The Murders of Aaron Kaplan and Genoa May

In 1985, two children are taken from their beds in the middle of the night and murdered. One man is convicted for one of the crimes…
But did he commit both—or is another killer still hiding in the shadows?

Sources
https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/january-12-1992-page-4-190/docview/2380920089/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/january-12-1992-page-5-190/docview/2380920084/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/november-19-2010-page-3-144/docview/3213174018/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/december-7-2008-page-9-160/docview/3212978311/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/april-1-1986-page-2-48/docview/2242099028/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/december-22-1985-page-3-140/docview/2380293337/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/december-24-1985-page-23-112/docview/2380374155/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/april-2-1986-page-146/docview/2241795494/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/july-29-1985-page-4-56/docview/2380471395/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/july-30-1985-page-4-88/docview/2380487898/se-2

https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/july-27-1985-page-2-114/docview/2241524440/se-2

Sunshine Coast murderer who changed name dies in prison

A menorah has become a symbol of hope after surviving a 1985 firebombing at a Vancouver synagogue | CBC

In memory of Genni May - Coast Reporter

Families struggle as Genni May's killer faces parole - Coast Reporter

https://crcvc.ca/docs/consecutive-sentencing-2012.pdf

BC Gov News

Family fights back - Coast Reporter

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Hey everyone, welcome back to Valley of Secrets. I'm your host, Nikki Ruth. If you're new here, I'm really glad you found your way to this podcast. Before we begin, I do want to give a content warning. Today's episode involves crimes against children, including sexual violence and murder, so please take care while listening. Today we're going back to 1985 and into two cases that shook all of British Columbia. One little boy was taken from his bed in the middle of the night in what was considered one of Vancouver's safest neighborhoods. Just a few months later, another child is abducted and murdered in a way that feels disturbingly similar. So similar, in fact, that investigators begin to wonder if the same person could be responsible. But could they ever prove it? This is the story of Aaron Kaplan and Genoa Maybe Mm. AM on Friday, July 26, 1985. The sun is already shining over a quiet, prestigious neighborhood. The streets are lined with tall trees and beautiful homes, and there's a calmness in the air that makes everything feel safe. If you listen closely, you can even hear the ocean in the distance. It's the kind of place where families settle down, where kids grew up riding bikes and playing outside. The kind of place where something like this is not supposed to happen. Inside one of those homes, the Kaplan family is still asleep, except for the father Frank. He's already up, getting ready to head into work at his lofty. Just another normal morning, and nothing feels out of place. He steps outside onto the patio to grab his bike, and in an instant, his entire world shatters. Lying on the grass is his two-year-old son, Aaron. He is naked, bloodied, and completely still. Nearby, Frank sees Aaron's pajama bottoms and diaper discarded on the ground, and beside his small body, a heavy chunk of concrete. Frank screams, and it's the kind of scream no one ever wants to hear. A father realizing something is terribly, irreversibly wrong. He rushes forward, scoops Aaron up into his arms, and runs back into the house shouting for his wife Frida. She wakes up suddenly, disoriented by the panic. At first, she thinks maybe Aaron climbed out of bed, maybe he fell, or maybe this was some kind of accident. But within seconds it becomes clear. This is far worse. Frank doesn't hesitate. He grabs his keys, carries Aaron out to the car, and places him in the back seat. He drives to the hospital as fast as he can. It's only a few minutes away. But in moments like that, time doesn't move normally. Every second stretches, and every second matters. Doctors rush to help the moment they arrive. They do everything they can, but two hours later, Aaron Kaplan is pronounced dead. Aaron was born on June 1st, 1983, to Frank and Frida Kaplan. He was the youngest of three boys. His older brothers, Sammy and Michael, were eight and ten years old at the time. The Kaplan family lived in an affluent, well-established neighborhood of Point Grey, one known for being safe, quiet, and close knit. It was the kind of place where neighbors knew each other and crime was very rare. Frank worked as a lawyer and was a partner at his firm, and the family was actively involved in their local community and their Jewish synagogue. There isn't much public information available about Aaron himself, and that's something that happens far too often in cases like this. I mean he was only two years old, still learning to speak in full sentences, still discovering the world around him. And now his story is told through tragedy instead of the life he should have lived. As investigators began trying to piece together what happened that night, the truth they uncovered was devastating. During the autopsy, it became clear just how violent this crime had been. Aaron had been partially strangled, and that concrete block from the patio that was found next to Aaron's little body weighed about 40 pounds and had been dropped onto his head and chest, causing a massive skull fracture that eventually killed him. It's almost impossible to process. To wake up expecting just another ordinary summer morning, and within minutes, everything you know, everything you love, is gone. One moment your child is