Tina Fontaine: Unraveling a Tragic Mystery

The morning air over the Red River in Winnipeg carried a sharp chill on August 17, 2014. A man out with his son, fishing along the muddy bank, cast his line into the slow-moving water. As he reeled it in, something snagged. When he pulled closer, he saw a bundle wrapped in plastic and a floral duvet cover, weighted down with rocks. He realized with horror that this was no ordinary river debris. Authorities were called, and when police arrived, they retrieved the bundle and unwrapped it on the riverbank. Inside was the body of a girl. She was small for her age, only fifteen, and bore the delicate features of youth, her long hair tangled and wet. The news spread quickly through the city: they had found Tina Fontaine.

Tina Michelle Fontaine had been missing from downtown Winnipeg for just over a week. The discovery of her body—carefully concealed, intentionally weighed to sink—would soon shock not just her family but the entire country. The city of Winnipeg, already wary of its high rate of violence against Indigenous women and girls, now faced a new tragedy that was impossible to ignore.

Tina’s story, however, began far from the riverbank and years before that August morning. She was born on January 1, 1999, in Winnipeg. From the start, Tina’s life was shaped by forces larger than herself—cycles of trauma, colonial history, and a fractured family. Her father, Eugene Fontaine, was a residential school survivor’s son. Those schools, part of a Canadian government policy for over a century, left generations of Indigenous people with wounds—loss of language, culture, and often, lasting scars of abuse. For Eugene, the effects were personal: he struggled with severe alcoholism and violence from a young age. He left Sagkeeng First Nation at just twelve and survived on the streets of Winnipeg.

Tina’s mother, Valentina Duck, grew up 250 kilometers north of Winnipeg in Bloodvein First Nation. Her own childhood was turbulent. Starting at age six, she was taken from and returned to her mother multiple times by Manitoba’s Child and Family Services. By ten, she was removed permanently. Shuffled from home to home, she experienced sexual exploitation, addiction, and repeated trauma—experiences that would follow her into adulthood, leaving her feeling isolated, depressed, and often alone.

When Tina was born, she was her mother’s second child. She was small, dark-haired, and loved to laugh. But the instability in her family life was nearly constant. Before she turned one, Manitoba’s child welfare system removed her from her family’s care. She was returned, but taken again at age two, and finally entrusted to her great-aunt and great-uncle, Thelma and Joseph Favel, in Powerview-Pine Falls, near Sagkeeng First Nation. There, Tina found some stability, growing up alongside her siblings and cousins, fishing and playing in the woods.

At age twelve, Tina’s life changed forever. Her father, Eugene, was beaten to death. The two perpetrators were later convicted of manslaughter. Tina’s aunt remembered that after her father’s death, the girl became “very hurt, very lost.” Tina did not receive grief counseling, despite being eligible for it. Her family saw her struggle: she became increasingly absent from school, was suspended more than once, got into fights, and at times needed medical help for self-harm. She was reported missing three times in the span between her father’s death and her own. Her family pleaded with Child and Family Services for help, but the support she needed never came.

In early 2014, Tina was fifteen. She traveled to Winnipeg to visit her mother, who was then living in the city. By this time, Valentina Duck had lost custody of her children; her life had become marked by alcohol dependency and involvement in sex work. Tina was placed in the care of Child and Family Services when she arrived in Winnipeg and, like so many other at-risk youth, was lodged in a downtown hotel rather than with a foster family or group home.

Throughout July 2014, Tina moved between youth shelters, hotels, and relatives’ homes. She began dating Cody Mason, an 18-year-old she met near the Salter Street Bridge, and stayed with him at his father’s home on Selkirk Avenue for two weeks. On July 31, Tina was first reported missing to the Winnipeg Police Service by her caregivers. Her aunt, Lana, later said that Tina spent the August long weekend with her.

On August 5, Tina phoned her Child and Family Services worker. She was picked up by CFS staff and police, but what happened between August 5 and August 8 remains unclear. These days were a blur—Tina was seen at a youth shelter in the early hours of August 8, but she left almost immediately.

That same morning, at 5:15 am, Constables Cornelis Brock Jansen and Craig Houle pulled over a truck driving erratically. In the passenger seat sat Tina Fontaine. She gave the officers false names. Despite her being a listed missing person, the officers did not detain her or take her into protective custody. They let her go. The oversight would later become a symbol of the system’s failure to protect her.

By 10 am that day, Tina was found passed out in an alleyway near the University of Winnipeg. She was taken to the Health Sciences Centre for treatment. While there, she told her CFS worker she had been associating with Raymond Cormier, a 62-year-old man, a detail that would become significant later. Tina was discharged and checked into a downtown hotel, but soon after, she vanished again.

An 18-year-old girl named Katrina, who had spent time with Tina on the night of August 7, described their last hours together. Katrina said they went to eat at the Macdonald Youth Services emergency shelter at around 2:30 am. She believed Tina was drunk, and tried to get staff to keep her there for the night, but Tina refused. Katrina last saw Tina getting into a truck. Around 3 am the next day, on Ellice Avenue, a man offered Tina money for a sex act. Tina accepted, leaving with him into the darkness. Katrina tried to follow, but lost sight of them.

