Manitoba’s last hanging Drunken rage led to fatal shooting of veteran Winnipeg police officer in 1950; Henry Malanik’s trials, appeals and stays of executions came to an end 70 years ago at Headingley Jail By: Willy Williamson Posted: 7:00 PM CDT Friday, Jun. 17, 2022

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 16/06/2022 (825 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

His lawyer argued he was so drunk he had no memory of the events that took place on that fateful night.

But the facts remain. On the evening of Saturday, July 15, 1950, Henry Malanik, 48, shot and killed Winnipeg police Det.-Sgt. James Edwin (Ted) Sims, 42, in a home at 19 Argyle St. in Point Douglas.

Malanik was tried, convicted and ultimately hanged 70 years ago — on June 17, 1952 — giving him the dubious distinction of being the last person executed in Manitoba.

There is no way to romanticize the awful events of that horrific night. Somewhere in the police archives there is surely a faded file filled with black-and-white crime scene photos that paint a sombre and bloody portrait of the murder and mayhem Malanik committed.

Sims was a rising star in the police, a detective who was active in the community, respected by his colleagues and loved by his family. Although the tides on capital punishment in Canada were already tumultuously turning, there was little sympathy for Malanik and the resounding sentiment was that anyone responsible for the murder of a police officer should come to the end of their life at the end of a rope. 

 

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Although he wasn’t a hardened career criminal like the often desperate cop-killers who typically make headlines for their heinous acts, Malanik, a plumber by trade, wasn’t without his problems.

Born in Ukraine, he came to Winnipeg as a child in 1912 and had only a Grade 4 education. He was convicted of several break-and-enters at age 17, but stayed out of trouble until 1950.

That year, only a few months before the fatal shooting, Malanik and his best friend, Adolph Kafka, became involved in a bitter love triangle involving Kafka’s wife; a drunken brawl with gunfire presumably ended their friendship. Both men pleaded guilty to discharging firearms and each received $50 fines.

In a twist of fate, the guns seized in the fracas were returned to Malanik by the police; one was the shotgun he used to kill Sims.

On the night of the shooting, Malanik attended a wedding where he consumed a significant amount of liquor, including a home brew, to the point he was kicked out of the event for fighting with the accordion player from the band Stan and His Range Riders.

Emboldened with whisky courage, Malanik climbed in his 1941 Dodge and drunkenly drove to his ex-friend’s home a few blocks away. There was a fight, and he ended up stabbing Kafka three times with an army dagger before fleeing, according to reports from the time.

Two uniformed officers arrived at the scene and took Kafka to the hospital, where he was treated and released.

Three detectives, led by Sims, also arrived to investigate. While interviewing the remaining occupants — Kafka’s wife, her parents and someone renting a room — Malanik burst into the home in a fit of rage with a 12-gauge shotgun, which he had hidden away nearby. The unarmed Sims pleaded with him to drop the gun.

“The detective cried, ‘Don’t be a fool, man. Put that gun away,’” the Winnipeg Free Press reported.

Malanik hesitated a second before pulling the trigger, blasting Sims with both barrels in the stomach at point-blank range. A second officer, acting detective William Anderson, was wounded. The third, acting detective John Peachell, returned fire.

Malanik was shot three times, with wounds to his left hand, shoulder and hip. He was, reportedly, laying on the floor next to Sims, sobbing and repeatedly begging the officer not to die.

“DETECTIVE SLAIN IN GUNFIGHT” screamed the Free Press front-page headline on Monday, July 17, accompanied by the underline “Exchange of Shots Wound Second Officer and Suspect.”

The front-page coverage was extensive, featuring photos of the slain officer, detectives Anderson and Peachell and Malanik. It also included a photo of the bullet holes from inside the house, a photo of a Free Press reporter gazing at the spot outside the house where the wounded Anderson collapsed and a drawing of the home’s layout, marking where the shooting occurred, where a window was blasted out and where Sims collapsed.

