Sheila LaBarre: NH Serial Killer, Part 2

Apr 27

Written By Kristen Seavey

Wilfred LaBarre, Sheila's common law husband

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This is the second in a three part series. Click here for part one and part three.

Wilfred meets Sheila

The farm didn’t always belong to Sheila. It belonged to her late husband, Wilfred LaBarre.

In 1987, Sheila and Wilfred’s romantic relationship began. It started with Sheila’s response to 60-year-old Wilfred’s personal ad in the newspaper.

He put on a suit and tie and posed for a photo. One hand on his thigh the other on a bench. Though his smile looked forced, the creases near the corners of his eyes framed a kind face and a gentle demeanor. The ad read: “Doctor, widower, looking for someone not too tall”. Women responded, but no candidate stood out like Sheila. Her response read:

“Dear Special Man,
I am 28, 5’ 5” and weigh 117 [pounds]. I do not smoke. I have a great sense of humor and I love life! I judge a person from inside the mind and heart.
As you requested, a photograph is enclosed.
If you wish to know more about me, you may call. I would like to have a conversation with you. You could tell me all about New Hampshire. I hear it is lovely.
Good luck with your ad.
Sheila

She included a photo of herself posing in front of a mirror, topless, wearing nothing but pink underwear.

A relationship began. Sheila sweet-talked him over the phone and Wilfred sent her checks. After a few months of longing to be with his new found love, Wilfred invited Sheila to move to New Hampshire and live on his 2-million-dollar estate. He mailed out a check with “plane ticket” written in the memo line, and Sheila accepted his invitation.

The life of Wilfred LaBarre

Wilfred was born in 1926 in Norwich, Connecticut. During World War II, he joined the Navy and earned his wings as an aerial gunner specialist. After the war, Wilfred decided to become a chiropractor, graduating from the Palmer School in 1953. After school he got licensed to practice in New Hampshire – one of the first in the state. He involved himself in his professional community, becoming president of the N.H. Cooperative Chiropractic Society and a member of the Board of Regents at Sherman College. He generously donated large sums of money to contribute to the growth of the college. Wilfred was even named “Chiropractor of the Year” in New Hampshire for his contributions to his profession. He was well-liked in Epping. Kids would later recall him driving around on a horse and buggy and giving them impromptu rides.

He and his wife, Leone, had two children together, but at 46-years-old, they decided to get divorced. They cited irreconcilable differences in the paperwork.

4 years later, Wilfred married again to the tall and beautiful Edwina Kolacz, who was at least 10 years his junior. He was in love and the years between 1976 and 1983 were some of the best years of his life: his business was thriving and his rift with his daughter was on the mend. She even worked with him to help him run the business. But in 1983, things took a dark turn: Edwina died of cancer. Wilfred was crushed and fell into a listless depression.

After grieving the death of his second wife, in 1987, he decided to try finding love once again, which led him to Sheila.

Sheila moves in, and takes control

Sheila moved in right away and started involving herself with every aspect of Wilfred’s life immediately proving her worth by helping to collect unpaid bills from clients. He saw her as a charming and talented Southern Belle.

Louise Harvey, an Epping neighbor, said, “At first he was just smitten with her. She could sing and dance, and she was very, very smart.”

Wilfred supported Sheila’s dream of becoming a country singer: he took her to Nashville, Tennessee to meet musicians and agents, but nothing came from those meetings.

Soon, romantic dates turned into vitriolic arguments and words of affection turned into threats of violence. Wilfred was afraid.

Laura Melisi, Wilfred’s daughter, said, “My father was not a fearful person at all, but after Sheila came, his whole personality changed.” Wilfred’s cheerful and positive reputation was eroded because of the uneasiness he felt.

He sometimes called the Epping police to break up domestic disputes with Sheila. Laura later recalled that Sheila threatened to kill the horses “and to kill him, too.”

