Well, it’s Pride Weekend here in Vancouver. My apartment sits right on the parade route which is on Beach Ave to Pacific Ave this year. Meanwhile I’m over at a nice little coffee shop on the south side of False Creek over by 2nd Ave.
As I’ve said before, the commercialization and the promotion of alcohol have always been turn-offs for me.
And then there’s the do nothing politicians like Hedy Fry that wrap themselves up in the gay pride flag for votes, but then come up with every flimsy excuse for their inability to help their constituents with governmental issues.
If that’s the one benefit of having grown up in a dysfunctional household on various Canadian Forces Bases across Canada is the fact that I learnt very young that I’m on my own and there’s literally no help coming from anyone.
In fact, I learnt very young that I’m better off just keeping my mouth shut as people in positions of authority don’t like finding out that there are problems and that these persons in position of authority are more than likely to blame me for bringing the issue to their attention as they are to actually do something about the issue. The “squeaky wheel” syndrome where instead of fixing the issue that caused the squeaky wheel, you just pump on massive amounts of grease until the squeaky wheel stops squeaking whether or not the underlying issue is fixed.
So no, I’ve never felt any benefit from the “community” or a need to “belong” to the community. Especially not a community that is extremely selective with its chosen “cause célèbre”. And not a community that is extremely protective of lame duck politicians because said politicians wrap themselves up in the pride flag and wave from a float in a parade.
Queers, gays, lesbians, trans, bi, and other people on the gender spectrum have existed since time immemorial. This need to be officially sanctioned by the local LGBTQ+ community is something relatively new.
When I first came down to Vancouver in February of 1992 to apply for a job in Burnaby, I knew that there was something different about Vancouver. When I got back to Deadmonton later that week, my mind was made up. Into the dumpster went all of my furniture, gave the keys back to the landlord, and off to Vancouver I went.
Of course I migrated towards the West End. But sadly when “queer went mainstream” the West End changed. The GLBTQ+ crowd that could, moved away. The Pride Parade at the same time went from being a massive “fuck you!” to the society in general that shat all over the queer community because the church told them to, to being a massive corporate advertising campaign for banks and booze.
And I don’t ever see this changing.
And now that the GLBTQ+ crowd has had a taste of acceptance, they’re willing to do whatever it takes to keep that acceptance, even if it means no longer making society feel uncomfortable about issues involving the GLBTQ+ crowd.
A trans teen goes missing from a Canadian Forces Base and no one bats an eyelash when their body is found in a river near the base.
Someone brings to light the fact that the Canadian Forces gave conversion therapy to the victims of male-on-male child sexual abuse due to the assumption by military social workers that male-on-male child sexual abuse was nothing more than homosexuality. Not one single fucking person cares.
This isn’t a community. This is just an excuse to get shit faced and wear glitter in a parade.
Well, no one will ever convince me any differently now.
If I had a vagina between my legs and the other kids from CFB Namao had vaginas between their legs it’s very, very obvious that the CBC and most other Canadian media would have handled our story and the story of the more than 25 male children from Canadian Forces Base Namao a lot differently.
And as per Captain McRae’s court martial transcripts, and as per his signed confession during his ecclesiastical trial in front of the Archdiocese of Edmonton, Captain McRae molested kids not only on Canadian Forces Base Namao, but also on Canadian Forces Station Holberg, Canadian Forces Base Portage La Prairie, and Canadian Forces Base Kingston.
As it is, the CBC’s outright refusal to look at the events surrounding Captain Father Angus McRae and his 15 year old accomplice shows that the CBC doesn’t consider male child sexual assault to be as serious or as damaging as female sexual assault.
I’ve been dealing with the CBC since 2012.
The only person at the CBC to have shown the slightest in interest was Jenn Blair.
Jenn had a camera operator over to my place to record an interview.
What I didn’t know and what I hadn’t been told was that Jenn was temporary.
Shortly after the interview Jenn was replaced by Rachel Ward.
Rachel scrapped the entire interview. She had an idea. Her idea was that instead of a televised news story, my story could be told via a “timeline” that would be on the CBC Go Public website that people could click on if they were interested.
Rachel just wasn’t that interested.
I told Rachel about MP Randall Garrison, who was the co-chair of the Parliamentary Standing Committee on National Defence, and that he had agreed to ask Lt. Gen. Christine Whitecross during a Standing Committee hearing, who was responsible for investigating matters of child sexual abuse on the bases in Canada.
Rachel told me to call her as soon as I found out.
Randall’s office called me the moment the hearings had concluded to let me know that Randall had asked the question and that I needed to watch the video of the hearings.