asleep in his bed, and the next you're holding him begging for him to stay, racing against time that you can't control. For Frank and Frida, that kind of grief isn't something you move through. It's something that changes you forever. It's shock, it's disbelief, it's the kind of pain that doesn't even feel real at first. Because how could something like this happen? How could someone take a child from his own home and murder him so viciously? And yet, in the middle of that unimaginable loss, there was no time to fully fall apart. Because almost immediately, they weren't just parents grieving their son, they were at the center of a homicide investigation. Their home became a crime scene, their lives became questions that needed answers. Every detail mattered, and every moment had to be accounted for. And while they were trying to make sense of what had just happened, investigators were trying to understand who could have done this. Just three days later, on July 29, 1985, Aaron's family had to do something no parent should ever have to. They had to say goodbye. A private funeral was held, with around a hundred people in attendance. Family, friends, members of the community, all coming together in quiet heartbreak. A life that had only just begun, already over. Aaron was laid to rest with the words engraved on his headstone. He gave us love and joy. And that's what makes it hurt even more. Because that's who he was. Not what happened to him, but the love and joy that he brought into that family, into those two short years. But while the Kaplan family tried to grieve, to hold onto whatever pieces of themselves they could, the world outside didn't stop. Investigators were working around the clock, trying to figure out who could do something so horrific to a two-year-old child. As with most homicide cases, police first looked at the people closest to Aaron. Frank and Frida were extensively interviewed, along with other family members. But by all accounts, the Kaplan's were described as loving, devoted parents. Frank and Frida had been married for 11 years and were said to have a happy marriage and a close-knit family with their three boys. Police quickly ruled them out as suspects. Investigators then turned into another possible theory. Earlier that year, on January 24, 1985, the synagogue attended by the Kaplan family had been targeted. Someone had thrown a Molotov cocktail into the building, causing devastating damage. Maybe someone was targeting them because they were Jewish, they thought. But that theory didn't go anywhere. Investigators also explored whether Frank's work as a criminal lawyer could have played a role. They wondered if someone he had represented in the past may have been angry enough to target his family. But like the other theories, that also led nowhere. Police were then left with a much more frightening possibility, that Aaron had been targeted by a stranger with a sexual motive. There was no evidence proving Aaron had been sexually assaulted. However, the fact that he had been found naked raised concerns. It was believed that whoever killed Aaron had somehow gotten into the house and quietly abducted him from his crib with the intent to sexually assault him. Homicide detectives began working alongside the Sex Crimes Unit, the RCMP and Corrections Canada to identify sex offenders with a known interest in children. They created a long list of potential suspects before narrowing it down to roughly 100 people they believed were most likely. Investigators tracked them down, checked where they had been the night Aaron was killed, and slowly ruled them out one by one. According to the province, investigators even contacted Statistics Canada to see how often crimes like this had happened across the country. They discovered that between 1961 and 1987, 1,049 children under the age of 10 had been killed in Canada. In the overwhelming majority of these cases, the child had been killed by someone they knew, usually a parent, relative, or babysitter rather than a stranger. Out of all those cases, investigators found only 11 that could even remotely be considered similar to Aaron's murder. Police obtained the files for each one and carefully reviewed them. But in the end, every single case was ruled out as having no connection to Aaron. On July 30th, police announced a$10,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Aaron's killer. There was also an additional$2,000 reward available for informants who came forward with any useful information. But despite the tips and theories, months passed without an arrest until another horrific child murder would lead investigators to a suspect. The air is cold, the kind of cold where you can see your breath and where the ground is covered in frost. On this day, a little girl is found dumped along a dirt-logging road just outside of Davis Bay. She is naked and there are no signs of life. Police arrive quickly, and almost immediately they believe this is the body of Genoa May, a three-year-old little girl who had been reported missing the day before by her parents. Genoa May, who went by Jenny, was the youngest child of Tom and Linda. Tom was a fish farmer and the president of the Salmon Growers Association of British Columbia. His work often took him to Seasheld, and on this particular trip, he chose to bring his family with him. He had actually planned to leave the day before Jenny was killed, but decided to stay one more night so he could attend a regional district board meeting. The family lived on Nelson Island, also along BC's Sunshine Coast, not far from Seasheld. The two communities were about 44 kilometers apart, but getting to each of them wasn't simple. You could only access the area by either ferry, private boat, or small plane. It's remote, quiet, the kind of place where people go to build a life away from the noise of a city. And that's exactly what Tom and Linda wanted. They loved their life on the island. They planned to raise