Though Sheila and Wilfred never married, Sheila took his last name immediately, establishing herself as an authority in his life and to those he knew. By 1990, Sheila took over management of the Chiropractic Office, and she had some changes in mind for Wilfred’s loyal clientele. She raised prices, maximizing profits. Laura recalled a nasty incident between Sheila and Wilfred’s cousin, whom he respected and loved:

“My dad’s cousin, Ed, [who was my father’s business partner], used to live in the apartment above the office. Sheila wanted to raise his rent. He was living there for practically nothing and didn't want to pay more. He had a Doberman, and she threatened, if the rent didn’t go up to $700 [a month], she was going to kill his dog. Three days later, the dog, who was not [otherwise] sick, dropped dead”.

She also controlled management of the farm. The dynamic changed. Everything Wilfred had built and made his own felt more like Sheila’s. She eventually left the main house and lived in Ed’s old apartment, continuing to keep an eye on the business.

She dated other men while she lived on Wilfred’s estate, but she continued to write Wilfred love letters and to occasionally share a bed. She showed off her dates to him, and even married another man, Wayne Ennis, in 1995, while continuing to live on Wilfred’s property and manage his business. After that marriage ended, there were others: Jimmy Bracket and Yvon Blais.

In 2000, Wilfred passed away on December 2nd of heart failure at 74-years-old. According to his will, Sheila was the sole beneficiary of his Epping estate along with a few other properties in New Hampshire. His children were stunned. The beautiful multi-million-dollar property was Sheila’s alone, which meant that whatever limitations she had while Wilfred was in control were gone, and she was now free to do whatever she wanted.

Sheila’s one last dance

Sheila cruised down Interstate 293 on March 28, 2006, her hair was now dyed a bold, vibrant red, when she pulled over suddenly with car trouble. Stephen Martello was driving down the same road when he spotted Sheila on the side of the road standing next to her car with the hood up. He stopped to help her. She said that she had just gotten into a fight with her boyfriend and her car broke down and that she needed to get to Dorchester, Massachusetts as soon as possible to see an attorney. Though he found her a bit odd, Stephen couldn’t say no to the beautiful yet strange woman, and agreed to drive her.

That night, after dropping her at a hotel, she invited him to stay. Things quickly got physical, and right after they had sex, Sheila told Stephen that he had “just had sex with an angel”. She continued, telling her new acquaintance about the collection of child pornography her boyfriend had. She confided in him that all police officers were pedophiles and said, “Sex offenders must die. Vengeance is mine said the Lord, and I was sent back to earth as an angel”. Stephen scrambled to find his clothes, quickly dressed, and raced out the door.

He drove an hour back the other way and was relieved make it home to Manchester, a good 60 miles away from the strange woman he had just slept with. He turned on the TV and watched the local news—the police were looking for a woman who was wanted in the disappearance and suspected murder of Kenneth Countie. But when they put up a photo of her, he was dumbstruck to learn he had just left her hotel room. He rushed over to the police station and told them, “I think I just met Sheila LaBarre”.

Sheila continued to run from the police, making her way to Roxbury, Massachusetts, a neighborhood of Boston, where she was approached by another potential suitor. Kenneth Washington, who was cruising around a strip mall parking lot, pulled over and approached Sheila. He later said that he was drawn to her bright-red hair. She told him that her name was Casey, an old stage-name she used as an aspiring country musician, chosen because of her love of the 19th-century psychic and holistic medicine practitioner Edgar Cayce. She explained that she was in town from Tennessee to take care of some real estate business in Roxbury, and she was irritated since she had just come from the airport and they lost her luggage. All she had was a small shopping bag with some clothes.

Kenneth, sympathetic to her plight, invited her into his car which led to them spending a few days together. She seemed to be flush with cash, and he was happy to be pampered. She bought them food, weed, and two different hotel rooms.

On April 1, the two said their goodbyes, and Kenneth returned home to watch a basketball game with his family. He was still elated, having just come back from three amazing days with this mystery woman, but his high didn’t last long: pictures of “Casey'' appeared on his screen. This woman’s real name was Sheila, and she was wanted for murder.

They had a date the next day for lunch. He told her that he would meet her at a Taco Bell in Revere, Massachusetts, a suburb north of Boston. After a night to sleep on it, Kenneth had a change of heart and decided to call the Revere Police department.