On August 9, Tina was reported missing again by CFS. Eight days later, her body was found in the Red River, wrapped in layers of plastic and a duvet, weighed down with rocks. The body’s careful concealment suggested intent and planning. Police believed she had died around August 10. The autopsy, however, could not determine a cause of death—there were no signs of sexual assault, stabbing, or major blunt force trauma. Dr. Dennis Rhee, the forensic pathologist, would later testify that “the cause of death still remains undetermined… The way the body was presented is highly suspicious.”

The discovery of Tina’s body sent shockwaves through Winnipeg and across Canada. Her story became the latest in a string of cases involving missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. Vigils were held across the country. For Sagkeeng First Nation, the pain was acute. Just 121 kilometers northeast of Winnipeg, this small community prepared a grave for Tina next to her father.

The police investigation began with an urgent search for answers. The homicide unit of the Winnipeg Police Service took the lead, reviewing Tina’s last known movements, analyzing CCTV footage, and interviewing those who had seen her in her final days. The detail that Tina had mentioned a 62-year-old associate to her CFS worker brought Raymond Joseph Cormier into the investigation.

Cormier was no stranger to authorities. He had a history of drug use and minor criminal offenses. Over months, police covertly recorded conversations with him, hoping for a confession. The investigation produced hours of covert audio, in which Cormier made statements that police believed were incriminating. However, there was no forensic evidence—no DNA, no eyewitnesses—to directly tie him to Tina’s death. The Crown’s case was largely circumstantial, centered on Cormier’s own words.

In December 2015, Raymond Cormier, then 53, was charged with second-degree murder. He pleaded not guilty. The trial began on January 29, 2018, drawing national media attention. A witness testified that the last time he saw Tina, she was arguing with Cormier over a bicycle frame he had sold for drugs. Prosecutors leaned heavily on the secret recordings, hoping that Cormier’s words would convince the jury. But the defense argued that without a clear cause of death, it could not be proven that Tina died as the result of an unlawful act. They insisted that Cormier should be acquitted “on that [argument] alone.”

The forensic evidence did not help the prosecution. No trace of Cormier’s DNA was found on the body, on the materials used to wrap her, or in the area where she was discovered. No one saw him with Tina after the morning of August 8. The jury deliberated, and on February 22, 2018, Raymond Cormier was found not guilty. The Crown did not appeal the decision. The perpetrator of Tina Fontaine’s death remains officially unknown.

For Tina’s family and community, the verdict was devastating. Indigenous leaders in Manitoba spoke out. Sheila North, Grand Chief of Keewatinowi Okimakanak, declared, “We as a nation need to do better for our young people.” Carolyn Bennett, Minister of Crown-Indigenous Relations, wrote that Tina’s story “demonstrates the failures of all the systems for Indigenous children and youth on every level… we need to fix this.”

The public reaction was swift and overwhelming. The day after the verdict, more than a thousand people marched in Winnipeg to honor Tina and support her family. Across the country, rallies were held in Toronto, Regina, and other cities. The Justice for our Stolen Children camp was set up in Regina’s Wascana Park in direct response to the lack of accountability in cases like Tina’s. Political activist Indygo Arscott led a demonstration outside Toronto City Hall, demanding change.

Tina Fontaine’s death became a catalyst. Her story helped spark a national reckoning over the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls in Canada. The Canadian Human Rights Commission cited Tina’s case in its call for a national inquiry. In December 2015, the federal government announced that an inquiry would be undertaken. Five commissioners were appointed, and consultations began with families, activists, and experts. The inquiry’s wide-ranging mandate covered not just the deaths and disappearances themselves, but also the role of systemic racism, poverty, and the failures of the child welfare and justice systems.

Her case also led to local grassroots responses. A volunteer group called Drag the Red began regular searches of the Red River, looking for evidence or the remains of other missing women. The Bear Clan Patrol, a community safety group, was formed in Winnipeg’s North End, patrolling the streets and supporting at-risk youth. In November 2018, with federal funding, the Ndinawe Youth Resource Centre was renamed “Tina’s Safe Haven” and opened a 24/7 safe space for youth in the city. Manitoba’s Child and Family Services announced in 2015 that it would stop placing children in hotels—a practice that had failed Tina and many others.

The Manitoba Advocate for Children and Youth, Daphne Penrose, released a report in March 2019, documenting Tina’s life and the many ways in which government agencies failed to protect her. The report described a “shameful legacy”: a cycle of trauma, missed opportunities for intervention, and a lack of appropriate support at every critical moment of Tina’s short life.

The outcry following Tina’s death prompted changes in policy and a broad public conversation about the violence facing Indigenous women and girls in Canada. Her story became a symbol, her photograph held high at rallies and vigils. But even as new resources and awareness campaigns were launched, the fundamental question remained: who killed Tina Fontaine, and why was she not protected?

On the first anniversary of the discovery of her body, a memorial was unveiled at the site on the Red River. Families from across Manitoba came to honor Tina’s memory. In the years since, the flowers and candles placed there have marked not only her loss, but the ongoing crisis she represents.

The case of Tina Fontaine remains open, with the official perpetrator unknown. The evidence—her body wrapped in plastic and a duvet, weighed down with rocks—points to someone who took deliberate steps to conceal their crime. The forensic pathologist, Dr. Dennis Rhee, summed up the core mystery: “The cause of death still remains undetermined… The way the body was presented is highly suspicious.”