Lt. Gen. Christine Whitecross said during the hearing that matters of child sexual abuse are always handed off to the outside civilian authorities. So why were the Canadian Forces National Investigations Service and the Provost Marshal so hellbent on retaining a 35 year old child sexual abuse matter?
So, as per Rachel’s instructions I called her. Got a message saying that the subscriber hadn’t set up their voicemail. I called the Calgary office number that she had called me from. No answer, no voice mail. So I dialled some random numbers by changing the last two digits. End up getting some guy from a video booth. He couldn’t say that he had heard of Rachel, but he checked the internal directory for me. Nope, her name wasn’t showing up. He ended up transferring me to a woman who said she thought that Rachel worked out of the Calgary studio, but that she didn’t really have a landline.
Rachel called a few days later in a huff wanting to know what was so important. I told her that Randall had asked the question about jurisdiction of the military police for child sexual abuse matter and that Lt. Gen. Christine Whitecross had said that the the military police always hand child sexual abuse matters to the outside civilian authorities.
“Look, just because he said that is what she said doesn’t mean that is what she actually said”.
I told her that this was an official session of the Standing Committee on National Defence, that it had been video recorded, and that it was available to view on Parliament’s website.
“I’m busy with other stories right now, I can’t just drop everything that I’m doing to deal with your story”.
I didn’t want to believe it at the time, but I do believe it now.
Had I had a vagina between my legs, the media would have been tripping over themselves to look at child sexual abuse on the Canadian Forces Bases in Canada.
As it is, I have a penis between my legs. And everyone knows, especially the CBC, that people with penises between their legs can’t be sexually abused, they can only be sexual abusers. Because a person with a penis between their legs can’t get pregnant from a sexual assault it’s not really a sexual assault, now is it?
It’s just like what Captain Terry Totzke said to me back in 1980. An 8 year old boy being penetrated by a 15 year old boy and also being abused by a 50 something year old military chaplain happened because I had a mental illness called “homosexuality”. If I didn’t have “homosexuality”, then it wouldn’t have happened.
Realizing that Canadian media was not ever going to be interested in this story I contacted the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ)
The ICIJ put me in contact with a member named Frederic Zalac.
Frederic as it turned out is a reporter with the CBC.
Not interested in the slightest. No criminal charges. I didn’t have the names of the other victims.
And now I have 100% irrefutable proof that the CBC deals with sexual assaults differently depending on the junk between a victim’s legs.
“CBC Investigates”.
Well fuck me gently.
The CBC told me time and time again that without criminal charges, there would be no story. That without statements from other victims willing to go on camera, there would be no story. That I had to find the other victims.
Well, in my case the military justice system wasn’t able to find any evidence to indicate the babysitter was capable of what I accused him of. This even though as it turns out the CFNIS in 2011 had the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the 1980 Court Martial transcripts that indicate that it was very well known by the base military police, the CFSIU, and the court martial panel, what the babysitter had been doing to young children on base and that it was this molestation of young children on the base that resulted in the prosecution of Captain McRae.
Could the military police be in conflict of interest?
Two retired Supreme Court of Canada justices seem to think so.
An initial investigation…… The CBC had the ability to track a victim down without even knowing their name, but the CBC tells me they can’t investigate my story because tracking names isn’t their job.
Bobbie, unless the other victims are willing to go on the record, this story isn’t going to go too far.
I guess that women are more delicate than men and that men in today’s “macho” society are supposed to be okay with having their names associated with what was until recently considered to be “acts of homosexuality”.
Yep, that’s what it was called back in 1980 when a 50 something year old officer of the Canadian Armed Forces and his teenaged accomplice are investigated for sexually assaulting young prepubescent boys. “Acts of homosexuality”. That’s why I got my conversion therapy from Captain Totzke. That’s why Captain Totzke was adamant that I was a homosexual.
I know where the man who was not only my babysitter, but who was also the accomplice who took me to the chapel to be abused by captain McRae, and who subsequently pimped me out to some random stranger in the sauna at the base swimming pool. He lives in Fort Erie Ontario.
The man who was my primary abuser has a extensive criminal record involving children: 1982 – charged and convicted for molesting a young boy north of CFB Petawawa 1984 – charged and convicted for molesting an 8 year old boy around CFB Winnipeg. 1985 – charge and convicted for molesting a 9 year old boy on CFB Namao and a 13 year old newspaper boy in the west side of Edmonton. 1986 – 2000 Various charges from Buggery to Assault and Robbery. 2015 – 2x sexual assault, 1X forcible confinement
But Bobbie, we can’t just contact this guy and make accusations against him! That wouldn’t be right!
