KANNIBAL KEITH – Part 3: To Catch a Cannibal

As eerie similarities to other notorious serial killers began to take shape, I decided to take my work undercover – as a honeypot.

Disclaimer: All info contained in this article is true to the best of my knowledge. Some names have been changed and/or redacted. All parties are presumed innocent until proven guilty in a court of law

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

When you think of a serial killer, you might picture a shadowy figure lurking in dark alleys, not a jovial landscaper who moonlights as a mall Santa. But Bruce McArthur, a 66-year-old grandfather from Toronto, was ultimately revealed to be Canada’s most prolific serial killer, responsible for the murders of eight men between 2010 and 2017.

Bruce McArthur seemed like a normal guy. Born in 1951 in rural Ontario, he grew up in a small farming community and married his high school sweetheart. He worked as a salesman for a Canadian clothing company, raised two kids, and later got into landscaping after moving to Toronto. By all accounts, he was a friendly, unassuming figure – someone who posted cat pictures and anti-Trump memes on Facebook, dressed up as Santa at a local mall, and ran a small landscaping business. But beneath this wholesome facade, McArthur was living a double life.

McArthur’s killing spree took place in Toronto’s vibrant LGBTQ+ community, an area known as the Gay Village. In November of 2012, Toronto police launched Project Houston – a task force which was assembled to investigate the disappearance of three missing men from the Gay Village - Skandaraj Navaratnam, Abdulbasir Faizi and Majeed Kayhan. All three men were homosexual and of Middle Eastern descent, and all three went missing in a similarly suspicious fashion. These unusual details ultimately alerted Toronto police to the possibility of a serial killer.

McArthur was a fixture in the Gay Village, socializing in the bars and clubs of Church and Wellesley since at least the late 1990s. He was known to have had a romantic relationship with Skandaraj Navaratnam, and yet, when police interviewed community members about McArthur’s possible connection to his disappearance, they described McArthur as an ordinary gay man, and the last person anyone suspected of being a predator. That’s what made his crimes so insidious: he blended in, gaining the trust of men who were marginalized and struggling with their sexuality.

The Village was a safe haven for many of these men – a place where they could be themselves away from societal judgment or family expectations. But Bruce McArthur turned this sanctuary into a hunting ground. His method was brutal yet calculated. He lured his victims – most of them men he met through dating apps or in bars – to his apartment or other locations, where he sexually assaulted, strangled, and dismembered them. Some victims were posed post-mortem in degrading ways, with McArthur photographing them in fur coats or with cigars in their mouths before stashing the images as trophies on his computer. He hid their remains in large garden planters at properties where he worked as a landscaper, a practical choice for a man whose job gave him access to sprawling suburban yards.

Navaratnam, McArthur’s first known victim, disappeared in September 2010 after leaving a gay bar. Abdulbasir Faizi vanished a few months later, last seen at a bathhouse in the Village. Majeed Kayhan went missing in 2012, followed by others over the years. The disappearances sparked fear in the community, with rumors of a serial killer circulating as early as 2010. But the Toronto Police were slow to act, initially dismissing the idea of a serial killer and attributing the disappearances to the lifestyles of the victims, many of whom used dating apps or lived double lives to conceal their sexual identities from their friends and families.

In 2012, two years after the disappearance of Navaratnam, Toronto police received a tip from an anonymous source in Switzerland which led them to uncover a sordid network of online cannibals. The Swiss tipster told police that he had chatted on a website with a self-proclaimed cannibal who bragged about killing and cannibalizing Toronto-area men.

Suddenly, police found themselves chasing a lead that sounded like something straight out of a horror movie. The website in question was called Zambian Meat, a forum where users fantasized about torturing and eating people. One user, going by “Chefmate50,” claimed to have killed and eaten a man in Toronto, specifically mentioning someone named “Skanda,” which matched Skandaraj Navaratnam’s nickname. The user was traced to a man named James Alex Brunton, a 65-year-old retiree from Peterborough, Ontario.

Now facing the possibility of a cannibal serial killer, police launched Project Houston, named after the phrase “Houston, we have a problem,” to investigate. Detectives even flew to Switzerland to interview the source; a man named Markus Dubach who had previously helped Swiss police catch another cannibal serial killer in Europe.

