child sexual abuse

Batting 0 for 2

Recently I had filed two access to information requests with the Department of National Defence for copies of my psychiatric records that were kept by Captain Terry Totzke when I was under his care on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach from 1980 until 1983 as well as the records from when I attempted to enlist in the Canadian Armed Forces back in 1989 and 1991.

In 2011, I obtained my social services paperwork from Alberta Child and Family services. That’s how I discovered my direct connection to Canadian Armed Forces social worker, Captain Terry Totzke.

It wasn’t until I obtained my social services paperwork in 2011 and I discovered that the man I knew as “Terry” from back on CFB Griesbach was Captain Terry Totzke.

I 2011 filed an Access to Information Request with the DND to obtain a copy of whatever records Captain Totzke had complied in regard to my diagnosis and treatment. There was quite a bit of back and forth before DND finally responded that unless I could tell them what department the records resided in and who in that department had custody of those records, the DND wouldn’t be able to process my request.

A few weeks ago I filed another Access to Information request with the DND to try to obtain my records. This time however all I received from DND was a response which said that without my enlistment date, my discharge date, and the unit I was attached during the period of time that I was requesting my records for the DND would not be able to assist me.

I politely responded to response that I had specifically noted in my request that I was a military dependent, that I was not in the service and therefore was not attached to a unit and I had no enlistment or discharge date.

I’ve heard nothing back since.

I might have to involve the Office of the Information Commissioner of Canada.

The other request that I had filed was for the paperwork the DND and the CAF had created when I tried to enlist in 1989 and 1991.

When I tried to enlist in 1989, everything went fine. I did well on the battery of tests. My references were contacted. But then out of the blue the recruiting office called me and said that “something had turned up and that I was deemed ineligible for service”. When asked what this information was, the recruiting office wouldn’t say, just that my enlistment would violate CAF policy.

I knew that it wasn’t my grades in school as I was currently taking grades 9 and 10 together in the same year and I would be completed in the spring of 1990.

And it wasn’t unusual at the time for kids in grade 10 to fill in the paperwork and get all of the administrative stuff out of the way so that by the time they completed grade 10 they’d be ready to submit their final grades and then off to basic training they’d go.

The military at the time was keen to get the kids before they started eyeing up the trades or other well paying careers in the civilian world. The military loves brains that are malleable and mouldable.

I tried to enlist again in 1991 in Edmonton. At this point in time I had my grade 12 GED. This time I was told by the recruiting office staff that if I ever tried to enlist in the Canadian Armed Forces again that I would be arrested and charged for trying to fraudulently join the CAF. When I asked for an explanation I was told in a very curt tone that I had been told at the recruiting centre in Toronto that my admission into the Canadian Armed Forces would be a violation of policy. What policy this was I’ve never found out.

I was just recently informed by the information analyst that the result of this request is that apparently the DND and the CAF destroy recruitment information 3-years after it was created.

It must be remembered that Captain Totzke was convinced that I was a homosexual because I had allowed the abuse on CFB Namao to go on for so long without telling anyone. Totzke even went so far as to instruct me father that I should not participate in sports as there would be the chance that if I saw other naked boys in the change room that I wouldn’t be able to control myself.

And then there’s the whole matter of the Captain Father Angus McRae child sexual abuse scandal on Canadian Forces Base Namao not being investigated as “child sexual abuse” but instead being investigated as Captain McRae having committed “Acts of Homosexuality” on the base with young boys.

When I tried to enlist in the CAF back in 1989 and 1991 the CAF would have been well aware that I was a military dependent and that my father was in the Canadian Armed Forces. As my father was in the CAF his service file would have contained records of any involvement I would have had with military personnel, such as Captain Terry Totzke.

And if Captain Totzke’s records contained any of his concerns about the “homosexuality” that I had apparently exhibited on CFB Namao, this would have placed me in direct violation of Canadian Forces Administrative Order CFAO-19-20 in which the CAF declared that homosexuality was a mental illness and anyone who was suspected of being a homosexual was deemed to be ineligible for service.

However, all of these records conveniently no longer exist.

Much like how the Canadian Armed Forces spent so much time and money in the late ’80s removing the rectories from the base chapels as they obviously knew that there was a massive problem with the catholic priests on base, had the DND and the CAF been “cleaning up” and eliminating paperwork that could cause them embarrassment and humiliation, and subject them to civil actions?

Is this also why in the mid ’90s the DND and the CAF moved the management of the PMQs to an arms-length agency, and handed all of the schools on the various bases over to the local school boards to own and operate?

Pride weekend…… or not.

Well, it’s Pride Weekend here in Vancouver. My apartment sits right on the parade route which is on Beach Ave to Pacific Ave this year. Meanwhile I’m over at a nice little coffee shop on the south side of False Creek over by 2nd Ave.

As I’ve said before, the commercialization and the promotion of alcohol have always been turn-offs for me.

And then there’s the do nothing politicians like Hedy Fry that wrap themselves up in the gay pride flag for votes, but then come up with every flimsy excuse for their inability to help their constituents with governmental issues.

If that’s the one benefit of having grown up in a dysfunctional household on various Canadian Forces Bases across Canada is the fact that I learnt very young that I’m on my own and there’s literally no help coming from anyone.

In fact, I learnt very young that I’m better off just keeping my mouth shut as people in positions of authority don’t like finding out that there are problems and that these persons in position of authority are more than likely to blame me for bringing the issue to their attention as they are to actually do something about the issue. The “squeaky wheel” syndrome where instead of fixing the issue that caused the squeaky wheel, you just pump on massive amounts of grease until the squeaky wheel stops squeaking whether or not the underlying issue is fixed.

So no, I’ve never felt any benefit from the “community” or a need to “belong” to the community. Especially not a community that is extremely selective with its chosen “cause célèbre”. And not a community that is extremely protective of lame duck politicians because said politicians wrap themselves up in the pride flag and wave from a float in a parade.