According to retired warrant officer Frederic R. Cunningham, “the brass” wouldn’t allow the Canadian Forces Special Investigation unit nor the Canadian Forces Military Police to call in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to deal with the babysitter. In May of 1980 the investigators with the CFSIU were told to lie about the age of the babysitter and record that he was only 12 years old. The babysitter was born on June 20th, 1965.
I wasn’t “slut shamed”. I was “homosexual shamed”. I received 2-1/2 years of conversion therapy from Captain Terry Totzke for the homosexuality I had exhibited when I frequently had sex with the babysitter.
Yes, for the 1 millionth time, I understand that CFAO 19-20 would not have applied directly to me as I was not a member of the Canadian Armed Forces. However, my social worker, military officer Captain Terry Totzke would have been very well aware of this. His training as provided by the Canadian Forces would have trained him and instructed him that males having sexual intercourse with other males was wrong and was ultimately a sign of an underlying mental illness. The fact that I was an 8 year old boy with nary a hair between his legs didn’t make a difference. I had allowed a boy twice my age, and on more than one occasion , to put his fingers and his penis into my ass. It doesn’t get more homosexual than that.
I met a couple of other victims via the face book groups. But most people who had a rough life growing up on base stay away from the base brat groups. If it wasn’t for me wanting to seek justice for what had happened on CFB Namao from 1978 until 1980 and then on CFB Griesbach from 1980 until 1983 I never would have joined facebook.
Advocating for change within the defence community is a non-starter as the defence community won’t even acknowledge this. In 2016 during a meeting with then Minister of National Defence Harjit Sajjan, Minister Sajjan accused me of “playing games” and “having an angle” insinuating that I was just trying to score some easy money from the military.
I had sent communications to current Minister of National Defence Anita Anand. I’ve never received any response. Not even after the Military Police Complaints Commission released their report in 2020 that found ample evidence that the CFNIS in 2011 knew about the babysitter’s criminal history on CFB Namao as the CFNIS had the 1980 CFSIU and 1980 Court Martial transcripts.
There is no support available for former former military dependants who were sexually abused on base and then fucked over by the defective military justice system. The DND and the CAF have no legal obligations to military dependents living on defence establishments, no matter the source of their injuries.
Civilian support services just roll their eyes when you try to explain what happened on the bases. The provinces in general consider what happened on base to be a federal matter, not a provincial matter.
An investigative podcast and two feature stories, man I wish I was this lucky.
People often wonder if I really want to undergo M.A.i.D.. or if I’m just claiming to want to do so as a means of getting attention.
I grew up in a dysfunctional military family in which my father used his postings to stay one step ahead of provincial social services.
I was sexually abused for 1-1/2 years starting at age 7.
From age 9 to age 11 I received what amounted to “conversion therapy” from a Canadian Forces military social worker.
As this social worker was a captain and my father was a master corporal my father placed special emphasis on what this social worker had to say.
I was raised by a grandmother who had survived Indian residential school and had the emotional damage and the alcoholism that came with having gone through Indian Residential School.
My father was just as emotionally damaged as his mother and was a piss-tank alcoholic just like his mother.
My father, unable and unwilling to accept responsibility for his two sons being sexually abused in his house while being raised by his own mother blamed me instead for the abuse my younger brother went through.
Even though just months after the abuse came to a screeching halt I had been diagnosed with major depression, severe anxiety, haphephobia, and an intense fear of men, Captain Totzke never seemed to follow through with treatments for me.
According to my social service records, when Alberta Social Services wanted to pull me from my father’s home and place me into residential care or foster care, Captain Totzke appears to have helped with my father obtaining a posting out of the jurisdiction of Alberta.
I was left to suffer all alone for all of these years with gender confusion, fear of sex, fear of men, untreated major depression, untreated severe anxiety, haphephobia, etc.
Yes, I really do want to undergo M.A.i.D..
There’s nothing left to fix.
I’m tired, my brain is burnt out, and it really is time to go.
One of the most significant road blocks that I will encounter in my desire to obtain Medical Assistance in Dying is the “MAiD is eugenics” crusader.
These people are hellbent to ensure that the general public understand that the government is secretly plotting to kill off all the disabled people in an attempt to save money, free up resources, and clean up the gene pool in order to introduce a “superior race”.
However, there’s a problem with this whole “eugenics” argument.
If you’re not having sex and reproducing, you yourself are committing eugenics.
Eugenics has sweet bugger fuck all to do with a 52 year old man seeking to end his mental suffering.
