A Murder for My Mom: Demitry Papasotiriou and Michael Ivezic

By all accounts, Allan Lanteigne was a kind-hearted man with a lot of love to give. Unfortunately, he chose to give it to a spoiled, entitled gold digger, along with all of his money. When Allan finally cut husband Demitry Papasotiriou off,  there was hell to pay. It turns out Canada has murderous gold diggers, too.  Who knew? They're supposed to be so friendly!

Transcript

Toronto, March 2011

Oh wait - parantheses. Yes, this is a Canadian story and I’m so happy cuz’ I love and respect Canada so much. And for you flag-addicts out there, yes, Im a patriot (I mean, did you listen to the probably-corny-and-overly-dramatic-but-honestly-heartfelt  9/11 Patreon episode yet?) I love my country. But I tend to think Canadians are superior to us. As a kid I sort of saw Canada as bizzaro America, the anti-matter version of us, where there were so much similarity but they were just flipped inside out and just had different names and poutine. That was insulting. Canada is its own damn brand. They’re way more chill, theyre just nicer and their Mounties  wear much hotter uniforms than any public servants in THIS country. Yes, I am stereotyping like an ignorant slut right now, but can we at least agree that they’re a teensy bit smarter than us cuz’ they have universal healthcare and we still haven’t gotten over ourselves because our moms are worried about wait times? 

Well those wait times are certainly here now ladies. I recently had a small bowel obstruction, legit couldn’t stop vomiting and I was experiencing the sort of pain that I imagine John Hurt’s character felt when the first Xenomorph burst from within him, and I waited seven hours for a doctor. Let me tell you, you’ve never seen an entire emergency room collectively cringe at the exact same time like when you stumble in there carrying your pathetic little Tupperware bowl from your kitchen to catch the deluge because you’re vomiting like crazy. So, yeah the wait times are here anyway, Ma, so let’s explore universal healthcare. Canada is leading by example and people can’t afford prescriptions. 

Now where was I? Right, Canada, Toronto, March 3, 2011. 

Grazia Masi was worried. She couldn’t reach her beloved best friend Allan Lanteigne on his cell, and it was very unusual for him not to get back her. So she decided to take matters in hand and went to the lovely house located on Toronto’s trendy Ossington Avenue that Allan had previously shared with his husband. She checked the windows front and back, it was dark, no one seemed to be home and everything seemed fine. Allan’s car was in the driveway that looked fine, too. But no Allan.

Grazia knew something wasn’t right.

Not wanting to appear hysterical or cause unnecessary drama, she waited for a bit.. The next day she called Allan’s office. He was a bookkeeper at the University of Toronto, with his office being about a half-hour walk from his house.

Alan hadn’t shown up for work, his coworker told her, and he wasn’tt answering his phone. Now Grazia knew something was off, called the Tortonto Police Service, and asked for an officer to meet her at Allan’s house. It was time for a wellness check.

Two police officers met her there, and one of them ends up kicking in the back door. Grazia follows the flashlight-wielding cop through the quiet kitchen, through a doorway and into the front foyer, lit only by the indirect sunlight from outside.  The officer suddenly stops. Grazia peers out from behind her. There was a body on the floor in front of the front door. Tragically, it proved to be Allan Lanteigne. Grazia collapsed in tears. Her friend was gone.

Detectives would eventually uncover that it was a murder. And there was no sign of a break-in or valuables missing. An inside job? That’s strange. Only two people had keys to the house as well as the alarm codes - Allan and his husband. One of them is dead, the other lives in Europe. Who killed Allan Lanteigne?

You’re listening to Wicked Gay, a true-crime podcast about gay people doing awful things. This is Episode 43: A Murder For My Mom: Demitry Papasotiriou  and Michael Ivezic.

Before I explain about that title, I’ve got Patreon subscribers. It’s like the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’m still able to list them in one episode without going into two hours so HUGE thank-you to Rob and Cat, Beatriz and Wolf, Marie and Paul, Drew and Gregg, and Nick and Susan. Thank you one and all, 

If you’d like to lend support to keep Wicked Gay pumpin’, check out our Pateron at patreon.com/wickedgay. If you’d like to spend a tiny bit more and get Pateron-only Wicked Gay bonus episodes and content, basically an extra Wicked Gay episode every month, patreon.com/wickedgay. Whew! 

