I wish I had interesting things to say about my life. But I don’t.
Outside of the events on Canadian Forces Base Namao, my life has been pretty well meaningless and unexceptional.
“But Bobbie, you must feel something being caught up in all of this, right?”
Nope, I feel rather dismayed and annoyed at the thought of this whole mess.
The realization that in 1980 the Canadian Armed Forces viewed my life and the lives of the other military dependents involved with Captain McRae and his teenage accomplice as being worth less than the honour and prestige of the Canadian Forces is pretty damn depressing and demoralizing.
The Canadian Armed Forces ran two outright sham investigations into my allegations against Captain McRae’s accomplice, one in 2011 and the other in 2015. At the end of both investigations the investigators with the CFNIS told me they couldn’t find any evidence that the accomplice had done any of what I accused him of even though the CFNIS, right from the start, had the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the July 1980 Court Martial transcripts, both of which detailed that the accomplice was well known to the military police in 1980 for having sexually assaulted young male children living on the base made me realize that even today my life and the lives of the other base brats is meaningless and worthless in the eyes of the Canadian Armed Forces.
Captain McRae’s accomplice was a teenaged boy who babysat on Canadian Forces Base Namao for numerous families. There’s no doubt a great many children from that base that had P.R.S. as a babysitter and who have never spoken about the abuse because of the physical and verbal abuse that he’d dish out after the sexual abuse.
I was called a scammer and a grifter by Harjit Sajjan in February of 2016 when he was the Minister of National Defence.
My own father either outright lied to the CFNIS in 2011, or willingly went along with the narrative that the Canadian Forces and the CFNIS wanted, and that was that my brother and I were never in the care of Captain McRae’s accomplice. My father completely removed our alcoholic and emotionally disturbed grandmother from our lives even though she raised my brother and I various times from 1971 until 1977, and then full time from 1977 until 1981.
This is the same father that warned me against going to the police in 2006 as if I went “sticking my nose into this” that “I might not like the smell”.
I’ve often wondered what Albert Crown Prosecutor Jon Werbicki and his superior Orest Yereniuk would do if they found out that the CFNIS ran sham investigations in 2011 and 2015 and that in both investigation the CFNIS had full access to the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the court martial transcripts. Would Jon and Orest be man enough to admit that they swallowed the CFNIS codswallop without a second thought?
My life hasn’t been interesting.
It’s been one unmitigated disaster to the next.
It turns out that my family had been involved with social services in every province that my father was stationed in, but social services was usually at a complete loss as to what to do as access to my brother and I was somewhat limited due to our residences being located on military bases.
I had Captain Terry Totzke as my social worker from Oct 1980 until April 1983. Why the fuck should a child ever have a military officer as their social worker? The social worker is a member of the Canadian Armed Force and as per the National Defence Act MUST obey the lawful commands of their superiors. My father was a master corporal at the time. My father would have been bound by the same National Defence Act to obey the lawful commands of his superiors. And in this sense “superior” doesn’t refer to his immediate superior or his immediate chain of command. Superior means any superior rank. So when a Captain tells a Master Corporal that his son is a homosexual, the Master Corporal does not question this wisdom, nor does the Master Corporal object.
Instead the Master Corporal doesn’t let his son participate in sports, because according to the Captain the Master Corporal’s son might get attracted to other boys in the change room. The Master Corporal will remove the door from his “homosexual” son’s bedroom so that he can’t sneak boys into his bedroom. I didn’t have a door on my bedroom on CFB Griesbach from the time we moved there in Oct 1980 until November of 1981 when Alberta Social Services was called in.
My bedroom door was off at Stanley Greene Park until about the time Children’s Aid Society of Toronto started doing house visits. Then when my bedroom got punted into the basement in the summer of 1986 it was built without a door.
Even if my father was still alive, there’s no way that he would ever apologize for what he did. He would have justified his actions and his attitude by saying that he was only following Captain Totzke’s instructions.
I don’t know if Captain Totzke is alive or not. But he would never apologize as he too was only following the orders of his superiors. And besides, he’ll use the existence of CFAO 19-20 to show that at the time it was conventional wisdom within the Canadian Forces that homosexuality was both a choice and a mental illness, so therefore he wasn’t to blame.
The babysitter / accomplice will never apologize as he was already anointed as being the sole victim of Captain Father Angus McRae and any sexual depravity he performed on the children or any sexual depravity he had these children perform was due to his abuse at the hands of Captain McRae.
