The Strongman and the Mob: The Brutal, Unsolved Murder of Dino Bravo
On the evening of March 10, 1993, the quiet suburb of Laval, Quebec, was shattered by the sound of gunfire—though, terrifyingly, not enough sound to alert the neighbors. Inside a lavish home on a snow-covered street, Adolfo Bresciano, known to millions of wrestling fans as “The Canadian Strongman” Dino Bravo, sat dead in his favorite recliner. He had been shot 17 times. Seven of those bullets were lodged in his head.
There was no sign of forced entry. There was no struggle. The remote control was still in his hand, and the television was tuned to a Montreal Canadiens hockey game. The forensic evidence painted a chilling picture: Bravo knew his killer. He had likely welcomed them into his home, offered them a seat, and turned his back on them, only to be executed in a manner reserved for those who cross the most dangerous people on earth.
The murder of Dino Bravo remains one of professional wrestling’s most haunting cold cases. It is a story that strips away the spandex and the bright lights to reveal the gritty, often desperate reality of life after the cheering stops. It is a tragedy of hubris, bad associations, and the lethal consequences of the Montreal underworld.
The Italian Superman
To understand the tragedy of Dino Bravo, one must first appreciate the heights from which he fell. Born in Italy and raised in Montreal, Bresciano was a physical specimen. He trained under the legendary Gino Brito and began his career in the 1970s. With his barrel chest and immense power, he was a natural fit for the territory system.
In the late 1970s, he formed a tag team with Dominic DeNucci, capturing the WWWF World Tag Team Championship. However, his true peak came in the mid-1980s when the World Wrestling Federation (WWF) expanded nationally. Vince McMahon needed a star to anchor the Canadian market, and Bravo fit the bill.
Initially a babyface, Bravo eventually turned heel, dyeing his hair blonde and adopting the persona of the “World’s Strongest Man.” He was managed by Frenchy Martin and later Jimmy Hart. His gimmick revolved around feats of strength, most notably a “world record” bench press attempt at the 1988 Royal Rumble. In a moment of infamy, spotter Jesse “The Body” Ventura clearly assisted Bravo in lifting the 715 pounds, a fact the announcers glossed over but the fans immediately recognized as fraudulent.
Despite the skepticism regarding the record, Bravo’s legitimate strength was undeniable. In the locker room, he was respected as a powerhouse. He feuded with top stars like Hulk Hogan, The Ultimate Warrior, and Don Muraco. He was a fixture on Saturday Night’s Main Event and a reliable mid-card act who lived a high-profile lifestyle. He drove luxury cars, wore expensive suits, and lived in a mansion. To the outside world, he was a success story.
The End of the Road
By 1992, the landscape of wrestling was changing. The steroid trials were heating up, and the WWF was shifting toward smaller, more athletic performers like Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels. The era of the muscle-bound power wrestler was fading.
Bravo, now in his 40s, saw the writing on the wall. He quietly retired from the WWF following a tour of Europe. Unlike many of his peers who transitioned into training or promoting, Bravo wanted to maintain the lifestyle he had become accustomed to. However, the skills required to body slam opponents did not translate easily to the civilian job market.
Bravo had family connections to the Montreal mafia. His uncle by marriage was Vic Cotroni, the godfather of the Cotroni crime family, which had controlled organized crime in Montreal for decades. While Bravo had kept his distance from the “family business” during his wrestling career, retirement brought desperation.
The Cigarette Smuggling Ring
In the early 1990s, Canada was in the midst of a contraband tobacco crisis. The government had raised taxes on cigarettes to exorbitant levels, creating a thriving black market. Organized crime groups, particularly in Quebec, capitalized on this by smuggling cheap cigarettes from the United States into Canada, bypassing the taxes.
It was a high-risk, high-reward operation. Millions of dollars were at stake. Dino Bravo, needing income to support his mansion and his family, utilized his fame and his connections to enter this world.
According to investigative reports and interviews with fellow wrestlers, Bravo acted as an enforcer and a logistics man. His celebrity status allowed him to cross borders with less scrutiny than the average criminal. He became a key player in a smuggling ring that was moving massive quantities of tobacco across the Indigenous reserves that straddled the US-Canada border.
However, the world of organized crime is volatile. The police were cracking down on the smuggling rings, and paranoia was running high among the bosses.