I have no intention of reproducing. I haven’t been in a position to reproduce. After having grown up in my father’s dysfunctional household I made a decision early on in life that I never wanted to have kids. Period.
Allowing me to die peacefully at the hands of a trained and licenced medical professional is not eugenics.
Eugenics would have been if the government exterminated me or sterilized me when I was a kid. That would be eugenics.
Eugenics is not allowing me to choose a peaceful death a little ahead of my natural time. I’m fifty-fucking-two years old, not eleven.
I’ve dealt with major depression, severe anxiety, haphephobia, sexual orientation issues, and a whole host of other issues since I was 9 years old.
Yes, I understand now that what happened wasn’t my fault, but it still doesn’t erase the damage in my brain. Knowing the truth doesn’t undo any of the suffering that I’ve endured all these years.
And stop using the word “Eugenics” if you have no idea of what it means.
“Bobbie, it looks like you’ve done it, it looks like you’re winning!”
Nope.
The one thing that I can assure you is that there will be no winners in this matter.
Everyone associated with this matter is a loser in the sense that they’ve lost.
40 years of enduring a lifetime of self doubt and self hatred and untreated mental illnesses doesn’t suddenly disappear the instant that the Government decides to consider offering compensation to the former child victims that were denied justice and proper medical attention all those years ago.
I along with most of the other childhood victims of Captain McRae and his teenage accomplice PS lost our childhoods and our innocence on Canadian Forces Base Namao.
Some of us lost our sanity and our identities when we were dealt with by the military social workers.
Some of us lost our families when the military’s attitude towards the victims of sexual assault was unleashed within the walls of the PMQs that we lived in on base.
Some of us lost our lives through suicide. Some of us are still yet to lose our lives through Medical Assistance in Dying.
We, the numerous victims of Captain McRae and his teenage accomplice, have all collectively lost our ability to ever receive justice in this matter due to nothing more than decisions made at National Defence Head Quarters in Ottawa.
Current and former members of the Canadian Armed Forces, if they have any integrity, will have lost respect for the Canadian Armed Forces knowing that the Canadian Armed Forces actively and intentionally denied justice to victims of child sexual abuse.
Current and former members of the Canadian Armed Forces who became involved with this matter and carried out the desire by the Brass at National Defence Head Quarters to keep this matter hidden in the past have lost any claim of integrity that they once may have had.
Retired members of the Canadian Armed Forces who have enjoyed a retired life of accolades for a service well rendered have lost any respect they may have had over their involvement with the Captain Father Angus McRae child sexual abuse scandal in 1980.
Captain McRae’s accomplice, PS, has lost his designation as Captain McRae’s sole victim and has lost his ability to claim to have been an “innocent angel”.
The Canadian Forces National Investigation Service has lost any pretence of integrity that it may have had when it tried so desperately to portray the victims of Captain McRae and McRae’s teenage accomplice as”money grubbing” “societal malcontents with axes to grind against the military” contrary to the contents of documents already in the possession of the CFNIS during the time of the investigation.
The Provost Marshal lost any claim to impartiality that it had when it refused to release the 1980 CFSIU DS-120-10-80 investigation paperwork to the Military Police Complaints Commission in 2012 when I made my complaint against the CFNIS for a substandard investigation in 2011.
The Office of the Canadian Forces Ombudsman has lost any claim to relevance it had when it outright refused to conduct an inquiry into the handling of Child Sexual Abuse investigations by the Provost Marshal and the CFNIS while knowing full well that the CFNIS was found to be completely unable to conduct any manner of sexual assault investigation by two independent retired Supreme Court of Canada justices.
The Office of the Minister of National Defence has lost any claim to integrity that it may have once had when it allowed the personal opinions of the individual Ministers to cast doubt upon the veracity and integrity of the victims of military child sexual abuse.
Everybody is a loser in this matter.
Some have lost more than others.
Some will still lose even more.
Regardless, absolutely no one has won in this matter.
One thing that has often come up is “Bobbie, why didn’t you tell someone”
The thing is, I didn’t have to tell anyone.
All of the people in positions of authority knew.
Captain Terry Totzke knew.
My father knew.
Base Commander Colonel Daniel Edward Munro knew.
Base Security officer Captain David Pilling knew.
The office of the Judge Advocate General knew.
Everyone knew.
What was I supposed to do?
Some may argue that I need to forgive my father. Sure, he was only a master corporal. But the silly fucker could have grown a pair of balls even if that meant leaving the Canadian Armed Forces.
But he didn’t.