their children, twelve-year-old Stephen and little Jenny, surrounded by wilderness, ocean, and a slower, simpler way of life. Tom May later described one of the last summers he spent with Jenny, picking fruit together at an old homestead on Nelson Island, the kind of life that he loved to live. Tom and Linda were high school sweethearts who had left the United States together, eventually making their way north by sailboat, building a life from the ground up in a place that was supposed to feel safe. A place where something like this should never have happened. In a community this small and this close knit, news like this spreads fast, and so does urgency. Investigators would have immediately locked down the area, searching for any physical evidence along the logging road, canvassing nearby homes and businesses, and trying to piece together Jenny's last no movements. Every detail mattered. Who had seen her last? Who had been in the area? Was there a vehicle, a stranger, anything out of place? At the same time, tips would have started coming in. In cases like this, it often only takes one person, one observation, and one gut feeling for the investigation to shift direction. And in this case, that's exactly what happened. It didn't take police long to identify a suspect, thanks to information provided by someone who knew him. On December 20, 1985, a 20-year-old North Vancouver man named Darren Andrew Kelly was arrested in connection with Jenny May's murder. He was described as around 5'8, with broad shoulders, feathered red hair, and a sturdy build. He also had several tattoos across his upper body. Someone who, at first glance, might not have stood out that much in the mid-1980s. But what did stand out was how quickly everything unfolded after his arrest. He quickly confessed. Despite that confession, he was remanded for 30 days so psychiatrists could assess whether he was mentally fit to stand trial. And during that time, in January, Kelly wrote a letter to a friend attempting to explain what had happened. In that letter, he said, quote, All I can tell you is that something evil and terrifying came over me that night. Something I had no control over. And over the course of an hour or so, I was what you call insane, in the true sense of the word. It hurts me not to tell you why, because I don't know why. The letter itself was filled with spelling mistakes, almost childlike in its writing, but the meaning behind it was deeply unsettling. Psychiatrists were brought in to evaluate him. While some described him as a psychopath, he was ultimately deemed mentally fit to stand trial. And then there was a moment in court that really captured the raw emotions surrounding this case. During one of the proceedings, Jenny's father Tom May, overcome with grief and anger, lunged toward Darren Kelly in an attempt to reach him. In response, Darren Kelly immediately ran behind the deputies, using them as a shield. And there's something striking about that moment. The contrast between the brutality of the crime that he committed and the way he reacted when confronted. The man who had taken so much from that family suddenly appearing fearful, almost small, when faced with the consequences. He was a scared little boy. On April 1, 1986, Darren Kelly pleaded guilty to first degree murder. He was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole for 25 years and was sent to a federal penitentiary in Saskatchewan. But even as the case against him and Jenny's murder was coming to a close, investigators couldn't ignore the question that had been quietly building in the background. Could the same man be responsible for the murder of Aaron Kaplan? There were similarities between the two cases that were hard to overlook. Both victims were very young, taller ages. Both were taken during the night while family members slept nearby. And both crimes carried a level of boldness that was deeply unsettling. So detectives began digging deeper into Darren Kelly's past, speaking with people who knew him, retracing his movements, trying to understand who he really was beyond the confession. And what they uncovered painted an even darker picture than they had expected. Darren Kelly's early life suggests a troubled upbringing, marked by violence, loss, and a lack of consistent support. He was allegedly sexually assaulted at seven years old by a babysitter, which propelled his violent tendencies. He was repeatedly expelled from school at a young age and struggled to stay in any structured environment. By mid-childhood, his behavior had already begun to spiral. He reportedly began experimenting with alcohol at age 10, and his fascination with disturbing behavior toward animals was later described by acquaintances. I won't even get into what he did with the animals. It's all pretty horrifying. As he grew older, his actions became more erratic and dangerous. By early adolescence, he was using drugs such as marijuana and LSD, and his criminal behavior escalated into regular break-ins. In his teenage years, he was already deeply entrenched in addiction and survival-based crime, at times turning to sex work to support his drug use. At 16, he dropped out of school completely and began keeping what he referred to as trophies from homes he had broken into, such as locks of pubic hair and girls' panties. Some accounts from acquaintances describe increasingly disturbing fixations and comments involving children, both little boys and girls. By the time he was a young adult, concerns about his behavior had grown serious enough that he had already come to the attention of police. In 1984, officers searched his residence and reportedly found a bag filled with girls' underwear. He was arrested and charged with break and enter and theft-related offenses. He received a nine-month sentence, ultimately only serving five months before being released in May 1985. After his release, he moved in with a girlfriend who lived less than 20 blocks from