Previously published in PYSIH.com
Crimes: Murder, pedophile
On October 14, 1990, six-year-old Andrea Atkinson said goodbye to her mommy Ruth Windebank and headed out to play around the Toronto apartment building they lived in. She was a cute little bundle of energy with blonde hair and big blue eyes. She wore a T-shirt with the words “Super Star” emblazoned across it, blue tights and a pink jacket.
Andrea likely anticipated meeting up with her little friends and playing games or with their dolls. She had no idea that a monster was lurking about, and that he’d be the last creature she’d ever see.
A monster to a six-year-old is typically a scary hairy beast hiding under the bed whose plan of attack is luckily foiled by the presence of a nightlight.
The monster that little Andrea Atkinson encountered was 18-year-old John Carlos Terceira, and there was nothing that stopped his plan of attack.
John Terceira worked as a cleaner in the apartment building. He made the apartment building his hunting ground, and his prey was a little girl. Whether or not he targeted Andrea Atkinson specifically, or if any cute young thing would do, John Terceira grabbed her and hauled her to a sixth floor boiler room.
I can’t even comprehend the terror Andrea must have felt — being snatched by this scary beast, then being locked in the nasty boiler room with him, and having nobody coming to rescue her. Nobody saw him take her, and nobody knew she needed help. Andrea was trapped.
And then came the rape. A brutal thing it was. Six-year-old children are not built to accommodate grown men, so when John Terceira forced his penis inside of her, ripping and tearing her, it was a savage deed. Andrea bled, of course. She bled and the monster ejaculated.
And then came death. Holding his hands over her mouth and nose, John Terceira took Andrea’s life. So easy to do for a heartless hellbeast.
Little children are so fragile and defenseless and dependent on the care of the adults around them. Poor little Andrea — the only adult there didn’t care. He didn’t care before she died, and he didn’t care after.
John Terceira stuffed the tiny lifeless body behind a hot water tank, locked the door and walked away. For nine days nobody else knew where Andrea Atkinson was. For nine days Ruth Windebank was frantic, not knowing where her daughter was and what had happened to her. The entire Toronto neighbourhood was engulfed in fear, knowing only that a little girl had vanished.
In the frantic search for Andrea, nobody searched the boiler room for nine endless days. Most tenants of the building didn’t even know about that room.
On October 23, Andrea’s decomposing body was finally found. The search was on for her killer. John Terceira was interviewed by the police right away along with the other staff members that worked in the building. The 18-year-old had no record as a sex offender, but he was a person of interest because he had a key to the boiler room.
The first story John Terceira told was that he went home sick from work the day the girl vanished because he was drunk and high on crack cocaine.
It didn’t really matter what story he told because John Terceira offered up blood and hair samples and, no big surprise, they matched the killer’s!
So after John Terceira was arrested, his story changed. He’d found the body, yes, but he didn’t tell anyone because he didn’t want to be blamed. He’d only gone to the boiler room to smoke drugs, and left the body where he found it.
Somehow that tall tale didn’t explain away his semen on little Andrea’s clothing. It also didn’t explain away his semen mixed with Andrea’s blood.
The police didn’t buy this POS’s crap and neither did the jury. They also didn’t buy the defense’s theory that Andrea died from asphyxia as a result of a seizure caused by a bump to the head she suffered six weeks earlier in a playground incident.
The pathologist Dr. Noel McAuliffe testified at the trial that Andrea would have suffered severe pain from the sex attack. Damn right she would, poor little muffin.
John Terceira was found guilty of first-degree murder and was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole for 25 years. And the f*cktard’s hopes of parole are slim because he insists he is an innocent man.
Shout your innocence to the rooftops, John, if that means you’ll stay put for forever!
John Terceira appealed his conviction to both Ontario’s top court and the Supreme Court of Canada. And he lost. Hallelujah!
So now medium security Warkworth Institution in Ontario is John Terceira’s home. A lot of his fellow inmates are sex offenders, so he fits in very well into the general population.
So how is he spending his time? Apparently this child raper and killer is looking for female penpals. Yup, John Carlos Terceira is lonely. In a chat forum for inmates, families and supporters, this f*cker posted a request for single white female penpals.
John Terceira touts himself as “very honest, sometimes a little too honest.” *snort* He’s looking for a woman who’d be interested in a “typical male rocker type” who likes horror movies the best. He likes stock car racing, the outdoors, camping, fishing and nature. His hobbies include woodwork and replicated cars.
Inmates have hobbies like camping and cars? Fishing ok if they’re fishing dislodged teeth from their bloodied mouths or their spleens from the toilet, but cars?
I have his mailing address if any desperately lonely and insane individual out there is willing to get friendly with a vicious child raper and brutal murderer. On second thought I’m not gonna give it out to anyone who is willing to be friendly with this shit stain.
And while this rectal extrusion named John Carlos Terceira is living a peaceful and uneventful life in jail, little Andrea Atkinson is dead and buried. And sadly so is Andrea’s mother, Ruth Windebank, who tragically committed suicide in 1996.
Without question I lay both deaths at John Terceira’s door. May John Terceira join them soon.