Sheila apprehended at Taco Bell

Steven Moscato, working dispatch, took the call. The caller said that they had been with the New Hampshire fugitive the night before, and that she was expecting him to arrive at Northgate Plaza any minute. Steven sent out 3 units and waited, picking up the call on the first ring from one of the officers—apprehending a fugitive wasn’t something that they got to do every day. But he could hear the disappointment in the officer’s voice when he explained that she was nowhere to be found.

Something about the tip convinced Steven to take a closer look at that Taco Bell; and he was hungry for tacos anyway. He took his lunch break early and went through the drive-thru. As he unwrapped his Mexican treats from the comfort of his car, he surveyed the restaurant.

There was a woman standing outside the doors, hanging on her phone. She was a similar height and build and age to the woman described in the New Hampshire APB, but her hair wasn’t blonde, and her body language seemed confident and relaxed. Still, the longer he watched, the more he was convinced. He knew why she was hanging on her phone—her date was standing her up as he had explained he would in his call with Steven, and she was calling him incessantly.

Steven radioed dispatch and asked for backup.

As he waited for them to arrive, she gave up on Kenneth, leaving the fast-food joint and walking along the main drag toward a big roundabout. She seemed in no particular hurry, and didn’t seem to have a car.

Two units arrived and pulled into the large asphalt parking lot, one ahead of her, the other behind.

An officer got out and approached her. “Can I talk to you? Come here, please.”

He asked for her name and identification, and she told him, with a slight Southern accent, that her name was Cayce Washington, and that she didn’t have ID.

He looked down at a brown paper bag she was carrying, and asked if he could look in it. She obliged, and he discovered a newspaper folded open to the real estate and apartment listings. There was a carefully-folded aluminum square, too, that concealed a small quantity of weed. He asked her if it was what he thought it was, and she made no reply.

He continued rooting through the bag, pulling out stacks of cash, carefully strapped with colored bands, straight from the bank, crisp and sequential. There were more than he could hold in his hands. “Gotta be about thirty thousand dollars here,” he said.

He suggested another name, searching for any reaction: “Sheila LaBarre.” She insisted that was not her name.

They stood in silence. She offered no explanation.

Steven had moseyed over by then and asked if anyone had a paper. One of the cops retrieved the Boston Herald from their cruiser. The woman on page A2 had blonde hair that was much longer, and seemed to be heavier, but there was a more-than-passing resemblance.

He held the paper up with the small, color photo, and asked, “Look. Is this you or not?”

She finally acquiesced, “Yeah, that’s me.”

On April 2, Sheila was arrested. She was found with $33,000 in cash, a $50,000 bank check, and marijuana.

Investigation at the Farmhouse

Investigators searched the farm for a total of 17 days. On their initial search, they discovered a potentially human bone with a bit of flesh remaining on it in a burn pile, and a Walmart bag with fine debris that included bones. But inside the house, they found strokes of dried blood covering some of the farm house walls, and a bloody knife that looked like it was dipped in maroon paint that matched Kenneth’s DNA. They found other burn piles on the estate that contained clothing remnants and burned-out mattresses with fatty bits still clinging to the wire frame and box springs.

There was still more to rummage through. The once-beautiful 115-acre property had fallen into disarray, with piles of junk everywhere and rabbits running wild. Amongst the mess was Sheila’s notebook. Her journal had bizarre entries that made investigators wonder if they were related to Kenneth’s murder. One page, dated July 2005, had a drawing of a human body with the words “110 pounds, 5’4” and the list of words that followed included: “incinerated-burned-ashes”, “bury”, and “DEATH” in all-caps. Another page was similar— it had details of how to get rid of a body: “incinerated, burned, flushed, scattered; water; bury and shovel, and ''death” (with a circle around it). There were nicknames listed: “Needle Nellie”, “Would-Be Husband”, “Count Blood”, and “the Eagle”. Were these references to Kenny?

One note that stood out to investigators read, “Daniel 3”, a reference to the Bible Chapter mentioning a “burning fiery furnace”. Was she following some divine inspiration?

A document was found inside of the house, dated March 10, that read, in odd and stilted language, “Countie only trusts Sheila LaBarre, and does completely feel safe and secure in her presence”. It was signed by both Sheila and Kenneth, and it’s larger purpose was to grant Sheila power of attorney control over Kenneth’s life. He gave her the authority to talk to police, social service agents, and courts on his behalf. He allowed her to receive his mail and sign off on letters and checks.