Queers, gays, lesbians, trans, bi, and other people on the gender spectrum have existed since time immemorial. This need to be officially sanctioned by the local LGBTQ+ community is something relatively new.

When I first came down to Vancouver in February of 1992 to apply for a job in Burnaby, I knew that there was something different about Vancouver. When I got back to Deadmonton later that week, my mind was made up. Into the dumpster went all of my furniture, gave the keys back to the landlord, and off to Vancouver I went.

Of course I migrated towards the West End. But sadly when “queer went mainstream” the West End changed. The GLBTQ+ crowd that could, moved away. The Pride Parade at the same time went from being a massive “fuck you!” to the society in general that shat all over the queer community because the church told them to, to being a massive corporate advertising campaign for banks and booze.

And I don’t ever see this changing.

And now that the GLBTQ+ crowd has had a taste of acceptance, they’re willing to do whatever it takes to keep that acceptance, even if it means no longer making society feel uncomfortable about issues involving the GLBTQ+ crowd.

A trans teen goes missing from a Canadian Forces Base and no one bats an eyelash when their body is found in a river near the base.

Someone brings to light the fact that the Canadian Forces gave conversion therapy to the victims of male-on-male child sexual abuse due to the assumption by military social workers that male-on-male child sexual abuse was nothing more than homosexuality. Not one single fucking person cares.

This isn’t a community. This is just an excuse to get shit faced and wear glitter in a parade.

Finally, at long last.

Well, it looks as if the Minister of National Defence has finally grown a pair and is stripping the Canadian Armed Forces of its ability to investigate and prosecute sexual offences.

This is great news.

But it should go much further. The CFNIS and the base military police MUST be prohibited from investigating any crime on base in which civilians are the victims. This would officially remove both domestic child abuse and domestic spousal abuse from the purview of the Canadian Forces military police group.

Sadly it’s too late for the kids of CFB Namao to receive justice.

The settlement from the class action will be the only acknowledgement that we will ever receive.

There will be no admissions of guilt.

There will be no prosecution.

There will be no admission that the military justice system outright failed us.

There will be no investigations to see how extensive child sexual abuse was on the bases in Canada and how often these matters were mishandled by the military justice system.

In my matter the police force investigating this matter was guided by all sorts of wishy-washy policies enacted by the various National Defence Acts.

And none of these policies dealt directly with child sexual abuse.

For example in 1998 the Canadian Forces Provost Marshal put order CFPM 2120-4-0 into effect that stated that in the matters of sexual assault that occur on base when both the victim and the abuser are civilians, the matter is to be handed over to the outside civilian authorities having jurisdiction.

One military dependent sexually abusing other military dependents would be a perfect trigger for this order.

That policy was outright ignored by the CFNIS in March of 2011, and it was ignored by the Federal Court of Canada in 2013.

Yes, CFPM 2120-4-0 instructed the military police and the CFNIS that matters involving civilian on civilian crimes and sexual assaults involving civilians be handed off to the outside civilian authorities, but as the CFPM 2120-4-0 wasn’t hard written into the National Defence Act according to the Federal Court, the Provost Marshal in 2011 was free to ignore this directive at will.

The Provost Marshal and the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service can whine and cry and protest all they want.

They fucked up.

Yes, they may have had no choice in the matter, but they fucked up nonetheless.

In 1980 the military police were not allowed by the chain of command to call in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to deal with the babysitter.

Why didn’t the base commander allowed the RCMP to be called in? Remember, the Canadian Forces moved heaven and earth to keep this investigation and prosecution within the military justice system and out of the prying eyes of the Canadian public, even going so far as to move the court martial “in-camera” and sealing the transcripts. The military would have lost all of this power had the babysitter been investigated, arrested, and then prosecuted in the Juvenile Delinquents Court. One peculiarity of the Juvenile Delinquents Act was the fact that the juvie court could find an adult responsible for the delinquency of a minor and issue summary fines and sentences. All of the work that the Canadian Forces undertook in 1980 to keep Captain McRae a secret would have been all for naught if the babysitter went to juvie court.

In 2011 the CFNIS had the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the court martial transcripts, both of which heavily implicated the babysitter with the abuse of numerous children on the base. In fact as Fred Cunningham stated in 2011, and as the babysitter’s own father stated to me in 2015, it was the babysitter’s abuse of children that triggered the investigation of Captain Father Angus McRae.

Yes, the existence of the paperwork wouldn’t have proved the babysitter’s guilt, but the fact that he had been investigated by the military police and was found to have been sexually abusing children during the exact same time period that I accused the babysitter of molesting me and my brother would have probably encouraged the crown to request a more in depth investigation.

Remember, it wasn’t that the babysitter had been cleared during the military police investigation, or that the charges had been dismissed against the babysitter , the chain of command on Canadian Forces Base Namao prevented both the base military police and the CFSIU from calling in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to deal with the babysitter.

And yes, when I requested in 2017 that the CFNIS question the former base commander of CFB Namao, retired brigadier general Daniel Edward Munro, as to why he dismissed the majority of charges against Captain McRae and why he wouldn’t allow the RCMP to be brought in to deal with the babysitter, the CFNIS obtained a legal opinion from a legal officer in Ottawa that stated that due to the 3-year-time-bar that existed prior to 1998 no charges could be brought against Daniel Edward Munro so therefore no investigation was to occur.

However the CFNIS failed to pass any of this information on the Albert Crown prosecutor’s office. In fact the CFNIS seemed to have withheld numerous bits of information from the Crown.

This was a tactic that the military police employed in the ’90s during the CFB Gagetown Rape Controversy in which a military spouse was gang raped by numerous soldiers in a barracks on the base. The general consensus was that the military police would give a case to the crown that the military police knew the crown would not prosecute. The military police would then blame the crown for the failure to bring charges.

During the 2012 MPCC investigation of my complaint against the CFNIS, the Provost Marshall willingly withheld the existence of the CFSIU paperwork and the court martial transcripts from the MPCC. In fact the Provost Marshal withheld numerous documents from the MPCC.

