It’s back to the CFNIS again

I guess it was too risky to release into the wild

So, it looks like the CFNIS are not giving up my complaint against the Officer of the Canadian Armed Forces that Peter provided me to in the men’s sauna of the base swimming pool.

I’m pretty sure that this officer was a major in 1980.

According to DND paperwork, this officer had been sent up to assist Captain McRae with his affairs during the period of McRae’s initial arrest and his court martial in July of 1980.

This officer isn’t squeaky clean. This officer has been involved with inappropriate sexual relationships with children under the age of 16.

So……. did I blow a major when I was 8 years old?

Only two people know who the man was that I performed oral sex on.

Peter is one. I don’t think Peter is going to admit that he pimped out an 8 year old boy to an officer of the Canadian Forces for the purposes of oral sex.

And then there’s the officer.

Due to the 3-year-time-bar that was in the National Defence Act prior to 1998, and due to the fact that Gross Indecency, Indecent Assault, and Buggery were enumerated as Service Offences, the CFNIS can not lay charges. Under the National Defence Act I had until the spring of 1983 to bring charges against this major.

As this major was a member of the Canadian Armed Forces and was subject to the Code of Service Discipline, he has the right to request that these charges be dealt with in the military justice system. Which means that there couldn’t be a military service tribunal. Which much like when the legal advisor wouldn’t allow Sgt. Tenaschuk to talk to retired Canadian Forces officer Brigadier General Daniel Edward Munro due to the 3-year time bar preventing the laying of charges, means that the CFNIS will probably not be allowed to talk to the major in question.

The only possibility that might allow the laying of charges against this major if the CFNIS seem inclined to do so is that I was only 8 years old when I was sucking on his dick.

In 1980, the age of consent for a child to agree to have sexual intercourse with an adult was 14. That means that I was legally unable to consent.

In the matter of Regina vs. Corporal Donald Joseph Sullivan, the Supreme Court of Canada relied on the precedent that had already been established which was that the Canadian Forces had the legal authority to conduct a court martial for Gross Indecency and Indecent Assault so long as consent was a possibility.

As I was 8 years old when I had this man’s penis in my mouth sexually pleasuring him I obviously couldn’t give consent. So that means that my matter would have to be handed over to the civilian courts.

I doubt that the Minister of National Defence, the Department of National Defence, or the Canadian Armed Forces will ever allow this matter to see the inside of a court room.

See, it’s one thing for a corporal, a master corporal, a sergeant, or even a warrant officer to be charged with sexual assault, rape, gross indecency, indecent assault, buggery, and any of the numerous other sexual offences that could be committed against a child of any gender. N.C.O.’s and junior ranks have always been seen as low class and low education by the officer classes in the Canadian Forces.

The Canadian Forces loose their collective marbles when the sexual offences involve an officer of the Canadian Forces.

Officers are seen by the hierarchy as being above reproach.

Back in 1980, there was no way on Earth that the Canadian Forces were going to allow an officer of the Canadian Forces to bring humiliation upon the officer classes of the Canadian Armed Forces.

The Captain McRae court martial went from having a list of 25 victims of Captain McRae to only allowing the charges related to Peter to be filed against Captain McRae.

So, why would the Minister of National Defence, the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Forces bring public humiliation upon themselves by allowing the Canadian public to discover that a major of the Canadian Forces received a blowjob from an 8 year old boy on a secure defence establishment?

The current CFNIS investigation will be nothing more than a dog and pony show just like GO 2011-5754.

My Brain.

Yes, as fucked up as it is, it still fascinates me.

I am hoping that after I die that my brain is removed and sent off to one of the many institutions in Canada that study human brains to try and decipher mental illness and addictions.

I’ve suffered from major depression and anxiety for the majority of my life. I endured sexual assaults for over 1-1/2 years. I endured what would be tantamount to “conversion therapy”. I endured more sexual assaults before I turned 16. I grew up in a dysfunctional household.