Instead, I received 2-1/2 years of punishment / conversion therapy at the hands of Captain Terry Totzke. So, in my matter it wasn’t that no one knew. Everyone knew. And people who had the ability to make things better for me instead punished me.
How many other male military dependents from Canadian Forces Base Namao received the same treatment that I did. How many male military dependents from the other bases that Captain Angus McRae was stationed at received the same treatment that I received on Canadian Forces Base Namao?
This is important as even my lawyer indicates that the shame of male sexual abuse may prevent other victims of Captain McRae and his “agents” from coming forward.
How many other victims have come forward over the years only to have their matters dismissed by the military police due to flaws in the National Defence Act that would make it impossible to lay charges in the modern day for any act that occurred prior to 1998?
How many other victims tried to come forward over the years but had no support from their parents who were serving members of the Canadian Forces at the time of the abuse due to their serving parent’s fear of violating the Security of Information Act and the Official Secrets Act that both prohibit anyone who became aware of “information” on a Defence Establishment while they were subject to the Code of Service Discipline from ever disclosing that information.
Member of the Canadian Armed Forces are subject to the Security of Information Act and the Official Secrets Act for life.
And the Official Secrets Act and the Security of Information Act don’t specify what this “information” is. Those act just state “any information”.
Top Secret? Doesn’t say.
Classified? Doesn’t say.
Nor do these acts make exceptions for criminal investigations.
And there’s also the spectre that serving parents in the Canadian Forces were promised favours in trade for their silence and for not making a fuss.
Might explain how Richard came to forget about the existence of his own mother when he gave a statement to the CFNIS in 2011. But then again, the CFNIS never re-interviewed me for clarification about grandma or what home life was like in 1978 through 1980 after Richard gave them his very revised and edited version of home in July of 2011.
Two options about Richard’s statement.
(a) – He lied to the CFNIS in 2011 because in May to June of 1980 he took favours from the Canadian Forces in trade for him not making a fuss out of the events on CFB Namao.
(b) – The CFNIS reminded him that he was still bound by the Official Secrets Act or the Security of Information Act and that he should think very carefully before discussing any information that was directly related to the Canadian Forces and events on Canadian Forces Base Namao.
And if Richard lied about CFB Namao, how many other former members of the Canadian Armed Forces have lied in order to cover up their complicity in their own children having been sexually abused on a Department of National Defence / Canadian Armed Forces military base?
There is no way that I am the only one who suffered through this shit.
Okay, here is my latest video. It’s about my meeting yesterday with Captain St-Amand and Warrant Officer Petruk of the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service Western Region.
Well, I was finally able to get my story out on the news.
Sure, it took some inappropriate questioning from the Department of Justice to upset my lawyer.
But my story is finally out there.
My lawyer, Mathew Farrell, obviously knows how to work with the media, which helps.
And it took a receptive reporter to take an interest in this story.
So far only three reporters have shown any interest in this matter: David Pugliese; Nora Loreto; And now Jill Croteau.
Jill Croteau with Global News in Calgary conducted the interview. The videographer was Sergio Magro.
Sergio came to my apartment and set up his camera and lighting. Jill conducted the interview via Facetime from Calgary.
This isn’t the first interview that I’ve had. I was interviewed in my apartment in much the same manner by another network a few years ago, but the decision was made to scrap the interview and instead turn my story and the story of the 25 kids from Canadian Forces Base Namao into some sort of “click your own adventure” time line curiosity.
Jill asked good questions and wasn’t afraid to inquire about my desire for M.A.i.D.
The subject of M.A.i.D. and my death is probably what scares most media away. Suicide is a very verboten subject in North America. Death itself is almost never talked about in the media unless it’s an unplanned event like a murder or a car collision. But the idea of ending one’s own life on purpose is enough to scare away just about everyone. So I was relived that Jill was willing to discuss this.
The interview went on for close to an hour, and I was terrified that when I saw the news story that I would have appeared rambling and incoherent. But Jill, Sergio, and their crew were able to edit and trim the video in such a way that the story was presented in a professional manner and all relevant topics were discussed.
I didn’t actually watch the interview until yesterday. I’ve never really liked hearing my own voice. I think that’s one of the reasons that I haven’t followed through on my vlog too much. Guess maybe I’ll have to try and give it another shot.
Now the question is, how do I keep the momentum going on this?
The Department of Justice has already stated their intentions of dragging this matter out for as long as possible. And I don’t for a minute doubt that they would do so. My babysitter and Captain McRae’s altar boy, P.S., filed suite against the DND back in March of 2001. The Department of Justice dragged that matter out until November of 2008?
Why?
Because they could.
That’s why.