Though they had no body, investigators felt certain that Kenneth had been murdered and incinerated, and as the long search continued, the question of whether there were more victims sat in the back of investigators’ minds. Some of the blood found did not match Kenneth’s DNA, and other burn piles could mean more victims. Who knows what they would stumble across next?

Sheila’s arraignment in MA then NH

On April 3, the day after her arrest, Sheila was arraigned in a Massachusetts district court on two counts: a fugitive from justice charge, and a possession of marijuana charge for good measure. But Massachusetts authorities agreed to transfer her back to New Hampshire right away, and since she didn’t fight her extradition, she was taken to Portsmouth to be arraigned again, the next day, on the more serious charge: first-degree murder in the death of Kenneth Countie.

Sheila, emotionless, sat beside her attorney, Jeffrey Denner. Jeffrey had been in the game a long time and had experience in other murder cases.

Kenneth’s mother, Carolynn, sat in the room, facing, (for the first time since his disappearance), her son’s alleged killer. She sat alongside other members of Kenneth’s family. They held an enlarged photo of him, showing Sheila how they remembered him.

Sheila pretended to be shocked by the murder charge, and her lawyer mirrored the pretense. She was outraged. She told reporters that she would have never hurt Kenneth and the whole charade (perpetrated by the police) was all very traumatizing for her. Jeffrey said, “there’s an allegation that he was on the farm with her in some capacity and he got incinerated, but I have no idea on why they believe that or if they have any proof.”

Outside of the courtroom, Jeffrey answered reporters’ various questions. When asked why Sheila changed her hair color and cut it significantly shorter, he said, sarcastically, “women do change appearances from time to time”.

Sheila was held without bail at the Strafford County jail where she would remain until her probable cause hearing.

Wilfred’s will

When Wilfred died in 2000, Sheila inherited all of his assets, but due to the fact that they were never legally married, there were taxes that Sheila would have to pay. She refused to pay them and insisted to officials that she was legally his common-law spouse. She demanded that her name be listed on Wilfred's death certificate as his wife, and when Brewitt Funeral Service asked for her marriage license, she threatened them: “I don’t have a license but I have a pistol, and I know how to use it”. She later called up the State Department of Revenue Administration and spoke in a threatening tone. She asked Kathleen Sher, the assistant revenue counselor, “are you afraid?”.

Sheila got what she wanted. She became rich and didn’t have to work for it. She owned Wilfred’s multiple properties and even his two cars, a Cadillac and Mercedes coupe.

Up until the moment that Wilfred died, his children, Laura and Gregory, believed that they would be rid of Sheila upon his death. They assumed that their father’s assets would be left to them and to his business partner and cousin. They believed that they would assume control over the family farm, the chiropractic business, and the rental properties and be rid of her once and for all. They couldn’t have dreamed that their father would have left everything to her.

But then there was a haunting incident before his death, in 2000. Laura was up at the farm, riding horses, and her father took her into the living room to show her where he had hidden some money for her and her brother. He mentioned something about Sheila controlling certain accounts and that he wanted to be sure that they were taken care of.

After Wilfred’s funeral, Sheila found the stash of money, and kept it for herself. She even called up Laura to gloat. She told her, “Ha ha, how's it feel to have nothing?”. Pain. That is all Laura could feel.

When Sheila was arrested, Laura finally had a chance to claw back what Sheila had stolen from her. On April 10, Rockingham County Probate Judge Maher signed an order vacating Sheila’s ownership of the estate and seized all of her assets. Laura and Gregory seized the opportunity to challenge the will, and they argued that Sheila wrongfully inherited the estate by using an old will written back in 1988.

Shortly following Edwina’s unexpected death to cancer in 1983, Wilfred redrafted his will. He bequeathed his business assets to his cousin and partner, Ed Charron, and provided a year’s housing to him, rent-free. The remainder of Wilfred’s assets, including the farm and the rental properties, were to be equally divided between his two children. His attorney drafted it per his wishes.