Federal Court rules state that an applicant for judicial review cannot enter into evidence any documents that were not before the tribunal in question.

This means that I was unable to enter into evidence anything that the Provost Marshal hadn’t given to the MPCC. Which was a lot. If I had to guess, I’d say that the Provost Marshal withheld from the Military Police Complaints Commission over 80% of the documents from the 2011 investigation.

Even though the 2nd CFNIS investigation was conducted much better as an inspector with the RCMP had set down some ground rules and directions for the CFNIS to follow, in the end the CFNIS basically resubmitted the same brief word for word to the Alberta crown that the CFNIS submitted in 2011. The second time around that CFNIS again failed to notify the crown of the existence of the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork or the 1980 court martial transcripts that indicated that the babysitter was known to have molested numerous children on the base during the same frame of time that I had made my allegations against him.

And I know that the exact same brief was filed because when I filed for judicial review in 2013 I was given a certified copy of the documents before the MPCC. In 2019 when I appealed the findings of the Alberta Victims of Crime decision that no crime had occurred based upon the CFNIS investigation, I was given a certified copy of the documents before the Alberta Victims of Crime. This included the 2018 submission to the Alberta Crown. It was identical to the 2011 submission.

See, the problem with the military police is that they are soldiers first and police officers second.

The investigators with the CFNIS must obey the lawful commands of their superiors. Their superiors must obey the lawful commands of their superiors. And so on, and so on.

This means that investigations conducted by the CFNIS can be exposed to political interference.

Children who were sexually abused on military bases in Canada were of absolutely no concern to the brass at NDHQ. And the brass at NDHQ was certainly not going to allow a bunch of base brats sully the public image of the Canadian Armed Forces.

What would the public think if they discovered that children were not entirely safe while living on allegedly secure defence establishments?

What would the public think if the public were to be told that children who lived on bases in Canada prior to 1998 and who were sexually abused by members of the Canadian Forces could not obtain justice due to the existence of the 3-year-time-bar?

What would the public think if the public were to be told that due to the principles of “double jeopardy” military service personnel who sexually abused children on base prior to 1998, and who had their charges dismissed by their commanding officer, could never be tried again on the same charges by either a civilian or military tribunal. I would like to think that the Canadian public would blow a collective gasket if they were to discover that these commanding officers that had the power to dismiss and charge brought against their subordinate had no legal training, no legal background, and prior to 1997 didn’t even have to consult with a legal officer before dismissing charges.

And what would the public think if they discovered that the likelihood of charges being brought against an abuser in the pre-1998 days had a lot to do with the rank of the victim’s serving parent versus the rank of the abuser and ultimately the rank of the abuser’s commanding officer.

A corporal’s demand that charges be brought against a captain when the captain’s commanding officer is a colonel isn’t going to go too far. Especially not when that commanding officer is the base commander and had the ultimate authority over everyone on that particular defence establishment. This would include the corporal, the corporal’s commanding officer, the base military police, and the Canadian Forces Special Investigations Unit detachment located on the colonel’s base.

Anyways, enough for now…….

So, sold off my 2020 Macbook Pro 13 today.

I think he was a college student, but needed a computer, so I gave him the Macbook for a good deal.

He seemed happy.

Now that everything is in a wind down phase I really don’t need to keep much anymore.

Time to start shedding all of my physical possessions.

The only real purpose that any of my computers served was for me to search for information, make FOI requests, and store and sort information.

But now that we are officially in the year 2024, none of this stuff matters anymore.

I have an iPad Pro 10″ that I’ll be getting rid of next.

So far I’ve gotten rid of anything that I had in relation to electronics.

Got rid of my soldering and desoldering stations, my parts bins, cross reference guides, etc. As I said before, electronics wasn’t something that I was really interested in, but I persisted in it thinking that one day a spark would light inside. That spark never came.

Same thing with computers. I just never had the creativity to create write programs.

Same thing with motorcycles. I’d ride them for a while and then get bored.

I donated all of my hand tools and power tools to a local shop that loans tools out for next to nothing to low income families that need to use tools.

Got rid of my Play Station.

There were only a very few games that I liked to play.

Didn’t want to go through the hassle of selling it so pulled the hard drive from it and put the play station in the computer recycling cage at work.

Got rid of my CD collection last fall.

Got rid of my movie collection at the same time.

Now, don’t think I don’t have anything left.

Still have my iPad, and I still have my desktop.

But there will come a time when I will get rid of the desktop and my drives of data.

I won’t have much use for any of the information that I’ve compiled over the last twelve years.

Disposing of the desktop and the drives will probably be done later in the year.

I’ve already disposed of reams and reams of hard copies. We have a shredding service at work that shreds all documents that are put into recycling.

I would have thought that the media would have shown the slightest interest, but it looks like consolidation and foreign ownership have turned Canadian media into nothing more than stenographer services for the institutions with secrets to hide..

I’ve eliminated a lot of my dresses. That still leaves me with a lot of dresses.

I’ll probably start whittling down the number of dresses that I have until the final weeks.

Then I’ll probably hold on to a good pair of heels and a few dresses.

Haven’t decided which dress and which heels I wanna wear at my procedure, maybe I don’t even yet own the dress that I want to wear.

I want a real intense ruffle dress. Maybe something with a robust petticoat.

I make my application in March of this year.

I have absolutely no doubt that time will fly past really fucking quick from this point onwards.

But, I’m already enjoying the peace and serenity that my approaching death offers.

The one thing that I’ll have to wait for until I obtain my approval from the two assessors is at which funeral home will I undergo my procedure and cremation.

Ssssshhhhhh…….

Okay, so it’s been suggested to me to not publish anything at this moment that speaks directly to the class action or the subject of the class action as it has entered a critical phase.

I watched a movie yesterday on Netflix titled “The Luckiest Girl Alive”.

The film centres around an adult woman who is trying to make the perfect life for herself in order to hide her past.