About that title, A Murder for My Mom.

OK, so I posted a TikTok on this cuz it cracked me up. Wickedgaypod on TikTok if you want to see my cute reading glasses, large melon and you might find my little illustrated clips amusing.So my mom listens to the last episode,  ep. 42, Do You Believe in Magick?: Aleister Crowley, listen now if you haven’t already, I probably should have promoted it more. She listens and the next time I spoke with her, she goes I just caught up on your podcast, and she referenced that episode and she complained that and I quote - But there was no murder! Where was the murder? HAH. Um, what, ok Ma Barker. Oh god, I've corrupted my mom. True crime rots brains. 

My sources for this episode were the Toronto Police Service, the Oxygen network, thanks Oprah, the Toronto Sun, Wikipedia, Xtra magazine, Todayville, Mississauga.com and Newstral.

Alan Lanteigne was born and raised in New Brunswick, one of Canada’s four Atlantic provinces. He grew up in the small town of St. John, and was kind of a solitary kid with few friends, which wasn’t helped by him being gay. Been there. So, once he graduated high school, and as soon as he could, he fled St. John for the bustling city of Toronto, it’s Canada’s most populous city, the capital of Ontario, Canada’s most populous province. American outsider kids who don’t fit in flee to NYC or LA. Canadian kids head for Toronto with the CN Tower as their north star.. 

Alan enrolled at the Ontario School of Business, where he majored in accounting. He worked at restaurants and as a cater waiter on the weekends to support himself, and catering is where he met his best friend Grazia Masi. Grazia described Allan as blossoming in Tortonto, and a being full of energy, so fun to be around, and someone who didn’t light up the room which would have been awful but as someone who brought light TO the room, a variation I will accept because she had cool pink hair and cute glasses in her Oxygen interview.

He eventually earned an accounting degree and, in 1997, scored a much coveted accounting job for a major Canadian restaurant chain. Ooo, was it Tim Horton? That’s the only one I know.

In 2004 when Allan was 46, he met the man who he eventually believed to be the love of his life at a bus stop. Yep, a bus stop. That’s kind of refreshing. His name was Demitry Papasotiriou and he was 29. A slick-looking twink type into fashion and the finer things in life. 

Demitry was from Athens, Greece, and had moved to Toronto to study law. He was described as academic, bright and gifted when it came to the law. One co-worker called him as quote whiz kid. Demitry was allegedly some sort of savant and it was alleged he earned his first degree at 16.

Their 17-year age difference raised some eyebrows. Probably with the straight people in his life. In Gay World, we’re not as uptight about that stuff as you breeders are. Don’t get it twisted, we’ll still talk about your old ass and your new twink behind your back and probably feel less sympathy for you when he dumps you than we would if you two were the same age. 

Allan fell hard for the exotic, glamorous Demitry. Despite supposedly being quite a good lawyer and a bit of a whiz kid, the youngish-looking Dmitry was allegedly looking for someone to take care of him and Allan fit the bill. And then began to pay them. 

Allan was known as a loving type of guy, and speaking as a middle-aged guy myself, when a younger, maybe better-looking than you flirts with you, you can go quite stupid. 

It can be a drug. Youth is like a drug. Why do you think Madonna fucks all of her 20-something backup dancers? It’s why her face is smooth like pudding, she sucks on their youth like a vampire. Well, that and the rubber cement or whatever ungodly compound she’s putting in her face. So Allan announces that he and Demitry are getting engaged just four months after they met.  The wedding was grand,  darling. And very white. They pulled up in chauffeured white limo, wearing white fur coats over their tuxedos. They were giving you Canadian opulence blizzard realness, with that Elton John playing Elsa from Frozen energy.They bought a house in Toronto’s chic Ossington neighborhood. Well, Allan bought the house. He poured a ton of money into it to fix it up and put additions on. It was his baby and became a showplace- type dwelling. As you can infer, Allan was the breadwinner. This daddy tasted sweet, it must have been the sugar.  Demitry went to school full time and reportedly didn’t have a job or any income coming in. Nice work if you can get it. 