5 years later, just a year after he had met Sheila (after responding to his personals ad), he rewrote and filed a new will, but it smacked of fraud. This is what it said:

During my life I grew to love and trust a very special lady known as Sheila Kaye Jennings LaBarre. Because of my love and trust I conveyed or transferred various real estate, cash, stocks and bonds, and personal property into trust for Sheila. I further give, bequeath and devise all of my estate, real, personal and mixed, of every kind and nature whatsoever situated to Sheila Kaye Jennings LaBarre, if she survives me. I have not forgotten my children...I specifically do not want either of my children...to initiate or participate in any legal contest regarding the trusts I have signed. It is my desire that the farm and all land become the property of Sheila Kaye J. LaBarre.

Laura believed that Sheila was manipulative. The only reason her father left it all to her was because Laura believed she coerced him with violence. She said, “I believe she came up here to reach that goal. She knew he was a doctor—that he had money and property. And she knew he had recently lost his wife” leaving him lonely and vulnerable.

Everything but the business assets were left to Sheila, but even those didn’t elude her grasp.

In 1990, a revision was made to the will that stipulated that Ed would have to move out of the apartment upon Wilfred’s death, gave Sheila power of attorney over much of Wilfred’s affairs, and reiterated that Ed would take over the business assets. But finally, in 1992, Sheila filed an amendment that removed Ed’s name from the will entirely, and named her sole executor of the estate.

After Sheila was charged and imprisoned, Laura produced a will that was drafted in 2000. Her petition was successful and their request to freeze Sheila’s assets was granted. In prison, Sheila vainly attempted to gain control back. She wrote a letter to the county probate court, telling them that Wilfred’s will was legitimate.

Not only was there suspicion surrounding the will, but Laura questioned if her dad actually died of natural causes. In 2000, the year Wilfred died, medical examiner’s concluded that his death was caused by heart failure. Dr. Thomas Andre, the examiner who signed off on his death certificate, decided to revisit the autopsy results. He said, “As soon as this thing hit the fan, I decided to pull the file just to make sure we hadn’t missed something. But I am convinced that Wilfred died of natural causes”.

Though the medical examiner found nothing that linked Sheila to Wilfred’s death, his kids and neighbors still believed that Sheila somehow contributed. Neighbors recalled seeing Wilfred looking ill months before he died. His skin tone was a strange, pale green, the same color Kenneth had been when he was last seen.

Sheila arranged to have his body cremated and took the ashes, and spread them across the farm. There would be no second autopsy for Wilfred LaBarre.

Was there more than one victim?

Although Sheila was only charged with Kenneth’s murder, investigators still suspected there might be others. Officers scoured missing person reports, checking to see if any of them had any connection to the farm or to Sheila. Police asked the public for information on anybody who knew Sheila and later went missing.

The 17-day search continued, and investigators decided to pump the septic tank. Beneath the sewage and slush, they came across a bullet, parts of a cell phone, a bone, and most notably a birth certificate. The name on the official document was unknown to the investigators—it belonged to someone named Michael Deloge. Who was this person? Did they live on the farm? Were they one of Sheila’s victims? There was a strong chance that their hunch was correct. There was a second murder victim.

Michael Deloge

Powdery snow began to fall onto the muddy road, and the air was already crisp and finger-numbing in the winter of 2005. In the distance, a young, sallow-faced man came stumbling onto the path. His long face was cut up and blood dripped onto the cotton snow. He looked badly beaten. A portion of his ear had been ripped off. Bruce Allen, a dairy farmer, watched the man hobble towards him. His voice was gruff and unclear. Bruce could barely understand the single word the man uttered. He looked behind his shoulder nervously, as if making sure there was no one following him. Again, he whispered the word, and this time Bruce could make it out: “Sheila”.

That wounded man’s name was Michael Deloge.

Donna Boston, Michael’s mother, received a phone call from investigators as they were searching Sheila’s farm. They wanted to let her know that they had found some of his belongings, including a letter containing Donna’s name, address, and phone number.

The last time she saw her son was in July of 2005—it had been nearly a year since she’d heard from him.