Her past involves surviving a school shooting with allegations that she may have been involved with the shooting.

As the story progresses we learn that just prior to the school shooting she had been raped by three of the popular boys. During the shooting two of the boys are killed and one boy survives but is paralyzed.

At the time of the rape the girl was blamed for being assaulted with her own mother hinting that her own daughter was loose.

The school didn’t want anything to proceed legally.

And in the aftermath of the shooting, the paralyzed boy was looked upon with sympathy from the community and it appears that in order to scuttle any chance of the girl ever bringing rape charges against the boy and ruining his new found stardom, it was leaked to the community that she was implicated in the shooting.

In the end, everything unravels, as an adult she is able to get the paralyzed boy to confess to the fact the he did rape her.

This movie, along with “unbelievable” have a somewhat bittersweet taste for me.

Whereas the female characters in these two films receive their justice at the end of the film, there won’t be any such thing for me.

The babysitter will always be the innocent little angel.

I will forever be the homosexual pervert that allowed the babysitter to do what he did to myself and my brother.

When I talked with the babysitter’s father in 2015, he absolutely loved his son. He blamed himself for what his son had done.

My father threw me under the fucking train. No matter how bad my mental health issues were and no matter how bad the trauma had fucked me up, it was my fault.

Photography.

I took this past Friday off from work to be photographed by a professional photographer.

I met Albert back in 2017 when he came to the hospital to document an energy savings program that phsycial plant had implemented.

He was brought in by the planner that had looked after the project.

He didn’t say anything to me at the time, but he asked the manager to contact me and to tell me that he was interested in taking some photos of me in his studio.

I went over and we did a photoshoot for a few hours.

It was interesting.

So, I decided that I’d like to have some more photographs taken seeing as how my wardrobe has become far more than second hand dresses. Also, my tattoos cover far more than what they did back in 2017.

I contacted Albert about a month ago and we set up an appointment on Friday.

I took four dresses over in addition to the dress that I was wearing.

I also took my favourtie heels.

Rode the scooter from Braid skytrain station over to Albert’s place.

Albert should start a therapy / photography service.

We talked for about 30 to 40 minutes before going into the studio. He seemed to want to flesh out why I wanted to pay to get my photographs taken.

I explained to Albert that I have a decent camera setup, and I like taking photographs of mechanical things, and odd things. I don’t like to photograph people and I don’t like people in my photographs.

I also explained that I am far too self concious and far too critical to take pictures of myself.

Albert asked me what happens when people want to take picture of me.

I told him that for some reason my brain reacts different.

For example, when I was in Iceland over the summer no matter where I went, both tourists and Icelanders were asking to take my picture.

I think the reason that I love dresses and colours and designs is they offset how absolutely dead I am on the inside.

Let’s face it, with what I’ve been through in life, I have the ultimate “resting bitch face”. People think that I’m angry. I’m not. I’m just completely dead on the inside.

As social services indicated back in 1982, I couldn’t express emotions, I couldn’t express happiness or sadness. Whenever they tried to get me to express my emotions it would usually end up in a temper tantrum. I had no idea of how to make friends. I was completely isolated. Captain Totzke and my father had no interest in getting me the help I needed at the time, so things were just left to fester.

I should have the photographs in a week’s time. Albert has to process the images. I’ll get them in RAW format, but he’ll also render JPG versions of the photos. Most of the portrait full frame shots were taken with a Medium Format digital camera.

“Moving On”…..

Bobbie, why don’t you just move on, get on with your life?

That would be great, but that’s not how this works.

Therapy won’t work.

Pretending that the past never occured won’t work.

Captain Terry Totzke and his ham fisted conversion therapy have pretty well ensured that therapy won’t work.

As I said, it’s not like no one knew about the events of CFB Namao.

Captain Terry Totzke knew.

My father knew.

So this isn’t some sort of secret that I’ve kept within for the last 40 years.

I was lied to by mcpl Robert Jon Hancock, mcpl Christian Cyr, wo Blair Hart, mwo Terry Eisenmenger. Not only was I lied to by these four, they tried to fucking gaslight me. I would also have included Sergeant Damon Tenaschuk of the CFNIS Pacific Region, but I think Sgt. Tenaschuk was the first CFNIS investigator that I met that wasn’t willing to follow the orders of the chain of command like an obedient mindless robot.

What constitutes as gaslighting?

Telling me that there never was any type of fire at PMQ #26 even though they had the Canadian Forces Fire Marshall’s records for that exact fire.

Telling me that there was never a rectory attached to the chapel and that Captain McRae didn’t live on the base, but that he lived off the base.

Telling me that Our Lady of Loretto chapel didn’t exist on the base when I lived there even though the blueprints for the chapel indicated that it was built in 1956 and still stands to this day.

Telling me that the babysitter wasn’t capable of committing the crimes I accused him of even though they had CFSIU DS 120-10-80 in their possession right from the start of the investigation in March of 2011.

Refusing to talk to my father again once my social service paperwork indicated that his statement to the CFNIS was completely implausible.

Lt. Col. Gilles Sansterre outright lied to me when he told me that the CFNIS and the Provost Marshal couldn’t figure out who Fred R. Cunningham was and that he couldn’t have known anything about the Captain Father Angus McRae matter even though Sansterre had access to the CFSIU DS 120-10-80 paperwork and would have known that Warrant Officer Fredrick R. Cunningham was the lead investigator and the military’s witness against Captain McRae.

And that’s what gets me.

They had absolutely no concern for me or my well being. Not from 1978 to 1980. Not from 1980 to 1983. And not from 1983 to the current day. To the Canadian Force.

The CFNIS willingly and intentionally withheld the existence of CFSIU DS 120-10-80 and the court martial transcripts from the Alberta Crown.

The CFNIS willingly and intentionally withheld the existence of the transcripts from Courts Martial CM 62 from the Alberta Crown.