So my brain should be interesting.

What I have always found to be very interesting is that I am not addicted to anything. Nor am I living on the streets.

Where I work, we have various programs to help addicts. One of the things that becomes apparent to me is that addiction and mental illness go hand in hand.

I’d say that most of the clients of these programs started off with mental illness first, found themselves on the streets, and then ended up with addictions.

It’s stunning how many mentally ill people are just discarded by society like trash.

The problem there I think is that unless you’re talking to the chinaware or unless you believe that everyone is a lizard person from the future out to kidnap you no one believes that you’re mentally ill.

My father would often rail on to no end that “my moods could be whatever I wanted them to be” and that “I was just doing this to get his attention”. And there are a lot of people like my father in the world. People who believe that mental illness is a scam, that people who claim to be mentally ill are liars, that people with depression are just weak wimpy cry babies who want to take the easy way out.

But even if you are one of the “lucky ones” with a “real” mental illness, you too are at an elevated risk of being tossed to the street when those close to you get tired of your “drama” and your “bullshit”.

At an early age I found myself with mental illness, diagnosed but untreated mental illness.

I found myself homeless for a number of months for most of 1992 and then the early part of 1994.

For the first few years of my adult life, I was always one or two pay cheques away from losing it all.

Help from home was out of the question, so I knew even better than to ask.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months at the Catholic Charities men’s hostel numerous of my fellow bunk mates would offer drugs. Wasn’t interested. Didn’t want drugs. Didn’t want booze.

I didn’t consider myself superior to my bunk mates. I just wasn’t tied up in making friends with them.

Maybe my inability to make friends actually saved me from a life of addiction. Nobody becomes addicted on their own. There is always an enabler involved.

I was flagged by social services both in Alberta and Ontario as not having the ability to make friends or to associate with others. Also, I really despised being touched. And that is still the way things are to this day. Don’t touch me.

To tell you the truth, I just find it so hard to trust people. I’m not paranoid. I think that after CFB Namao and CFB Griesbach, I just learnt that there was no one there for me, that I was always going to be on my own.

If you ask my brother, he’ll tell you that I was just a stuck up little asshole who thought himself better than anyone else. But that’s not my brother talking. That’s Richard speaking. Richard had a million and one opinions on my mental health issues, none of them helpful.

But yeah, I assure you that I wasn’t “stuck up”.

So was it the inability to form friendships that allowed me to stay off drugs?

My self worth has always been lower than shit, so it’s not that I considered myself too good for drugs.

So there has to be something else going on in my brain. Something that researchers may find of interest.

I haven’t cried since I was about 30. I’m too emotionally numb on the inside to cry anymore.

I used to cry a lot trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with my brain and why I couldn’t fit in no matter how hard I tried and why I was always susceptible to days on end of feeling completely unmotivated and unable to think.

Employers were always impressed with my technical skills and my dedication to work, but I just lacked the “people skills” to deal with people therefore I was always going to be the guy behind the scenes who just wasn’t presentable to the public.

At the time I didn’t have access to my Foster Care records from the Alberta Government so I had absolutely no idea that I had already been diagnosed with depression and anxiety so bad that I was supposed to have been institutionalized.

I wouldn’t get my hands on those records until August of 2011. Almost 30 years after the fact. 30 years I was allowed to participate in society as some sort of experiment to see if I would succeed or fail.

And no, there was no going to “head shrinkers” or talking to a doctor about my issues. Not after my experiences with Terry and my father and the various psychologists that I had seen while we lived on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach from October 1980 until April 1983.

The fact that Terry and my father would both get me to say lies and bullshit to my civilian counsellors means that I don’t think that I could ever be honest with these people. My emotions and my inner turmoil were always something that I was taught to be ashamed of and to hide behind a wall of lies.

My father had told me during those years that I was making up all of my problems, that I was only “acting up” to get attention.