Michael grew up south of New Haven, Connecticut with his dad, who was a firefighter, but though he was separated from his mother by 200 miles, he always kept in touch. They lived in a seaside town just off of Long Island Sound called West Haven. Mike was thin with a long face and long hair. He had a passion for music and grew up in the 80’s and 90’s going to music venues between New York City and Hartford, Connecticut. There was a legendary small venue in his town that was a magnet for big acts like Billy Joel and the Rolling Stones, where they might dip in, impromptu, to try out new material, and he would go on their open mic nights and read his lyrics. Though he neither played an instrument nor sang, he was good at composing rhyming couplets.

He was a heavy drinker and drug user, and he struggled for years to find stability in his life. Michael tried to get sober when he met his girlfriend, Loretta. After she got pregnant, they married, but both the marriage and Michael’s sobriety fell apart soon thereafter. She left him and cut off all contact, leaving him heartbroken without his son, and he turned toward his familiar vices for comfort and oblivion.

He decided to make a fresh start near his mother, in Somersworth, New Hampshire, so he moved north in 2002 at 34 years old. But by 2003, Michael was living at a homeless shelter in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, called the Cross Roads House. His mom recalled that he had met Sheila at the shelter. She would visit the well-kept, blue-sided temporary home frequently, seeking out men to come and work on the farm, and 35-year-old Michael Deloge caught her eye.

For a while, Michael had a professional relationship with Sheila. He was on the farm to do work, and she gave him a place to live, but it didn’t take long for their relationship to become romantic. He called up his family and told them all about his new girlfriend—a wealthy landowner and businesswoman who took care of him. They were in love. Michael’s parents were happy for their son and looked forward to meeting Sheila.

Sheila and he visited his mother’s home in Somersworth a few times, which was only a 30-minute drive from Epping, but Donna was not a fan of her son’s girlfriend. She later recalled that she was rude and treated her son like a servant—“Sheila would say, ‘Get me a glass of water,’ or ‘Where’s my purse?’ And if he didn’t jump, she’d get very annoyed.”

Sheila wanted control over Michael, and so she sought to drive a wedge between him and his mother. She went on the offensive using jealousy as a convenient scapegoat, claiming that even the simple act of giving his mother a goodbye kiss on the cheek would enrage her. Donna said that “she told Michael she wasn’t coming over to my house again if we didn’t stop the hugging and kissing. It just made me mad.”

In 2004, Michael and Sheila went to Donna’s home for Christmas, and although the family wanted to sing Christmas carols, Sheila insisting on singing her own songs—solo. Sheila wanted the spotlight. After Christmas, Donna was in the hospital for 30 days due to illness and she wanted to get ahold of her son. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t reach him, and Donna suspected that Sheila was keeping him away from her.

The last time Donna saw her son was when the couple visited Somersworth for her birthday in July of 2005. When they arrived, Donna noticed her son seemed off. His appearance had changed. She said, “Michael had changed his ways. He was pimply-faced and looked like he had lost a lot of weight. He didn't talk very much at all—she did all the talking” for him. When Donna asked Michael what was wrong, Sheila encouraged him to confront her. “Michael, you’ve got something to say to your mother or I’m leaving,” she said.

He took a breath and told her that he was having a hard time with his life as an adult because she had assaulted him and raped him when he was a child. Donna was furious—she refused to listen to the accusations and told them to leave. She knew just who was responsible for putting these ideas in Michael’s head. Sheila wanted to isolate Michael from his family, but the abuse wasn’t just mental.

Phillip Sullos, a man who worked on the Epping farm a couple times a week, recalled that Sheila hit Michael frequently. One time Sheila beat Michael with a hardwood rod until he bled. Philip said that he didn’t attempt to fight back—he would try to shield himself using his arms as his body shuddered in fear. On another occasion, Sheila brought Phillip to a locked door, and when she opened it, he saw Michael, huddled and alone in a windowless storage room. He was obedient and never tried to escape.

Austin Wiggin, who occasionally worked on the farm, also witnessed the abuse. Sheila accused Michael of ripping a carriage cover—which he adamantly denied. Sheila continued to accuse him until he finally confessed to the damage, after which she beat him senseless.

The last time Austin stopped by the farm around August of 2005, Sheila made some unsettling comments about Michael. He noticed that Michael wasn’t around and asked Sheila where he went. Her response was alarming. “You think I killed Michael,” she said. Then, ominously, she said again, “You think I killed Michael, don’t ya?”. Austin asked Sheila where Michael had gone, and she replied “He’s gone; I don’t know where he is. He left, and his family doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

The last time Michael was seen alive was July of 2005, about a month prior.

