Yuletide Bandit asks for a gift

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This article was published 23/04/2016 (3422 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

He is one of the most sophisticated criminals Winnipeg has ever seen — a complex, obsessive-compulsive perfectionist who modeled his mayhem after some of the most successful capers in history.

Dubbed the “Yuletide Bandit,” he left dozens of terrified victims in his wake during a seven-year spree that was mostly focused around the holiday season.

And now the bandit is on the verge of returning to society.

Michael Syrnyk, 45, was sentenced in December 2002 to 21 1/2 years in prison after pleading guilty to 35 charges. They included 21 armed robberies of mostly banks and armoured car guards — many of which involved the exchange of gunfire. He made off with more than $300,000.

The most famous was a daytime shootout at Polo Park Shopping Centre that sent Christmas shoppers diving for cover. His last hurrah came when he took a woman hostage inside a downtown massage parlour, shot a Winnipeg police officer in the shoulder and then confessed to all of his unsolved crimes during a lengthy standoff.

Syrnyk’s actions made headlines across the country, but he faded from the spotlight as he began serving his sentence, which is one of the longest in Manitoba history for someone who didn’t commit a homicide.

Syrnyk has been eligible to apply for parole since 2009. Most offenders jump at the first chance they get to seek early release. But nothing about Syrnyk, or his case, is typical.

On Thursday, Syrnyk appeared before the National Parole Board. He was sporting a fresh buzz cut and looking as lean and fit as ever. The 90-minute hearing included a detailed account of his crimes, his time spent behind bars and his plans for the future. The Free Press was the only media outlet to attend the hearing, which occurred on the grounds of Stony Mountain penitentiary just north of Winnipeg.

“I terrorized so many people. I put so many innocent people’s lives at risk, over and over again,” says Syrnyk. “I terrorized the city.”

Cold and calculated

The eyes. Michael Syrnyk says he can’t stop thinking of the eyes.

They belonged to a young woman working in one of the banks he robbed. This one was different than the others. She was younger than most victims he stared down between 1995 and 2002. And there was a look of genuine fear, — of terror — in her eyes.

“I still remember that girl’s face, the teller,” Syrnyk told the two parole board officials, who were appearing in front of him via a video conferencing link from Saskatoon. These types of hearings always used to be face to face, but improving technology and the need to better manage resources now mean about 70 per cent are done by video link.

“These are the things that haunt me now,” he continued.

Syrnyk vividly described another robbery where a mother and her two young children happened to be in the bank. That hadn’t been part of the plan. At the time, he didn’t really care. About that. About anything.

“I made a decision, to consciously shut it out. I became more cold, more calculated,” Syrnyk said.

The parole board members wanted to know why. Finding out what made him tick is a vital part of trying to determine now whether he still poses a risk to society.

“The question is, does the offender have the necessary insight and understanding to the community as a law-abiding citizen,” Gary Sears, deputy regional director of the Parole Board, told the Free Press prior to the hearing.

Syrnyk’s history is well-documented. He had no prior criminal involvement, but deeply-rooted psychological issues, which he claims drove him to a life of crime. Unlike most offenders, this wasn’t about trying to feed an addiction, or trying to become rich. Although the money was certainly nice.

“I got to the point where I felt like I wasn’t part of society. My life felt pretty hopeless. I made a conscious decision that I was going to take what I want. A lot had to do with the money, but it was also the experience of facing my fears,” Syrnyk said.

“I was going through a lot of anxiety. I was basically shutting down. I didn’t ask for help from anybody. I kept it to myself. I was lost. I was depressed. The only thing I had going for me was my anger. It wasn’t in my nature to ask for help. I’ll never know if this was about pride or self loathing. It seemed like self-destruction was my life plan.”

Syrnyk spent weeks researching famous crime groups, such as the Stopwatch Gang, and decided to carve out his own niche. He would meticulously plan his crimes, often rehearsing them for days. He would wear numerous layers of clothing to change his appearance, would position stolen cars across Winnipeg for his getaways and always wore an earpiece connected to a police scanner. He stockpiled weapons and grew increasingly brazen.

“I was turning myself into this person. It was a very disciplined process. I made a conscious decision to train myself to be like that,” Syrnyk told the parole board.

They note his family was apparently unaware of what he was doing, essentially leading a “double-life.” Syrnyk agreed.

“Just like I was avoiding capture from police, I was fooling them. I was only violent when I put on a mask and went and did a job. Nobody else saw that side of me. It was a secret identity,” he said.

‘I terrorized a lot of people’

Winnipeg police are clear where they stand on Syrnyk’s early release. In a letter sent to the parole board, the WPS asked officials to keep the man who “waged war” against them locked up.

They were entitled to give their opinion through the victim impact portion of the hearing. No other victims personally sent letters, although the parole board did review all previous statements provided in court during Syrnyk’s sentencing.

“What kind of impact do you think you’ve had on their lives?” one of the board members asked Syrnyk.

“I terrorized a lot of people because I was this selfish and self-obsessed person. I can’t imagine my impact. Hopefully these people have recovered.”