With no family support, no professional support, no community supports, here I am at 50 years of age.

My brain is fried and burnt out.

I don’t really have anything much to offer other than my brain for research.

The brain is a fascinating organ.

It is who we are. It is what we are.

It’s where our thoughts, our memories, and our dreams live and die.

The more researchers learn about the brain, the more it becomes apparent that it functions similar to a computer in the sense that it has specialized portions of the brain that do specific tasks.

I view my brain as a biological computer with over 250,000 years of innovation behind it. I view myself as the operating system. Unfortunately my operating system was corrupted by various hacks over the years that led to irreparable hardware damage.

Sure, there are patches that could sorta maybe kinda work, but an operating system that is held together by patches is unstable.

That’s one of the reasons I have no issue facing my death. As long as my brain is rendered unconscious and is denied oxygen I won’t experience my death. It will literally be like turning off the power switch on your computer. A power switch that can never be turned back on.

Still, it is very interesting how the brain processes information.

One thing that I’ve always found interesting is that you don’t actually live in the real world. Yes you and your body are present in the real world, but what your consciousness “sees”, “hears”,”tastes”, “touches”, and “smells” is AFTER the various cortexes have processed the information presented to them. What you are experiencing are the outputs of your cortexes. This is why hallucinations and dreams can appear so lifelike and vivid. The brain can’t tell the difference. To it everything is real.

But this apparently is the best way for the brain to function because if your brain had to process the raw information from your senses by itself without the automated processes of the cortexes your brain would become severely overwhelmed.

For instance how the brain processes visual information. One part of the visual cortex looks for shapes, another part isolates written languages or symbols even if we’ve never seen that language or symbol before, another part looks for faces and the emotions on those faces, another part looks for movements, and yet another part uses our stereo vision to calculate distances between objects. Our brains rely on contrast between light and dark for depth perception, even though we see in colour. We perceive all of these processes happening all at once. But they’re being processed by different parts of the visual cortex.

Car makers know that the visual cortex can be easily manipulated to elicit emotions. This is why car makers now spend so much time putting anthropomorphic features on to car and truck grilles and head lights. By making the car or truck appear happy or angry they can sell vehicles to people based upon their primary emotion.

Our hearing has many different sub processes as well. One part of the auditory cortex is listening for speech. One part has something similar to a comb-filter that is designed to be sensitive to certain frequencies. One part seems to love music. Another part gets triggered by rhythm. A different part of the auditory cortex is used to pinpoint the location of a sound in 3-dimensions even though we only have two ears. I was diagnosed at a young age with an auditory memory problem. And it’s true. I have a very hard time remembering things that are verbally told to me in a specific sequence. However I can easily remember written phrases, concepts, and details. This is one of the reasons I don’t do telephone calls unless I absolutely have to.

Then there’s the interconnection between all of these different processes. Your steady eyesight comes because the inner ear also coordinates your eye movement so that as your head moves your eyes are able to move in a direction to counter the movement of your head. Without this communication you eyesight would be very blurry.

Your ability to turn your head in the direction of a sound comes from the ability of your auditory cortex to direct your head muscles and your eye muscles towards the direction of the sound.

Your visual cortex processes you central vision and your peripheral vision in two different process, but presents this to your brain as one image. You visual cortex fills in the blind spot in each of your eyes with made up data so that you don’t see two black spots in your vision. These black spots are where your optic nerve connects to your retina. You can’t see there. Your peripheral vision sucks at detail, but it is really great at detecting motion. Your peripheral vision can direct your eyeballs and your head into the direction of motion.

Your ability to listen to music on headphones without constantly turning your head in every direction is because your auditory system has realized that what you are hearing is not a threat.

Emotions are another interesting part of the brain. Your brain can control its emotions by releasing or not releasing certain chemicals. And it has been discovered that your brain can damage itself if it releases to many of these chemicals for a prolonged period, or doesn’t release enough chemicals for a prolonged period.

