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:
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.
Here is the link to the interview:
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?
Because they could.
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.
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:
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.
The pros and cons of messing with my mind.
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.
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.
Yes, as fucked up as it is, it still fascinates me.
I am hoping that after I die that my brain is removed and sent off to one of the many institutions in Canada that study human brains to try and decipher mental illness and addictions.
I’ve suffered from major depression and anxiety for the majority of my life. I endured sexual assaults for over 1-1/2 years. I endured what would be tantamount to “conversion therapy”. I endured more sexual assaults before I turned 16. I grew up in a dysfunctional household.
So my brain should be interesting.
What I have always found to be very interesting is that I am not addicted to anything. Nor am I living on the streets.
Where I work, we have various programs to help addicts. One of the things that becomes apparent to me is that addiction and mental illness go hand in hand.
I’d say that most of the clients of these programs started off with mental illness first, found themselves on the streets, and then ended up with addictions.
It’s stunning how many mentally ill people are just discarded by society like trash.
The problem there I think is that unless you’re talking to the chinaware or unless you believe that everyone is a lizard person from the future out to kidnap you no one believes that you’re mentally ill.
My father would often rail on to no end that “my moods could be whatever I wanted them to be” and that “I was just doing this to get his attention”. And there are a lot of people like my father in the world. People who believe that mental illness is a scam, that people who claim to be mentally ill are liars, that people with depression are just weak wimpy cry babies who want to take the easy way out.
But even if you are one of the “lucky ones” with a “real” mental illness, you too are at an elevated risk of being tossed to the street when those close to you get tired of your “drama” and your “bullshit”.
At an early age I found myself with mental illness, diagnosed but untreated mental illness.
I found myself homeless for a number of months for most of 1992 and then the early part of 1994.
For the first few years of my adult life, I was always one or two pay cheques away from losing it all.
Help from home was out of the question, so I knew even better than to ask.
As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months at the Catholic Charities men’s hostel numerous of my fellow bunk mates would offer drugs. Wasn’t interested. Didn’t want drugs. Didn’t want booze.
I didn’t consider myself superior to my bunk mates. I just wasn’t tied up in making friends with them.
Maybe my inability to make friends actually saved me from a life of addiction. Nobody becomes addicted on their own. There is always an enabler involved.
I was flagged by social services both in Alberta and Ontario as not having the ability to make friends or to associate with others. Also, I really despised being touched. And that is still the way things are to this day. Don’t touch me.
To tell you the truth, I just find it so hard to trust people. I’m not paranoid. I think that after CFB Namao and CFB Griesbach, I just learnt that there was no one there for me, that I was always going to be on my own.
If you ask my brother, he’ll tell you that I was just a stuck up little asshole who thought himself better than anyone else. But that’s not my brother talking. That’s Richard speaking. Richard had a million and one opinions on my mental health issues, none of them helpful.
But yeah, I assure you that I wasn’t “stuck up”.
So was it the inability to form friendships that allowed me to stay off drugs?
My self worth has always been lower than shit, so it’s not that I considered myself too good for drugs.
So there has to be something else going on in my brain. Something that researchers may find of interest.
I haven’t cried since I was about 30. I’m too emotionally numb on the inside to cry anymore.
I used to cry a lot trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with my brain and why I couldn’t fit in no matter how hard I tried and why I was always susceptible to days on end of feeling completely unmotivated and unable to think.
Employers were always impressed with my technical skills and my dedication to work, but I just lacked the “people skills” to deal with people therefore I was always going to be the guy behind the scenes who just wasn’t presentable to the public.
At the time I didn’t have access to my Foster Care records from the Alberta Government so I had absolutely no idea that I had already been diagnosed with depression and anxiety so bad that I was supposed to have been institutionalized.
I wouldn’t get my hands on those records until August of 2011. Almost 30 years after the fact. 30 years I was allowed to participate in society as some sort of experiment to see if I would succeed or fail.
And no, there was no going to “head shrinkers” or talking to a doctor about my issues. Not after my experiences with Terry and my father and the various psychologists that I had seen while we lived on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach from October 1980 until April 1983.
The fact that Terry and my father would both get me to say lies and bullshit to my civilian counsellors means that I don’t think that I could ever be honest with these people. My emotions and my inner turmoil were always something that I was taught to be ashamed of and to hide behind a wall of lies.
My father had told me during those years that I was making up all of my problems, that I was only “acting up” to get attention.
With no family support, no professional support, no community supports, here I am at 50 years of age.
My brain is fried and burnt out.
I don’t really have anything much to offer other than my brain for research.
The brain is a fascinating organ.