According to Harjit Sajjan I’m a conman playing a “game” and having an “angle”.
According to the CFNIS in both 2011 and 2015 I’m a habitual liar making up unsubstantiated tall tales. I also make up events like house fires that didn’t occur* or chapels that didn’t exist*. And according to the CFNIS I’m a “societal malcontent with an axe to grind against the military” who frequently jumps job to job and can’t hold down steady employment. According to the RCMP in 2011 I have an agenda that I am trying to advance.
(* – both were true and the CFNIS actually had the documents)
People tell me that I don’t look depressed, or that I’m too happy to be depressed, or that I’m too smart to be depressed.
I’m just very good at masking my depression.
My father was the first to insist that I didn’t have major depression or severe anxiety but that I was “just acting up to get attention” would would always result in a back hand, a slap, or a beating with the belt. So as a kid you just learn to mask it and hide it all the time wondering why you’re so fucking stupid and why you keep pissing your father off and how you’d be better off dead because your a worthless freak.
Employers don’t employ visibly depressed people, so you learn to mask even more.
At work I don’t answer the phone. You want to get hold of me, send me an email. The problem with depression and the untreated CPTSD that goes along with what I went through in life is that your brain can often get clouded with thoughts and memories. Unplanned interruptions really fuck with my brain. In my position as the chief engineer I interact with machinery and equipment far more that I do with humans.
I’ve been on escitalopram for almost two years now. People at work tell me that I’m far more pleasant to deal with. I still feel like shit on the inside, and it isn’t doing anything for the flashbacks or the memories. But if it keeps the others happy, then I’m more than willing to use pharmaceuticals to blunt my emotions and my depression and my anxiety.
Being on escitalopram makes me wonder what different trajectory my life would have taken had Captain Totzke and my father both allowed me to get treatment for my diagnosed Major Depression, Severe Anxiety, and haphephobia instead of telling me over and over that I was a homosexual that enjoyed the abuse and allowed the babysitter to abuse my younger brother.
And this is where M.A.i.D. comes in.
People still can’t understand why I would like to die.
I didn’t lose my pet goldfish when I was 9. I’m not upset that I lost a hockey game when I was 11.
I grew up in a very dysfunctional household with dysfunctional parents.
My grandmother was an emotionally disturbed alcoholic with a mean streak.
My father was an emotionally disturbed alcoholic with anger issues and an explosive temper.
I grew up in a military environment that considered “male on male” sexual abuse to be “Acts of Homosexuality” and treated some victims of childhood sexual abuse as if they were mentally ill homosexuals.
I grew up in a military environment where everyone knew what was going on behind closed doors but no one ever said anything out of fear of retribution from the offender’s Chain of Command or fellow unit members.
I was diagnosed with severe mental illnesses at age 9 but then denied treatment for what appears to be nothing more than political reasons.
I suffered life long with these issues because I had been told that I was making these issues up and that I was doing this for attention. And besides, as a kid I had been told by both “Terry” and my father that I was acting the way I was because I was a homosexual.
I still haven’t heard much in the news as to whether or not the Government of Canada has officially asked the Senate for permission to delay the implementation of M.A.i.D.
But even if they do, my lawyers have said that there are possibly other avenues through which I could still obtain M.A.i.D.. So we’ll see.
But yeah, there is no escaping this damage. And death is what I want.
Again, it’s not like death doesn’t come to us all at some point. All I’m asking for is to die a little ahead of schedule.
“Just don’t think about it” is not an appropriate answer.
“Have you thought about a hobby” is not an appropriate answer.
“Think of other things” is not an appropriate answer.
“You just need to meet the right person” is not an appropriate answer.
“You could help other victims” is not an appropriate answer. I can’t even help myself, how am I going to help others?
“You’re blowing things out of proportion” is not an appropriate answer.
“You’re scaring me with this talk of death” is not an appropriate answer.
“You don’t really want M.A.i.D.. You’re just doing this for attention” is not an appropriate answer.
I still very much want M.A.i.D.. And this will not change no matter the outcome of any deal reached between my lawyers, Alexander and Clint, and the lawyers at the Department of Justice representing the Department of National Defence.
To say that I only want M.A.i.D. due to some childish ideal is to totally ignore, downplay, and deny what I went through.