Sadly, when these chemicals go out of whack, the brain often isn’t able to bring itself back to “normal” without external help. The longer the brain is without help, the more substantial the damage will be.

So yes, you can suffer actual physical brain damage due to traumatic events such as emotional trauma, psychological trauma, or physical trauma.

The brain is plastic in the sense that it can try to overcome the damage by using different portions of the brain.

I’ve never seen the actual removal of a human brain from the skull during an autopsy, but there are hundreds of autopsy videos available on the net. And I’ve seen quite a few. All you really need to remember is that the body is dead and feels no pain.

Once the skull is removed and then the dura mater is cut open, the brain is ripe for the picking so to say. Gently tilt the brain outwards from the skull, sever the olfactory nerves, the optic nerves, the facial nerves, the auditory nerves, the neck and throat nerves, and the spinal cord, and out pops your brain. Do Not Try This At Home, especially not on yourself.

It’s a good thing that you’re typically dead when this happens otherwise might be a little on the painful side. Plus might also cause a panic attack.

Now, I don’t know what exactly can be learnt from my brain. Probably nothing substantial. But maybe something incremental. And incremental would be far better than nothing, eh?

I would imagine that having a somewhat fresh brain would be beneficial to the researchers.

I would much rather prefer that my brain go to somewhere where it can be of some use rather than just tossed into an unmarked grave, or a crematorium, or a resomation chamber.

Then at least my suffering will be over and something beneficial will have come of my life.

And I’ll be able to say that “I’m going to medical school!”

I really wish that I could donate my skull to whomever I wanted to.

I have a few people in mind that I would love to give my skull to.


Not much going on this week.

I thought for sure that I was going to hear from Munro’s kin about the last two posts.

Nope, not a single word.

I’ve already got time booked off from work for the discovery hearing in my matter against the commissionaire from the Denison Armouries in Toronto at Canadian Forces Base Downsview.

Still in the early stages of my class action against the Canadian Armed Forces for the trail of destruction that Canadian Armed Forces officer Captain Father Angus McRae left in his wake as he moved from CFB Kingston, to CFB Portage La Prairie, to CFS Holberg, to CFB Namao.

The escitalopram is doing what it’s supposed to be doing. It’s not fixing anything. It’s just keeping my major depression and my severe anxiety in check. Which I guess is better than nothing.

My brain is so tired and so burnt out at the moment. I think this is the result of a lifetime of neglected mental health issues. It’s clearly obvious that although I’ve spent a lifetime enduring major depression, severe anxiety, and who the hell knows what else, it was probably dealing with COVID last year that really pushed me over the edge.

March is coming up, and this is when the Parliamentary committee is supposed to release their recommendations for M.A.i.D. for psychiatric issues. I’ll be sure to keep you posted.

“But if you win your actions against the Commissionaires and the Canadian Forces, surely you’ll reconsider, won’t you?”.


Just far too tired and far too burnt out. Far too neglected. And apologies will never be coming.

I’ve lived far too long with being blamed for things that were far beyond my control.

I’ve also gone for far too long being called a liar by the media.

Richard will never apologize. He’s dead.

Brigadier General Daniel Edward Munro will never apologize, he did what the National Defence Act allowed him to do.

Any apology that I get from the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces will be a meaningless cookie cutter jumble of mumble bullshit words approved by the Department of Justice and the Solicitor General of Canada. Used toilet paper will have move value than anything from the DND or the CF.

So, it really is a no-win situation no matter what happens.

On a different tangent, I’m set to get some new tattoos on February 4th. More facial tattoos. I started tattooing my face around 2016. Started off with just a couple of small excursions on to my face.

Most tattoo artists won’t touch a person’s face no matter how many other tattoos a person has.

Bill was more than willing to.

Then Bill moved out to the valley.

I found another artist who was willing to get more involved, but then with the start of COVID Liam moved out of town.

So, I found another artist.