And from reading the documents that I received from the Department of Justice when they represented the DND, the DOJ was trying to find any little bit of case law that they could use to show that the DND wasn’t responsible for children living on military bases who were sexually abused by military personnel.
Another reason that the Department of Justice would have delayed P.S.’s civil action for as long as possible is they were obviously hoping that P.S. would abandon his action.
Don’t forget, the Department of Justice enjoys an unlimited amount of taxpayer funds. They can wait this out for 10, 15, even 20 years if they wanted to.
You can bet that keeping the attention of the media over 10 years is going to be very hard to do. But this too is also what the Department of Justice is counting on.
See, the worst thing for the Department of Justice, the Canadian Armed Forces, and the Department of Justice is for this matter to stick in the media.
The lawyer for the DOJ asked me during the May 6th meeting if I had any knowledge of where the other children from Canadian Forces Base Namao that were sexually abused by Captain McRae and his altar boy, P.S. currently are. I responded to the DOJ lawyer that the unofficial emblem for military dependents is the dandelion. The dandelion was primarily chosen because when the dandelion matures and goes to fluff, the fluff which represents military dependents gets carried around whichever way the wind blows. I explained that military dependents move around a lot as kids. As adults we often live no where near the bases on which we grew up as children. In fact, most of the bases we lived on as kids have long since been shutdown and disposed of. I believe that I said that it would be unfair of the D.O.J. to expect me to be able to come up with all of the names of the children who had been abused by Captain McRae and his altar boy on CFB Namao.
I know for a fact that neither the DND or the Library and Archives Canada maintain records of the children who lived on the bases. Nor does the DND or the Library and Archives Canada maintain a registry of service members who lived in the PMQs over the years.
The only way to get the word out to former military dependents is for the media to keep airing these types of stories. The more these stories are aired, and the more these stories permeate the public consciousness, the more likely that other military dependents will start coming forward.
The DND and the D.O.J. would really prefer that as few people know about this class action as possible. The fewer people that know, the happier the DND and the D.O.J. are. It’s not just my class action they’re afraid of. They’re afraid of the copycat class actions that my class action may inspire.
So again, thanks to David, Nora, Jill, and Sergio.
A tale of two different Access to Information requests.
Released to me in 2011Released to me in 2022
On Tuesday April 12th, 2022 as I sat in my apartment being examined via ZOOM by the defence counsel for the defendant, counsel asked me a question based upon my foster care records from the Alberta Government.
Counsel’s assistant did a screen share and an image similar to this image appeared on my screen:
A bit of a surprise
I had seen this document before. This was the interview of my father by Judith James, a psychologist that had been hired by the Canadian Armed Forces to evaluate my family after our school teachers and our principal complained to the military social worker about the issues my brother and I were having in school immediately after we arrived at CFB Griesbach from CFB Namao.
Confidential – Parent Interview Re: Robert and (my brother) Gill
I met with Richard on Nov. 6 1980 to discuss the level of emotional distress demonstrated by his sons Robert and (my brother). <blank> Richard acknowledged and confirmed many of the family problems cited by Robert and (my brother) <blank>.
What was new to me was the following text:
<blank> appeared concerned about <blank> drinking, suggesting <blank> emotionally abusive towards both children, especially when inebriated. As well, <blank> suggested that <blank> attempts to undermine any closeness between <blank> and <blank> by telling them false stories.
After the meeting was over I searched my copy of my foster care records, but I couldn’t find this paragraph anywhere. I found the page, but the section where this paragraph should have been was redacted.
This paragraph would have been devastating if it had been included in the copy of my foster care records that were released to me in 2011. As it is, I am so emotionally numb and dead now that this paragraph is nothing more than an amusing curiosity.
Let me fill in the blanks to the best of my ability based on some basic assumptions.
<Richard> appeared concerned about < Margaret’s> drinking, suggesting <she was> emotionally abusive towards both children, especially when inebriated. As well, <Richard> suggested that <Margaret> attempts to undermine any closeness between <him> and <his sons> by telling them false stories.
Fuck me Richard you stupid fucking asshole.
Both Richard and my grandmother drank excessively.
When they both got shitfaced, which was often, they’d stay up all night drinking and then spend the next day passed out. After that came the hangover phase. You didn’t want to be around either of these two when they were recovering from a hangover.
And yes, this all occurred on an active Canadian Armed Forces base in the Private Married Quarters on that base. And no, my father wasn’t the only alkie in a Canadian Forces uniform back then.
It was probably a very good thing that Richard was seldom living with us on Canadian Forces Base Namao. I couldn’t really imagine living in a house with these two drinking each other under the table any chance they got.
