Special Joint Committee on Medical Assistance in Dying

Well, I’ve been following along with the Committee reviewing Medical Assistance in Dying for a little while now. I missed out on the initial meetings.

The homepage for the committee is here:

I wish I could say how this committee will impact my desire for medical assistance in dying. I don’t know what their recommendations will be to Parliament. And I have no idea how Parliament will respond to the committee’s recommendations

I will say that I am surprised about the dichotomy between those opposing medical assistance in dying for mental health reasons and those who are in favour of medical assistance in dying for mental health reasons.

Those opposed generally run in two flavours.

One group is opposed to M.A.i.D. for mental health reasons because (a) people can’t possibly know their own desires, (b) no one really wants to die, (c) the government is using M.A.i.D. to balance the budget by killing homeless people and the disabled.

The other group opposed to M.A.i.D. is of the opinion that persons suffering from mental health issues should not be allowed to proceed with M.A.i.D. because miracle cures and miracle drugs are just around the corner and they’ll fix everyone.

Those in favour of allowing M.A.i.D. generally tend to be very balanced in their arguments. They’re all for safety protocols, and testing, and cooling off periods.

The one thing that I really like about the professionals in favour of Medical Assistance in Dying is how they believe that it is ultimately the patient’s decision and the patient’s right to determine their own future.

I was kinda hoping that my brief would have been put on line by now, but then I realized that the there seems to be a delay of one month between when a brief is submitted to the committee and when the brief is posted. For instance, the most recent brief posted by the committee on May 25th, 2022 was dated May 6th, 2022. So yeah, a wee bit of a wait.

So, what I am going to do is publish my submission to the committee. The rules for submitting a brief is that it has to be ten pages or less. I had a really nice brief written up before I realized that there is also a one thousand word limit. So I had to pare down my original brief to something a little more slender.

This is the brief that I have submitted.

As of May 25th, 2022 @ 20:53 there are currently one hundred and fourteen briefs that have been submitted. So I don’t know when my brief will appear.

As I said, I have no idea what the committee is going to recommend.

As I said in my brief, I hope that the committee recommends against any type of criteria that will penalize persons such as myself.

I’ve suffered, and I’ve suffered horribly.

Child sexual abuse is bad enough.

But to be sexually abused and then blamed not only for your own abuse but for the abuse of your sibling is worse.

To be known to be suffering from depression, anxiety, and other mental health issues, but to be denied any treatment is fucking horrific.

To live your life until recently believing in your head that you’re a fuckup like your father said you were. And to believe that you were just “acting up for attention” because that’s what your father always said when you were having issues really fucks with one’s brain.

Every day of my life has been a struggle to not simply give in to my mental illnesses.

Years ago I stopped being smart. I learnt how to be just smart enough. When you have mental issues like I do, people quickly notice that you’re not normal. Once they know you have issues, they can make your life a living hell. Once they realize that all it takes is one negative comment or one unfair criticism to send you off into a depression spiral, they’ll play that card no-stop.

It’s odd watching these committee meetings knowing that ultimately if the committee does make favourable decisions, that their decisions will allow me to end my life in a peaceful and painless manner.

I know that it’s really hard for some to understand my desire for death.

I’ve longed for death since I was a child. Not a single day goes by that I haven’t thought about dying. As I’ve said before, I’m not brave enough for suicide and I don’t like pain.

I can honestly tell you that depression is not something I’d wish on my worst fucking enemy.

Going through life with a brain that sabotages itself on a regular basis is fucking painful.

Four simple drugs.

Once the Midazolam hits my brain there’s no more babysitter, there’s no more Captain Father Angus McRae, there’s no more “man in the sauna”, there’s no more Captain Terry Totzke, there’s no more Richard Gill, there’s no more Earl Ray Stevens, there no more getting the shit beat out of me at school, there’s no more confusion, there’s no more depression, there’s no more anxiety.

Just absolutely nothing.

No one can ever hurt me again.

And my depression can’t sabotage me again either.

The Department of Justice pt. 1

Just because it says “justice” in the name doesn’t mean that it’s concerned with actual justice.

On Friday May 6th, I was examined by the Department of Justice in preparation for my upcoming Class Action lawsuit agaist the Canadian Armed Forces for the events which occurred on Canadian Forces Base Namao from 1978 until 1980 and then from 1980 until 1983.

One of the issues that the DOJ seems to have is that I have a desire to undergo the M.A.i.D. procedure.

The D.O.J. seems to be of the opinion that I am not a suitable representative plaintiff for this class action matter as I have a desire to die.

Needless to say, my lawyer was a little taken back by this and he objected to counsel even asking me this question.

I had no problem explaining to the counsel for the D.O.J. that I could see myself holding on until the Class Action matter is settled. The D.O.J. wanted to know if that would still be the case if this matter was expected to take 10 years to resolve.

To be honest, I would really like to avail myself to M.A.i.D. much sooner than 10 years. But if 10 years is what it will take to resolve this matter then 10 years is what it will take. This of course means that my mental trauma and mental suffering will have to endure longer than anticipated, but so be it.

I need my name cleaned before I go. Right now I’m still the kid from CFB Namao that allowed, if not encouraged the babysitter to molest his younger brother. According to the military social worker, I was suffering from a mental illness called “homosexuality” and this is why I allowed the abuse to go on for over a year. According to the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service I am a “societal malcontent with an axe to grind against the Canadian Armed Forces”. According to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police I have an “Agenda”. And according to former Minister of National Defence Harjit Sajjan I “have an angle” and I’m playing “games”. And according to the Alberta Crown, what happened on Canadian Forces Base Namao was nothing more than “childhood curiosity and experimentation”.

Now, this isn’t my first tangle with the Department of Justice.

I dealt with the D.O.J. during my appeal to Federal Court to have the 2012 findings of the Military Police Complaints Commission quashed.

It must be remembered that I had absolutely no access to the CFNIS investigation paperwork during the period of the 2012 Military Police Complaints Commission investigation into my complaint against the CFNIS.

During the MPCC investigation the MPCC asked me no questions based upon information that was contained within the CFNIS documents.

So, when I received the un-redacted copies of the CFNIS investigation paperwork in February of 2013 I went through the roof.

So, I should have won right?

Just provide evidence such as emails, documents, and other information that would show that the CFNIS had conducted a very bad and biased investigation and the Federal Court would quash the findings of the MPCC.

Nope, that’s not the way an application for Judicial Review works.

See, any evidence that I provided in court to show that the CFNIS had conducted a laughably bad investigation which was not before the MPCC during its investigation of the CFNIS is considered “New Evidence” and is not allowed.

So, how was I supposed to know what was or what wasn’t before the MPCC? Who knows? Crystal ball maybe?

Sure, I could have filed an Access to Information request with the DND for the CFNIS paperwork for investigation GO 2011-5754, but that would have easily exceeded the deadline for requesting an MPCC review. In 2018, after the conclusion of the second portion of CFNIS investigation GO 2011-5754, I requested the documents from the entire investigation from 2011 to 2018. It took 18 months for the DND to deliver the records to me.

The paperwork that I received in 2020 was redacted to the point of being absolutely useless. Even my own statements to the CFNIS were redacted. What else was redacted from the CFNIS records I received in 2020? My father’s statement, my brother’s statement, the fact that the CFNIS knew that there was a fire in PMQ #26 on June 23rd, 1980. Also, most of the log entries from the investigating officers were removed. In 2011 the CFNIS finally bothered contacting my babysitter and he told them that “anything he was involved with as a youth has already been handled by the military”, that was removed from the records I received in 2020. Also missing from the records I received in 2020 was the statement of a certain Warrant Officer who had stated well before any other victim had been contacted that this case was going nowhere due to a lack of evidence.