I’m going to try to get as much work done in a session or two with Eduardo as possible.

The nice thing about secure employment and working where I work is that they tolerate tattoos so long as they’re not offensive or profane.

I’m going to stay with the line motif. But Eduardo wants to change the direction of the lines and maybe go much thicker. He also wants to go over my eyelids if I’m able to stand it.

Something long the lines of this.
But working with what I currently have.

I really wish that I had gotten into tattoos a lot earlier in life. But being as that I had absolutely no family safety net to catch me if a previous employer decided that they didn’t like my tattoos, I was really hesitant to get anything that could be seen.

And with Richard’s voice in my head always asserting that I was completely useless I was always very reluctant to do anything nice for myself as I fully expected Richard to find out and then chastise and berate me for being a fucking idiot and trying to show off.

Honestly, I think that my tattoos and my piercings are my “Fuck You” to the society that practically shat upon me my entire life because I didn’t fit in and I wasn’t “normal”.

It’s not my fault I’m not normal. I tried so fucking hard in my younger days to be “normal” that I think I ruined any chance of ever actually being normal. My not being normal is a choice that my father and the Canadian Armed Forces made for me when I was a kid in need of psychiatric care. The Canadian Forces decided that secrets needed to be kept, and my father was too much of a fucking pussy to tell the Canadian Armed Forces to go get fucking stuffed.

Anyways, that’s this post for now.

I’d really like to post about other stuff, but I really don’t have any interests.

I don’t like sports.

I like music, but I’ve never been wrapped up in fandom.

I like bicycles, but I just ride them.

I like motorcycles, but again, I just ride them.

I don’t keep up with current entertainment trends. I actually just started watching “Game of Thrones” this past Sunday. I’m up to Season 1 Episode 6. So that’s what, 11 years behind?

I haven’t read a good book in ages. Just don’t have the interest. As a kid I loved reading. Even in my teen years I loved to read. I think mu interest in reading waned sometime in my 20’s. Too busy at work trying to keep up and keep my employers happy.

I like road trips on my motorcycle. Just me, myself, and the bike. But COVID put road trips on the back burner. So nothing to write about there.

And talking about work would probably put ya’ll to sleep.

The Three Year Time Bar

Another hideous flaw in the pre-1998 National Defence Act

In 1998, another flaw was removed from the National Defence Act.

This flaw in a way was even more hideous than the Summary Investigation that I talked about in a previous blog entry.

The problem with the 3-year-time-bar is that it prohibited the laying of charges more than 3 years after the date of the alleged Service Offence.

You’ll remember from the previous post that the National Defence Act enumerates Criminal Code offences as Service Offences. As such crimes such as Gross Indecency, Indecent Assault, and Buggery were service offences that could be tried by Service Tribunal. This is why Captain McRae was tried in a military court martial for committing “Acts of Homosexuality” such as “Gross Indecency”, “Indecent Assault”, “Buggery” with boys under the age of 15 on Canada Forces Base Namao.

The interesting thing about this 3-year-time-bar is that it applies to ALL service offences prior to 1998.

Also, even if a member of the Canadian Armed Forces is currently retired and no longer subject to the Code of Service Discipline, if the member was subject to the Code of Service discipline when they sexually abused a child on a military base they would still enjoy all of the rights that the National Defence Act bestowed upon the service member at the time of the offence.

What this means is that even if the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service were to find the man from the sauna who Peter provided me to for the purposes of oral sex this man could never be charged if he was a member of the Canadian Forces regular force in 1980.

If this man by some small miracle is a civilian with no connection to the Canadian Armed Forces and was never subject to the Code of Service Discipline, then he could be charged under the criminal code.

Don’t believe me?

In 2017, in a telephone call with Sergeant Damon Tenaschuk of the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service Pacific Region, I asked Mr. Tenaschuk if he could try to talk to Colonel Dan Munro. I thought that this would be a simple matter seeing as how Sgt. Tenaschuk was on CFB Esquimalt just outside of Victoria, BC and Daniel Edward Munro lived in a suburb of Victoria, BC.