The CFNIS and the Canadian Forces Provost Marshal intentionally withheld CFSIU DS 120-10-80 and CM 62 from the Military Police Complaints Commission in 2012 and the Federal Court of Canada in 2013 in order to sell their narative that “they did the best they could in a historic child sexual abuse matter but that the evidence just wasn’t strong enough”.

So, how does one move on from not just child sexual abuse, but psychological malpractice, and then intentional professional misconduct?

I’ve been trying to engage the media since 2011 over this matter.

Except for David Pugliese, not a single fucking person has ever spoken to me. The Canadian Forces said this, the Canadian Forces said that, don’t you think the Canadian Forces would have done this or that if there was enough evidence?

The media in this country is useless. There is no such thing as investigative reporting anymore. No one goes digging for the story. Especially not when it comes to DND and the CAF.

David has been outright forthcoming with how the DND and the CAF have both threatened him with access to government officials and offical news information if he kept digging up dirt.

Others though seem as if they don’t want to risk losing advertising dollars or government contracts by making the DND and the CAF uncomfortable.

Don’t believe me?

In 2014 I was supposed to have been interviewed by Maclean’s as part of their bombshell stories on sexual abuse in the Canadian Forces. Everything was a go pretty well until the day of the interview.

Turns out that the parent company of Macleans had just days before signed a multi-year contract with the federal government to provide cellular phone service to the DND and the CAF.

The day I arrived at this magazine’s offices in Toronto I was told that the editior who wanted to run my story abruptly stopped working for Macleans and that Macleans wasn’t interested in running attack pieces on the Canadian Forces any more and that this topic was best left for the DND and the CAF to sort out.

I was told by Alberta Crown prosecutors Jon Werbicki and Alberta Chief Crown Prosecutor Orest Yeriniuk that I simply waited too long and that it wouldn’t be in the best interests of the public to bring charges against , meanwhile just a week or two ago it was announced in the Canadian Media that a 97 year old nun was charged with three counts of gross indecency from the 1960s.

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/canada/article-97-year-old-nun-charged-with-historical-sexual-assaults-at-residential/

What the actual fuck?

Oh yeah, it happened at a residential school and not a Canadian Forces Base. And it was investigated by police officers of the Ontario Provincial Police, not soldiers posing as police officers of the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service.

Attacking the residential schools is okay because society expects these literal hellholes to be places of abuse.

It’s the year 2023, almost everyone expects to hear of new stories about the church involved with child molestation.

No one dares attack the Canadian Forces as they’re our defenders and surely our defenders wouln’t have turned a blind eye to child sexual abuse on the bases, right?

So no, there will be no therapy.

There can’t be.

Counsellors have no idea of what life was like on military bases.

Counsellors have never heard of child sexual abuse on the bases.

Counsellors will never be able to overcome the one major hurdle, and that is the simple lack of an acknowledgement.

The only way in which a counsellor could hope to do anything is to gaslight me on a major scale.

Saturday October 28th, 2023

So, just sitting down eating a bite for lunch and enjoying a soy cappuccino.

I’m probably going to ride my scoot over to the VCC-Clark skytrain station and take a run out to Value Village in Coquitlam and maybe the one out in Port Coquitlam.

People have asked me repeatedly how I can live without a car.

I say very easily.

I haven’t owned a car since 1998 when I moved downtown.

But even before that, when I did own cars, I usually couldn’t afford to drive them.

I bought a 1977 VW Rabbit when I was 15. This was so that I could get a membership at the base auto club. The car really wasn’t drivable, but it was something that I could learn mechanics on from guys like Bill Parker and Bob Wrightson at the autoclub.

In a way I wish I had never been a member of the autoclub. My brother had a friend named Greg. Greg was younger than me, but much like my brother they were both built larger than me.

I stayed clear of Greg. Avoided him at all costs.

Anyways somehow Greg got it in his head that because I could tinker on cars that I was going to fix his V6 Chevy Nova.

Straight fours is all I had ever worked on at the autoclub. Never had touched an American car, especially not a V-anything. Anways, I was at work on night at Bob Becker’s workshop when my brother, Greg, and a few of their buddies show up. My brother told Greg that I could fix cars, so therefore I was going to fix Greg’s car. The car that showed up with no distributor, no ignition coil, no spark plugs, and no spark plug wires. These were all in a jumble in the trunk of the car.

As could be expected, I couldn’t fix the car.

Greg and his buddies caught up with me at a Plaza on Keele just to the south of the entrance to the base. Fuck did they ever beat the shit out of me. And it wasn’t like it was anywhere near a fair fight. I was maybe 110 lbs tops. There was Greg. Greg had to be about 5″ taller than me and maybe weighed close to 150 to 160 lbs. And the other 3 were about the same size and stature. There was also this older guy, can’t remember his name, but he had to be around 40 or 50 years old.

I remember avoiding home and instead heading over to Billy Donuts on Wilson Ave.

The owner called the cops.

But ratting out on Greg would have been the end of me so I refused to say anything.

I knew that telling Richard would have been an absolute waste of time.

This was pretty well when I started to make sure that no one knew that I had any interests in cars or fixing things.

The first road worthy car that I ever owned was in Edmonton, AB.

I bought that car in August of 1990.

I made a mistake and I quit the job that I had prior to ensuring that the job I was going to was going to work out.

So I ended up on welfare.

A guy in my apartment building noticed that I liked to work on cars so he asked me if I wanted to make some extra money under the table working on cars for his brother. Who could turn down extra money to make ends meet when you’re on welfare. Welfare barely paid the rent at the time, let alone bought goceries.

I worked on a few cars for his brother Adam who owned a used car dealership on the south east side of Edmonton.

There were some sketchy things going on in that shop. So I didn’t stay very long.

It wouldn’t be until sometime in the 2010s that I would find out that in the years after I had involvement with Adam that some skectchy shit really was going down in that shop.

The car that I bought in 1990 was my transport when I decided to leave the welfare rolls in Alberta and try my luck in Vancouver in February of 1992.