It is who we are. It is what we are.
It’s where our thoughts, our memories, and our dreams live and die.
The more researchers learn about the brain, the more it becomes apparent that it functions similar to a computer in the sense that it has specialized portions of the brain that do specific tasks.
I view my brain as a biological computer with over 250,000 years of innovation behind it. I view myself as the operating system. Unfortunately my operating system was corrupted by various hacks over the years that led to irreparable hardware damage.
Sure, there are patches that could sorta maybe kinda work, but an operating system that is held together by patches is unstable.
That’s one of the reasons I have no issue facing my death. As long as my brain is rendered unconscious and is denied oxygen I won’t experience my death. It will literally be like turning off the power switch on your computer. A power switch that can never be turned back on.
Still, it is very interesting how the brain processes information.
One thing that I’ve always found interesting is that you don’t actually live in the real world. Yes you and your body are present in the real world, but what your consciousness “sees”, “hears”,”tastes”, “touches”, and “smells” is AFTER the various cortexes have processed the information presented to them. What you are experiencing are the outputs of your cortexes. This is why hallucinations and dreams can appear so lifelike and vivid. The brain can’t tell the difference. To it everything is real.
But this apparently is the best way for the brain to function because if your brain had to process the raw information from your senses by itself without the automated processes of the cortexes your brain would become severely overwhelmed.
For instance how the brain processes visual information. One part of the visual cortex looks for shapes, another part isolates written languages or symbols even if we’ve never seen that language or symbol before, another part looks for faces and the emotions on those faces, another part looks for movements, and yet another part uses our stereo vision to calculate distances between objects. Our brains rely on contrast between light and dark for depth perception, even though we see in colour. We perceive all of these processes happening all at once. But they’re being processed by different parts of the visual cortex.
Car makers know that the visual cortex can be easily manipulated to elicit emotions. This is why car makers now spend so much time putting anthropomorphic features on to car and truck grilles and head lights. By making the car or truck appear happy or angry they can sell vehicles to people based upon their primary emotion.
Our hearing has many different sub processes as well. One part of the auditory cortex is listening for speech. One part has something similar to a comb-filter that is designed to be sensitive to certain frequencies. One part seems to love music. Another part gets triggered by rhythm. A different part of the auditory cortex is used to pinpoint the location of a sound in 3-dimensions even though we only have two ears. I was diagnosed at a young age with an auditory memory problem. And it’s true. I have a very hard time remembering things that are verbally told to me in a specific sequence. However I can easily remember written phrases, concepts, and details. This is one of the reasons I don’t do telephone calls unless I absolutely have to.
Then there’s the interconnection between all of these different processes. Your steady eyesight comes because the inner ear also coordinates your eye movement so that as your head moves your eyes are able to move in a direction to counter the movement of your head. Without this communication you eyesight would be very blurry.
Your ability to turn your head in the direction of a sound comes from the ability of your auditory cortex to direct your head muscles and your eye muscles towards the direction of the sound.
Your visual cortex processes you central vision and your peripheral vision in two different process, but presents this to your brain as one image. You visual cortex fills in the blind spot in each of your eyes with made up data so that you don’t see two black spots in your vision. These black spots are where your optic nerve connects to your retina. You can’t see there. Your peripheral vision sucks at detail, but it is really great at detecting motion. Your peripheral vision can direct your eyeballs and your head into the direction of motion.
Your ability to listen to music on headphones without constantly turning your head in every direction is because your auditory system has realized that what you are hearing is not a threat.
Emotions are another interesting part of the brain. Your brain can control its emotions by releasing or not releasing certain chemicals. And it has been discovered that your brain can damage itself if it releases to many of these chemicals for a prolonged period, or doesn’t release enough chemicals for a prolonged period.
Sadly, when these chemicals go out of whack, the brain often isn’t able to bring itself back to “normal” without external help. The longer the brain is without help, the more substantial the damage will be.
So yes, you can suffer actual physical brain damage due to traumatic events such as emotional trauma, psychological trauma, or physical trauma.
The brain is plastic in the sense that it can try to overcome the damage by using different portions of the brain.
I’ve never seen the actual removal of a human brain from the skull during an autopsy, but there are hundreds of autopsy videos available on the net. And I’ve seen quite a few. All you really need to remember is that the body is dead and feels no pain.
Once the skull is removed and then the dura mater is cut open, the brain is ripe for the picking so to say. Gently tilt the brain outwards from the skull, sever the olfactory nerves, the optic nerves, the facial nerves, the auditory nerves, the neck and throat nerves, and the spinal cord, and out pops your brain. Do Not Try This At Home, especially not on yourself.