Instead, I received the following email from Sgt. Tenaschuk:

So there you have it.

The three year time bar is real, and it affects all Service Offence and all Criminal Code matters that occurred prior to 1998.

All I had asked for was for Sgt. Tenaschuk to talk to Daniel Edward Munro to see if Daniel had improperly bent the rules when he preferred the charges that Captain McRae faced in court martial and dismissed the other charges.

For Tenaschuk’s legal officer to say right of the bat that the 3-year-time-bar would prevent the laying of charges makes me wonder how many Canadian Forces personnel got away with Service Offences / Criminal Code offences prior to 1998.

Anyone who was subject to the Code of Service Discipline prior to 1998, and who sexually abused a child on a defence establishment, will NEVER face their accuser in court. Their victim will NEVER receive justice.

And this suits the Minister of National Defence and the Chief of Defence staff just fine. As it stands right now, you don’t hear anything about children being sexually abused on military bases by military personnel from the pre-1998 days. And as it turns out this isn’t because no child was ever sexually abused on base. It’s because if these kids didn’t report their crimes within the period of three years they would never be able to report their crimes..

In 2010, charges were brought against retired Brigadier General Roger Bazin. He was accused of sexually abusing a child on Canadian Forces Base Borden in the early 1970s. The matter made it so far as court, and then suddenly everything was dropped. No explanation was ever made to the media as to why the charges were dropped. You’d think that if the Crown has just smeared someone’s name through the media that they’d be obligated to explain to the public why the charges were dropped at the last minute.

No lawyer in the media claiming “my client has been vindicated”. Nothing. Radio Silence.

In my matter, Captain Father Angus McRae was alive until May 20th, 2011.

The investigation into my complaint started on March 5th, 2011.

The CFNIS knew about the connection between my babysitter, Peter, and Captain Angus McRae right from the get-go.

This means that the JAG, the Provost Marshal, and the CFNIS were aware at the start of the investigation that even if they were able to arrest Peter, that they’d never be able to charge Captain Father Angus McRae. This must have posed quite the dilemma for the Canadian Forces.

They had the CFSIU paperwork from 1980. They knew what Peter had been doing.

But they also knew that they would never be able to charge Angus McRae.

This would be quite the scandal, no?

When the CFNIS started the investigation in March of 2011, they couldn’t have possibly known that Captain McRae would have been about to die. They would have had to structure the investigation with the knowledge that Angus McRae was alive.

Anyways, here’s what Legislative Summary LS-311E had to say about the 3-year-time-bar-flaw.

These are the PDF pages of the images above.

This is LS-311E (1998) in its entirety.

Daniel, what did you do?

What did you do that the Judge Advocate General won’t allow an officer of the Canadian Forces Special Investigation Unit to talk to you about the events that occurred on your base from May of 1980 until July of 1980?

Can you actually sleep with this on your conscience?

Or do you rest well at night know that the Canadian Forces and the Department of National Defence will cover your ass, not because you’re a great guy, but because if they uncover something unsavoury from Canadian Forces Base Namao that this will snowball into unsavoury events on many of the other Canadian Forces Bases where men such as yourself were able to hide things that had occurred on the bases that you were commanding.

How many kids did commanding officer bury on the bases?

Only time will tell.

The Canadian Forces and the crime of Homosexuality

How the Canadian Forces attitude towards homosexuals affected their investigation of Captain Father Angus McRae and his victims.

Prior to 1994 the Canadian Armed Forces had a policy against homosexuals in the military. This was enforced by Canadian Forces Administrative Order CFAO 19-20. I’ve been told by others that this policy would have had no effect on military dependents living on Canadian Forces Bases as we weren’t subject to the Code of Service Discipline.