Now, you would think that an agency with the word “justice” in its name would be interested in the law and ensuring justice was seen to be done.

Nope. Don’t kid yourself.

The Department of Justice is an agency that is dedicated to ensuring that the Government of Canada is not held responsible for the actions of its departments or its employees.

The Department of Justice is anything but.

During my Federal Court hearing in 2013, the attorney for the Department of Justice didn’t care one iota about what had happened on Canadian Forces Base Namao, nor did she care about how the CFNIS had actually bungled the case, nor did she care about how the CFNIS knew about the direct connection between my babysitter P.S., and Canadian Armed Forces Regular Force officer Captain Father Angus McRae.

In fact, as the D.O.J. represented the DND and the CAF in the civil action between P.S. and the DND, one can only imagine how much information the D.O.J. actually had in their possession related to the actions of P.S. back in 1980. The D.O.J. in representing the DND and the CAF from 2001 to 2008 would have obviously have had access to the court martial transcripts. Court martial transcripts that show that Captain McRae’s defence counsel in 1980 was well aware that P.S. had been investigated by the base military police and that P.S. had been receiving treatment for molesting young children on CFB Namao.

What did the D.O.J. care about during my application for Judicial Review?

Just striking the “new evidence”.

That’s it.

Even though it was public knowledge due to the Lamer Report and the findings of the Somalia Inquiry that the pre-1998 military justice system was a complete shambles, and even though military personnel in the 2000’s and early 2010’s were voicing bitter concern about the inability of the military justice system to function properly, the only concern the D.O.J. had was to demand that the court strike all of the new evidence that I had introduced to show that the CFNIS had conducted a horrific investigation and that the MPCC had conducted a “dog and pony show” review.

The lawyer from the D.O.J. didn’t care one bit about the evidence that I had produced to show that the CFNIS had an agenda right from the start.

So long as my matter stays within the realm of the military and the military justice system, the CAF and the DND get to tell the Canadian public what did or did not happen on Canadian Forces Base Namao.

And this brings us to what happened on May 6th, 2022.

It is readily apparent that the D.O.J. is afraid of me.

The D.O.J. is afraid of the documents that I have, documents that prove with very high probability, that what I contend occurred in 1980 is more than likely what did occur.

The D.O.J. is afraid that my documents also imply that what happened on Canadian Forces Base Namao in 1980 also happened on various other Canadian Forces Base from 1950 until 1998. I don’t mean military chaplains molesting children. I mean commanding officers minimizing or dismissing charges related to child sexual abuse that had been laid against their subordinates.

Don’t kid yourself into thinking that the D.O.J. cares for one minute if I live or if I die.

They only care about the risk that I present to the Department of National Defence.

The D.O.J. has no concern about my desire for Medical Assistance in Dying.

To the D.O.J., my desire for M.A.i.D. is just a fact for the D.O.J. to argue that I should not be allowed to be the representative plaintiff. And by doing so, the D.O.J. can eliminate the threat that the CAF and the DND currently face.

I don’t mean to sound like I’m full of myself.

I went through so much pain from 1978 until 1980 at the hands of P.S. and Captain McRae. I then went through just as much pain, if not more devastating pain at the hands of Canadian Armed Forces officer Captain Terry Totzke and my father, Master Corporal Richard Wayne Gill.

I have suffered greatly since those days plagued with never ending confusion over my gender and my sexual orientation.

I have suffered with very low self-esteem, self-hatred, and a very low opinion of myself.

I have flashbacks of the abuse.

I have suffered with never ending depression and anxiety.

But the one thing that has seen me through is my determination to clear my name.

Being limited with my social skills means that I have no problem dedicating time to researching.

The military justice system prior to 1998 was a disaster.

It was too prone to abuse, it was too easily manipulated.

Commanding officers had way too much power in matters of Criminal Code offences.

Yet no one to date has ever bothered to look at how those defects impacted the children that lived on the bases.

Until now.

And the D.O.J., the DND, and the CAF don’t like this.

For example the DND and the CAF will often parrot that the CAF couldn’t prosecute for “Murder, Manslaughter, and Rape”.


Rape was a crime that didn’t apply to children when it was on the books. Boys couldn’t be raped as far as the criminal code was concerned. And for that matter girls under the age of 16 couldn’t be raped either.

For girls under the age of 16 there were two different charges applicable:
Sexual Intercourse with Female under the age of 14, or;
Sexual Intercourse with Female between 14 to 16.
These were crimes that the military COULD conduct a service tribunal for. And more alarmingly these were crimes that a commanding officer could simply dismiss the charges for.

For boys there were the crimes of Gross Indecency, Indecent Assault, and Buggery. What was a little different for boys though was that the Canadian Forces could only conduct a courts martial if “consent” was a possibility. Consent was the age of 14. But, the commanding officer could simply dismiss any charge for molesting a boy under the age of 14, much like was apparently done in the matter of Captain McRae in the lead-up to McRae’s courts martial in 1980.

And what really scares the D.O.J. is that in civil court all I have to do is convince a judge or jury that what I have to say is more believable than what the D.O.J. will say on behalf of the DND and the CAF. Civil litigation relies on the “preponderance of the evidence” unlike a criminal trial that relies typically on “beyond a reasonable doubt”.

Once my case is settled, the arguments that I made and the evidence that I used will be of public record, freely available for anyone else to use in either their own personal civil action or their own class action.

In a civil action I get to dispense with all of the gobbledygook and legalese that the D.O.J. will undoubtedly use to try to argue that the DND and the CAF acted properly.


The “Gill boys” are an interesting genetic mixture.

One of the things that I didn’t really pay too close attention to in my Uncle Al’s obituary was the names of his parents.

Uncle Al
Uncle Al Dagenais and Marie Dagenais
Al and Marie Dagenais

Uncle Al’s mother’s name was Alma Zong. Alma Zong would have been my mother’s mother. So, Alma Zong is my maternal grandmother.

Zong is an interesting surname as it is purely a Chinese name.


That means that Alma Zong was either full Chinese or part Chinese.

My paternal grandmother was full Swampy Cree

My maternal grandmother was Chinese.

My paternal grandfather was Irish.

My maternal grandfather was Quebecois.

What an interesting mix.

Tunnel Vision

Once tunnel vision sets in all hope is lost.

Back in 2019 Netflix ran an eight part miniseries titled “Unbelievable”. It was based upon the true life story of Marie Adler.

Marie had been in foster care for most of her life. She had just turned eighteen and had been set up in her first apartment. Shortly thereafter a man broke in, tied her up, raped her, and took pictures.

Marie made a police report. The police came and investigated. Over the course of the investigation one of the two primary detectives started to latch on to some trivial inconsistencies in Marie’s story. After a little bit of badgering the detectives managed to get Marie to admit that she had made up the whole thing, that there never was a rape.

Even one of her previous foster parents had confided to the police that Marie had more than likely lied about being raped.

To teach Marie a lesson, the Lynwood Police Department pressed for charges to be brought against Marie. She ended up on probation and she had to pay a fine.

A couple of years later in a different state the FBI and a local police department executed a raid on the house of a man who was suspected of numerous rapes across multiple states.

You wanna know what they found in this man’s house?
A camera.

You wanna know what was on this camera? Pictures of Marie being raped exactly as she had described it.

The man is Marc O’leary.

Marc O’Leary was later sentenced to 327 years in prison.


