As for Goyette himself, he gained little sympathy in death. His bribery, vice, and greed, as well as his total disregard for the environmental impact of his pursuits, created a universal spite. The attitude pervaded even the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, who assigned only a cursory investigation into his death. Officials knew his murderer would be lionized and downplayed the circumstances of his death as potentially accidental. Public interest in the crime quickly waned, while internally the police cited few clues and an endless enemies list that precluded a solution to the crime. With little fanfare, the death of Mitchell Goyette quickly became a cold case that nobody cared to solve.

Chapter 93

93

AN ELITE ROYAL NAVY COLOR GUARD UNIT CAR ried the dark-wood casket down the steps of the neoclassic Anglican chapel and carefully placed it onto an ornate nineteenth-century gun carriage. The eulogy had been long, as was the norm for a royal ceremonial funeral, with obligatory remarks recited by the Prime Minister and the Prince of Wales, among other notables. The sentiments were blustery and patriotic but not very personal, for no one still living had even known the deceased.

The funeral of Sir John Alexander Franklin was a grand and noble affair and, at the same time, an uplifting event. The discovery of Franklin’s body aboard the Erebus had aroused a nostalgic romance amongst the British people, rekindling the days of glory when Wellington commanded the ground and Nelson ruled the seas. Franklin’s exploits in the Arctic, a largely forgotten historical footnote to modern generations, was regaled in detail to a suddenly enthralled public that clamored for more.

The public fascination had placed great pressure on the team of archaeologists and forensic specialists tasked with examining the ship and retrieving his body. Working round the clock, they solved two key mysteries, even before Franklin’s body arrived in London and was placed on view in Westminster Abbey.

Though a variety of ails contributed to his death at age sixty-one, the scientists determined that a case of tuberculosis, easily contracted within the tight confines of a winter-bound ship, most likely finished him off. More intriguing was the revelation as to why a large portion of the Erebus’s crew had turned mad. Based on the account in the ship’s log, which Pitt had sent to British authorities, the scientists tested a sample of ruthenium found in an officer’s cabin. Assay testing revealed that the South African ore contained high quantities of mercury. When heated on the cookstove in buckets and bedpans, the ore released toxic fumes that accumulated in the galley and crew’s quarters. As with the mad hatters of later years, mercury poisoning created neurological damage and psychotic reactions after months of exposure.