It Takes a Village: A sweet little girl is slowly and systematically tortured to death by her stepmother. Why did the villagers stand by and let it happen?
The Best Laid Plans: They had been friends for over two decades but then Michael found out that Andrew was bedding his wife. That would not stand.
If Evil Had a Name: Two babies were dead and the third had barely survived a couple of close calls. The common denominator? Their father.
Bad Time: A head on collision leaves a woman and her young daughter dead. But there’s a severed head at the crash site, a head that doesn’t belong there.
The Dinner Party: The food was good, the company convivial. Then one of the guests opened the freezer to stash some leftovers.
Weird Mike: Three teenage girls are dead, cut down in cold blood. Their killer? A man described variously as a good worker, a devout Christian, and a weirdo.
Sex, Lies, and Anti-Freeze: Scott Dell is in love with a woman unworthy of his affection, a liar, a cheat, a cold-hearted poisoner.
Murder Most Vile Volume 54
No Prayer for the Dying
Fast forward seven years, and we find Leo and Hazel still living in Sebring, still very much in love, still regular attendees at their church. Unfortunately, both were in declining health by now. Leo had recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s. Hazel’s eyesight was failing. She was functionally blind. Social workers were keen to move them to a group home, but Leo and Hazel were against the idea. Despite their disabilities, they were confident that they could look after themselves, determined to spend their last years together. A call went out to Hazel’s niece, Shirley Hinton, to ensure that would happen.
In July 1994, Shirley and her husband Charles made the long drive from their home in Yuma, Arizona. What they found in Sebring was distressing. Leo and Hazel’s house was in an unkempt state, the couple clearly unable to maintain it. It would take Shirley and Charles several hours to bring it back to a livable condition. Maybe the county was right, after all. Maybe it was time for Leo and Hazel to go to an assisted living facility.
But the Gleeses were adamant that they did not want to do that, and they had a strong ally in John Canning. Canning had met Shirley and Charles at the house, although he had not lifted a finger to help as they labored in the stifling Florida heat. Now, he was offering his services. He would ensure that the house was kept clean and tidy, he said. He would also call on Leo and Hazel every day to ensure that they were well. With that assurance from a man of the cloth, a man who her aunt and uncle clearly trusted, Shirley departed for Arizona.
Reverend John Canning did not keep up his end of the bargain, although he did devote himself to the sale of Leo Gleese’s old house. Despite moving in with Hazel years ago, Leo had been loath to sell the property until Canning talked him into it. Then, in late December, Shirley Hinton heard some disconcerting news. A neighbor of her aunt phoned to share something Hazel had told her. Apparently, $8,000 had gone missing from the sale of the house, money that Hazel believed had been pocketed by Canning. There were also unauthorized withdrawals from the elderly couple’s bank account, again, believed to have been made by the preacher. Hazel intended to challenge him on it the next time she saw him.
On the evening of January 3, 1995, an apparently distressed Reverend John Canning walked into a police station in Sebring to report a crime. According to the preacher, he had paid a routine visit to the Gleese residence the previous day and found the couple lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood.
The officer who took the report was dumbfounded. Why had Canning waited 24 hours to report this? Canning said that he’d needed time to process what he’d seen. Where had he been during the intervening hours? He’d gone to dinner with friends and had spent the day at the beach. That immediately aroused suspicion.
Officers who arrived at the house that evening walked in on a distressing scene. Any homicide is a tragedy, but there is something particularly hurtful when the victim is someone defenseless – a child, a disabled person, or, in this case, an elderly couple. And the couple had not died an easy death. After a combined 180 years on this earth, their end had been exceptionally violent. A blunt instrument had been brought to bear on their heads, causing severe trauma and distorting their features into a mass of blood, bruising, and broken bones. Leo was on the floor of the living room. Hazel, who had apparently tried to flee, was found in the kitchen. The autopsies would reveal that their killer had bludgeoned them with a narrow cudgel, a cane perhaps (Leo’s was missing). He’d then ended their lives with his crushing hands around their throats.
Who had done this terrible thing? The obvious suspect was Reverend John Canning, the man who’d found the bodies and then gone to dinner and to the beach before contacting the police. Several strands of evidence pointed in his direction. First, there was no sign of forced entry to the home, suggesting that the Gleeses knew their killer. Second, Canning had bruises and scratch marks on his arms, which he could not adequately explain. Third, Hazel had told several parishioners that she was getting ready to confront Canning over the missing money.