I urge you to read this story if you want to understand how of the fucking rails the justice train can become if cops or the superiors make leaps of judgement.

The two Lynwood detectives never apologized. The city of Lynwood settled with Marie for something around $150k USD. She didn’t want more money. She just wanted an apology.

It was later found upon review that the detectives became far too concentrated on issues that had no relevance to the rape of Marie Adler.

And I’ve always wondered if that is what happened in my case.

I made my complaint to the Edmonton Police Service on March 5th, 2011. I was contacted by the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service on March 7th, 2011. I was interviewed by master corporal Robert Jon Hancock on March 31st, 2011. Master corporal Hancock asked me some question that upon review indicate that the CFNIS in March of 2011 knew about the connection between P.S. and Captain McRae.

Knowledge of this connection was further cemented on May 3rd, 2011 when CFNIS investigator master corporal Christian Cyr asked me if I knew anything about the base priest having been arrested for molesting children during the same time frame that I was accusing P.S. of molesting me and my brother.

There was an error that master corporal Christian Cyr mentioned to me that only could have come from the military police investigation paperwork from 1980. During this phone call Master corporal Cyr tried to tell me that P.S. was only 12 or 13 in 1980. P.S. was born on June 20th, 1965. P.S. would have been just weeks shy of his 15th birthday in 1980 when he was found buggering me in his bedroom. The only place that P.S.’s age is indicated wrong is in the CFSIU investigation paperwork from 1980. The CFSIU paperwork indicated that P.S. was 12 in 1980.

So, it’s apparent that the CFNIS in March of 1980 had access to the CFSIU investigation paperwork and no doubt the court martial transcripts. And as the Military Police Complaints Commission stated in its final report issued in November of 2020, it is very apparent that the military police in 1980 were well aware of P.S.’s molestation of younger children.

So, what happened?

The more I think about it the more it becomes apparent that the CFNIS in 2011 suffered from a very bad case of tunnel vision.

The Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces are comprised of multiple units. DND and the CF have a department that specifically looks out for matters that could cause DND and the CF problems on the civil liability front. This is the Director of Claims and Civil Liabilities.


In November of 2008, the Director of Claims and Civil Liabilities indicated that the Department of National Defence was willing to make a cash offer to P.S. to have him discontinue his $4.5 million dollar action against DND in the Alberta Court of Queen’s Bench for the abuse he suffered at the hands of Captain McRae. This would have had to have been approved not only by CF Chain of Command, but also the Department of Justice as the DOJ serves as the lawyer for the Government of Canada.

The lawyer for P.S. accepted the offer in late November of 2008 and the case was discontinued in December of 2008.

2 years, 3 months, and four days later I send my fateful email to the Edmonton Police Service.

How much do you wanna wager that when the CFNIS took my initial complaint and started populating the fields of their intake form that notifications popped up requesting that the investigators notify certain superiors?

Were the CFNIS investigators then briefed about the sensitive nature of this matter?

Was it suggested to the CFNIS investigators that I had somehow found out about the payday that P.S. enjoyed and that I was obviously just another shyster looking for a quick buck?

Don’t forget, the DOJ and the Legal Advisor are parts of very large bureaucracies that seemingly answer to no one but themselves.

Looking back at the CFNIS paperwork, which I did not have access to until AFTER the MPCC reviewed my complaint against the CFNIS in 2013, it became apparent right from the get go that the CFNIS had written off my complaint against P.S. as trivial.

In fact, according to the paperwork the CFNIS seemed rather hellbent on portraying me as a “societal malcontent with an axe to grind against the military”, that I “frequently changed jobs and was unhappy”, and that I was always looking for easy money.

How does my father forget about the fact that it was his mother raising my brother and I and that he was rarely home?

How does the CFNIS ignore my social service records which keep mentioning “grandma” all over the place and that Mr.Gill invited his mother, the children’s grandmother into the home to raise his children after his wife “abandoned” the family instead to only concentrate on the section of the social service paperwork that says that I am an emotionally disturbed child.

How does the CFNIS justify the observation of Warrant Officer Blair Hart in July of 2011 that this investigation was unlikely to go anywhere due to a lack of evidence, before the other victims had been interviewed and before the suspect had been interviewed?

Tunnel vision.

Don’t forget, the CFNIS is part of a very hierarchical organization where it is imperative that the lawful commands of superiors are obeyed at all times.

The Vice Chief of Defence Staff can issue directions and instructions to the Provost Marshal and the CFNIS relating to ANY investigation.

What if the chain of command didn’t issue outright instructions, but let their subordinates know that I was just a scammer looking to make a quick buck?

I fully understand that my father had issues with telling the truth. He was always like that. But I can’t see my father excising his mother from about 6 years of our lives as kids unless someone had maybe explained to him prior to his interview that his son was obviously just trying to juice the military for some easy cash.

This is my father’s interview with the psychologist hired by the Canadian Armed Forces in November of 1980

“[he] appeared concerned about [his mother’s drinking], suggesting [she was] emotionally abusive to both children, especially when inebriated. As well, [Richard] suggested that [his mother] attempts to undermine any closeness between [him] and [his sons] by telling them false stories”. Yes, my father was a psychological nutcase. That much is clear. And here he is in October of 1980 throwing his own mother to the wolves. The same woman that he desperately needed to raise his children. So yes, it would have been very easy for the CFNIS to manipulate Richard into giving him a statement devoid of grandma.

Again why?

Simple tunnel vision.

Someone up the chain of command decided that I was just some greedy civie looking to make a quick buck from the DND and the CF. This view was dispersed through the Provost Marshal and the CFNIS. Again, due to Section 83 of the National Defence Act, this view doesn’t have to be spread directly down to the actual investigators. Just high enough up that chain of command that subordinates none the less become aware of these thoughts.

And once this tunnel vision sets in it’s so very hard to take the blinders off and see the larger picture.

It will be interesting to see just how much of the truth is able to come out about not only the events on Canadian Forces Base Namao but also about the CFNIS investigation GO 2011-5754 during my class action lawsuit against the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces.

Everything is “discoverable”……. everything.

Why do I talk so much about dying?

One curious person wonders why I talk so much about death.

Death is all around us. Each and everyone of us will die. Some of us will die sooner than the others. Some of us will die due to the actions of others. And some of us will even die at our own hands. None of us are getting out of here alive.

And as my chances of receiving any type of justice from the Canadian Forces military justice system start to drastically dwindle, my resolve to apply for Medical Assistance in Dying becomes more solid.

In the next year I’ll probably discuss the procedure in more detail as I learn more about it myself.

I’ll also get more into my depression and my anxiety and how they caused numerous problems for me in my life. I’ll also hopefully be able to explain to you just how fucking hard it is for a male to get sexual abuse counselling in our society and how it is literally impossible for a former military dependent to obtain counselling that takes into account the military environment that they grew up in.

As I’ve mentioned previously, suicide is actually common in our society no matter the desire of the media to hide suicide from public view.

table from the BC Coroner Service

I also have no doubt in my mind that there are numerous suicides that don’t get reported as suicides whether that’s done to spare the family “shame” or if its done because the person finally succumbs to their injuries weeks or months after the attempt.

The above table indicates that between the years 2008 and 2018 six thousand one hundred and two people committed suicide in the province of British Columbia alone. And would you look at the age group that commits suicide the most frequently ……

What is not listed in the table above are those who have attempted suicide or those who have had suicidal ideations.

Also what appears to not be incorporated into the table above is the number of Medically Assisted Deaths such as in the table below:

MAID deaths in Canada
These numbers are expected to increase substantially as “foreseeable death” is no longer required as of 2021 and “mental illness” becomes an allowable category in March of 2023.