I spent so much time on and off living in that car. The best place for car camping at the time was Stanley Park. There were also industrial areas that one could camp out in.

Around the spring of 1993 I couldn’t afford to keep the car any longer so I got rid of it for free with a scrap dealer.

I ended up moving back to Toronto around the fall of 1993. That didn’t work out so well so I ended up back in Vancouver by May of 1994.

I lived down at the Sally Anne until about August of 1994.

From ’94 to ’95 I primarily rode the bus, rode a bicycle, or walked to work from New Westminster to East Richmond.

In 1996 I got my hands on a very good condition 1984 Diesel Rabbit.

Kept that until I moved downtown in 1998.

I’ve owned a few motorcycles through my life, but I’ve only kept them for a few seasons.

Most were used, only one was new of a showroom floor.

That one was written off by a cab driver that ICBC found 100% at fault for the incident.

After getting cut off by that cab driver and seeing how easily someone else could end my life for the sake of beating a green light I realized that motorcycling wasn’t for me.

My greatest fear of getting injured in a motorcycle collision isn’t dying. It’s surviving. Motorcycle helmets really don’t protect the rider when struck by another vehicle. Motorcycle helmets, much like bicycle helmets are meant to protect the rider from incidents involving the motorcycle rider alone.

My father had a friend named Jacques Choquette. One night while Jacques was riding home on his motorcycle Jacques hit a pedestrian. Jacques ended up losing part of his skull and part of his brain. The guy was a fucking psychotic nutcase after the incident. No impulse control. Anger outbursts from nowhere. Seizures. Jacques was the one who tried to strangle me in the basement of the PMQ on CFB Downsview while my father stood to the side chuckling.

That’s what I’m most afraid of. Ending up with brain damage and having to live for 40 or 50 years like a fucking psycho like Jacques.

I bought a motorcycle back in 2020 at the start of the pandemic. I rode it for that first summer. It has sat in the under ground parking lot since.

I wanted to do some modification to it, but my depression told me that I’d get started and never finish the fucking thing off like I never finish anything else off.

So all in all, I’d say that even though I’ve had my driver’s licence since I was 17, I’ve actually only driven a car for maybe 5 years of my life. That’s about 14% of my adult driving life.

Total riding time of motorcycles would be less than 8%.

Riding bicycles would be close to 20%, riding the bus would be another 20%, walking would be almost 46% if not more. I’m probably a little high on the bicycle and the bus.

I think that I can credit my father and his driving skills and his belittling attitude.

Richard could be a complete asshole behind the wheel.

Everyone else on the road was a stupid asshole, a stupid cunt, a fucking idiot, or some fucking goddamn asshole that got their licence from a cracker jack box.

This is why he was forever rear ending other vehicles.

I could never figure out why he would never get his pride and joy fixed after various collisions. But as I would learn later in life, you never wanted to claim against your insurance for any accident that you were at fault for. That’s how the ’83 Mustang GT went from being a showroom new car in 1983 to a wreck with the driver’s seat falling through the floor and needing wood to hold it in place by the time I moved out of the house in 1987.

The collisions I know of from being in the car when they happened were the time he rear-ended a Jaguar over by the Don Valley parkway. Slammed right into the back of the car at an intersection. As usual it was my fault becuase if I hadn’t asked him for a ride to work this would never have happened.

The next time was on Keele Street just before we got back on to base. He rear ended a Metropolitan Toronto Police Service cruiser. And this was back in the day when they were bright white with yellow reflective strips. I didn’t stick around to see who he blamed the collision on. I just walked home.

Richard wasn’t adverse to throttle blips to let the driver infront of him at the lights know that he was displeased with the fact that because they were driving so slow he got caught behind them at the light.

He also had this habit of passing cars as we were coming to intersections and once he passed through the intersection he’d start swearing at the light to change and teach that silly fucker a lesson.

Of course there were also the times that he drove drunk.

He wrote off his 1969 Ford Thunderbird that he had bought with his retention bonus. Wrote that car off around 1975. Wrote it off in the PMQs of Canadian Forces Base Shearwater. That put me in the hospital for stitches.

The next time that he crashed a car due to drinking was after our mother left in 1976 / 77. He had gone to the junior ranks mess on CFB Summerside and was driving back home to our PMQ at 353 High Street in Summerside. Somewhere on the highway he crossed the centre line and clipped an on coming car.

My brother and I were more or less unscathed. But I ended up with a fat lip after the other driver asked my father if he had been drinking and I told the other driver that my father was drink at the bar on base. Guess I wasn’t supposed to rat out the rage fueled alcoholic, was I?

Maybe that’s why I don’t care much for driving. My father’s rage behind the wheel and his alcoholism ruined driving for me.

Also, not having help with my cars in the early days made me realize just exactly how much of a fucking money pit cars are and how one’s paycheque just goes into the endless pit of car culture.

Finding all of McRae’s victims.

One of the matters that help the Canadian Armed Forces and the Department of National Defence in this matter is the difficulty in tracking down all of the victims of McRae and the babysitter.

Captain McRae was on Canadian Forces Base Kingston, Canadian Forces Base Portage La Prairie, Canadian Forces Station Holberg, and finally Canadian Forces Base Namao.

Captain McRae spent about 2 years on each defence establishment.

In each of those two year periods it would be very difficult to guesstimate how many children McRae had diddled, fondled, penetrated, performed oral sex on, and received oral sex from.

And this problem isn’t related to Captain McRae moving from base to base.

It’s that his victims would also move from bases to base.

We had no choice where we lived. We followed our serving parents.

So for example when McRae was posted to CFB Namao in August of 1978 it obvious that he went to work right away having sex with children on the base.

He wasn’t investigated until May of 1980.

That means that Captain McRae was on the base during a posting season, which was typically June to September.

Between June and September of 1979, how many children that Captain McRae had sexually assaulted from August of 1978 until August of 1979 were posted off to different bases across Canada before the investigation of Captain McRae commenced in May of 1980.