The Days Before the Hit
Friends and colleagues noticed a change in Bravo in early 1993. Rick Martel, a fellow wrestler and close friend, has spoken candidly about Bravo’s state of mind during this period. Speaking in the Dark Side of the Ring documentary series, Martel revealed that Bravo had confided in him about his fears.
“Dino told me, ‘Rick, I’m in over my head,'” Martel recalled. “He said he wanted out, but they wouldn’t let him out.”
Bravo allegedly told friends that his days were numbered. The police were closing in on the operation, and Bravo had seemingly made a fatal error. Reports suggest that a significant shipment of cigarettes had been seized by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), and the crime bosses held Bravo responsible for the loss of revenue. Even worse, there were suspicions that Bravo might be cooperating with the authorities to save himself from prison time.
In the mafia code, a loose end is a dead end.
March 10, 1993
On the day of the murder, Dino Bravo was home alone. His wife, Diane, had taken their daughter to a ballet lesson. This timing was crucial and suggests the killers had intimate knowledge of the family’s schedule. They waited until Bravo was solitary.
When the police arrived at the scene later that night, they found a gruesome tableau. Bravo was seated in his chair. He had been shot 17 times. The specific distribution of the bullets—seven to the head and ten to the torso—indicated a personal and frantic attack.
The lack of forced entry was the most telling detail. In the dead of a Canadian winter, doors are kept locked. Bravo had unlocked the door for his killer. This implies the shooter was someone Bravo trusted, perhaps an associate coming to discuss “business” or a friend stopping by to watch the game.
The autopsy revealed that Bravo died instantly. The remote control in his hand suggested he was relaxed at the moment of death, likely not realizing his fate until the first shot was fired.
The Funeral and the Fear
Dino Bravo’s funeral was a somber affair, attended by the wrestling community and members of the Montreal underworld. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Many wrestlers were afraid to attend, worried that being associated with Bravo might put them in the crosshairs of the mob.
Rick Martel attended and described the scene as surreal. He noted the presence of men in dark suits and sunglasses standing at the back of the church—men who clearly were not wrestling fans.
In the weeks following the murder, the Montreal wrestling scene was gripped by fear. Jacques Rougeau, another wrestling legend from Quebec, stated in interviews that nobody wanted to talk about it. The message had been sent: this was a professional hit, and asking questions was dangerous.
The Investigation Stalls
Despite the high-profile nature of the victim, the investigation into Dino Bravo’s murder went cold almost immediately. There were no witnesses. The ballistics did not match any guns currently on file. The “Code of Silence” (Omertà) meant that nobody in the criminal underworld was talking.
Police investigators operated on the theory that Bravo was eliminated to prevent him from testifying or because he had skimmed money from the operation. However, without concrete evidence or a confession, no charges were ever filed.
The brutality of the killing—17 shots—was widely interpreted as a message. A simple execution requires one or two bullets. Seventeen is a statement of anger, or perhaps a warning to others in the ring who might be thinking of turning state’s evidence.
The Rick Martel Theory
Rick Martel has provided the most consistent insight into Bravo’s final days. He believes that Bravo’s ego was his undoing. In the wrestling world, Bravo was the star; he called the shots. He tried to bring that same attitude into the criminal world, not realizing that he was a small fish in a shark tank.
Martel also speculated on the specific mechanics of the hit. He suggested that Bravo was likely watching the hockey game, heard a knock, let the person in, and sat back down. The killer likely stood behind him or to the side, engaged in casual conversation, and then opened fire.
“Dino was a proud man,” Martel said. “He wouldn’t have shown fear. That’s why they had to catch him off guard.”
Legacy of a Strongman
Today, Dino Bravo is remembered for two distinct lives. To the wrestling fan, he is the bleach-blonde powerhouse who slammed the Ultimate Warrior and anchored the mid-card of the Golden Era. He is the man who (with help) benched 715 pounds and waved the Quebec flag with pride.
To the crime historian, he is a cautionary tale. He represents the danger of the “wrestler’s bubble”—the belief that the toughness of the ring translates to the streets. Bravo entered a game where the heels don’t lose by pinfall; they lose by execution.
The house in Laval eventually sold. The family moved on, living privately and away from the spotlight. But the case remains open in the files of the Laval Police. Somewhere in Quebec, or perhaps in a grave of their own, is the person who pulled the trigger 17 times, silencing the Canadian Strongman forever.
For the wrestling industry, the death of Dino Bravo stands alongside the murder of Bruiser Brody as a grim reminder that the most violent moments in wrestling history often happen when the cameras are turned off.