It’s a good thing that you’re typically dead when this happens otherwise might be a little on the painful side. Plus might also cause a panic attack.
Now, I don’t know what exactly can be learnt from my brain. Probably nothing substantial. But maybe something incremental. And incremental would be far better than nothing, eh?
I would imagine that having a somewhat fresh brain would be beneficial to the researchers.
I would much rather prefer that my brain go to somewhere where it can be of some use rather than just tossed into an unmarked grave, or a crematorium, or a resomation chamber.
Then at least my suffering will be over and something beneficial will have come of my life.
And I’ll be able to say that “I’m going to medical school!”
I really wish that I could donate my skull to whomever I wanted to.
I have a few people in mind that I would love to give my skull to.
Not much going on this week.
I thought for sure that I was going to hear from Munro’s kin about the last two posts.
Nope, not a single word.
I’ve already got time booked off from work for the discovery hearing in my matter against the commissionaire from the Denison Armouries in Toronto at Canadian Forces Base Downsview.
Still in the early stages of my class action against the Canadian Armed Forces for the trail of destruction that Canadian Armed Forces officer Captain Father Angus McRae left in his wake as he moved from CFB Kingston, to CFB Portage La Prairie, to CFS Holberg, to CFB Namao.
The escitalopram is doing what it’s supposed to be doing. It’s not fixing anything. It’s just keeping my major depression and my severe anxiety in check. Which I guess is better than nothing.
My brain is so tired and so burnt out at the moment. I think this is the result of a lifetime of neglected mental health issues. It’s clearly obvious that although I’ve spent a lifetime enduring major depression, severe anxiety, and who the hell knows what else, it was probably dealing with COVID last year that really pushed me over the edge.
March is coming up, and this is when the Parliamentary committee is supposed to release their recommendations for M.A.i.D. for psychiatric issues. I’ll be sure to keep you posted.
“But if you win your actions against the Commissionaires and the Canadian Forces, surely you’ll reconsider, won’t you?”.
Just far too tired and far too burnt out. Far too neglected. And apologies will never be coming.
I’ve lived far too long with being blamed for things that were far beyond my control.
I’ve also gone for far too long being called a liar by the media.
Richard will never apologize. He’s dead.
Brigadier General Daniel Edward Munro will never apologize, he did what the National Defence Act allowed him to do.
Any apology that I get from the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces will be a meaningless cookie cutter jumble of mumble bullshit words approved by the Department of Justice and the Solicitor General of Canada. Used toilet paper will have move value than anything from the DND or the CF.
So, it really is a no-win situation no matter what happens.
On a different tangent, I’m set to get some new tattoos on February 4th. More facial tattoos. I started tattooing my face around 2016. Started off with just a couple of small excursions on to my face.
Most tattoo artists won’t touch a person’s face no matter how many other tattoos a person has.
Bill was more than willing to.
Then Bill moved out to the valley.
I found another artist who was willing to get more involved, but then with the start of COVID Liam moved out of town.
So, I found another artist.
I’m going to try to get as much work done in a session or two with Eduardo as possible.
The nice thing about secure employment and working where I work is that they tolerate tattoos so long as they’re not offensive or profane.
I’m going to stay with the line motif. But Eduardo wants to change the direction of the lines and maybe go much thicker. He also wants to go over my eyelids if I’m able to stand it.
I really wish that I had gotten into tattoos a lot earlier in life. But being as that I had absolutely no family safety net to catch me if a previous employer decided that they didn’t like my tattoos, I was really hesitant to get anything that could be seen.
And with Richard’s voice in my head always asserting that I was completely useless I was always very reluctant to do anything nice for myself as I fully expected Richard to find out and then chastise and berate me for being a fucking idiot and trying to show off.
Honestly, I think that my tattoos and my piercings are my “Fuck You” to the society that practically shat upon me my entire life because I didn’t fit in and I wasn’t “normal”.
It’s not my fault I’m not normal. I tried so fucking hard in my younger days to be “normal” that I think I ruined any chance of ever actually being normal. My not being normal is a choice that my father and the Canadian Armed Forces made for me when I was a kid in need of psychiatric care. The Canadian Forces decided that secrets needed to be kept, and my father was too much of a fucking pussy to tell the Canadian Armed Forces to go get fucking stuffed.
Anyways, that’s this post for now.
I’d really like to post about other stuff, but I really don’t have any interests.
I don’t like sports.
I like music, but I’ve never been wrapped up in fandom.
I like bicycles, but I just ride them.
I like motorcycles, but again, I just ride them.
I don’t keep up with current entertainment trends. I actually just started watching “Game of Thrones” this past Sunday. I’m up to Season 1 Episode 6. So that’s what, 11 years behind?