One of the most common things heard after someone successfully commits suicide is “I had no idea they were depressed” or “Why?”.

I have heard frequently that those who have attempted suicide are just seeking attention and those who have committed suicide are just selfish and thinking of no one else but themselves. It really irks me that society thinks that I owe it to society to live.

The son of one of my engineers at work committed suicide last year. This engineer was beyond distraught. So I had a talk with him. I told him that the only person who knows why his son killed himself is his son. If his son was determined to take his own life, there was absolutely nothing this engineer could have done to stop him. The engineer wanted to know if he had missed the signs that his son was depressed or sad. I asked him if he knew that I suffered from major depression and severe anxiety. He replied “no”. I mentioned to him my own struggles both in the past and currently. Knowing this seemed to put him at ease.

And I think that was always one of the fears that I had in the back of my mind. That when I decided to go that no one would understand why I went and that my father or the Canadian Armed Forces would be able to pass me off as just being insane or simply out to get attention. This blog details my justification for ending my life. I explain everything to the best of my ability. If and when I am able to undergo Medical Assistance in Dying there shouldn’t be any unanswered questions.

The fear of pain is another reason I have never been able to follow through on my attempts. Asphyxiation, bleeding out, jumping from heights, electrocution, pills, etc., none of these are without pain and prolonged suffering. I don’t like pain and I sure as hell don’t want to be hooked up to a ventilator for 2 weeks because someone “saved me”. That’s the nice thing about Medical Assistance in Dying. It’s done as humanely as possible. There will be no pain and there will be no suffering. And it will be very quick. One minute I’ll be alive. The next minute I’ll be completely unconscious. Then I’ll be in a coma. Then I’ll be dead. Supposed to take about 6 minutes from start to finish.

Again, I’m not afraid of death. I am afraid of dying. Death doesn’t bother me because I’ll be dead. It’s the process of going from living to dead that causes me concern. Most suicide attempts fail. With Medical Assistance in Dying I don’t have to worry. Everything will be looked after by professionals.

Being alone. As much as I want to die, dying alone would suck. Why do I have to scurry away to a hidey-hole to die like some sick or injured animal. That’s what I like the most about Medical Assistance in Dying. I don’t have to die alone. At the bare minimum the practitioner performing the procedure will be there. I don’t know who else I’d ask to be there. Don’t really have any friends and my family is more or less none existent. I’d like to keep my death a somewhat private affair.

And with Medical Assistance in Dying I know that my corpse will be looked after. Sure, I’m having some difficulty at the moment trying to figure out how to get my brain to go where I want my brain to go, but regardless my corpse won’t be found a week after I die due to the stench wafting out of my apartment.
But Bobbie, if your goal is to die, why do you care about your corpse after you die?
Do you realize how much it fucks with someone’s wellbeing to stumble across a dead body?
Especially if they weren’t expecting it?
And as much as I desire to get out of here, fucking with others isn’t high on my list of priorities.

And as I mentioned at the top of this blog entry, I had always from a young age hoped and dreamed that P.S. would somehow be held responsible for what he did. But he won’t. Nor for that matter will Earl Ray Stevens. And as there is no heaven, hell, or afterlife, so telling me that they’ll be looked after in the afterlife is meaningless to me.

By holding P.S. and Earl responsible for what they did I was hoping for Richard to be held responsible for the shit he put me through as a result of the CFB Namao matter. Well Richard died in 2017, so getting even the slightest acknowledgment from Richard would be impossible.

As I told Sgt. Winship during our meeting, the one aspect of this whole event that I resent the most is that P.S. is loved by is father. Retired Sgt. J.S. couldn’t stop fawning over his son, how his son was the victim in this whole tragic affair, how the military never helped his son and how the military is to blame for his son going on to molest many more children over the years. P.S.’s sister D.S. lied on P.S.’s behalf. P.S.’s younger brother P.S. also lied on behalf of P.S..

My father lied to the CFNIS in 2011. And it wasn’t just that he forgot to mention something. The fucker outright stabbed me in the back and threw me under the fucking train. I guess he never got over Captain Totzke diagnosing me as a homosexual at age 9 and blaming me for “allowing” P.S. to molest my younger brother. He obviously never forgave me for “fucking with his military career”.

“very inconsistent”

This nugget showed up in the copy of my Foster Care records that had been obtained by my lawyer for a different matter. I hadn’t seen this in the records that I obtained in August of 2011. Before CFB Namao I don’t think there were any issues between myself and my brother. At least I don’t remember any. After Namao we are getting flagged in Alberta and Ontario for “extreme sibling rivalry”. What changed?
Well, as it says in the except, my father disciplined my brother and I very differently. Whatever my brother got, I usually got twice as hard. Why?
Richard had determined that my brother was acting up due to what I had “allowed” the babysitter to do to him. And, due to Richard’s piss poor parenting skills, Richard came to believe that I was responsible for raising my brother. And if my brother got into trouble then I obviously deserved twice as much punishment because I wasn’t being responsible and looking after my younger brother.

So yeah, as you can see, there is a lot of damage.

Why do I think that death is the only answer to my problems?

Why do you think that living is something that I need to do?

40 years ago was the time to deal with my issues. 40 years ago treatment would have done something. Not now. Now is far too late. And the older I get the more the toxins of depression build up. The more regret builds up. The more time passes the more that “what could have been” eats at me from the inside.
Yeah, sure, the Escitalopram is keeping my severe depressions at bay and it nips my anxiety in the bud, but being medically numbed for the rest of my life does absolutely nothing for the constant replaying memories and the constant regret.

As I’ve said, if the abuse had been limited to P.S. grabbing my nutsack on one occasion, fine. But this asshole was extremely sadistic in his abuse. The memories of what he did to not only myself but the other kids is forever etched into my mind. And throw into the mix Captain Totzke’s “treatments” and my father’s absolute disdain, and you’ve got some very heavy duty toxins.

My meeting with Sgt. David Winship and Captain Chelsea St-Amand on Thursday April 21st, was the first time that anyone from the Canadian Armed Forces ever came to the realization that I can’t get any type of beneficial counselling through “normal” civilian channels. I wasn’t just sexually abused for 1-1/2 years on Canadian Forces Base Namao by P.S. and potentially Captain Father Angus McRae. I was also mind fucked for 2-1/2 years by Canadian Armed Forces social worker Captain Terry Totzke. Captain Terry Totzke’s rank of Captain and his determination that I was a “homosexual” at age 9 no doubt had a significant amount of influence on my father’s opinion of me and contributed to how my father treated me at home. Sgt. Winship agreed that the Canadian Forces had a very dim view of “homosexuality” back then and that the CFSIU investigation of Captain McRae for committing “Acts of Homosexuality” didn’t really help the matter.
Sgt. Winship indicated that the crimes of “Gross Indecency”, “Indecent Assault”, and especially “Buggery” were crimes that both parties could in fact be charged with implying that back then both parties would have been deemed to be culpable.
Sgt. Winship agreed that I can’t just deal with the sexual assault aspect without dealing with the Captain Totzke issues and the issues caused by my father. Civilian counsellors however are completely at a loss as to how I would ever have been involved with military social workers or how living in a military family at the time would have impacted how I was dealt with and treated in the aftermath of the CFB Namao incident.


March 2023 is when I find out what my possibilities are. I can bide my time until then. But even then, I will probably have a year and a bit before I can undergo the procedure and go to sleep and never be troubled by CFB Namao ever again.

So, you’re all welcome to follow along. I won’t blame anyone for not following.