The investigation into Brunton was intense. Police discovered he had exchanged nude photos with minors and engaged in graphic online chats about torture and cannibalism. They also briefly considered whether Luka Magnotta, the infamous Montreal murderer who killed and dismembered a man in 2012, might be linked, as he had worked as a dancer at a Toronto strip club and lived near Brunton’s hometown during his teens.

But after months of surveillance and interviews, the police concluded that Brunton’s cannibalism fantasies were just that – fantasies. There was no evidence linking him or Magnotta to the disappearances, and there wasn’t sufficient evidence to indicate Brunton had ever actually followed through with his cannibalistic urges. They did, however, have enough evidence to convict Brunton on child pornography charges in 2014. As for the Toronto case, the police found themselves back at square one

Interestingly, McArthur’s name also surfaced during Project Houston. His email and username, “silverfoxx51,” were found in Navaratnam and Faizi’s computer data, and he was interviewed as a witness in 2013. But with no concrete evidence tying him to the crimes, he slipped through the cracks. The cannibalism lead, while sensational, distracted investigators from the real killer hiding in plain sight.

The turning point came in 2017 with the disappearance of Andrew Kinsman, a well-known figure in the Gay Village. Unlike the other victims, Kinsman’s absence sparked immediate community action, with friends organizing searches and canvassing the neighborhood. His disappearance, coupled with that of another man earlier that year, prompted the Toronto police to launch Project Prism, a new task force. A crucial clue emerged: Kinsman’s calendar had an entry marked “Bruce” on June 26, 2017, the day he vanished. Surveillance footage showed Kinsman getting into a van later traced to McArthur, which contained traces of his blood.

By late 2017, McArthur was under 24-hour surveillance. In January 2018, police moved in when they saw him bring a man to his apartment. Inside, they found the man, Sean Cribbin, chained to a bed – a potential ninth victim who was rescued just in time. The search of McArthur’s apartment uncovered folders of photos of his victims, including post-mortem images, and forensic teams later found dismembered remains in planters at properties linked to his landscaping work. McArthur was arrested on January 18, 2018, and in January 2019, he pleaded guilty to eight counts of first-degree murder. He was sentenced to life in prison with no parole for 25 years.

Online fetish communities like Zambian Meat exist in a murky space where fantasy and reality can blur, making it hard for police to separate credible threats from role-play. The tip about “Chefmate50” was compelling enough to warrant a transatlantic investigation and fortunately resulted in the arrest and conviction of another monster. But detectives who worked on Project Houston said the tip ultimately diverted resources from McArthur. They were quick to debunk the cannibalism rumors, stating there was “no truth to that at all.”

But what about the Swiss informant’s mention of the name, Skanda? Could there have been a connection between some of the victims and the online cannibal fetish community? McArthur was well-known to be involved in some prurient online BDSM scenes, and by the time his victims were unearthed from the property where he crudely buried them in planters, many of the remains were years old and reduced to skeletons. I guess it’s worth pointing out that while detectives couldn’t prove McArthur cannibalized his victims, they couldn’t necessarily disprove it, either. Nor would they necessarily be inclined to try. After all, both Brunton and McArthur were locked away in maximum security prison, and the detectives were probably more than a bit eager to purge the sordid details from their memories.

Enter Keith.

Keith was an ordinary, unassuming middle-aged man with a steady job and an apparently normal life. Keith preyed on gay men who he found in sketchy online forums and at clubs in the Orlando area. Keith was a member of several cannibal forums, where he hunted for willing victims, engaged in role-playing discourse, and even uploaded snuff films – potentially of his own making. Keith claimed to have killed and eaten two people, and there was plenty of evidence of him succeeding in luring a number of people to his home in Florida. And Keith’s sadistic online activities took place between 2006 and present day, a time period during which he would have likely run across Brunton and others like him in the same network.

I pulled myself away from my computer screen and peered 1000 yards at the wall 2 feet in front of my face. There is a network of cannibals. Not just a singular serial killer. A network. As in, more than a few.

After forcibly snapping myself back to reality, I decided to go get some fresh air.

***

The next few weeks went by as usual. During this period, every free moment of my time was spent researching Sanctioned Suicide, incels, accelerationism and mass shootings. Meanwhile, Seminole County police dropped the charges against Jenny and transported her back to Chicago to stand trial for her unlawful entry charges. The strange investigation into Kannibal Keith, while still heavy on my mind, was mostly drowned out by more pressing issues. That is, until I got a message.