I haven’t read a good book in ages. Just don’t have the interest. As a kid I loved reading. Even in my teen years I loved to read. I think mu interest in reading waned sometime in my 20’s. Too busy at work trying to keep up and keep my employers happy.
I like road trips on my motorcycle. Just me, myself, and the bike. But COVID put road trips on the back burner. So nothing to write about there.
And talking about work would probably put ya’ll to sleep.
Another hideous flaw in the pre-1998 National Defence Act
In 1998, another flaw was removed from the National Defence Act.
This flaw in a way was even more hideous than the Summary Investigation that I talked about in a previous blog entry.
The problem with the 3-year-time-bar is that it prohibited the laying of charges more than 3 years after the date of the alleged Service Offence.
You’ll remember from the previous post that the National Defence Act enumerates Criminal Code offences as Service Offences. As such crimes such as Gross Indecency, Indecent Assault, and Buggery were service offences that could be tried by Service Tribunal. This is why Captain McRae was tried in a military court martial for committing “Acts of Homosexuality” such as “Gross Indecency”, “Indecent Assault”, “Buggery” with boys under the age of 15 on Canada Forces Base Namao.
The interesting thing about this 3-year-time-bar is that it applies to ALL service offences prior to 1998.
Also, even if a member of the Canadian Armed Forces is currently retired and no longer subject to the Code of Service Discipline, if the member was subject to the Code of Service discipline when they sexually abused a child on a military base they would still enjoy all of the rights that the National Defence Act bestowed upon the service member at the time of the offence.
What this means is that even if the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service were to find the man from the sauna who Peter provided me to for the purposes of oral sex this man could never be charged if he was a member of the Canadian Forces regular force in 1980.
If this man by some small miracle is a civilian with no connection to the Canadian Armed Forces and was never subject to the Code of Service Discipline, then he could be charged under the criminal code.
Don’t believe me?
In 2017, in a telephone call with Sergeant Damon Tenaschuk of the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service Pacific Region, I asked Mr. Tenaschuk if he could try to talk to Colonel Dan Munro. I thought that this would be a simple matter seeing as how Sgt. Tenaschuk was on CFB Esquimalt just outside of Victoria, BC and Daniel Edward Munro lived in a suburb of Victoria, BC.
Instead, I received the following email from Sgt. Tenaschuk:
So there you have it.
The three year time bar is real, and it affects all Service Offence and all Criminal Code matters that occurred prior to 1998.
All I had asked for was for Sgt. Tenaschuk to talk to Daniel Edward Munro to see if Daniel had improperly bent the rules when he preferred the charges that Captain McRae faced in court martial and dismissed the other charges.
For Tenaschuk’s legal officer to say right of the bat that the 3-year-time-bar would prevent the laying of charges makes me wonder how many Canadian Forces personnel got away with Service Offences / Criminal Code offences prior to 1998.
Anyone who was subject to the Code of Service Discipline prior to 1998, and who sexually abused a child on a defence establishment, will NEVER face their accuser in court. Their victim will NEVER receive justice.
And this suits the Minister of National Defence and the Chief of Defence staff just fine. As it stands right now, you don’t hear anything about children being sexually abused on military bases by military personnel from the pre-1998 days. And as it turns out this isn’t because no child was ever sexually abused on base. It’s because if these kids didn’t report their crimes within the period of three years they would never be able to report their crimes..
In 2010, charges were brought against retired Brigadier General Roger Bazin. He was accused of sexually abusing a child on Canadian Forces Base Borden in the early 1970s. The matter made it so far as court, and then suddenly everything was dropped. No explanation was ever made to the media as to why the charges were dropped. You’d think that if the Crown has just smeared someone’s name through the media that they’d be obligated to explain to the public why the charges were dropped at the last minute.
No lawyer in the media claiming “my client has been vindicated”. Nothing. Radio Silence.
In my matter, Captain Father Angus McRae was alive until May 20th, 2011.
The investigation into my complaint started on March 5th, 2011.
The CFNIS knew about the connection between my babysitter, Peter, and Captain Angus McRae right from the get-go.
This means that the JAG, the Provost Marshal, and the CFNIS were aware at the start of the investigation that even if they were able to arrest Peter, that they’d never be able to charge Captain Father Angus McRae. This must have posed quite the dilemma for the Canadian Forces.
They had the CFSIU paperwork from 1980. They knew what Peter had been doing.
But they also knew that they would never be able to charge Angus McRae.
This would be quite the scandal, no?