All that I ask is that you don’t cast judgement on my decision.

It’s mine and mine alone to make.

Who knew that it would be this hard.

Disposing of a body is harder than one could imagine.


It doesn’t look as if I will be able to donate my brain after my death.

And this kinda saddens me a bit.

I had always envisioned that my brain would serve some useful purpose.

After all I survived:
– sexual abuse
-mental abuse
-physical abuse

I have lived with and coped with:
-Major Depression
-Severe Anxiety
-The effects of military conversion therapy

The thought of death has never been very far.

Depression runs in my family.

And yet not once have I stuck a needle in my arm or snorted anything up my nose or toked on anything. The last time I had a drink was in July of 2011 and even then I was a very infrequent drinker.

I’ve had to deal with personality issues caused no doubt by the various traumas and abuses.

And yet I’ve somewhat navigated life and ended up with stable employment even if it is not at the level of employment that I could have risen to.

This rise is something that I’ve done on my own with absolutely no help from my father or my family. During all of the times I was unemployed in the early ’90s Richard was of no use. Even when I was on Skid Row in Vancouver and Toronto my father was of no assistance.

I did this all on my own.

You would think that research labs would want to know what it was inside my brain that allowed me to go from basically non-functional and requiring psychiatric institutionalization at age 10 to being the Chief Engineer of a hospital at 47.


It’s like the field of depression research is oblivious to confirmation bias. By this I mean that researches are obviously looking for answers where they expect to find them, in the brains of depressed people who have not fared well in life. Or the researches go looking for the answers to drug addiction in the brains of those who were abused and who succumbed to drugs and other forms of self medication. They often use the brains of those who have never suffered from depression in their lives as a reference point. And that’s great if you’re only concerned about the two extremes, but it gives you absolutely no data about those in between the two extremes.

Where my body goes after my death? Don’t know really. So long as it isn’t cremated or buried, I’m cool with that.

Medical school would be nice.

But medical schools like UBC pose a problem in the sense that they only take “whole body” donations for their medical students to dissect. If my brain were to be removed immediately after my death, then UBC wouldn’t take my body.

Conversely, no brain research program would take my brain after it had been removed from my skull by medical students.

Now, of course this is all really silly when you think about it isn’t it?

After I’m dead they could launch by body into space and I wouldn’t have the foggiest clue, would I. What they do with my corpse and my brain after I’m dead and gone is really a matter of trust. But still…….

The secrets that cause me to suffer.

The Canadian Forces are adept at keeping secrets no matter who suffers.

As much as I love the final report issued by the Military Police Complaints Commission in 2020 in which the MPCC gave a very subtle and discreet kick to Minister Harjit Sajjan’s balls there is one troubling aspect that has caused me concern.

It’s these pair of paragraphs in the final report.

Basically, the MPCC is stating that I was wrong to assume that the CFNIS were commanded by the Chain of Command to conduct the 2015 to 2018 portion of investigation GO 2011-5754 in such a manner as to not risk exposing in the present day what the Canadian Armed Forces tried to bury in 1980.

Yes, technically the Military Police Complaints Commission is correct in the sense that Captain McRae’s court martial was reported in the media. But lets’ see what was actually in the media versus what happened on the base.

“McRae has been sentenced to four years for buggery with ->A<- child”

In 1980 the Canadian media reported that Captain Father Angus McRae had committed buggery with “A” child. Not 2 children. Not 3 children. Not 10 children. Not 25 children.


Not 25 children between the ages of 5 and 15.


And that child was P.S..

The only child over the age of 14.

In September of 2002, the Departmental Public Affairs Office (DGPA-DPAPO) of the Department of Justice, which was representing the Department of National Defence and the Minister of National Defence, made edits to a press release that was going to be the Government of Canada’s response to the $4.5 million dollar action brought by P.S..

Why did they strike these words?

Why would the Government of Canada strike the words “Buggery”, “Gross Indecency”, and “Indecent Assault” while leaving the offence numbers 155, 156, 157?

My guess is that simple numbers are meaningless.

Don’t forget, in the early 2000’s, male child sexual abuse was finally being acknowledged. Prior to the mid ’90s and early 2000s it really wasn’t accepted that boys could be the victims of sexual assault.

And in 2002, the Criminal Code that was current in effect was the 1985 Criminal Code of Canada. Not the 1970 Criminal Code. If someone wanted to know what sections 155, 156, and 157 were and they grabbed a copy of the 1985 criminal code they’d really be confused as in the 1985 Criminal Code section 155 was Incest, section 156 was language dealing with offences committed prior to 1983, and section 157 was repealed.

Only if someone was really determined and went to a local law court library and got their hands on a copy of the 1970 Criminal Code would one be able to determine that sections 155, 156, and 157 related to Gross Indecency, Indecent Assault, and Buggery.

And even though the military police and the CFSIU in 1980 knew that as many as 25 children were being sexually abused by Captain McRae and that the military was aware that Captain McRae had confessed during his ecclesiastical to having molested boys for many years meaning that Captain McRae had more than likely molested children on Canadian Forces Base Kington, Canadian Forces Base Portage La Prairie, Canadian Forces Station Holberg, in addition to the 25 children he molested on Canadian Forces Base Namao, the Department of Justice was still going with Captain McRae having only molested “one” boy.

The Department of Justice even went so far as to note that the Canadian Forces had found Captain McRae guilty in a court martial and had subsequently kicked Captain McRae out of the military.

But the Department of Justice made no mention that many of the charges that the military police and the CFSIU had ready to go against Captain McRae had been dismissed by the chain of command prior to Captain McRae’s court martial.

The Department of Justice also fails to note in their press release that unlike in the modern day where charges have to be referred to a prosecutor, in the days of Captain McRae’s court martial it was Captain McRae’s commanding officer, base commander Colonel Daniel Edward Munro, that would determine during a summary investigation which charges would proceed and which charges would be dismissed and not a military prosecutor.

In 1980 Brigadier General Daniel Edward Munro was Colonel Daniel Edward Munro, base commander of Canadian Forces Base Namao and Commanding Officer of Captain Father Angus McRae.

As Legislative Summary LS-311E (1998) indicates, it was Colonel Munro that determined the charges against Captain McRae.

As the Judge Advocate General indicated in 2018, it would be impossible to bring charges against Brigadier General Daniel Edward Munro if it was found that he had acted improperly in 1980 and had committed the Criminal Code offence of “Obstruction of Justice”. And even if Daniel Edward Munro had just been following the orders of his superiors, the same 3-year-time-bar would apply to them.

To this date the Canadian Forces are very happy to leave things in the past.

So, with all of this bullshit and all of the subterfuge and all of the lies is it any wonder that I’ve grown very tired?

When I went to the Edmonton Police Service in 2011 to lay charges against P.S. I honestly thought that I stood a decent chance of getting justice. And if I got justice then there was no way that my father was going to be able to keep blaming me for what I had allowed P.S. to do to my younger brother. My father would have to apologize for the way he had treated me in the aftermath of the P.S. / Captain McRae fiasco on CFB Namao.

The Canadian Forces and their defective investigation agency stole that away from me.

The court martial transcripts from McRae’s court martial, the CFSIU investigation paperwork, and what retired Warrant Officer Frederick R. Cunningham had told me on November 27th, 2011, all indicate that the military police in 1980 knew what P.S. had done. But the 2011 investigation was a big nothing burger.

My old man died and got off scot-free. He’ll never have to apologize and explain his part in this horrid mess.