the Kaplan residence. Within a couple of months, police once again encountered Darren after he was reportedly seen loitering near an apartment building in the same general area as the Kaplan home. Tragically, just a few nights later, the attack on Aaron Kaplan would take place. Not much is known publicly about Darren Kelly's movements in the months following Aaron Kaplan's death until December of that year. In December 1985, Darren Kelly traveled with a friend to Seasheld to work on his friend's cottage. On the morning of December 13th, just before dawn at around 5 a.m., Darren Kelly parked near the Bell of Beach Motel. From outside, he looked through the glass doors into one of the ground floor rooms. Inside room 107, he could see a little blonde girl asleep on a pullout couch wearing a pink nightgown. That child was three-year-old Jenny May. Her parents were asleep in one bedroom and her older brother was in another. The room was quiet except for earlier that night when Jenny had been restless due to an earache. Around 4 45 AM, her parents had heard her calling out for her mother. Thinking it was related to her discomfort, they responded. But after that everything went quiet again, so they didn't think more of it and went back to sleep. It is now believed that she was calling for her mom when Darren Kelly entered the room through the sliding glass doors that were slightly open for some fresh air. Once inside, he took Jenny while her family slept only meters away and he left the room unnoticed. From there, Darren drove to Cliff Gilker Park, roughly eight kilometers away where he sexually assaulted and suffocated little Jenny Mae. He then dumped her body along a dirt-logging road just out of town. Jenny's body was discovered the following day. It was a devastating discovery for the community, and a case that would soon have investigators wondering if the same man could be connected to other unsolved crimes, especially Aaron Kaplan. Investigators spent years trying to build a case against Darren Kelly in Aaron's murder. They gathered witness statements, pieced together timelines, and interviewed people who knew him. Kelly's girlfriend later told police that in the week after Jenny's murder, he seemed agitated and terrified that police would show up at his door. She also said that he had behaved in a Similar way after Aaron's murder, even breaking down crying while driving near the Kaplan family home. Kelly also reportedly failed three polygraph tests when investigators questioned him about Aaron's murder. There were reports that Darren Kelly suggested he would confess to Aaron's murder if any sentence he received would run at the same time as the one he was already serving for Jenny. Prosecutors refused. But what makes this especially interesting is that, in Canada at the time, multiple life sentences were typically served concurrently, not consecutively. That means even if Darren Kelly had confessed and been convicted of Aaron's murder as well, he likely would not have faced additional time beyond the 25 years he was already required to serve. It wouldn't have guaranteed his release at 25 years, only the ability to apply for parole, just as before. So why do prosecutors refuse? It's difficult to say with certainty, but the most likely reason is that prosecutors were not willing to offer any kind of agreement, or even the appearance of leniency in exchange for a confession to the murder of a young child. There's also the issue of credibility. Someone like Darren Kelly could potentially confess for strategic reasons, attention, control, or to manipulate the system, especially if it doesn't cost him anything. Police would need details, only the killer would know, and even then, they need evidence. In the end, much of what investigators gathered was considered too weak, unreliable, or inadmissible to be used in court. Without a confession, physical evidence, or a witness who could place Darren Kelly at the Kaplan home that night, there simply wasn't enough to charge him. And so, despite the suspicions that surrounded him for years, the murder of Aaron Kaplan officially remains unsolved, even to this day. I often wonder whether investigators recovered any biological evidence from the scene that could be tested today. Aaron's murder happened in 1985, years before DNA testing became a regular part of criminal investigations. DNA profiling was only first developed in the mid-1980s, and it wasn't even used until late 1980. But by the time Canadian police forces were able to use DNA evidence more widely, Aaron's case was already years old. If police preserved evidence from the scene, it is possible that modern DNA testing could potentially identify or rule out a suspect. And if that evidence still exists, you have to wonder whether it would point back to Darren Kelly. My suspicions are they probably would. But it's hard to say for sure. Unfortunately, investigators have never publicly confirmed whether any usable biological evidence was recovered from the scene, or whether any modern testing has ever been done. In the years that followed, Jenny's parents, Tom and Linda May, went their separate ways not long after her death. Both eventually remarried, and Linda later had four more children, all boys, and she shared that she was grateful for that, as she wasn't sure she could go through the experience of raising another girl after losing Jenny. In 2008, as the 25-year mark in Darren Kelly's sentence was approaching, Tom reached out to Corrections Canada to find out where he was being held and what his status was. What he was told was shocking. He was told there was no inmate in the system by that name. Can you imagine that? Like somebody killed your daughter. You're calling to find out where this person is, and they're saying, uh, we lost that inmate. We don't know who you're talking about. It wasn't until the family hired a private investigator that they uncovered the truth. Darren Andrew Kelly had