For Richard to tell Judith James in November of 1980 that he was concerned about his mother’s drinking is fucking hilarious.
As much as Richard despised his mother, he needed his mother to look after my brother and I while he was off playing G.I. Fucking Joe in the Canadian Forces for weeks and months at a time.
There are three DUIs that I clearly remember. One from CFB Shearwater, one from CFB Summerside, and one from CFB Namao.
There were all of the times he’d come home from the base mess three sheets to the fucking wind and he’d wake me and my brother up and keep us up at night to keep him company when he was drinking.
There was the yelling and hollering that he’d do when he was well past the point of intoxicated. When Richard was like this on Summerside and Namao there was absolutely no sleeping for my brother and I.
Grandma would do similar things when she’d get drunk. Luckily she didn’t have a driver’s licence, so we never had to worry about being in the car with her when she was drunk.
It was Richard’s drinking and abusive behaviour that led to my mother leaving and Grandma being brought in to look after my brother and I.
It was Grandma’s drinking that led to my brother and I needing to be babysat by P.S..
They were both alcoholics more in love with the bottle than the children they were supposed to look after.
So all I can say is “FUCK YOU RICHARD!”.
What a pathetic excuse of a man you were.
Blaming your own mother’s alcoholism for the problems your own children were exhibiting when your alcoholism was just as fucking bad.
And when I tell you that there was absolutely no one that my brother or I could tell about the abuse, I mean, there was no body that we could tell. The two adults in our lives were damaged beyond all hope.
So, I’ve been on escitalopram for seven months now.
It has been both a blessing and a curse.
It looks like escitalopram will be with me for the rest of my life.
The pros are:
Far less depression. It’s not that I am happy. It’s that my emotions are completely blunted. And trust me, blunting is better than nothing.
My anxiety has been turned down. I can still feel the anxiety, but it doesn’t destroy me like it did before.
Disrupted trains of thoughts don’t cause headaches or nausea.
The cons are:
Disturbed sleep patterns.
Day long sleepiness.
Acne the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was a teen.
A general sense of ennui.
Weight gain.
Loss of appetite.
Can’t orgasm, but sex has never been a major deal breaker in my life.
So far, the benefits of escitalopram outweigh the negatives.
No. The escitalopram hasn’t caused increased thoughts of suicide or suicidal ideations.
But it also hasn’t taken away my desire to die.
The one thing that I have realized, and that you’re going to have to realize, is that the 40 years of untreated depression and anxiety have done some long term damage to my brain. And I’m okay with that. Not that the damage was done to my brain, but the fact that my brain is damaged.
40 years is a very long time to go without treatment.
So here I am, riding out the last few years of my life, and writing about it as I go.
By March of 2023 year we should know what the Parliamentary committee will recommend for guidelines for those wishing to apply for Medical Assistance in Dying for Mental Health issues.
After that I’ll have to apply. This will probably consist of convincing 3 psychologists that I am of sound mind in making this choice.
Just recently my N.P. has realized that I am serious. He’s the one who set me up with the escitalopram. I guess that he was hoping that the escitalopram would fix things for me. But it hasn’t. It can’t.
No matter how often my father passed my issues off as being nothing more than my attempts at attracting attention. They weren’t.
Just because my father chose to ignore my issues, and refused to get me timely treatment, doesn’t make his opinion that I was just making things up any more valid than the diagnoses that I had been given early in life.
The fact that my father loved to blame my issues on my mother and her “insane brothers” doesn’t make what I’ve suffered for the last 40 years a trivial matter.
If my father and Captain Totzke had allowed the ticking time bombs of depression, anxiety, and CPTSD to have been diffused all those years ago things would have worked out completely different.
Time machines do not exist. There is no going back into the past to undo things.
Again, to be very clear, wanting to die is nothing new. My wish to die has been with me since CFB Namao.
No one can live through that type of shit and not want to die.
I know of two men who died by suicide as a result of the CFB Namao affair. And as I’ve only met a few people who were affected by the CFB Namao affair, I have no idea how many others have ever tried suicide or have ever succeeded at suicide.
And I know of many more men who have committed suicide later in life, even after they have received “justice” for what they endured.
Bobbie, you just need some hobbies.
No. No I don’t. Hobbies won’t stop the memories of CFB Namao or my treatment at the hands of Captain Terry Totzke from popping up.
Cycling! You love to ride your bicycle. Yes, yes I do love riding my bicycle. However I can’t ride my bicycle 24 hours a day seven days a week.