And I’m the one who is stuck with having to request Medical Assistance in Dying for mental health issues when it becomes legal in March of 2023 to erase all of the memories of 1978 through 1987 and 2011 to the present day.

Empty on the inside

“What do you like to do Bobbie?”

“What are your interests?”

“You must have hobbies”

“What music do you like?”

“What do you and your friends like to do?”

The truth is that I don’t actually have any interests, any hobbies, or any friends.

I don’t like TV.

There are very few movies that I like.

I don’t like electronics.

I understand electronics. But I don’t like dabbling in electronics.

I bought various electronic kits over the years. For example I used the Raspberry Pi for a bit, I’ve also used the Arduino kits. Setting them up and programming them is easy enough. There’s just nothing inside of me that gives me any joy programming these devices.

I don’t like computers.

I can use computers. Computers are a tool just like any other tool. I can set them up. I can use them for writing reports. I can scan and archive. But I really don’t care for computers.

When my brother came to visit last year he said that he was sure that I liked cars. Nope. I understand how they work. I can work on them. But I don’t like them.

Music. I really had no interest until I was in my 20s. This I think was due to the way Richard belittled me for any interest that I had shown in music at school. Throw into that the fact that Earl Ray Stevens had used my desired to learn how to play drums as a way to sexually abuse me.

Also, as a form of punishment for causing our relocation from CFB Griesbach to CFB Downsview, Richard had thrown out my stereo, my records, and my 8-track tapes as punishment. This was a record collection that Uncle Doug, grandma, and my weekend job at Pizza Plus had allowed me to build. It wasn’t large. Maybe about twenty or thirty albums and 45s. The 8-tracks were mostly Uncle Doug’s. I was 11 when Richard threw out my stereo. The stereo had belonged to grandma, and it was mine when we moved from CFB Namao to CFB Griesbach. Uncle Doug bought grandma a new stereo system for her bedroom.

When we were younger and living on Canadian Forces Base Downsview, my brother always accused me of picking on him and making fun of the groups that he listened to. Even when I went up to Edmonton in 2013 and saw him over the summer he quizzed me to see if I knew the songs he was playing. And then he told me that he was always ashamed to sing along with his bands because I used to “tease him” when we were younger.

Tease him? Nope. I was going to Junior High in the period of ’84 through ’87. Poison, Cinderella, Guns ‘n’ Roses, Twisted Sister, Motley Crue, et. al. were standard fare at school and on the radio. I liked Van Halen, Quiet Riot, Slade, Queensryche, all the way to Supertramp, Bruce Hornsby and the Range, Peter Gabriel. So, it wasn’t that I didn’t like his music, or that I thought his music sucked. What I deeply despised him for was that he could play his music at any volume in his bedroom and neither Richard nor Sue would give a flying fuck. If I turned my music up above barely audible, Richard would fly off the fucking handle. My brother was allowed to have a stereo. I had to scrap together a used stereo out of a van. So yeah, there was some angst created there. I don’t know if Richard intentionally created this rivalry, or if he was just so fucking stupid that he didn’t realize what he was creating. What my brother also seems to forget is that Richard would make non-stop snide comments about the music we listened to. The comments didn’t seem to have much impact on my brother. It was like he was oblvious to Richard’s contempt. For some reason I was super sensitive to Richard’s snide comments and his put downs. C’est la vie I guess.

I think my lack of interest in TV comes down to two things.

The first was having a stunted imagination as a child. After the events on CFB Namao, and after being involved with Captain Terry Totzke, and with my father’s reaction to the events on CFB Namao, any imagination I had as a child was killed. Richard’s demeaning comments and his frequent sarcastic putdowns would kill the imagination in just about everyone he came in contact with. But the weird thing was he loved the original Star Trek, he loved the original Dr. Who, he loved Bug Bunny, and he loved the Batman TV series. I’ll never figure him out. He’s dead and gone. All I can put it down to is his self centred perspective and his superiority complex.

The second was that Sue would insist that we play outside which was fine with me as on Downsview I was mostly heading off to work at my after school jobs. On Griesbach things were a little worse as I only had my weekend job at Pizza Plus so week nights were spent wandering around North Edmonton no matter what the weather was like, and yeah, Edmonton can be quite cold in the winter.

So yeah, I’ve never really formed an attraction to TV.

When I met up with my brother last year, we went for a long walk around the seawall. He wanted to talk about whether or not I was really serious about wanting to undergo medical assistance in dying. I assured him that I was very serious about this and I explained to him why as well as my justifications for wanting to die.

I don’t know if he honestly believes that I was a psychiatrically fucked up as I was, or if Richard’s frequent assertions that I was just “acting up to get attention” have made it impossible for him to understand.

As we walked around the seawall we talked about other things, such as my skills with fixing cars. We ended up on the topic of electronics. He wanted to know why I wasn’t more involved with electronics. I told him that I was never very good at electronics to begin with, and that as I had no diploma in electronics any skills that I had were nothing more than a “hobby”. He replied that I had built so many things as a kid that he was sure that I liked electronics.

I told him that the one time it became very crystal clear to me that electronics was never to be in the cards for me was when I was in grade 8 and I had put together a helium-neon laser for science fair. I had salvaged the parts out of a couple of old Pioneer Video Laserdisc players. Mr. Bowles, my grade 8 science teacher was very impressed with the project and my writeup of how ionizing gas laser tubes worked. My father was pissed off because Mr. Bowles called my father at work to try to convince him that I should enter my project at the National Science Fair in Ottawa. My brother replied to me that I didn’t really build that laser, I just took it from a laserdisc player.

****insert abrupt vinyl record scratch noise here***

Narrator: It was at this point that Bobbie realized that maybe he was wrong, that maybe there was an afterlife, and that his dysfunctional father had risen from the grave and had gained control of his brother’s vocal cords in order to issue insults from beyond the grave.

Yeah, that was Richard’s thing back then. That I was just too fucking stupid to make anything on my own. That I was too fucking dumb to do anything with my life. That I was a liar. That I was fucking insane like my mother. That I had fucked with his military career.

And sure, it’s true the parts came from two non-functional video laserdisc players. But it took me picking the parts out of two players to make one functional 5mw helium-neon laser. These lasers, because of how much energy they emitted were under very strict control of the laserdisc player CPU. This meant that the laser power supply had to be modified to allow the laser to start and run without the CPU controlling it.

I had also built from scratch the twin 20watt push-pull power amplifiers that would drive the radial and tangential correction mirrors that I had repurposed into scanning mirrors. I could feed audio into the amplifiers and have the laser make patterns on the wall. I could feed the output of a frequency generator into the amplifier and make shapes on the wall. I could even feed the analog X-Y signals from an old Vectrex video game into the amplifier and play vector scan graphic video games on the wall. Was quiet messy though as I couldn’t figure out how to blank the beam.

It was basically Richard belittling and ridicule of my electronics skills that made me turn my back on electronics.

The final knife in my back came a few years later when I was servicing arcade games, pinball machines, and jukeboxes. I would have been around 16. The company that I worked for, Rainbow Games, had a Championship Sprint game in the shop that their technician couldn’t fix. This technician had a diploma from DeVry and a diploma from ITT Tech. He had been working on the game for weeks and couldn’t solve the problem. They were about to give up on this machine and scrap it for parts. I went through the schematics, went through the error codes list, and found that the problem was caused by a faulty 8-bit bi-directional latch on the data bus between the mother board and the graphics processor board. It took me two days to do what this DeVry / ITT tech trained technician couldn’t do. Hey Bruce, hey Ed, can I get a pay raise seeing as how I’m fixing more equipment than Len. Nope, sorry Rob, but you’re not a certified technician, it wouldn’t be right for us to pay you more without a diploma.