When the CFNIS started the investigation in March of 2011, they couldn’t have possibly known that Captain McRae would have been about to die. They would have had to structure the investigation with the knowledge that Angus McRae was alive.
Anyways, here’s what Legislative Summary LS-311E had to say about the 3-year-time-bar-flaw.
These are the PDF pages of the images above.
This is LS-311E (1998) in its entirety.
Daniel, what did you do?
What did you do that the Judge Advocate General won’t allow an officer of the Canadian Forces Special Investigation Unit to talk to you about the events that occurred on your base from May of 1980 until July of 1980?
Can you actually sleep with this on your conscience?
Or do you rest well at night know that the Canadian Forces and the Department of National Defence will cover your ass, not because you’re a great guy, but because if they uncover something unsavoury from Canadian Forces Base Namao that this will snowball into unsavoury events on many of the other Canadian Forces Bases where men such as yourself were able to hide things that had occurred on the bases that you were commanding.
How many kids did commanding officer bury on the bases?
Only time will tell.
For most of my life I’ve been outright lied to.
I wasn’t a victim in 1980.
I was a homosexual monster.
My father wasn’t a drunk asshole with rage issues, I was just too sensitive.
I wasn’t having psychiatric issues due to the abuse and the conversion therapy, I was just acting up to get attention.
Later in life, when I tried to receive justice for what had occurred on Canadian Forces Base Namao I was accused of lying. I was accused of making things up, of blowing things out or proportion. The Minister of National Defence himself accused me of playing games and having angles.
Throughout the CFNIS investigation GO 2011-5754 I was told time and time again that P.S. couldn’t have done what I accused him of, I was told time and time again that there was no fire at PMQ #26 on 12th Street. I was told that the base chapel was in a different location. I was told that I couldn’t have been molested in the base chapel by Captain McRae as the chapel didn’t have a rectory.
On May 3rd, 2011 and May 4th 2011 I sent Master Corporal Christian Cyr some emails that detailed the chapel and other places on the base. Not a single one of these fucking emails was included in the investigation. It’s like they magically disappeared. But I know that Cyr received these emails as he used a certain phrase from one of my emails in one of his reports.
When I got my hands on the Certified Tribunal Records from the Military Police Complaints Commission, I was fucking horrified.
I had submitted my foster care records to the CFNIS in August of 2011 to bolster the fact that there was no on at home that my brother or I could have told about the abuse.
Instead the CFNIS focused on a paragraph or two that said that I was emotionally disturbed and causing trouble.
The CFNIS ignored the fact that my foster care records said that it was our grandmother raising my brother and I on base and that grandma was invited to live with us in 1977 and didn’t move out until 1981.
This was important as my father denied ever hiring a babysitter. Of course he’d deny it, it wasn’t him that hired the babysitter, it was his mother.
I just can’t figure out if it was Richard that erased his mother from our house or if the CFNIS suggested that he not mention his mother as that would help ensure that P.S. could not be indicated as our babysitter, thereby casting further doubt on my allegations against P.S.
The CFNIS ignored the part of my foster care records that said that my brother and I viewed grandma as far too authoritarian and strict. They completely skipped the part where I told the psychologist that I was going to kill myself if grandma didn’t leave the house.
The CFNIS ignored the psychological report of the psychologist hired by the Canadian Forces that said that my father accepted no responsibility for his family, blamed others for the problems with his family, expected others to solve the problems with his family, that he denied any knowledge of his kids having problems, blamed his mother for hiding those problems from him.
So, in the end, Richard died in 2017 without ever having to own up to the horrific fucking hell he put me through to cover for his own irresponsibility that led to my brother and I being sexually abused for 1-1/2 years on CFB Namao.
What’s even worse is that the CFNIS had in its possession the CFSIU investigation paperwork and the Court Martial transcripts which indicated that the Military Police in 1980 knew that P.S. was molesting children on the base.
What’s even worse is that the CFNIS had done CPIC checks on P.S. and found that he was charged and convicted in 1x in 1982, 1x in 1984, 2x in 1985 for the sexual abuse of children.
“Mr. Bees, we just couldn’t find anything that would indicate that P.S. was capable of what you accused him of”
Why did the CFNIS spin the investigation the way they did?
Why did the Canadian Forces, the Provost Marshal, and the CFNIS go out of their way to protect a multi-time convicted child molested?
Someone up the Chain of Command made the decision that I was never to be linked to Captain Father Angus McRae via P.S.
If P.S. abused my brother and I as a result of the abuse, the grooming, or the instructions that P.S. received from Captain Father Angus McRae, there would be the possibility of compensation.