Syrnyk said he regularly thinks about the officer he shot in that massage parlour, wondering how he’s doing. He knows the pellet is still lodged in the victim.

“I know his shoulder probably aches more now than it did the day I shot him. It’s horrible,” he said, adding the police’s opposition to his release is “accurate and justified.”

What about the 16-year-old boy whose elbow was grazed by a stray bullet while caught in the crossfire of another armoured car shootout?

“I felt lucky. That was one of the times I thought maybe I should stop doing this, it’s getting out of hand,” he said. “The only reason I’m not doing a life sentence (for murder) is luck.”

The parole board also spent several minutes quizzing Syrnyk about his previously stated hatred of authority, especially armoured guards and police. Does that still exist today?

“In my screwed up thinking, I justified these guys were armed. It was a fair fight in my insane line of thinking,” he said. “Amping myself up to hate the police was because the police were the ones in the way of me getting what I wanted. I have nothing against the police anymore. Thy treated me fairly. If they say they are afraid of me, I understand why.”

A death wish

He likely could have kept going, maybe keeping his secret forever. Police had no idea about his true identity. He was not on their radar. Not until his insane last stand, in May 2002, when he took a woman he had fallen in love with hostage inside that massage parlour and opened fire on police officers.

Syrnyk said he knew the end was near. He blames the cocaine that had become all-consuming.

“I was up for anything at any time. I used it to distort my thoughts and justify and rationalize doing things. The behaviour was sociopathic.”

A part of him wished police, or the armoured car guards he’d confronted, would have ended his life.

“I thought at some point one of the guards would shoot me. I just wanted it to end. By the end I was burned out. I had pushed myself too hard. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Syrnyk said the hostage talked him out of shooting himself in the chest the night he held police at bay for more than 12 hours.

“She probably saved my life. I really wanted to die. I just never had the strength to do it.”

Perfect record while in prison

Syrnyk had many supporters in the room this week, including some family members. His parole officer, Valdine Lewis, said the case management team fully supports his release bid.

She listed off his many successes — not a single institutional charge, a perfect 12-for-12 on drug screening tests, psychological counselling and numerous completed programs for substance abuse, aggressive behaviour and emotional management. He spent the first decade at Stony before being moved to minimum-security Rockwood several years ago.

“He’s able to articulate the depth of harm he’s caused to his victims. He’s mindful of how the community as a whole has been impacted by his offending,” Lewis said. She added Syrnyk hasn’t tried to capitalize on his “high-profile status” and has been receiving escorted temporary absences for the past year, where he does volunteer work with Habitat For Humanity and Siloam Mission.

The work has allowed him to be “a part of the society he felt so disconnected from,” the board heard.

“I have a lot of energy. I’m really motivated. I have a good support system,” Syrnyk said. “I like being around people now for the most part. I think I’m in control of my anxiety. I don’t get depressed. I don’t get down. I’ve worked really hard. I’m just really motivated to move forward with my life.”

Habitat for Humanity has promised to hire him if they have a future job opening. Frank Klassen, project supervisor of Siloam Mission, also submitted a letter of support, including how Syrnyk is going to be honoured soon for his volunteer work.

Syrnyk also described how he focused on being a model inmate and not getting swallowed up by prison.

“There were dozens and dozens of things that could have pulled me in,” he said.

But there are still concerns. The parole board wondered if Syrnyk is trying to take on too much, too soon. That he might become overwhelmed by day parole, which would see him with all kinds of freedoms. And that he might not reach out for help.

Syrnyk admitted the biggest risk factors for him are “if I was released and started becoming dissatisfied with my life and felt like it wasn’t going anywhere.” He said he’s not taking any medication for depression or anxiety but feels like he can manage.

“Life is going to get demanding when I get out there. But I really believe I’m going to be able to deal with the stress. My emotions unravelled (before). That’s just not an option for me anymore. I’ll talk to someone before it gets out of hand,” he said.

Parole: Denied

It wasn’t convincing enough. Day parole was denied.

“We want to acknowledge the positive gains. You are not the same person. You’ve done a lot of work, but we still have outstanding concerns,” one board member said.

Specifically, the board wondered if Syrnyk might not be better served first applying for unescorted temporary absences, as most offenders do. Make a more gradual release into the community.

Syrnyk nodded his head slowly, but said nothing else. It was a setback. But there is still a light at the end of the tunnel.

Although his full sentence doesn’t expire until 2024, Syrnyk is eligible for automatic statutory release after serving two-thirds of his sentence. That date will arrive next April.

Near the end of the hearing, Syrnyk teared up as he described hearing about acts of domestic terror and shooting sprees around the world. He specifically mentioned the 2014 attack in Moncton in which three RCMP officers were killed.

“I had nightmares for a week. It took me back to that person I was for seven years, that lunatic. I also knew what was going through that madman’s mind.”

“I wouldn’t want Mike Syrnyk circa 2001 walking around,” he added. “But I’m not the same person. I could never function at that level again. I feel a connection to people now.”

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