legally changed his name to Ryan Scott Brady while in prison. When that became public, it sparked an outrage. Many people felt strongly that someone convicted of murdering a child should not be able to conceal their identity behind a new name. The outrage surrounding Darren Kelly's name change didn't just fade away. It actually helped spark real change. Today, new legislation is in place that prevents individuals convicted of serious offenses from legally changing their names. These amendments, which came into effect on September 1st, 2024, are meant to ensure that offenders cannot use a name change to distance themselves from their crimes or avoid accountability. They also aim to increase transparency and help communities, especially the most vulnerable to crime, feel safer and more informed. In late 2010, Darren Kelly, as I will continue to call him in this episode, was up for full parole after completing his 25-year sentence. A parole hearing was scheduled. When the May family found out, they launched into action to put a stop to Darren's possible prison release. This meant writing powerful letters describing the impact of losing Jenny and loved ones making plans to travel and attend the hearing in support. As public attention and pressure around this case grew, Darren Kelly chose to waive his right to a parole hearing at that time. However, the reality remained that he could apply for unescorted day parole anytime in the next five months, and reapply for full parole within a year, and then again every two years after that. In response, community members and supporters rallied together, launching a petition that quickly gathered thousands of signatures. The goal was to push for legislative changes that would better protect the public and prioritize the right of victims. They also aimed to allow judges to impose longer wait times before someone could apply for parole, and to make it possible for sentences in multiple murder cases to be served one after another instead of at the same time. For many people, this effort went beyond a single case. It was about trying to prevent similar tragedies in the future. Some of the ideas people were pushing for did eventually become law, but not all of them, and not always in the way that families had originally hoped. For example, the push for stronger consequences for multiple murders did lead to change for a time. In 2011, the federal government passed legislation, often referred to as the multiple murder law, that allowed judges to stack parole ineligibility periods, meaning, someone could be required to wait 50, 75, even longer before applying for parole instead of just 25 years. However, that law didn't last. In 2022, the Supreme Court of Canada struck it down, ruling that extremely long parole ineligibility periods, like 50 plus years, were unconstitutional because they removed any realistic chance of release. So today, even for multiple murders, parole eligibility is generally capped at 25 years again. As for reforms focused on victims' rights and public safety, there have been ongoing changes over the years. Policies have evolved and victims now have more ability to participate in parole hearings and be notified about the offenders. But many families still feel the system doesn't do enough. I couldn't find any information on how many times Darren Kelly applied for parole over the years. However, he was either denied multiple times or he just eventually stopped trying, because in July 2025, he died in the mission institution. He had spent 39 years behind bars, never seeing freedom again. It was stated that he died of natural causes and never confessed to Aaron Kaplan's murder. I know there are different opinions out there about whether or not someone should die in prison or be held for the rest of their life or be rehabilitated, but I'm interested in what you guys feel about this case and our justice system. Feel free to comment on whatever platform you are listening to. I would love to read your thoughts and have you involved, because I definitely have my thoughts in all of this as well. Now, I want to bring it back to the victims in this case, Aaron Kaplan and Genoa May. Also the families and the loved ones of those two precious little babies. Sometimes the cases that stay with us the longest are not the ones with the most evidence or the clearest answers. Sometimes they are the ones that leave behind more questions than anything else. Aaron Kaplan should have had the chance to grow up alongside his brothers, to start school, to make friends, and to build a life of his own. Jenny May should have had more summers with her family, more birthdays, more memories still waiting to be made on Nelson Island. Instead, both of their lives were stolen before they had even really begun. For Aaron's family, there are still no answers. And for Jenny's family, there was a conviction, but no sentence could ever erase what happened. And whether these two cases were truly connected may be something we never know for certain. But what we do know is that Aaron and Jenny were loved, and they deserved to be remembered for far more than the terrible way their lives ended. My heart goes out to the Kaplan and to the May family. If you have any information on the death of Aaron Kaplan, please contact the Vancouver Police Department at 604-717-3321. Or you can submit an anonymous tip to Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477. Thanks for listening to Valley of Secrets. Join me in two weeks for a brand new episode. If you enjoy this podcast, please consider leaving a five-star review or comment on your streaming platform. And if you would like to contribute financially to the podcast, there is a link in the episode notes. Any amount is appreciated. Please don't forget to follow me on Facebook or Instagram at Valley of Secrets Podcast to find out more information and photos of this case and others. Until next time, stay safe, stay aware, stay curious.