That may be true, but the attitude towards homosexuals was an official policy, and every service member in the Canadian Forces would have been exposed to this policy and the reasoning behind this policy.

No father in the Canadian Armed Forces would obviously wanted a mentally ill homosexual living in their house.

What this means is that every person living on a Canadian Forces Base, whether they be a service member or a military dependent, was exposed to the horrific treatments that CFAO 19-20 enabled.

The investigation of Captain McRae was commenced in mid-May 1980 after the base military police interviewed Peter due to numerous complaints made against him by other parents of children living on the base.

This was confirmed to me by retired Canadian Forces Warrant Officer Frederick R. Cunningham on November 27th, 2011.

According to Peter’s father Jack, two military police officers came to Jack’s PMQ and questioned Peter in the kitchen. Peter quickly told Sgt. Mossman and Sgt. Clark about Captain Father Angus McRae.

This was confirmed to me when Sgt. Tenaschuk read to me the contents of CFSIU DS 120-10-80 before I requested my own copy from DND in an Access to Information Request.

May 12th 1980 is when base security officer Captain David Pilling
requested the CFSIU investigate Captain McRae for “Acts of Homosexuality”.
Item #2 makes clear what Captain Pilling wanted Captain McRae investigated for.

How much of a hangup did the Canadian Armed Forces have on “homosexuality”?

As you can see from the gallery above “homosexuality” gets mentioned quite frequently. Not seen anywhere in these documents is “sexually abuse” or “sexually assault”. The word “victims” only shows up twice in the entire court martial.

The Canadian Armed Forces considered the children that Captain McRae was plying with beer and wine to be “homosexuals” as well.

None of us were victims.

We were all willing participants.

We were all homosexuals.

The 54 year old padre, the 14 year old altar boy / babysitter, and all of their victims.

We were ALL homosexuals in the eyes of the Canadian Armed Forces.

This is why I was involved with Captain Terry Totzke for 2-1/2 years from age 9 to age 11.

He didn’t care in the least that my home was dysfunctional, or that I was suffering from major depression or severe anxiety. He obviously didn’t care in the least that my father took no responsibility for his own family and always blamed others for the issues with his family.

No, Captain Totzke was concerned that I had shown signs of being a homosexual on CFB Namao and that homosexuality was a mental illness.

I wonder how many other kids from CFB Namao were involved with military social workers who were convinced that they were not victims of a 54 year old officer in the Canadian Armed Forces, but were instead homosexuals.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have absolutely nothing against homosexuals. I even considered myself to be one. Now, knowing what I know about the past, I consider myself to be nothing. Captain Totzke and his “therapy” took any orientation I may have had away from me. But it pisses me off to no extent that the Canadian Armed Forces were so willing to pass off “child sexual abuse” as “homosexuality”.

It upsets me to think that the Canadian Armed Forces thought that the best way to help me get over the events of CFB Namao was to accuse me of being a homosexual when I was 8 years old.

And I can only wonder how many of the other victims of Captain McRae would go on to commit suicide or attempt suicide over the years.

The Exclusion of Evidence

The destruction of evidence by the CFNIS is nothing new to me.

There was a recent story in the Ottawa Citizen by David Pugliese.
It had to do with the CFNIS being ordered by a commanding officer who wasn’t even in the military police hierarchy ordering the destruction of evidence in a CFNIS investigation. Due to the chain of command structure within the Canadian Armed Forces, the CFNIS had no choice but to comply with the order.

Now, if you’ve been following this blog, or my other blog at you understand that I’ve been very leery of the claim by the Canadian Armed Forces that the CFNIS are “outside of the chain of command”.

During the investigation of my complaint against Peter, my babysitter from Canadian Forces Base Namao, there were many questionable issues with the investigation, but none so alarming as what happened on May 3rd and May 4th during my interactions with CFNIS investigator Mcpl Christian Cyr.

On May 3rd, 2011, just before lunch, Mcpl Cyr called me and left me a message on my phone to call him back immediately.