So, that drove the final nail into the coffin of my interest in electronics.

Computers honestly were never a thing for me.

So…… what are my interests?



I have no interests or desires.

I think that the depression that I inherited from Richard also explains why Richard was the way he was. He really didn’t have any interests either. What he had though was a gun pointed at his head. He had to learn avionics / aeroframe mechanics / electronics / computers if he wanted to be able to stay in the Canadian Forces. When Richard joined the Royal Canadian Navy in 1963 at the age of 17 with a grade 8 education and a remark from the enrolment officer stating that Richard was developing into a bit of a “rebel” in school, the Navy was more than happy to accept people like Richard. As the years went by though, the requirements to enlist went up and the expectations placed on the currently enlisted went up as well.

Richard’s education level is debatable. When I examined him for federal court in 2013, he claimed that he had grade nine. His enrolment records into the military also say grade nine. However, when I met Marie in 2013 I asked her how Richard and she met. She said that her brother, my uncle Al, and Richard had both attended the same grade 9 remedial program in Nova Scotia before they were allowed to join. Either Richard’s grade nine marks were too low to meet the requirements, or he only completed some of his grade nine.

By the time I tried to enlist when I was 18 grade 10 was the absolute minimum and there weren’t many trades in the military open with that minimal qualification. Grade 12 was preferred. And university or college was desired.

I don’t think that my father really had an interest in electronics or computers as his depression wouldn’t allow for it. My father did have the ability to learn electronics and computers, but that was mainly so that he could save his career in the military. In the ’70s and the ’80s there really wasn’t much need for a unilingual anglophone with a grade nine education.

I know first hand just how crushing depression can be, especially major depression.

Where did Richard’s sarcasm, his pettiness, and his desire to mock and ridicule come from? That I will never know. With my depression I’ve never felt the desire to ridicule or mock anyone. I just want to be left alone when I hit one of my crushing depressions. I know that grandma could be cruel. But I don’t remember her as ever being the type to mock or into ridicule. She was a very authoritarian type person who loved to discipline. I don’t know when exactly Arthur Herman Gill left grandma. I remember that Richard and his father were not close at all. Is that where Richard picked up his need to ridicule and mock? I don’t know when exactly Roy William Anderson and grandma hooked up. I honestly don’t remember much of Andy as he was only with us a short time before he slipped in the bathtub and suffered severe brain damage. Was Andy married to my grandmother when Richard was young? Did Andy mock and ridicule Richard?

Not my concern where Richard got his issues from.

What is my concern is that Richard, his defective parenting skills, his depression, his sarcasm, his need to feel superior, his need to ridicule, and his need to mock left a trail of destruction in his path.

And that is why I mainly feel completely void and empty and for the most part worthless.

And please, I’m not trying to be rude, but don’t try to cheer me up. Compliments are the hardest thing for me to accept. You could say that I have major trust issues. And when I was young, compliments were a way that people got their hands into my pants, or got me to do things for them.

So, as truthful as you may be with your compliments, my trust issues are burnt so deeply into my brain that I will never be able to accept a compliment without assuming that you’re buttering me up for something.

And trust me, it’s not you.

It’s me.

I know that.

March 17, 2023

The clock has begun ticking.


Less than a year now before I start the process of applying for Medical Assistance in Dying.

It’s a weird kinda of sereneness.

Now that I know approximately when the end of my life will be, and that I won’t have to endure being tormented into my senior years with the flashbacks and memories from Canadian Forces Base Namao, I feel relaxed and calm.

And unlike suicide, being that M.A.i.D. is a medical procedure carried out with clinical precision, I don’t have any fears of botching the job and not doing it correctly or even ending up a vegetable for the remaining 30 years of my life.

All of the mental suffering and anguish that I have endured for the last 40 plus years will finally be over.

Captain Terry Totzke will no longer reside in my brain, nor will Captain Father Angus McRae, Peter S., my father Warrant Officer Richard Wayne Gill, or Earl Ray Stevens. Every member of the Canadian Armed Forces that hurt me will be gone from my brain, forever.

My time spent being torn asunder between Alberta Social Services and Captain Terry Totzke will come to an end.

It’s not that Alberta Social Services did anything wrong, Captain Terry Totzke just made sure that I didn’t tell anyone in the civilian world what had occurred on Canadian Forces Base Namao. He tried to portray himself as my friend, the guy who was trying to help me. He, and my father, both portrayed my civilian social workers as being the enemy. People that weren’t to be trusted. People that were trying to hurt me. There was no way that Captain Totzke or his chain of command were going to allow me to tell my civilian social workers about what had transpired on Canadian Forces Base Namao from October 1978 until May of 1980. Especially not with Captain Father Angus McRae having admitted during his Ecclesiastical trial in June of 1980 that he had been molesting children for years. McRae molested 25 children on CFB Namao. How many did he molest on CFS Holberg, or CFB Portage La Prairie, or even CFB Kingston. 50 kids total? 100 kids total?

The Canadian Forces and the Canadian Forces Special Investigations Unit were well aware at the time that McRae was bringing children over to the chapel and giving them beer and wine before escorting them into the bedroom of the rectory to “fool around”. How many kids like me were there that have vague memories of being escorted to the chapel by our babysitter, playing games and watching TV, and then being given a “sickly sweet grape juice” and not remembering anything after that?

Children’s Aid Society of Toronto records.
The blacked out info is my father’s name Richard and Rick.

Reading my foster care record from November of 1981 until April of 1983 shows that my father was outright hostile towards Alberta Social Services. No doubt this was encouraged by Captain Terry Totzke.

This is my grandmother that Richard “forgot” to tell the CFNIS about in 2011.
I still don’t know if Richard didn’t tell the CFNIS of her by his own decision or if the CFNIS suggested that it would be best if he didn’t mention her as her presence in the PMQ would complicate things for the CFNIS in 2011.
Grandma had issues from her time in Indian Residential School when she was a child.
This no doubt contributed to her hostile personality.
Alberta Social Services Observation of my father Richard Wayne Gill.

So, why wasn’t my father too eager to work with Alberta Social Services considering how emotionally disturbed I was?

Captain Terry Totzke would have already explained to my father, Master Corporal Richard Wayne Gill, that I had obviously been having sex with Peter because I was a homosexual and that I had allowed this to go on for over a year because I was a homosexual.

Section 70 of the 1970 National Defence Act.
Sure, my father could have done the right thing, but that would have taken a backbone.

Captain outranks Master Corporal. And the National Defence Act and its section on “Insubordination” would have meant that my father would have paid attention to the words of a captain.

This is why my bedroom door had been taken off both on CFB Griesbach and on CFB Downsview. This is why I wasn’t allowed to participate in sports. Even though it was my father that said that he wasn’t going to allow me to go swimming with my class at the Kinsmen Sports Centre “because there’d be other naked boys in the change room and that I wouldn’t be able to control myself”, I have absolutely no doubt that it was Captain Totzke that told my father to keep me away from other boys. After all it was Captain Totzke, or Terry as I knew him, that had warned me early on that he had the base military police watching me and that if I ever tried to kiss or touch another boy that I’d be sent off to the Alberta Hospital for treatment.

And homosexuality was a major no-no in the Canadian Forces back in the 50s through to the ’90s. The official military policy was that homosexuality was a mental illness. CFAO 19-20 was the official CF policy toward homosexuality.

Yes, CFAO 19-20 would have only applied to persons subject to the Code of Service Discipline. But once you’ve been trained the in military way and trained to enforce military policies you can’t just turn that training on and off at will.