Sims, a 20-year veteran, was in charge of the overnight detective detail that night. When the chaos ended, he became the first slain Winnipeg officer since 1940.

The Free Press set the stage in a second front-page story:

As he walked into the detective department at Rupert avenue police headquarters at 11:45 p.m. Saturday, a phone message was received of a stabbing at 19 Argyle avenue.

He turned to two acting detectives, William H. Anderson and John H. Peachell.

“You’d better take this call, sadfellows.”

But then, thinking they would need help, he decided to join them.

Sims, hailed as “one of the most efficient members of the detective department,” according to Chief Const. Charles MacIver, “had no chance to draw a gun.”

MacIver went on to say Sims was a great loss for the force.

“He had a marvellous memory and knew every member of the city’s underworld after he had once seen them. He never forgot a criminal’s face or his history.”

Sims died the following morning, but Anderson survived. Malanik made a full recovery.

It was first believed Anderson was originally caught by the spray from the shotgun blast that killed Sims.

According to an article about the murder of Sims on the Winnipeg Police Museum’s website, former Winnipeg police officer and historian Jack Templeman wrote that it was later determined Anderson was shot accidentally by another officer, Const. J. Slot.

At the time, rookie officers were not permitted to carry guns, but it was suspected Slot had a pistol in his possession and, mistaking the plain-clothes detective for a suspect, shot him in the neck and abdomen when responding to the call for backup. Slot was subsequently fired for breaching regulations and falsifying his report.

There was little doubt, however, who shot Sims.

Malanik’s lawyer, Harry Walsh, tried unsuccessfully to have him tried for manslaughter, arguing his client’s extreme drunkenness at the time meant he was unable to form the intent for murder.

One witness, Dr. Gordon Burland, who treated Malanik at the Winnipeg General Hospital (now part of Health Sciences Centre), told court he could smell alcohol on Malanik’s breath and that he was loud and difficult to control.

However, at the conclusion of the four-day trial in October 1950, the jury took just 40 minutes to return with a guilty verdict. The front-page Free Press headline summed it up succinctly: “Malanik To Die Jan. 17.”

A second trial was ordered after a successful appeal. Two appeal judges quashed the murder conviction, reducing it to manslaughter. The other three judges called for a new trial.

Malanik took the stand in his defence in May 1951, saying he had blacked out due to excessive drinking at a wedding party. The next thing he remembered was waking up on a stretcher.

“How can I say if I remember anything or not?” an agitated and tense Malanik told court. “I have been in the death cell for nine months. I hardly remember if I’m even existing.”

The jury deliberated for nine hours before returning with a murder conviction. He was sentenced to be hanged at Headingley Jail. His lawyer appealed, again arguing Malanik couldn’t form intent due to excessive drunkenness.

In total, Malanik was granted five execution stays before his appeals ran out.

Nearly two years after the Argyle Street shootout, he was hanged at Headingley shortly after 2 a.m., on June 17, 1952.

The death merited a 16-paragraph story on Page 8 of the Free Press, under the headline, “Malanik Dies On Gallows After Prayer.”

According to the story, Malanik entered the execution chamber 30 seconds before he was hanged.

He smiled at prison officials as he walked to the gallows and then recited the Lord’s Prayer with his spiritual adviser, Salvation Army Maj. Stanley McKinley, who had been a regular visitor while Malanik awaited his fate during the trials and appeals.

Malanik was dressed in a white shirt and brown trousers.

His executioner — believed to have been Camille Branchaud, who was on the Quebec government payroll as a hangman — was reportedly wearing a colourful Hawaiian shirt and a black beret. Branchaud executed people in other areas of the country on a contract basis.

There were about 40 witnesses present.

Malanik was described as looking healthy; he had gained weight while behind bars, some observers suggested.

His weight, it turned out, was misjudged by the hangman, resulting in his jugular being severed — causing blood to spurt from his neck.

He was pronounced dead two minutes later by the provincial coroner.

 

Willy Williamson is a Free Press editor and a former Manitoba corrections officer.

willy@freepress.mb.ca