Unfortunately, in the middle of all these renovations and supporting Demitry’s reportedly grand lifestyle, Allan got some bad news. The restaurant chain he worked for adios-ed out of Canada and he was out of a job.  I guess it wasn’t Tim Horton. Times got tough for the Lanteigne-Papasotirious. They had hyphenated their names. Allan scored a new gig, as a bookkeeper at the University of Toronto. But it paid a lot less than his prior gig and he had to go back to cater waitering. 

Meanwhile, Demitry had gotten his degree, and I assume passed the bar or however it works in Canada. But instead of practicing law in Canada,  he takes off for Switzerland to study as a PHD student in law at the University of Lucerne.  Because the house was still under renovations and he had to keep working two jobs,, Allan decided to stay in Toronto. The plan was that they would meet up every few months. Demitry would get his PHD then return to Toronto. 

And then it’s March 3, and as you heard in the beginning, Grazia Masi was worried about her friend. This eventually led her and the Toronto Police Services to Allan’s body in the foyer. 

The cop took Grazia outside to preserve the crime scene, and called for the detectives. So Allan was lying in a large pool of blood. Initially they thought he might have fallen down the stairs. Maybe an owl did it. I kid. Did you see The Staircase? Sooooo good, but man, the scenes with Toni Collette as Kathleen Peterson falling down the stairs were brutal. That shit was like a horror movie. 

Allan didn’t fall down the stairs, as the blood spatter on the walls indicated. So did the massive injuries to the back of his head. There was evident blunt force trauma, he was obviously hit very hard, multiple times. He was wearing his winter coat, as if he had just arrived home and hadn’t even had a chance to take off his coat. He had one winter glove on, and one off. His keys in the gloved hand. Had he walked in and surprised a burglar? They determined nothing of valuable had been taken from the home, and it was a nice place because they had had money for awhile and had things. Plus, his bag was on the floor near him and it contained $365 in cash. So it hadn’t been a robbery. In fact, nothing was disturbed. Except one piece of plastic on the floor near Allan and the front door. It was the plastic cover to the alarm console, which was on the wall beside the door. Allan was sprawled out in front of it. The cover looked like it had been ripped off.

They call the alarm company, who inform them that there are two keyholders for the house alarm -  Allan and Demitry. And the alarm hadnt gone off recently. Detectives want to speak to Demitry, if only to let him know his husband had been mudered. But initially, they had a hard time reaching him in Europe. Allan’s autopsy was expedited and the cause of death was found to be a prolonged brutal assault, with multiple injuries from an elongated instrment that they thought was either a bat or a crowbar. He was bludgeoned to death. And here’s why you dont murder people. I mean you shouldn’t anyway, obviously but  speaking practically? If you’re going to commit crimes in the 21st century, you have to be REALLY smart and REALLY slick and REALLY lucky to get away with anything. First off, there’s cameras everywhere now. We live in a worldwide surveillance state. Second, DNA. 

You true crime heads have probably heard this one before, but Dr. Edmund Locard, a French pioneer in forensive science, once famously noted that the perpetrator of a crime ALWAYS leaves something of themselves at the scene, and ALWAYS takes something away with them. Even if it’s microscopic. That’s called Locard's Exchange Principle. And it’s especially true in the pleasant day because DNA science has come so far. You better show up to commit your a crime in like a vaccumpacked airlock hazmat suit, sweetie. And you better make like that movie Gattaca, and scrub your body of any loose skin cells in the shower before you get in that suit. And while you're at it, shave your head, hell, make like a competitive swimmer or a cyclist and shave everything. Nair it all - wax on and wax off. Cuz’ you’re gonna get caught.  DNA. Allan was found to have someone’s DNA under the fingernails on his right hand. 

