The eight men murdered by Bruce McArthur – many of south Asian or Middle Eastern heritage – all had lives, hopes and dreams

When Greg Dunn addressed a packed Toronto courtroom this week, his voice drew taut as he spoke of his close friend Andrew Kinsman, who was murdered by the serial killer Bruce McArthur.

“Fractures never heal as well as a break and they tend to bother you for the rest of your life,” Dunn said. “My life has been truly fractured. My heart, soul and spirit have been fractured. They may heal in time, but it will never be the same.”

Toronto serial killer staged photographs with victims, court hears Read more

Others remembered Kinsman as a man whose reserve concealed a generous and thoughtful nature.

In the year since McArthur’s arrest, the deaths of Kinsman, Selim Esen, Majeed Kayhan, Soroush Mahmudi, Dean Lisowick, Skandaraj (Skanda) Navaratnam, Abdulbasir Faizi and Kirushnakumar Kanagaratnam have remained open wounds for their friends and families – left exposed by the high-profile investigation and intense media scrutiny around the case.

This week, as the city awaits McArthur’s sentencing on Friday, family and friends have used victim and community impact statements in court as an opportunity to wrest the focus away from the killer, and instead celebrate the eight lives that he cut short – and mourn their loss.

Jean-Guy Cloutier spoke of his best friend, Skanda Navaratnam. “I was always afraid that [Skanda] would get himself in trouble or hurt, because if anyone was in trouble, he would step in to help,” he said.

Dean Lisowick’s daughter, Emily Bourgeois, remembered him as as artistic soul, who had grappled with mental illness, homelessness and substance abuse – but had recently made strides to get his life back on track.

She told the court she would never get the chance to reconnect with the father she hardly knew. “There is no way I could ever know what could have been because he has been taken away from the world,” she said.

Others expressed deep anger and frustration at the apparent ease with which McArthur was able to prey on marginalized men for years; most of his victims came from south Asian and Middle Eastern communities.

After Kayhan, Navaratnam and Faizi went missing, police launched an investigation into their disappearances. As rumours of a potential serial killer swirled through the city’s Gay Village, police interviewed McArthur twice – in 2013 and 2016 – but failed to identify him as a suspect.

“It’s one of those unfortunate circumstances where you question whether race and homophobia played a role in how police investigate,” said Haran Vijayanathan, executive director the Alliance for South Asian Aids Prevention, told the Guardian.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Santhanaladchumy Kanagaratnam the mother of Kirushnakumar Kanagaratnam, weeps beside her son’s coffin. Photograph: Rene Johnston/Toronto Star via Getty Images

Police have denied racial bias in the case, but many of Toronto’s LGBT people – especially those who are members of visible minorities – have experienced negative interactions with the police, Vijayanathan said.

“If you want us to report crimes and to be engaged with the justice system, then you need to pay attention to us,” he said.

How alleged Toronto serial killer Bruce McArthur went unnoticed Read more

Some of the men lacked stable housing, while others lived in fear of police, the crown said during the sentencing hearing. “There is evidence that Mr McArthur sought out and exploited these vulnerabilities to continue his crimes undetected,” said the crown prosecutor Michael Cantlon.

Kanagaratnam was one of 492 Tamil asylum seekers who fled Sri Lanka after its brutal civil war, making a three-month voyage to Canada on a dilapidated cargo ship.

When he disappeared, his family did not tell the police because they reportedly believed that he was in hiding after he was denied refugee status.

He had hoped to carve out a better life for himself in Canada, his friend Piranavan Thangavel told the court. “There is no safety for us anywhere in the world. Now when we meet someone new, there is an untold fear in our hearts,” he said. “I feel we are weak and powerless.”

Several of the men came from culturally conservative backgrounds and had never told their families that they were gay.

In a statement read by the crown, Kareema Faizi – whose husband Abdulbasir had concealed his sexual orientation – spoke of the irreparable damage caused by his death.

She now works nearly 18 hours a day to support the family. Her daughters – just six and 10 when their father went missing nearly a decade ago – still cry at night, she said. “They pretend to be strong in front of me,” she wrote.

Kayhan’s family said the pain of their loss was nearly impossible to express. “I believe this suffering will last forever,” his older brother Jalil wrote in a statement read by the crown. “Every time it resurfaces and is discussed again, it opens the wounds once again and makes us relive the emotions and feelings all over.”

In a statement read to the court by a Tamil translator, Mahmudi’s wife, Umme Fareena Mazook, said that she suffered constant insomnia and panic attacks “from the trauma and grief of losing my soulmate”.

Others paid tribute to the generosity and indomitable spirit of their friends. Community aid worker Gab Laurence eulogized her friend Selim Esen, as members of his family listened in by telephone link from the UK.

“The pain [McArthur] produced has no borders. What he stole from Selim was his future, his hopes, dreams and opportunities to thrive,” she said. “But what he did not– and could not – take, was Selim’s dignity, bravery and resilience. The struggles Selim experienced do not define him, the greatness of his character did.”