A major media outlet, tipped off to the case against Keith by Jenny’s friends, had decided to get a head start on a podcast about her ordeal. The fact that they jumped the gun so early – without even waiting for an arrest – told me everything I needed to know. “Suicide by cannibal” had the potential to be a very hot topic.

I couldn’t really blame them. It would certainly make for an enthralling podcast, and it was sensational enough on its own that it needed no embellishment. During my first Zoom call with the journalist, Jeff*, he made it clear that his main goal was to tell Jenny‘s story and link it to Sanctioned Suicide – A noble cause in my mind. I hated that website more than anything at the time.

But there was a catch. They didn’t just want a static retelling of Jenny’s ordeal. They wanted Keith, too. The obvious hurdle would be getting him to talk, and the solution that Jeff proposed was a honeypot operation. The concept was quite simple. He needed someone to get on a sock account, engage with Keith on one of his preferred websites, and offer to show up at his home as a willing sacrifice.

To Catch A Cannibal: Season 1, Episode 1. Starring BX.

To make things even easier, Jeff had already created a sock account on a particularly nasty cannibal site and began engaging with a user he believed to be Keith. On the sock, Jeff was pretending to be a suicidal woman in her mid-30s looking for a creative way to end it all.

“So this person is posting a lot about cannibalism and helping people with suicide,” Jeff said. “You’ll see a ‘Susan White’ in one of the comments. That’s me.” Though Jeff’s target claimed his name was Steve, he also claimed to be a white man in his 50s who lived near Orlando, and his MO matched that of Keith’s to a T. It was certainly possible, if not extremely likely, that “Steve” was actually Keith.

“He immediately DM’d,” Jeff continued. “I said I was in Atlanta considering suicide. He has been emailing daily and is very keen to help. I either fly to him or he flies to me. I’ve slowed things down by saying there are some things I need to sort out, to put right, before I go. So we can go slowly.”

Jeff handed me the email login information for Susan White’s sock account, and I promptly fired up my Virtual Machine to catch up on the emails he’d already exchanged with Steve. My blood went cold when I read the first message Steve sent:

Hi Susan,

I’m interested in your meat. So if I were to ask for photos it would most likely be asking for a showcase of what you have to offer as meat. In most cases bathing suit pictures would be fine. People approach me because suicide is not something they have been able to accomplish in the past. In those assistance cases, I don’t touch at all. Just make sure everything goes according to plan until the end. Some want to be of use in Death because it provides them with a form of comfort. Some are just curious.

We can talk about anything, I would like to help with any needs you have to fulfill how you would like to leave this existence.

I’m here to help you.

- Steve

My curiosity was certainly piqued. I logged onto the cannibal fetish website and located Steve’s profile. The Bio read “In search of meat”. The About Me read, “Here to explore the mind at all it's limits... To interpret pain as pleasure for mutual satisfaction… To sacrifice flesh in return as reward... To take you through the dark, right to where you need to be, with a kiss...”

Steve’s account boasted a 1-year achievement badge. His user activity revealed he had reached out to multiple other members in his search for a suitable victim and had also posted many disturbing images and videos on the site (the kind of things I’m not even sure I can write about here, at the risk of conjuring them back into my memory.) One image in particular was of a document titled, Body Donation Form which read, “Livestock Application: Human Female Livestock Owners Association; USDA CHOICE LOVE ROASTERS, PRIME CUTS & SNUFF SLAVES.” There was an email address as well as a physical address located in Milwaukee on the form. At the bottom of the form was a computer-generated image of a naked woman impaled end-to-end on a skewer.

Steve’s Favorites tab revealed multiple pornographic thumbnails that were BDSM themed. The Galleries tab was similarly themed, and contained a computer-generated image titled, “Volunteer” which depicted a woman being subjected to sexual violence. A link in that image led to something even more shocking – an animation of a naked, hog-tied woman roasting on a skewer. The caption read, “Are You Considering SUICIDE? We can help. The Human Female Livestock Owners Association.”

The post had 33 comments, and Steve had responded to some of them the way an advertiser would: “We can make all your fantasies come true.” I shuddered when I read the word, ‘We’.

Later that day, I sent the profile with all the associated info to Paul to see what else he could uncover. Paul immediately doubted the profile belonged to Keith. He pointed out that Steve’s profile said he was straight, whereas Keith had never been shy about disclosing his identity as a gay/bisexual man.

