Part 6: Next Christmas
On Tuesday, December 21, 1982, after a series of 10 abortive court appearances due to ongoing congestion within the court system, Leslie Sheppard finally had his moment of truth before York County Court Judge Ted Wren. Sheppard faced a two-to-three-year prison sentence for being an accessory after the fact to the escape of the four convicts from the Don Jail on December 25, 1981.
Rewind to December 1981: Things were looking bright for Sheppard. He was working full time as a printer for York Litho and had just purchased a $100,000 house in Pickering, where he was living with his 10-year-old son. Determined to pay off his mortgage as quickly as possible, he took a second job moonlighting for Diamond Taxis in Toronto. His first day on the job would be December 25. He reckoned that spending Christmas away from his family would be a hardship but well worth his while.
He was wrong.
After he had dropped off just his second fare of the night at Riverdale Hospital, four men, uttering dark threats, scrambled into his cab on the narrow roadway between the hospital and the Don Jail. It took Sheppard mere moments to realize that his vehicle had been commandeered by a quartet of jail breakers.
He was ordered to drive along Gerrard Street East and pull over near Parliament Street. He pleaded with the bandits not to steal his cab and gave back the $10 fare one of them had thrust at him. Three of them got out, warning him to keep his mouth shut. The fourth, Andre Hirsh, rode for a few blocks further and told Sheppard to mislead the police if questioned as to where he had been dropped off.
Sheppard was stopped by police a few minutes later, and he identified himself as the man who had just picked up the escapees outside the jail. It was during the interview that followed that Sheppard, still trembling from his terrifying encounter, committed the grave error that would plunge him into a year of misery and chaos: he lied. He concocted the story that he had dropped all four men off at Gerrard and Sherbourne streets, believing that they were being pursued by bikers. And that they had paid for their ride — $1.70 plus a 30-cent tip.
Sheppard dreaded getting involved, and dreaded even more what might happen if the convicts decided to wreak revenge on him for helping the cops. Over a period of four miserable days, he came to the realization that he had been more than foolish, and he went into a police station to ’fess up. The police were skeptical of his belated efforts to change his story. From their point of view, he was not an innocent victim but someone who had aided inmates to escape.
Sheppard’s annus horribilis had begun.
Over the next 12 months, he was overwhelmed both financially and emotionally. He had to sell his house to cover the thousands of dollars he spent on legal fees. He was depressed, fearful of going out, and terrified that, in spite of being innocent, he would be sent to jail.
His lawyer, Eddie Greenspan, called him “the ultimate victim of circumstances — this poor sap who walked into an utter horror story.”
On Tuesday, December 21, 1982, the judge agreed with Greenspan. His client was acquitted of all charges.
And a delighted Sheppard told the Toronto Star’s Ellie Tesher, “Now I believe in Christmas again.”
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