They send Allan’s fingernail clippings for further testing. The DNA came back as a male profile, but it didnt match anyone in their database. Meanwhile, the alarm company gets back to them. It seems that the alarm was deactivated at 5:19 pm on March 2, the day of Allan’s death. His coworkers at the U of Toronto told the cops that he left work around 5, and that his walk home normally took around 35 minutes. The door buffer, which worked even if the alarm was deactivated, registers the front door as having been opened at 5:35. So, they theorized that Allan comes in and the first thing he does is punch in the code. Maybe he was puzzled that the alarm seemed to already have been shut off. And then he gets whacked. So, whomever did it knew the alarm code. Grazia is helpful and lets the detectives know that Allan would NEVER tell anyone else the code because he was super cautious and protective of his lovely home. She also informed them that she knew the only other person who knew the code was Demitry. So, the detectives wondered if Demitry was actually back in Canada, and killed his husband. No and, yet, spoiler alaert, yes. 

They’re still having a hard time tracking down Demitry, and they’re looking for him in both Europe and Canada now. In the meantime, they start delving into what Allan and Demitry’s marriage was like. They talk to the couple’s friends. Actually, they talk to Allan’s friends who don’t known Demitry that well, and what they did know of him, they didn’t love. 

 They were told that the couple began having problems four years into their marriage, and that Demitry had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way. One of Allan’s close friends told them that he had once said something that offended Demitry so much that Demitry had banned him from the home he wasn’t exactly paying for, but Allan went along with it. The friend had no idea what he had said that angered twink lawyer so badly. The truth was, Demitry didn’t want ANY of Allan’s friends in the house. Maybe he didn’t want people tracking mud in. Even more interestingly, Demitry’s ban on having friends over meant that Allan’s best friend Grazia never met him. Ok, so that means she wasn’t invited to their Siegfried and Roy-sounding wedding? Or didn’t go on purpose? I couldn’t find out. Write a book, Grazia, I’ll put the answer on Patreon. Allan’s friend who had met and knew Demitry all heaved a sigh of relief when he decamped for Switzerland. They just didn’t like him, and especially didn’t like him for their friend. Demitry exiting didn’t exactly make Allan happy, though. He was reportedly very stressed out because in addition to all the renovations they were making on the Ossington Avenue house, he was also paying for Demitry to live in Europe. I mean , yeah. This guy went back to cater waitering for Demitry, who must have been phenomenal in the sack or had a really big penis or was the one who cleaned the bathroom, cuz’ this sounds like a lot of money. And yeah, there was no way Demitry cleaned a bathroom. Dude thought he was Aristotle Onassis. 

Demitr finally calls the cops a few days after his husband’s death. They learn that the reason why they weren’t able to reach him at the Univerity of Lucerne in Switzerland is because he did’t go there anymore. He had left the PHD program and moved back in with his Dad in beautiful and historic Athens, Greece. 

So they let Demtiry know that Allan was dead, had been murdered in fact, and that they were  investigating it. According to the cops,  this was when things got really tense, really fast, and Demitry made himself look suspect as hell. Maybe NOT a whiz kid? So Demitry becomes enraged and starts screaming about how he’s a lawyer about how he’s a lawyer and he knows his rights. What set him off were the cops suggesting that he return to Toronto to sort out Allan’s affairs and maybe speak with them in person. That was a solid NO from Demitry, who, fun fact, was a Greek, not a Canadian citizen.

Also during this very strained conversation, Demitry tells the cops that he and Allan had settled into their lives apart and that they had an open marriage. Demitry says that HE didn't act on it (how saintly) but he did enourage Allan to see other people while he was over in Europe. Demitry revealed that Allan took him up on that offer and was dating or messing around with several guys he met online. Demitry’s revelation, while true, also read very A) let’s make Allan look like a creep who maybe was responsible for his own death cause he was being a slut   and B) let’s give the cops some suspects other than me. 

The cops couldn't prove Demitry was back in Toronto just a few days ago to murder his husband. So they take Demitry up on his tip, and start looking into Allan’s dating history. Allan was dating some guys, and detectives tracked all of them down. Everyone appeared to be on the up and up, and every one of them said there were no issues between them and Allan and that he was a really nice guy. No new suspects there. And everyone saying what a great guy Allan is proof positive that the universe is as flawed as the justice system.  