So yes, it will be so nice to finally be free of Captain Totzke and my father.

You have absolutely no idea of what it’s like to navigate through life not knowing why you don’t like sex with women, but you also don’t like sex with men. Everyone assumes I’m gay because I don’t have sex with women. The problem is that I’m not into guys either. I actually find sex and the concept of sex to be disgusting.

I wear dresses, not because I consider myself to be a woman. I wear dresses because they’re comfortable and I believe that pants are stupid considering male anatomy. I also wear dresses I believe because I had been told all of my life that I wasn’t allowed to play on the men’s team because of what I had done on CFB Namao with P.S. and Captain McRae.

When you’re told that your not good enough to play by the rules, you play by your own rules.

To further complicate things, I had been diagnosed as having major depression and severe anxiety. And no doubt I was suffering from what would now be termed “Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder “.

After CFB Namao and CFB Griesbach I learned to live in solitude.

I legally changed my name in 2008 thinking that I could get a fresh start and leave CFB Namao behind.

I honestly do love my chosen name, but it didn’t erase my past as I had hoped.

I’m still Robert Wayne Gill, the 8 year old who was caught getting fucked in the ass by his almost 15 year old babysitter on Canadian Forces Base Namao in May of 1980. I’m still Robert Wayne Gill, the 7 and 8 year old boy that allowed the 14 year old babysitter to molest his younger brother. I’m still Robert Wayne Gill, the 9 to 11 year old boy who received “conversion therapy” at the hands of Canadian Armed Forces officer Captain Terry Totzke. And I’ll be that Robert Wayne Gill until the day I draw my last breath.

Knowing the truth about CFB Namao and the direct connection between my babysitter and Captain McRae doesn’t erase the past. I just made me understand that I have very little control over my life and that other people made some very fucking horrific decisions about my life even before I had a chance to begin living my life.

I’ve had to work so fucking hard in my life just to get to where I am. And I am still so fucking vulnerable it’s not funny. One simple little fucking mistake in life and I fall and I fall hard. There is no safety net for me. There is no inheritance for me to rebound off of. There is absolutely no family for me to be able to depend on.

So I took the path in life that was very carefully navigated.

Every day of my life up to this point I have wondered where I life I could have gone had I been encouraged to finish school, an go on to college or university. Even trade school. Almost every successful tradesman started out on an apprenticeship when they were young and living at home and they didn’t have to worry about paying for the course, or the books, or anything else.

CMAC says that the majority of first time home buyers get help from the Bank of Mom and Dad. So I missed out on that.

It drives me up the wall the number of times that coworkers, or managers, or even outside trades, contractors , and suppliers say to me “Bobbie, you’re wasting your time/talents here, you’ve got the smarts you should be over there doing that and making a fortune”. Fine, sure, you gonna let me move in to your house so that you can pay my bills and feed me while I take the 4 or 5 year full-time program to get the degrees required to pursue that line of work? Didn’t think so.

And after having been what I’ve been though in life, and with my depression and anxiety, I’m not exactly a pleasant person to be around. No, I’m not offensive or unpleasant. But I have no hobbies, and I have no interests. I don’t care about sportsball teams. I don’t care about TV shows. I don’t gossip. I like music, but I keep my interests to myself. I’m an odd fucker that just doesn’t fit in. I have no interest in hearing about your family. I don’t care about your kids. I was never taught the art of small talk. This makes a person very fucking vulnerable.

As I’ve said in other blog entries, I picked up electronics, automotive, and computer skills as a kid in the hopes that it would create some sort of connection between my father and I. But that connection was so damaged that nothing was ever going to fix it.

I haven’t wrenched on a car since I stopped driving back in 1998.

When it comes to electronics or computers at work, I pretend to be abso-fucking-lutely stupid.

Up until recently I had about $1k worth of soldering equipment at home for electronic projects that I always wanted to start on, but never did. There is no passion or drive inside anymore. Any interest that I had in electronics died back in the mid ’90s when I realized that no matter how good I was at troubleshooting and repairing electronics I was never going to be an electronics technician. “We can’t pay you a technicians wage, you’re not certified”. “We can’t hire you for the technician’s position as you don’t have a diploma”. “Sure, you’ve got electronic skills and you beat a licenced technician in a test, but you’re not qualified without a diploma”. Basically what I was hearing all of my life was “You let the babysitter abuse your younger brother, we can’t hire you, it’s your fault”

I had a friend that used to get me to work on motorcycles for him. I told him that I despised doing mechanical or electrical work on motorcycles. But he kept on pushing me as he was certain that I’d get to like repairing motorcycles as I had a natural talent for fixing mechanical and electrical problems. This friendship died about 10 years ago. Yes, I have an unnerving ability to troubleshoot electrical, electronic, and mechanical problems, but it doesn’t mean that this is what I would have liked for a career.

So many possibilities were on my horizon, but the way in which the Canadian Armed Forces reacted to Captain Father Angus McRae stripped away from me any of the possibilities that could have been mine. And that’s the knowledge that I am going to live with until I draw my final breath.

So, I’m where I am, not because I want to be, nor because I deserve to be here. I’m where I am because it pays the bills and keeps me fed.

I have never sought help with my depression or my anxiety primarily because I had no idea that I had depression, or anxiety, or cptsd. I was told that I was acting the way I was and behaving the way I was because I was a homosexual that allowed my younger brother to be molested.

Battling the CFNIS and the Canadian Forces since 2011 sure hasn’t helped matters much.

And to be told recently that my former babysitter P.S., and the man in the sauna both have more legal rights than I do is just one of the many nails the CFNIS have driven into my coffin since 2011.

These are the reasons that I am looking forward to M.A.i.D.

Yes, M.A.i.D. will result in my death, but that’s the price I am more than willing to pay to erase the memories of:
My father and his drinking and his anger issues;
The fact my mother ran off and left me with my father;
Being raised by my grandmother, who had her own issues;
Peter S.;
The memories of watching Peter S. abuse the other children, including my brother;
The 5 visits to the chapel on CFB Namao;
The sickly sweet grape juice;
The fact that my father sent me on one of these visits with Peter;
My involvement with Captain Terry Totzke;
Being called a homosexual by both Captain Totzke and my father for what I had “allowed” to happen on CFB Namao;
My confusing involvement with Alberta Social Services;
Being blamed by my father for “fucking with his military career” and for being the cause of our April ’83 posting to Canadian Forces Base Downsview that “ruined his fucking career”;
My involvement with Earl Ray Stevens, a former member of the Canadian Forces and a then current member of the Canadian Corps of Commissionaires;

I’m tired, I’m burnt the fuck out, my brain is fried, and it’s time for me to go.

Sure, I could live until I’m 70 or maybe even 80. But the fuck for?

So that I can remember that Minister Sajjan accused me of trying to scam the Canadian Forces for a quick buck?

So that I can remember MWO Eisenmenger calling me a liar in July of 2011 and accused me of making up the story about Peter S.?

So that I can constantly remember how horrific of a fucking liar my father was?

So that I can remember all of those nights as a kid when I’d cry myself to sleep wishing that I’d be dead in the morning? And the times I tried to make sure that I was dead in the morning.

So that I can remember all of the times Peter would get me to bathe with him so he could stick his fingers in my ass to get me ready for his penis?

So that I can remember all of the times that Peter would hit me, slap me, and kick me if I didn’t perform oral sex on him they way he liked it?


Departure time is coming.

I’ve got my ticket.

And nobody is going to stop me from turning my brain off and leaving this shit of a life behind.