In addition to Michael’s birth certificate, investigators also found a letter that had been notarized by Sheila, and supposedly written by Michael, that admitted he was a child molester. He wrote, quote, “there is no hope for me, I’m a lost cause. I’ve even tortured this kind lady’s baby rabbits.”

Though investigators found no physical remains, they were convinced that Sheila had murdered Michael as well.

There were so many similarities between him and Kenneth. They were both romantically involved with Sheila and were subject to years of physical and psychological abuse. They were both last seen alive with bruising and a yellowish skin color. Most strange of all, they both admitted to being pedophiles.

In Michael’s case, his mother recalled an incident where Michael was accused of being inappropriate with children. He was staying, at the time, with his cousin and her family. Her husband accused Michael of doing something sexual with his kids, but there was another story that he was simply fed up with Michael living with them and made up the story to get him out. Donna believed that Sheila may have extracted it from Michael and drew her own conclusions about the truth.

But the most convincing evidence was the blood splattered on the walls of Sheila’s home. DNA samples of the blood matched with Michael. He once confessed to his mother that he thought Sheila was going to kill him.

Donna said, “I think he's dead. I really do."

How many more victims were there?

Click here for part one and part three.

This text has been adapted from the Murder, She Told podcast episode, NH Serial Killer: Sheila LaBarre, Part 2. To hear the full story, find Murder, She Told on your favorite podcast platform.

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Wilfred LaBarre, with his dog, Demitrius

Wilfred LaBarre, honored with ‘chiropractor of the year’ award — Wilfred LaBarre, honored with *‘chiropractor of the year’* award

Present day photo of Wilfred’s chiropractic office in Hampton, NH (Winnacunnet Rd.)

Michael Deloge's childhood home in West Haven, CT — Michael’s childhood home in West Haven, CT

Michael Deloge and his wife (briefly married)

Sheila LaBarre (left), Michael Deloge (right)

Taco Bell where Sheila LaBarre apprehended in Revere, MA

70 Red Oak Hill Ln, Epping, NH (Sheila LaBarre’s former property), police investigation

70 Red Oak Hill Ln, Epping, NH (Sheila LaBarre’s former property), police investigation

Sources For This Episode

Newspaper articles

Various articles from Bangor Daily News, New Hampshire Union Leader, Portsmouth Herald, Rutland Daily Herald, The Bennington Banner, The Boston Globe, and The Brattleboro Reformer, here.

Written by various authors including Adam Leech, Clare Trapasso, Clynton Namuo, David Tirrell-Wysocki, Elizabeth Dinan, Emily Aronson, Garry Rayno, Gina Carbone, James Kimble, Jason Schreiber, Karen Dandurant, Kathleen Burge, Kathryn Marchocki, Lara Bricker, Mark Hayward, Nancy West, Russ Choma, Sally Jacobs, Scott Brooks, Toby Henry, and Trent Spiner.

Books

Wicked Intentions, Kevin Flynn, published 2008 by New Horizon Press

Online articles

'Obituary of Wildred Joseph LaBarre' (Lane Memorial Library (Hampton, NH)), 12/7/2000, no author credited

'Murder Suspect Found in Revere' (The Sun (Westford, MA)), 4/3/2006, by Matt Murphy

'Kenneth M. Countie (obituary)' (Legacy.com), 4/6/2006, no author credited

'Michael Deloge (obituary)' (Legacy.com), 3/1/2008, no author credited

'Murderer Sheila LaBarre's farm auctioned for 600K' (Seacoast Online (Portsmouth, NH)), 5/28/2009, by Lara Bricker

'State of New Hampshire vs. Sheila K. LaBarre' (Justia US Law (Mountainview, CA)), 1/13/2010, no author credited

'Mystery toes may be the sole link…' (Daily News (New York, NY)), 7/5/2012, by Larry McShane

'The Unidentified Toes' (The Sheila LaBarre Murder Case), 12/3/2012, by Steven Robert

'An Obsession with Pedophiles' (The Sheila LaBarre Murder Case ), 12/3/2012, by Steven Robert