After all, Captain McRae was a member of the regular force, he was living on a secure defence establishment in housing provided to him by the Canadian Armed Forces, as he was a regular force member he was subject to the Code of Service discipline 24/7, and I lived on the same defence establishment that the Canadian Forces were supposed to provide security for.
If my matter had made it to court and through discovery it was learnt that Captain McRae had molested many other children on CFB Namao, CFS Holberg, CFB Portage La Prairie, and CFB Kingston, where would the liability end?
If my matter had made ripples in the media, how many other kids that had been abused on the bases across Canada would start coming forward.
BOBBIE YOU’RE FULL OF SHIT!
THE CFNIS CANNOT BE COMPROMISED!
THE CFNIS INVESTIGATORS ARE OUTSIDE OF CHAIN OF COMMAND INFLUENCE!
You sure about that?
Well, as it turns out a Commanding Officer outside of the CFNIS ordered the CFNIS to destroy evidence and the fucking CFNIS complied. It has to. It has no fucking choice. Section 83 of the National Defence Act says that every person subject to the Code of Service Discipline WILL obey the LAWFUL command of a superior officer. There are no fucking exceptions for the investigators within the CFNIS.
Section 18.5 says that the Vice Chief of Defence Staff can direct the Provost Marshal and the CFNIS.
Let’s quit fucking pretending that the CFNIS are real police.
They’re soldiers first and police officer second.
Jesus Fucking H. Christ.
You do not destroy evidence.
Especially not on the order of some fucking jerk-off commanding officer.
The Canadian Fucking Forces just keep getting worse and worse as the days go by as more shit floats to the top of the swamp.
But Bobbie, doesn’t this make you happy?
Why the fuck would it make me happy?
I counted on these fucking assholes to keep me safe as a child when I lived on their fucking defence establishments.
I counted on these fucking assholes to ensure that justice was carried out and that every attempt was made to make me whole again after the fucking abuse. Instead I got 2-1/2 years of psychological abuse at the hands of military social worker Captain Totzke.
When it became apparent that my father was incapable of looking after me due to his issues, I counted on the Canadian Forces to assist Alberta Social Services with my care, not help my fucking father skip to a different province.
In 2011, when the CFNIS took my matter away from the civilian police, I was counting on the CFNIS to help me escape from a lifetime of being blamed for allowing the babysitter to have molested my younger brother. Instead the fucking worthless CFNIS acted to protect the DND and the CF from civil actions and potential public humiliation had the truth about CFB Namao been made public.
I was told by the Military Police Complaints Commission that there was no way possible for the Canadian Forces to interfere with a CFNIS investigation, that the CFNIS were free from Chain of Command influence.
Well, as it turns out, this is all bullshit and fucking lies.
Bullshit and fucking lies is all the Canadian Armed Forces seem to be good at.
Telling the fucking truth seems to be far beyond the abilities of the Canadian Armed Forces.
So, if you’re still trying to grasp why I want to die via M.A.i.D. after M.A.i.D. for psychiatric issues becomes law in 2023, this is why.
My whole fucking life has been one horrific fucking joke. Everything I knew as a kid was absolute fucking lies. My sexuality was destroyed by Captain Totzke. My mental health and well-being was destroyed by my own father and the Canadia Armed Forces. All for the sake of keeping a fucking secret.
Even if the Minister of National Defence, Anita Anand ekes out a meagre apology, what the fuck is that going to do. It’s not going to bring my father back so that he can apologize and eat humble fucking pie for what he did. It’s not going to undo the abuse at the hands of P.S. or Captain McRae. It’s not going to undo the psychological abuse I suffered under Captain Totzke.
Knowing what I’ve learnt about the Canadian Armed Forces and their knack for bald-faced lying and duplicity makes anything the Canadian Forces, the Department of National Defence, or the Minister of National Defence absolutely worthless.
Why would any person in their right mind want to willingly live in complete torment knowing what I know and seeing what I’ve seen.
This is the reason why M.A.i.D. has such a powerful allure for me.
I’ve already been through enough in life.
Suicide will never be an answer for me. Why should I have to suffer more in the end? Why should I have to risk surviving a botched attempt?
No amount of counselling, talking, arts therapy, magical healing crystals, or chakras will undo what was done.
My bed has been made. Now I have to lay in it. Sucks that the housekeeper making my bed was a member of the Canadian Armed Forces.
The peaceful exit of M.A.i.D. is what I look forward to.
No pain. No suffering. No more depression. No more anxiety. No more torment. No more lies.
And believe me, I’m okay with that.
It’s far better than what I live with now.
A police review agency that takes its directions from the agency that runs the police agency that the MPCC reviews.