Demitry, whiz kid that he is, continued to make himself look suspicious by not attending his husband’s funeral. When he was asked about this by the cops, he told them that it would have been too upsetting for him and that he was grieving from afar. Was Zoom not a thing by then? He could have cried on Zoom, and hopeful remembered to unmute.

Finally, there’s a sort of break in the case, at least when it came to the lack of suspects. Enter a mysterious stranger. 

The Toronto Police Service  learn that, three weeks after the murder, a man calling himself “Michael Jones” looked into Allan’s retirement accounts at the University. And yes, he had a life insurance policy. Michael Jones, there should be quotation marks around that name btw,, Michael Jones said he’s an employee of some law firm and he has a form with hm claiming receipt of Allan’s death benefits. 

And here’s where we meet another not so much of a whiz kid. So on this form, there’s a a space for “cause of death,” and the employee dealing with “Michael Jones” asks him to fill it in. And Michael Jones writes “bludgeoning” in he little space. Now remember when I said you have to be smart and slick to get away with murder? This was interesting because, unless he was Officer “Michael Jones” of the Toronto Police Service, which he wasnt, he shouldnt have known that Allan was bludgeoned to death because the cops hadn’t released the cause of death. 

So “Michael Jones” is waving a big red flag, and cops find out there had also been inquiries as to Allan’s retirement benefits at the restaurant company he used to work for. One of the ecompany’s employees had a voicemail from one  Mladen “Michael” Ivezic, who maybe worked one cubicle over from Michael Jones cuz’ he said he worked for a law firm too. 

Detectives find out that Michael Ivezic is the name of a Toronto con artist who has had several run-ins with the law, and yeah, Michael and Michael are the same guy. They also find out that this Michael had been claiming to be working on behalf of Demitry. When he was at the university, that form he had was notarized and signed by Allan’s husband. With a Greek stamp. Could Ivezic and Demitry actually know each other, or did the con artist, who had never served time or even been charged with anything, could he have forged Demitry’s signature?

So they surveiled him in hopes of grabbing some DNA, but then Michael vanishes. And they can’t fnd hum, so they start investigating his background. They learn he’s from the former Yugoslavia and settled in Canada at age 51. He had a wife and 3 kids, and a history of alleged fraud but, again, no charges. He was also an unsuccessful entrepreneur, with a string of failed business. His schtick was to lure investors and then fuck them over. 

They learn that Michael had fled to Boston. I didn’t see him, and he was on his way to guess - yes, Athens, Greece where Demitry lived. They speak with Michael’s wife. They learn that, as you might have guessed by now, that Michael was getting some of that Greek yorguet . When Mrs. Ivezic found out,  she channeed Jessica Fletcher and started investigating. She kept a journal with all her info, and started snooping around on his online activities, and following him wherever he went. 

One of the places she traced him to was Allan’s house. She also told them that her husband would vanish for long stretches of times, and she learned he had made multiple trips to both Switzerland, and Greece. The best part? She confirmed that Michael Ivezic was in the Toronto area at the time of Allan Lenteigne’s murder. 

Because the legal system isn’t perfect, Mrs. Michael’s info wasn’t admissible in court because of spousal privelege. Detectives got search warrants for Allan and Demitry’s phones and emails. They find an email from Allan where’s he’s pissed off that someone named Michael has a key to their home. 

They also find an email exchange between Demitry and Michael in which Michael professes his love for the Greek heartthrob, tells him that he thinks about hm night and day and that he was willing to leave his wife and three kids for Demitry. The two of them were making plans to buid a house in Greece, But Demitry didn’t have a job. His only income was from hs sugar husband Allan. So where was he getting this money for building them their own personal Parthenon.

They learn from Allan’s friends that he had had goddamn enuff, and was done sending Demitry money and covering his extravagant lifestyle in Europe. Grazia said that ALlan told Demiry that he wouldnt be sending any more money and that Demity could stay or return to Toronto but the First Bank of Ossington Avenue was closed. 

She also noted that this discussion took place only a few days before Allan was murdered. 