Electronics! Take a course in electronics. I never really liked electronics. Learning electronics was one way that I thought that I could get closer to my ever distant father. That was a bad strategy.
Cars! You loved cars! You owned a car! Actually I’ve always been terrified of cars. I hate being in cars. I got a membership at the base autoclub on Canadian Forces Base Downsview as I thought that my father and I could spend time together at the base auto club. Again, another one of my very wrong ideas.
I really hated the idea of working on other people’s cars after the night my brother and his buddy Greg brought a 6 cylinder Chevy up to Bob Beckers workshop with the idea that I could make the car run again after Greg and his buddies had pulled all the plugs, the wires, the distributor and other things off the engine.
I forget who all was there. There was my brother, Greg, an older guy in his 40s named Dom, and two older teens that had to be about 19 or 20.
Greg at the time was no small kid. Even though Greg and my brother were both younger than I was, both were physically larger than me in both mass and height. My brother at the time was so large that my father wouldn’t dare raise a hand to him.
Two thing about that night really pissed me off.
The first was that I moved Bob’s van outside so that Greg and his buddies could push the car in. When Bob’s van was outside someone just happened to steal Bob’s mobile phone from the van. Fuck was Bob ever pissed with me. And no, it wasn’t some rando walking by that stole the mobile phone.
The second thing that pissed me off was that even though I told Greg that I hadn’t worked on anything other than 4 cylinder Volkwagen engines, he was going with what my brother had told him, that I could work on anything and that if I didn’t fix his engine it was because I was being selfish and stuck up and a self centred asshole.
Greg and his buddies ended up taking the car away that evening.
Greg and his buddies caught up with me a few days later.
They beat the sweet fucking jesus out of me in the parking lot of the laundromat on Keele street. All I really remember about that night is two of Greg’s friends holding me down while Greg stomped on my head. I could barely walk after. I headed over to Billy Bee donuts on Wilson Ave. The owner of the donut shop wanted me to go to the hospital to get looked at seeing as how my eyes were getting bloodshot.
But yeah, that’s one of the reasons that I will never work on anyone’s car for any reason. And there are similar reasons as to why I don’t fix any thing electronic anymore or why I don’t really do much with computers.
My lawyer just sent me a copy of my affidavit. It has been stamped and accepted by the courts.
So, this is another step closer to the end.
There will be no happy ending at the resolution of this matter.
Money isn’t going to undo what I endured through my childhood.
The events in question occurred on CFB Namao from the fall of 1978 until the spring of 1980, but the repercussions have been felt for years after. Whether it be Captain Terry Totzke interfering with my mental health care and my chance to escape from Richard’s household, or whether it be enduring the derision of my father, these abuses have haunted me for my entire life.
Money isn’t going to erase a lifetime of suffering.
Money isn’t going to erase a lifetime of self doubt and self hatred and confusion. And I would assume that this is true for a lot of the other victims from Canadian Forces Base Namao.
I’m sure that in agreeing to settle, the Canadian Armed Forces, the Department of National Defence, and the Attorney General of Canada will be sure to have language added to the settlement that makes clear that any settlement that they agree to is not an admission of guilt on their behalf.
Sadly, any settlement reached will not ever get me an apology from my father.
I’ll never really get to hear from him what exactly it was that he despised about me the most. Was it I reminded him to much of his ex-wife? Was it being his first born that I represented the end of his ability to go sailing around the world with the navy or flying to exotic places with the air force? Was it really the sexual abuse that I “allowed” the babysitter to commit against my young brother.
Richard’s dead, he’ll never be able to apologize nor will he ever be able to explain. But then again, with what I learnt about him from my foster care records, he was a very troubled man with a lot of issues, so even if he did apologize would he have meant it? If he tried to explain what his issues with me were, would that be the truth or would it just be him telling me what he thought I wanted to hear?
At this point in time the Government of Canada hasn’t replied yet. According to the rules of the court the have a certain amount of time to respond.
Once the Government of Canada responds, then the negotiations commence.
I’m tired.
My brain is literally burnt out.
Yes, the Canadian Forces and the Department of National Defence have succeeded in keeping me from ever obtaining criminal convictions in this matter.
But with this settlement at least my name can be cleaned.
And really, that’s all a person has is their name.
When I do die, it’ll be my name that will live on.
There is no afterlife. There is no heaven. There is no hell.
There is just the here and now.
If I hadn’t been so bound and determined to clear my name, my name would have been stained with the events of CFB Namao.
Now when I die, I get to die knowing that my name will live on after I am gone and people will understand why I was the way I was. People will know my story. And people will know the story of the other kids from CFB Namao.
Beeshive 