Two weeks after Leo and Hazel’s terrible death, a memorial service was held at the Fountain of Life Church, presided over by the Reverend John Canning. Here, the preacher delivered a lengthy eulogy describing the deep bond he and his wife shared with the elderly couple. He was the one who had married them, seven years earlier, he said, and since they had no children of their own, he had filled that void in their lives. Leo had called him “son.” He’d called them “Mom and Dad,” and had been proud to do so. There was barely a dry eye in the house by the time he led his congregation in the closing prayer.
What those worshippers didn’t know was that while their preacher was delivering that silver-tongued sermon, the police were building a strong case of murder against him. During the intervening two weeks, inquiries had been made. What they revealed was informative. The Reverend Canning was a man of many facets, most of them criminally inclined. He’d been dismissed from a string of churches on his way to Sebring, starting with Granby Pentecostal Tabernacle in Connecticut back in 1968.
That had been for theft and sexual misconduct, and Canning would face similar accusations at his next two positions. By the time he arrived in Florida, the 58-year-old preacher seemed to have reigned in his sexual shenanigans, although he had not lost his appetite for larceny. An audit of the Gleeses’ finances revealed that Hazel was right. Leo’s house had sold for $28,000, of which only $20,000 had made it to his bank. There were also several large withdrawals from their checking account that could not be accounted for. The numbers ran to tens of thousands of dollars. It was time for Sebring PD to pay Reverend Canning a visit.
Confronted by detectives, Canning appeared outraged that he was considered a suspect. However, a search of his house would firm up the case against him. Here, officers found a watch with a broken strap that would deliver up traces of blood. Three DNA profiles were lifted from the timepiece. One belonged to John Canning. The other two matched Leo and Hazel Gleese.
The police also visited a building site, where the new Fountain of Life Church was under construction. In a rubble pile, they found a shirt belonging to Canning, with bloodstains matched to his alleged victims. They also retrieved Leo’s walking cane. Blood on the handle confirmed that this had been used to club the helpless elders into submission. On March 3, 1995, John Canning was arrested and charged with two counts of first-degree murder.
Winning a murder trial relies heavily on pulling the disparate strands of evidence together into a cohesive narrative. Proving motive is not a requisite, although few murder trials are won without it. Jurors like to know what drove the accused to kill. In the Canning case, that was easy. The preacher had a clear financial motive. Prosecutors believed that he’d arrived that morning for one of his rare visits, only to be confronted by an irate Hazel, wanting to know what he’d done with their money. Perhaps she’d threatened to go to the police. Either way, Canning was in trouble. He was either going to jail or he’d end up being ejected from another parish in disgrace. He was not going to allow that to happen.
It was in that moment that Canning made a terrible decision. Snatching up Leo’s cane, he chased after Hazel, who had fled into the kitchen. There, he mercilessly beat down the elderly woman before returning to the living room and attacking her husband. One can only hope that Leo, afflicted as he was with Parkinson’s, did not fully comprehend what was happening. It is galling to think of the despair he would have felt at seeing his beloved Hazel beaten to death and not being able to help, to see the killer then approaching him with the bloody cane in his hand. Finally, before leaving the house, Canning snuffed out whatever life was left in his victims by choking them. He then went to dinner with friends and spent the next day at the beach before finally going to the police.
Florida executes more killers than any other state in the nation, bar Texas. If you’re going to commit a murder, Florida is not a good place to do it. And few murders meet the criteria for capital punishment as thoroughly as this vile act. John Nelson Canning undoubtedly knew this. In February 1996, his attorney asked for a deal. Canning would enter a guilty plea and accept whatever punishment the court handed down, as long as it wasn’t the death penalty. He was in no hurry to meet his maker.
This left prosecutors in a quandary. The crime was easy to prove, but the argument for premeditation was stacked against them. Canning’s defense would likely argue that he’d snapped when confronted by Hazel Gleese. They might argue for a reduced charge of second-degree murder or even voluntary manslaughter. And it might just work. A jury might be reluctant to believe that an ordained preacher could be so wantonly evil. Who knows how they might lean?
In the end, the D.A. decided not to gamble. A deal was struck. John Nelson Canning entered his guilty pleas and was sentenced to two life terms with no possibility of parole. He is presently incarcerated at the Union Correctional Institution in Raiford, Florida.
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