So, let’s talk money. They find out that in addition to the $50,000 from Allan’s University of Toronto insurance, he’d also taken out a $2 million life insurance  policy on himself of which he had named Demitry the sole beneficiary. 

Demitry and Michael are still missing and the cops need to check that DNA stat. So they get sneaky and  trail one of Michael’s three sons. And they managed to snag a chopstick he used. Which indicated that, indeed, he was the biological son of the DNA sample found on Allan’s fingernails. 

They decided to arrest Michael for first degree murder and felt that they had enough circumstantial evidence to also arrst Demitry. They’re in Europe, so they ask Interpol, the worldwide police organiztion not the band, to red flag them. Meaning if they got on a plane, they’d be notified. 

They get Michael in Athens, in  Janary 2013. But there’s a hitch when it comes to the second accused. Canada has no extradition agreement with Greece, and Demtry is a Greek citizen. So it’s a big Mediterranean flip of the bird to them.

All they had to do was be extremely patient for nine months. Finally, they get a call that the supposedly scary smart Demtiry either wasn’t as scary smart as everyone thought he was or greed had clouded his mind, On Halloween, his red flag kicks in and they find out the Michael Ivezic’s Greek god  just landed at Toronto’s Pearson Airport and is clearing Customs. This is 9 months after Michael was arrested. He’s back on Canadian soil, and he looks A LOT different. He went from like a slickback haired twink face to growing that hair out and sporting a beard and trying to make the switch from twink to zaddy apparently. He retained his sense of style and grandeur, though, as the surveillance photos taken of him show that he’s carrying what looks like a Louis Vuitton bag and wearing a very sharp camel-hair trenchcoat. Wanted for murder and it’s giving fashion. 

They find out that Demitry had taken legal action against the insurance companies that were withholding Allen’s death benefits from him. Demitry was here to testify in a deposition in an attempt get his payout. Hey, 2 million dollars is a lot of gyros. And it wasn’t even a trap. The insurance company insisted he come back and do a deposition. And he did! So they get him at the law firm, and arrest his foolish ass. Maybe he missed the poutine? 

Seven and a half  years after the murder, Mike and Demitry go on trial togerther - the  prosecutor’s motive was Demitry was no longer being sugar daddied, so he set Michael on Allan so they could  receive the $2 million and change insurance payout. Of course, there is no honor among thieves, and Demitry and his attorney immediately tried to pin the entire thing on Michael - they did have his DNA after all. He also had a key to the house.

The prosecutor introduces evidence that the two got together either in 2008 or 2009.  No one’s sure exactly how they met. But they were full on in love, or at least Michael was. His pet name for his love was “baby boy,” and Michael was called “Daddy.” Ew. I know daddies, and you sir are no daddy. And their plan was to live off Allan’s fortune in Greece. So two moral and highly ethical peope. I mean, meanwhile Allan is busting his balls at the university AND as a cater waiter for this selfish, ungrateful douche. There is no justice.  

It was also learned that Demitry and two relatives had actually bought the house on Ossington Ave from Allan, and he was still living there.

Demitry gave Michael a key to the house so they could have sex there, and he financed Ivezic’s trips to visit him in Switzeland and Greece.  With Allan’s money. Allan had maxed out his credit cards by this time. Hence being done with this bullshit. Especially when he demanded Allan liquidate his retirement plan for him. The nerve of this former twink. 

“I am working my ass off and I do not see you doing anything,” Lanteigne wrote in an email that the prosector  read to the jury.

“My husband is having the time of his life in Greece and Switzerland and with his hand out and I’m here like a slave giving it to him. Sorry I have no more,” he wrote in another email.

He also supposedly began to suspect that Baby Boi and Daddy were stepping out on him behind his back, and he talked divorce to a friend, but he hesitated because his name wasn’t on the title of the house  and he had poured all of his time and money into it and didn’t want to leave.  I wonder why he sold. I mean, the money was just going to go back to his jerk husband, right?