Don’t forget, Captain McRae was the master of getting children intoxicated with alcohol. He admitted in his court martial to giving children beer or wine and then fooling around with them in the bedroom of the rectory.

And Captain McRae was smart. At least in my case he was. I don’t remember it being Captain McRae giving me the “sickly sweet grape juice”. It was always the babysitter giving me the sickly sweet grape juice whenever he took me over to visit with Captain McRae.

Now, this is where the postings to a different base take on a sinister aspect.

I had always remembered the babysitter giving me the sickly sweet grape juice as some sort of reward for providing him with sexual favours. And it stayed that way until May 3rd, 2011 when master corporal Christian Cyr asked me if I remembered anything about the base chaplain having been arrested for molesting children during the same period of time that I was accusing the babysitter of molesting me.

That’s 31 years later that I made the connection.

But what if I had stayed on that base longer?

What if the other victims of Captain McRae and the babysitter had stayed on that base?

What if we found each other and started talking amongst ourselves?

What if we waited until we all turned 18 and moved off base and then hired a lawyer back in 1989 / 1990. The same time that former Captain Father Angus McRae was being charged with child molestation in Scarborough, Ontario.

This would have made things really messy for the Canadian Armed Forces and the Department of National Defence. Would have made things really sticky for the babysitter.

But, kids were posted to different bases. Kids who had memories of the babysitter or Captain McRae giving them sickly sweet grape juice. But with no knowledge of the whole child sexual abuse scandal on CFB Namao that transpired because parents complained about the babysitter’s sexual activities with their children.

And it’s not just CFB Namao. CFB Namao was just one base that Captain McRae was stationed at. And in two years Captain McRae was able to molest over 25 children.

How many children from CFB Kingston, CFB Portage La Prairie, or even CFS Holberg have these weird incoherent memories of a sickly sweet grape juice at the rectory of the base chapel?

How many former base brats from this time were between the ages of 4 and 8 and due to their youth at the time of the abuse, can’t fully remember the details.

How many of these kids, through normal military postings, ended up moving to many different bases over their adolescence and teenage years and were completely separated from the other victims?

More sinister though is this thought.

How many more child pedophiles did Captain McRae “activate” on the different bases.

Pedophilia is a sexual attraction to children that most research indicates forms in the brain before birth. Most pedophiles will never act upon their desires. However in the case of the babysitter, did Captain McRae’s abuse and grooming allow the babysitter to give into his desires?

If the babysitter’s attraction to children wasn’t genetic based, did Captain McRae’s abuse and grooming of the babysitter teach the babysitter that it was okay to have sex with young children?

Either way, we know that the babysitter went on to molest more children -across Canada-, while travelling with his father to different postings in different provinces.

How many other kids did Captain McRae abuse and groom whom then went on to abuse children on other Canadian Forces Bases and in the civilian population both before and after they moved off the bases after their 18th birthday.

I think that this is one of those reasons why the Canadian Armed Forces and the Department of National Defence seem to do a lot of heavy work trying to keep military child sexual abuse survivors from receiving even the slightest modicum of recognition.

One can only wonder how many victims have come forward over the years only to either be stonewalled by the not-so-independent military police, or were slapped with an Non-Disclosure-Agreement in trade for a settlement.

I wish I had interesting things to say about my life. But I don’t.

Outside of the events on Canadian Forces Base Namao, my life has been pretty well meaningless and unexceptional.

“But Bobbie, you must feel something being caught up in all of this, right?”

Nope, I feel rather dismayed and annoyed at the thought of this whole mess.

The realization that in 1980 the Canadian Armed Forces viewed my life and the lives of the other military dependents involved with Captain McRae and his teenage accomplice as being worth less than the honour and prestige of the Canadian Forces is pretty damn depressing and demoralizing.

The Canadian Armed Forces ran two outright sham investigations into my allegations against Captain McRae’s accomplice, one in 2011 and the other in 2015. At the end of both investigations the investigators with the CFNIS told me they couldn’t find any evidence that the accomplice had done any of what I accused him of even though the CFNIS, right from the start, had the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the July 1980 Court Martial transcripts, both of which detailed that the accomplice was well known to the military police in 1980 for having sexually assaulted young male children living on the base made me realize that even today my life and the lives of the other base brats is meaningless and worthless in the eyes of the Canadian Armed Forces.

Captain McRae’s accomplice was a teenaged boy who babysat on Canadian Forces Base Namao for numerous families. There’s no doubt a great many children from that base that had P.R.S. as a babysitter and who have never spoken about the abuse because of the physical and verbal abuse that he’d dish out after the sexual abuse.

I was called a scammer and a grifter by Harjit Sajjan in February of 2016 when he was the Minister of National Defence.

My own father either outright lied to the CFNIS in 2011, or willingly went along with the narrative that the Canadian Forces and the CFNIS wanted, and that was that my brother and I were never in the care of Captain McRae’s accomplice. My father completely removed our alcoholic and emotionally disturbed grandmother from our lives even though she raised my brother and I various times from 1971 until 1977, and then full time from 1977 until 1981.

This is the same father that warned me against going to the police in 2006 as if I went “sticking my nose into this” that “I might not like the smell”.

I’ve often wondered what Albert Crown Prosecutor Jon Werbicki and his superior Orest Yereniuk would do if they found out that the CFNIS ran sham investigations in 2011 and 2015 and that in both investigation the CFNIS had full access to the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the court martial transcripts. Would Jon and Orest be man enough to admit that they swallowed the CFNIS codswallop without a second thought?

My life hasn’t been interesting.

It’s been one unmitigated disaster to the next.

It turns out that my family had been involved with social services in every province that my father was stationed in, but social services was usually at a complete loss as to what to do as access to my brother and I was somewhat limited due to our residences being located on military bases.