I’m not going to get too involved with the Military Police Complaints Commission in this blog other than to point out some important findings from the Final Review released in 2020.
After Sgt. Tenaschuk informed me in July of 2018 that the 2nd portion of CFNIS investigation GO 2011-5754 I gathered up all of my evidence and all of my paperwork. Unlike my 2012 complaint to the MPCC, this time I was aware of what documents I would need and how I would obtain those documents.
During the 2015 to 2018 portion of the CFNIS investigation I made sure to audio record phone calls between myself and the investigators. I sent all communications to the CFNIS via email that also went to a cc: address. Important information was sent to the CFNIS via certified courier.
All the stuff that I didn’t do in my first go-round with the MPCC.
I also knew that the MPCC’s hands were tied. The Canadian Forces Provost Marshal, by way of the National Defence Act has an extreme amount of control over the MPCC by way of controlling which documents are released to the MPCC and which documents are.
Unlike the Canadian Forces Ombudsman, the MPCC cannot compel DND, the CF, nor the Provost Marshal to hand over documents to the MPCC.
The MPCC did fault the CFNIS for telling the Alberta Government that no crime had occurred when the MPCC found that internal communications within the CFNIS back in 2011 indicated that my complaint against P.S. was in fact FOUNDED. The MPCC said that the CFNIS had erred when it relied on the Alberta Crown to determine if a crime had occurred. The MPCC said the internal communications within the CFNIS had in fact indicated that a crime had occurred but that the Alberta Crown has a very high bar set before it will lay charges. That bar is determined by the age of the offences, the benefit to society by trying those charges, and the cost of trying those charges.
Here are some really interesting pages from the MPCC final report:
What is interesting about this is that the CPIC check doesn’t show this.
P.S. is noted as being 20 years old on August 27th, 1985.
This would put his as being 15 years old at the time of Captain McRae’s Court Martial on July 18th, 1980
This would also go along with what and RCMP Constable told me in August of 2012, that P.S was born on June 20th, 1965 and that the boy in Manitoba was only 8 years old.
So, five charges of child sexual assault between 1982 and 1985?
How many children does a child molester usually abuse before they get caught?
Page 13 and Page 14 from the MPCC Final Report are quite interesting.
- I initially spoke with Fred Cunningham on November 27th, 2011 in this conversation he mentioned the following:
- P.S. was not 12 or 13 in 1980 as Mcpl Christian Cyr had told me on May 3rd, 2011. P.S. was 15 years old at the time of Captain McRae’s court martial on July 18th, 1980
- “There definitely was something wrong with P.S. and he should never have been allowed to babysit children”
- It was because of complaints to the base military police about P.S.’s sexual behaviour to younger children that Captain McRae came to be investigated.
- Captain McRae was facing charges related for not only molesting P.S., but for molesting a boy named Fred Aitken and one other boy that Cunningham couldn’t name.
- At the last minute the “brass” dropped all of the charges related to Fred Aitken and the other boy and as a result of this there was a very serious falling out between P.S. and Fred Aitken with Fred under the false impression that P.S. had stabbed Fred in the back. Cunningham insisted that it was the “brass” that made the decision.
- In the 2015 to 2018 portion of CFNIS investigation GO 2011-5754 Fred Cunningham stated to a CFNIS investigator that the “AJAG threw the CFSIU to the dogs”
- In the 2015 to 2018 portion of CFNIS investigation GO 2011-5754 Fred Cunningham refused to participate in any type of a recorded interview. He would only talk “off record”.
- Fred asked me to never mention to anyone what he had told me as he was afraid of getting into trouble as the court martial had been moved in-camera and the evidence sealed and no one was supposed to talk about it.
In December of 2011 I sent a letter to the Canadian Forces Provost Marshal detailing some of my conversation with Cunningham. In January of 2012 I received a telephone call from the Provost Marshal himself assuring me that Fred Cunningham didn’t know what he was talking about, that Fred couldn’t have had access to the court martial, and that Fred might be repeating information that he heard second or third hand.
As I would learn in February of 2018 when I received Canadian Forces Special Investigations Unit report CFSIU DS 120-10-80, Fred Cunningham was Warrant Officer Fred Cunningham in 1980. He was the Acting Section Commander of the CFSIU. And he had been personally tasked by the base security officer Captain David Pilling with investigating Captain McRae for having committed “Acts of Homosexuality” with young boys on the base.
Also, this is quite interesting in the sense that it proves that the CFNIS had access to all of this paperwork in 2011. When Mcpl Christian Cyr kept trying to tell me that P.S. was only 12 or 13 at the time of the abuse in 1980, Cyr was obviously going by what was contained in CFSIU DS 120-10-80. So even in 2011 the CFNIS knew full well what P.S. had done.