In early February 2011, Allan wired Demitry $1,425 after telling him “there will be no more.”On March 2, 2011, the day of the murder, the jury hears that Demitry sent Allan an email asking him  if they could talk that night. He told Allan, quote “dont dilly dally on your way home from work buying shoes and shirts and crystal balls. “ Did Allan take a fourth job as  fortune teller? 

Prosecutors contended that this was Demitry luring Allan to his death. This seemed to indicate that Demitry was totally in on it and probably masteminded the whole thing, as he knew his husband’s schedule, how long it took to walk home from the university, etc. 

Michael’s lawyers tried to argue that the DNA under Allan’s fingernails was because they had had lunch that day. It was later proven they weren’t friends.

Guess who’s a fool? A dude who tries to represent himself. Which Michael eventually did. Firing his lawyer, and bloviating all over the courtroom. For example, he used one police witness to try and paint Allan as a slutty pervert with a pimple-popping fetish. 

The "truth," according to Ivezic, was that "Allan was no saint. He was very promiscuous," and engaged in "risky behaviour" with "many men who could have had the opportunity kill Allan."He also wanted the jury to see that Allan reortedly Lanteigne had visited adult baby sites and watched diaper porn. How dare you kink shame.The judge eventually ruled that the sites were benign, and that Ivezic had to refrain from "gratuitous references to fetishes and (sexual) preferences."

And as for the pimple, in a separate legal matter concerning his attorneys, Ivezic who was obviously a dirtbag but a dirtbag with an imagination told the judge that his DNA was under Allan’s fingernails because Allan had popped a pimple on his nose during one of their alleged luncheons. 

"Allan is a very touchy-feely person and ... how should I say this, he was a groomer, if you will," he told a  lawyer who was cross examining him.

"If there's something out of place, for example if there's a ... pimple on my nose or on my face or whatever, he, he would take it upon himself to actually, to actually pop it, or squeeze it, or scrape it or whatever," is what Ivezic claimed.

The lawyer was like so you’re saying Allan  had "popped a pimple on your face."

"I think it was on my nose," he replied. Gross. Hasn’t Allan been through enough?The trial took SEVEN MONTHS. Can you imagine being on the jury? Or being Allan’s family and friends. But happily, on June 3, 2018 - Demitry Lanteigne-Papasotioru and Michael Viezic are both found guilty of first degree murder. In Canada, the mandatory sentence is life  prison. You can try to get paroled but only after you’ve served 25 years minimum. But we hadn’t heard the last of them. Or at least the last of Demitry. Three months later, he appeals the verdict on the basis that the case against him was entirely circumstantial. And while that was pending he got the judge to let him out on bail. Who paid for it? The father back in Greece?

Both men raised multiple grounds of appeal. Demitry argued that Daddy’s Ivezic’s conduct during the trial. Big Daddy caused a lot of disturbances with stupid bullshit during the trial. Demitry claimed it had deprived him of his right to a fair trial.  Daddy wanted his conviction overturned for several reasons, including a claim that certain evidence shouldn’t have been admitted. Just like that pimple story shouldn’t have been admitted in ANY trial, you weirdo. Justice did prevail however! Their appeals were dismissed.

And back to prison Demitry and his Daddy went. And good riddance.

Everyone who worked on the case received a Teamwork Award, and Allan’s family made it a point to attend to publicly thank everyone for all their hard work on a very long case. 

They released a statement, which read “We had to be here because we are so happy with what the Toronto Police officers and everyone involved in the case did for Allan,” said Jocelyne Sterritt. “We wanted to be here to share this moment with them. We can never repay them for what they did and we are extremely appreciative that they didn’t give up. Our brother was kind, loving and someone who would give anything to anyone. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Thank you for joining me this evening. Again, if you want even more Wicked Gay, check out our Patreon which has bonus episodes and content. And thank you again, subscribers.  If you think Wicked Gay is aces, please do me a solid and subscribe, rate and review. It’s a big help.

Wicked Gay’s theme song is by Gino and the Goons, additional music by the always surly JB, cover art by Paul Chapman and sound engineering by the other Mr. Harvey and his ears. 

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You’ve been listening to Wicked Gay, a true-crime podcast about gay people doing awful things.