I had Captain Terry Totzke as my social worker from Oct 1980 until April 1983. Why the fuck should a child ever have a military officer as their social worker? The social worker is a member of the Canadian Armed Force and as per the National Defence Act MUST obey the lawful commands of their superiors. My father was a master corporal at the time. My father would have been bound by the same National Defence Act to obey the lawful commands of his superiors. And in this sense “superior” doesn’t refer to his immediate superior or his immediate chain of command. Superior means any superior rank. So when a Captain tells a Master Corporal that his son is a homosexual, the Master Corporal does not question this wisdom, nor does the Master Corporal object.

Instead the Master Corporal doesn’t let his son participate in sports, because according to the Captain the Master Corporal’s son might get attracted to other boys in the change room. The Master Corporal will remove the door from his “homosexual” son’s bedroom so that he can’t sneak boys into his bedroom. I didn’t have a door on my bedroom on CFB Griesbach from the time we moved there in Oct 1980 until November of 1981 when Alberta Social Services was called in.

My bedroom door was off at Stanley Greene Park until about the time Children’s Aid Society of Toronto started doing house visits. Then when my bedroom got punted into the basement in the summer of 1986 it was built without a door.

Even if my father was still alive, there’s no way that he would ever apologize for what he did. He would have justified his actions and his attitude by saying that he was only following Captain Totzke’s instructions.

I don’t know if Captain Totzke is alive or not. But he would never apologize as he too was only following the orders of his superiors. And besides, he’ll use the existence of CFAO 19-20 to show that at the time it was conventional wisdom within the Canadian Forces that homosexuality was both a choice and a mental illness, so therefore he wasn’t to blame.

The babysitter / accomplice will never apologize as he was already anointed as being the sole victim of Captain Father Angus McRae and any sexual depravity he performed on the children or any sexual depravity he had these children perform was due to his abuse at the hands of Captain McRae.

Me?

According to Harjit Sajjan I’m a conman playing a “game” and having an “angle”.

According to the CFNIS in both 2011 and 2015 I’m a habitual liar making up unsubstantiated tall tales. I also make up events like house fires that didn’t occur* or chapels that didn’t exist*. And according to the CFNIS I’m a “societal malcontent with an axe to grind against the military” who frequently jumps job to job and can’t hold down steady employment. According to the RCMP in 2011 I have an agenda that I am trying to advance.

(* – both were true and the CFNIS actually had the documents)

People tell me that I don’t look depressed, or that I’m too happy to be depressed, or that I’m too smart to be depressed.

I’m just very good at masking my depression.

My father was the first to insist that I didn’t have major depression or severe anxiety but that I was “just acting up to get attention” would would always result in a back hand, a slap, or a beating with the belt. So as a kid you just learn to mask it and hide it all the time wondering why you’re so fucking stupid and why you keep pissing your father off and how you’d be better off dead because your a worthless freak.

Employers don’t employ visibly depressed people, so you learn to mask even more.

At work I don’t answer the phone. You want to get hold of me, send me an email. The problem with depression and the untreated CPTSD that goes along with what I went through in life is that your brain can often get clouded with thoughts and memories. Unplanned interruptions really fuck with my brain. In my position as the chief engineer I interact with machinery and equipment far more that I do with humans.

I’ve been on escitalopram for almost two years now. People at work tell me that I’m far more pleasant to deal with. I still feel like shit on the inside, and it isn’t doing anything for the flashbacks or the memories. But if it keeps the others happy, then I’m more than willing to use pharmaceuticals to blunt my emotions and my depression and my anxiety.

Being on escitalopram makes me wonder what different trajectory my life would have taken had Captain Totzke and my father both allowed me to get treatment for my diagnosed Major Depression, Severe Anxiety, and haphephobia instead of telling me over and over that I was a homosexual that enjoyed the abuse and allowed the babysitter to abuse my younger brother.

And this is where M.A.i.D. comes in.

People still can’t understand why I would like to die.

I didn’t lose my pet goldfish when I was 9. I’m not upset that I lost a hockey game when I was 11.

I grew up in a very dysfunctional household with dysfunctional parents.

My grandmother was an emotionally disturbed alcoholic with a mean streak.

My father was an emotionally disturbed alcoholic with anger issues and an explosive temper.

I grew up in a military environment that considered “male on male” sexual abuse to be “Acts of Homosexuality” and treated some victims of childhood sexual abuse as if they were mentally ill homosexuals.

I grew up in a military environment where everyone knew what was going on behind closed doors but no one ever said anything out of fear of retribution from the offender’s Chain of Command or fellow unit members.

I was diagnosed with severe mental illnesses at age 9 but then denied treatment for what appears to be nothing more than political reasons.

I suffered life long with these issues because I had been told that I was making these issues up and that I was doing this for attention. And besides, as a kid I had been told by both “Terry” and my father that I was acting the way I was because I was a homosexual.

I still haven’t heard much in the news as to whether or not the Government of Canada has officially asked the Senate for permission to delay the implementation of M.A.i.D.

But even if they do, my lawyers have said that there are possibly other avenues through which I could still obtain M.A.i.D.. So we’ll see.

But yeah, there is no escaping this damage. And death is what I want.

Again, it’s not like death doesn’t come to us all at some point. All I’m asking for is to die a little ahead of schedule.

“Just don’t think about it” is not an appropriate answer.

“Have you thought about a hobby” is not an appropriate answer.

“Think of other things” is not an appropriate answer.

“You just need to meet the right person” is not an appropriate answer.

“You could help other victims” is not an appropriate answer. I can’t even help myself, how am I going to help others?

“You’re blowing things out of proportion” is not an appropriate answer.

“You’re scaring me with this talk of death” is not an appropriate answer.

“You don’t really want M.A.i.D.. You’re just doing this for attention” is not an appropriate answer.

I still very much want M.A.i.D.. And this will not change no matter the outcome of any deal reached between my lawyers, Alexander and Clint, and the lawyers at the Department of Justice representing the Department of National Defence.

To say that I only want M.A.i.D. due to some childish ideal is to totally ignore, downplay, and deny what I went through.