Blood and chrome

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 10/05/2025 (512 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

In only the most dystopian of worlds is extreme violence normalized, yet the names Clifford Olson, Bruce McArthur and Paul Bernardo remind us that murder isn’t the exclusive province of elsewhere.

Montreal-based journalists Julian Sher and Lisa Fitterman’s first collaborative book, Hitman, details the criminal history of Yves Trudeau, one of Canada’s most prolific killers. Trudeau, who died in 2008, rivaled the monstrous Robert Pickton, yet remains a name largely unknown in Canada.

Born in Quebec in 1946, Trudeau’s childhood, from the scant information available, was regimented and strict, but not out of step with the times. Rising quickly to president of the Popeyes Motorcycle Club, Trudeau was patched over to the Hells Angels in 1977.

While active in drug-running and extortion, it was murder-for-hire that made Trudeau, at least initially, invaluable to the criminal underworld. His renown was such that he frequently freelanced outside the Angels, ultimately tallying 43 victims by way of shootings, explosives and beatings.

Trudeau’s long career as a killer ultimately owed more to luck and police apathy than to any particular prowess. Even as innocent bystanders lost their lives, the police dismissed multiple murders as internal gang business. Trudeau’s fateful bombing of a Montreal apartment in 1984 began his fall from grace with the Angels.

Non-fiction crime writing can be interesting in both the questions it raises and the answers it proffers. It’s difficult not to wonder how a person can take a single life, let alone dozens. What forces shape the killer and how can we prevent reoccurence? What do crimes tell us about the world we inhabit and the people we are? Hitman, unfortunately, frustrates on both accounts.

Much of Trudeau’s history is scantly described, and his rapid criminal ascension largely glossed over. Little insight is available into Trudeau’s character; perhaps he was simply too shallow to allow much more. As with Nazi official Adolf Eichmann, the violence Trudeau wreaked was described as essentially impersonal and driven by outside forces, be they drugs or fealty.

The Laval chapter of the Hells Angels, of which Trudeau was a member, were regarded as particularly unruly. The massive notoriety surrounding the Montreal bombing, which displaced hundreds, proved too much for the Angels’ collective patience. Several members of the chapter were killed en masse in Lennoxville, with Trudeau fortuitously escaping while completing a drug rehab stint.

Aware that his life was forfeit, Trudeau turned informant; the access to information and gang history he provided was unprecedented. While Trudeau was able to shine a light on aspects of the Hells Angels that had been largely unknown, he subsequently proved an abysmal witness in court. His coldly arrogant testimony produced no convictions, but came at staggering cost. Trudeau spent less than a decade in prison and was provided with substantial compensation and material perks, eventually dying of cancer in 2008.

For those drawn to this particular time and place, Hitman is perhaps a worthwhile read. Sher and Fetterman do not lack investigative chops or historical context.

Yet for a topic of such apparent interest, it’s surprising how shallow that vein runs. Trudeau never evinced empathy for his victims and, only a few short years after release, was returned to prison on conviction for repeated sexual assault of a child. The paucity of insight, by either the killer or the myriad of professionals who surveyed the case, is profoundly puzzling. Hitman is, generously, less a case of a bad book than a topic with little to reveal or teach.

Jarett Myskiw reviews books for the Free Press.