Dave Shampine - The North Country Murder of Irene Izak: Stained by Her Blood

Published by The History Press

Charleston, SC 29403

www.historypress.net

Copyright 2010 by Dave Shampine

All rights reserved

Cover image courtesy of the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority and Helen Ewasko.

First published 2010

Second printing 2011

e-book edition 2011

ISBN 978.1.61423.075.5

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Shampine, Dave.
The North Country murder of Irene Izak : stained by her blood / Dave Shampine.

p. cm.

print edition: ISBN 978-1-60949-119-2

1. Izak, Irene Juliana, 1942-1968. 2. Murder victims--New York (State)--Biography. 3.

Murder--Investigation--New York (State)--Case studies. I. Title.

HV6533.N5S53 2010

364.1523092--dc22

2010041895

Notice : The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

To the memory of

Lialia

Her fate was undeserved.
Her killer goes unpunished.
For him justice awaits in Eternity.
Her family can only pray.

I was asked by Dave Shampine to write this forward. My first reaction was to decline, but it is out of respect and friendship for Dave that I do so.

It seems like a short time ago that I was roused from sleep at two oclock in the morning. A friend of mine, Sergeant DeGroot, told me that a female body had been found on Wellesley Island in the St. Lawrence River. I was awake instantly and asked DeGroot if he had called my partner, Charlie Chip Donoghue. He advised me that he had called Chip first.

I dressed, got in my police car and sped to the scene, arriving about 2:45 a.m. I was met by Donoghue and uniformed officers.

What followed over the next few years is a convoluted tale that completely took over my life for the rest of my career. When Captain George Dana (the recently promoted captain in charge of the Bureau of Criminal Investigation, or BCI) arrived at the scene, he introduced himself to me and promptly advised me that this was my case to run with. He also allotted a phalanx of BCI men to work with me. My job was to assign these men as needed, collect their findings and, in the first ten days, compile a full report to Division Headquarters in Albany.

Several factors made this case so difficult. The location of the murder was 1.1 miles from the Canadian border. At the time of day of the murder, all government offices were closed. The lousy weather obliterated evidence, the rain blotting out footprints and fingerprints. The lack of vehicular traffic afforded the killer quick egress from the scene. There were few tourists and year-round residents to hear or see anything. In normal weather, the island would have been bustling with tourists, fishermen and the like, allowing investigators to conduct meaningful interviews and perhaps gather supportive evidence.

Putting all of that aside, it was my case to solve, and I could not solve it. I take full responsibility, and I will think about this case for the rest of my days.

Raymond O. Polett, New York State Police (ret.)

Punta Gorda, Florida

Several years before the Irene Izak murder investigation came back to life in 1998, a state police investigator took me into his confidence, telling me his beliefs about who murdered Irene on Wellesley Island. His hope, never realized, was to at least make an attempt to close the case.

Nowhere in these pages does his name appear, at his insistence. But to him I credit the planting of the seed, giving me the inspiration to move on with a story that has haunted former members of the New York State Police, several of whom have echoed his words and encouragement to me.

This project would never have been accomplished had it not been for the information shared with me by Raymond O. Polett and his former investigative partner, the late Charles Donoghue, as well as private investigator Gus Papay. I salute their commitment.

Equally vital to this accomplishment was the assistance of Irenes sisters, Helen Ewasko and Luba Boyko; their brother, Zenon George; Helens husband, Paul; and one of their daughters, Lisa Caputo. Their patience with my procrastinations, their endurance through my insistence for details and their understanding in the face of my mood swings and tantrums exemplify the beauty that lies within their hearts and souls.

To my team of copyeditors at the Watertown Daily Times Mary Lu White, Patience ORiley, Diana Staie and Cathie Egangoes my thanks for reviewing my raw copy, making constructive suggestions and insisting that I learn the difference between that and which. Mary Lu in particular has my appreciation for the interest, concern and moral support that she so kindly offered.

Transcribing voice recordings to paper, Zona Gale Sweeney simplified my task in bringing together the story that unravels in the pages that follow.

And finally, there was my wife, Lucille, who challenged my stubborn lack of confidence, insisting that I could get the job done. It took a while, but hopefully I rewarded her confidence in me.

It wasnt meant to be.

Twenty-five-year-old Ukrainian-American Irene Izak loved anything and everything French. She was so fascinated by French culture and its language that in college she majored in French, went abroad to study in France and taught French to American high school students. When she suddenly learned of a teaching position in Montreal, Canada, nothing and no one could stop her from dropping everything and driving to Canada to apply for the job.

As she drove alone through upper New York State in the early morning hours of June 10, 1968, she was stopped by a state trooper, who claimed she was speeding in her Volkswagen Bug. After receiving a warning, she drove off for the city she hoped would become her new home. But it wasnt meant to be. A short distance later, she was found brutally murdered along the side of the road.

Irenes death had a profound effect on her entire family. It was as if a part of her father and mother had died with her, as they never were at peace, not knowing for certain who was responsible for killing her and why she was killed. So often the mere mention of Irenes (Lialias) name brought tears to her siblings eyes; the pain was so deep that ultimately it was more comfortable not to mention her name. For years, each of the family members silently kept her in their memories, and rarely would anyone speak her name for fear that the grief would show itself through sobs and tears. The Izaks believed that there was no such thing as closure.