“It’s a cover. It’s got to be him,” I argued. “He’s been trying to convince the sock account to fly to meet him, saying he lives 40 minutes away from Disney World. I mean really, how many men in Orlando are cannibals looking for suicidal victims on weird gore websites? Hopefully only one. Hopefully…”

“I don't think it's him,” Paul insisted. “I'll look more in a bit.”

“If there is a network of cannibals I swear to God I am moving to the mountains and getting rid of the Internet completely,” I lamented.

Paul replied in his usual matter of fact tone: “You know there is. Lol.”

***

The next day, Paul wrapped up his assessment of the profile by definitively concluding that Steve was not Keith. “I've looked at everything and lost my appetite for lunch. Anyways, I don't think it's him, but I could be wrong. They could always bait him and fake a no-show if it's not him,” he said, referring to Jeff’s honeypot plan.

Or maybe, I mused, it would be just as useful to catch another cannibal in the act. If we can’t get the one we are after, maybe showing the audience that there is more than one would work just as well. Jeff agreed with this sentiment. Our strategy shifted from linking the account to Keith to linking the account with its rightful owner.

Jeff had already had a few conversations with Steve before I took over the account. Steve opened up only slightly to the Susan White sock, claiming to be a simple mechanic who sometimes helped his farmer friends out with their slaughters. But Steve was hesitant to speak with Susan White much further via email and insisted she download WhatsApp to continue working out their plan. Among other things, Steve said he wanted some pictures of Susan to determine what size car he would need to dispose of her body.

It was all so morbid, yet so comical. I was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I was at least a little excited to be involved. So, without further hesitation, Jeff sent me an Amazon gift card and instructed me to go to the store to buy a burner phone, install WhatsApp, and continue my deep dive.

Immediately upon contacting Steve on WhatsApp, he added me to a group chat called Butchering, Life Management. I jotted down his phone number and ran it through my people finder database. I instantly got a hit. Steve Labelle - a mechanic from Florida. I was shocked. Steve hadn’t even attempted to hide his identity from me or anyone else. He had a public LinkedIn profile that showed he once worked for Lockheed Martin (because of course he did). His Facebook profile featured pictures of what appeared to be a happy and normal looking Midwestern family consisting of Steve, his wife, and two teenage children.

The wife beamed in her public Facebook photos. With her blue eyes, fair skin, and blonde hair fashioned in a dated, Farrah Fawcett haircut, she was practically the poster girl for a housewife at your friendly neighborhood social club (and this, Ladies and Gentlemen, is why I no longer participate in potlucks.)

“They look like they would invite you in for a home-cooked meal before turning you into meal prep,” I joked to Jeff. Jeff admitted to being slightly disappointed that Steve was not Keith, however, he asked me to keep baiting Steve anyways in hope that he would incriminate himself enough to justify a meet-up.

So, that’s exactly what I did. Steve started our conversation convinced I was a federal agent trying to entrap him, but he began to warm up to me as our conversation progressed throughout the day. That night, I had trouble sleeping. I’d been involved with deep cover operations before, including the time I joined a cult as part of a PI gig, but nothing as sordid as this. It made me feel sick to my stomach every time I sent Steve a message, and every time he responded, the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

I was very hesitant to send Steve the pictures he asked for. I don’t think I’ve ever taken such out-of-focus, dimly lit pictures in my life. He protested that I was fully clothed and that my phone was obscuring my face. No way, buddy, I thought to myself. This is all you will ever get. Our conversation didn’t go much further. I thought Steve was the most revolting person I’d ever investigated, and Steve was convinced I was an undercover fed. So, Jeff and I decided to hit pause on the operation, with hopes of resuming our project in the future when Jenny was in a better position to collaborate.

Writing this article series has been a rollercoaster of emotions coming back. In remembering this misadventure, I’m experiencing the same exact feelings I did when I was in the moment. Shock, horror, disgust, but simultaneously shaking my head and laughing at the absurdity of it all. I now live with the knowledge that the cannibal rabbit hole goes far deeper than I ever imagined. I live with the knowledge that these cannibals look just like your normal, suburban neighbors. But most importantly, I live with the knowledge that Kannibal Keith is still out there… and he isn’t alone.

Up Next: Epilogue