Well, there you have it.
It’s all in Section 80.
“From all of this information, there can be little question that, at the very least, base military police were well aware of P.S.’s abuse of other children at the time of the investigation and prosecution of Captain Father McRae. Indeed, it appears to have been P.S.’s behaviour with other younger children, which led the military police’s pursuit of Captain McRae in the first place”.
Doesn’t get any plainer that that, does it?
THEY FUCKING KNEW IN 1980 WHAT P.S. WAS DOING.
And yet I’m the piece of shit that allowed P.S. to molest his younger brother.
I received 2-1/2 years of conversion therapy at the hands of military social worker Captain Terry Totzke.
I’m the homosexual that enjoyed what P.S. was doing to me because I let the abuse go on for so long according to Captain Totzke and my father.
And you wonder why I so desperately need to die.
Why were they so desperate in 1980 to paint P.S. as being only 12 or 13.
Under the Juvenile Delinquents Act, 14 was the minimum age that one could be held criminally responsible. As long as the brass on CFB Namao claimed that P.S. was only 12 or 13 they could justify not bringing in the RCMP to deal with P.S..
Why is this important?
The Canadian Forces had pulled out all of the stops to move the court martial of Captain Father Angus McRae “in-camera” thereby ensuring that the public would never discover that McRae and P.S. had molested well over 25 children on CFB Namao.
If P.S. had been investigated by the RCMP and the RCMP had laid charges, P.S. would have gone to Juvenile Court to be dealt with. And this would have negated all of the work that the CF and the DND had put into moving McRae’s court martial “in-camera”.
In Juvenile Court the court had the power to try any adult who had contributed to the delinquency of a minor. The DND and the CF would have been unable to move a civilian tribunal “in-camera” and thus the doings of Captain McRae and P.S. would have been available for the public to see.
The public would have learnt the McRae was bringing children over to the chapel and “fooling around” with them after giving them alcohol.
The public would have learnt that McRae was suspected of molesting well over 25 children.
The public would have learnt that during his ecclesiastical trial with the Catholic Church he admitted to having molested children for years wheich meant that he probably molested children on Canadian Forces Station Holberg, Canadian Forces Base Portage La Prairie, and Canadian Forces Base Kingston.
The Public would have learnt that Captain McRae had been investigated for “Acts of Homosexuality” at Royal Military College Kingston which is directly adjacent to Canadian Forces Base Kingston.
So the Canadian Forces stood to lose a lot if they allowed the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to deal with P.S..
Instead the R.C.M.p. were not called in and P.S. would go on to have a very lengthy criminal record for child molestation. In addition to the charges and convictions in his CPIC file, there are many more charges that were either dismissed or dropped.
How many of these instances of child sexual abuse didn’t need to occur if the RCMP had been called in as they should have been.
There is no moving on from this.
This isn’t just a slight “hiccup” or a tiny “boo-boo”
The Canadian Forces chain of command may not have intended to my life to have been affected in so many ways by the decisions made in 1980.
But it was.
And it’s not as simple as not thinking about it, or moving on from it.
The damage is done.
There’s no erasing it.
There’s no moving on from it.
It’s like you see those guys who were wrongfully convicted, and they spent 30 or 40 years in prison. And when they get out everyone just expects them to move on with their life even though they were sent to prison on lies, their friends long since abandoned them and their families have moved on, technology has moved on, the life they had was long since obliterated. There’s nothing for them to go back to. No matter how many apologies they get or they receive it won’t undo what was done.
That’s where I am. Due to my dealings with Captain Totzke and the 1-1/2 years of abuse at the hands of Captain McRae and P.S. I have absolutely no idea of what I am.
Am I gay?
Am I queer?
Am I a homosexual like Captain Totzke called me?
Am I straight?
If Captain Totzke hadn’t fucked with my brain would I be married?
Would I have had a wife?
Maybe a husband?
Now that I know the truth about 1980 it doesn’t make things any better.
As an adult I fully understand that I didn’t make P.S. abuse my younger brother, I didn’t allow P.S. to abuse my younger brother. P.S. abused my brother because my grandmother was a piss tank alcoholic and my father was living off base chasing skirts.
From August of 1980 until the last time I spoke with my father in September of 2006 he made sure that I understood that my brother’s issues were because I let the babysitter touch him.
You don’t get over that.
“But death was sweet, death was gentle, death was kind; death healed the bruised spirit and the broken heart, and gave them rest and forgetfulness; death was man’s best friend; when man could endure life no longer, death came and set him free.”
― Mark Twain (Letters From the Earth)