy Palace (Not a Children’s Book)
Picture this: a sprawling junkyard masquerading as a farm. Rusted vehicles scattered like breadcrumbs. A slaughterhouse that processed more than just pork. Two trailer homes (one for Robert, one for his brother David). And enough outbuildings to hide… well, exactly what Pickton was hiding.
The property was strategically cluttered – a hoarder’s paradise that doubled as the perfect crime scene concealer. I’ve seen my share of true crime documentaries, but the aerial photos of this place still make my skin crawl. It’s like looking at a Where’s Waldo page, except what you’re searching for are human remains. (Sorry for that mental image. Actually, no, I’m not.)
Ryan, my husband, once asked why I was so obsessed with this case. “Because,” I told him, “it shows how easily someone can hide in chaos.” He just sighed and went back to watching hockey. He’s used to my murder talk over dinner by now.
What They Found (Warning: Not for the Faint-Hearted)
When police finally searched the farm in February 2002 (after years of ignoring reports of missing women, but that’s a rant for another day), they found personal items belonging to missing women almost immediately. It was like the farm was practically screaming its secrets.
But that was just the appetizer to this buffet of horrors.
As investigators dug deeper – literally – they uncovered:
- Severed heads stored in freezers (as casually as you might store leftover lasagna)
- Hands and feet cut with surgical precision
- Bones scattered throughout animal troughs or buried under manure piles
By October 2004, DNA evidence had linked at least thirty women to the farm. THIRTY. That’s not a serial killer – that’s a one-man genocide.
CSI: Pig Farm Edition
The forensic investigation at Pickton’s farm makes your average crime show look like amateur hour. Experts had to sift through thousands of bone fragments using conveyor belts, trying to distinguish human remains from animal bones. (Next time you complain about your job being difficult, remember this.)
Anthropologists identified a reciprocating saw that had allegedly been used to bisect skulls. The tool left distinctive cut marks on several bones – like a murderer’s signature in the most horrifying autograph book imaginable.
Perhaps most disturbing was the entomological analysis – using insect development to determine time of death. Bugs don’t lie, folks. And the bugs at Pickton’s farm told a story spanning years.
The Investigation That Almost Wasn’t
Here’s the part that makes me want to throw my criminology textbooks across the room: authorities had multiple chances to stop Pickton years earlier. Women had been disappearing from Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside since the 1980s, with a significant spike in the mid-90s.
The investigation into Pickton’s farm began almost by accident – police were there on a firearms warrant in February 2002. The search lasted until November 2003 and cost over C$70 million. Money well spent, if you ask me, but imagine if they’d acted sooner?
Pickton himself blamed “bad policing” for why he wasn’t caught earlier. The audacity of this man to critique the very system that failed to catch him! It’s like a bank robber complaining about inadequate security.
What Remains (Literally and Figuratively)
Today, most of the property has been demolished, with only a small barn remaining due to ongoing legal proceedings. The evidence against Pickton was overwhelming, but questions still linger about whether others were involved.
The farm of horrors stands as a monument to systemic failure – the failure to protect society’s most vulnerable women, many of whom were Indigenous and involved in sex work. It’s a reminder that sometimes the monsters aren’t hiding under your bed; they’re running a pig farm just outside the city.
I still check my doors twice before bed whenever I deep-dive into this case. And honestly? You probably should too.
Because the scariest part of the Pickton case isn’t what happened on that farm – it’s how long it happened before anyone bothered to look.