When I called him back, Cyr kept pressing me to understand that Peter was only 12 or 13 in the spring of 1980. However, as we all know, Peter was born in June of 1965.

The funny thing is, Peter’s CPIC file would have his correct date of birth, which is in June of 1965. The only place that Peter’s age is misstated is in the CFSIU transcript.

And, there’s no way that Peter was under the age of 14 at the time of McRae’s court martial. The Canadian Forces could only conduct a court martial for Gross Indecency and Indecent assault if the victim was over the age of consent, which was 14 in 1980. If the Canadian Forces wanted to try Captain McRae for gross indecency and indecent assault against children under the age of 14, the CF would have had to hand this case over to the civilian courts.

Near what should have been the end of the phone call, Mcpl Cyr just blurted out the matter of Captain Father Angus McRae. I broke down and lost my composure when he mentioned that the base chaplain had been arrested and charged with molesting children during the same period of time that I was accusing Peter of molesting myself and my brother.

Further, I told Mcpl Cyr about the five visits to the living quarters at the chapel in which Peter would escort me over from different parts of the base and that I never remembered anything after the sickly sweet grape juice. I don’t remember leaving the chapel. And I don’t remember how I got back home.

I had to leave work early as I was sickened and nauseated by what I discovered when I did a simple Google search for “CFB Namao Molesting Priest” on one of the computers at work.

When I got home from work I did some more searching for information on McRae.

I sent off a pair of emails that evening to Mcpl Cyr.

This is the SAMPIS record of Mcpl Cyr’s interaction with me.

It should be noted from above that the first item #4 is incorrect. I told Mcpl Cyr that I remembered 5 visits that Peter had taken me on over to the chapel to see Captain McRae. All of the five visits ended with what I remembered as being a “sickly sweet grape juice”. I told Mcpl Cyr that I didn’t remember anything after the “grape juice”, not even how I got home from the chapel.

Just as an aside, and for the record. In October of 2020 with the assistance of Ottawa Citizen and Defence Watch writer David Pugliese, the DND and the Minister of National Defence conceded in their fight to keep Captain McRae’s Court Martial Transcripts away from me.

According to the Military Police Complaints Commission, the CFNIS had access to these court martial records as well as the CFSIU investigation paperwork from 1980.

Why is this important?

Warrant Officer Frederick Cunningham being examined during Captain McRae’s Court Martial

Me. The fucker gave me wine.

I wouldn’t learn until 2013 when I received the Certified Tribunal Records from the Military Police Complaints Commission that Mcpl Cyr had been creative with what I told him, and he also failed to mention the receipt of my emails in his notebooks or occurrence reports.

Cyr does a Google Search

So here, Mcpl Cyr does a Google search for an exact phrase that I searched for the day previous which I mentioned in an email that he fails to indicate that he received.

On the morning of May 4th, 2011 I called Mcpl Cyr and told him more information about the rectory.

Call #3 was the call I made to Mcpl Cyr on May 3rd, 2011
Call #6 was the call I made to Mcpl Cyr on May 4th, 2011

It was during this phone call that Mcpl Cyr informed me that there never was a rectory at the chapel, and that the chapel that I had indicated on my email was a new chapel, the chapel that was on the base when I lived there in ’79 to ’80 was in a different place. He also said that the padre never lived on the base. This phone call is not mentioned anywhere in his log book or his SAMPIS report.

Well, the blueprints for Our Lady or Loreto Chapel show the rectory.

The red circle highlights the Rectory.
The dates on these drawings are hard to make out, but the blueprints were drawn for
The Royal Canadian Air Force HQ. The RCAF ceased to exist in 1968.

See the CFNIS had Captain McRae’s court martial transcript. The CFNIS had the CFSIU investigation paperwork. In that paperwork was this document from McRae’s Court Martial transcript.

Angus McRae’s admission to the Catholic Church that he had been committing “homosexual acts” with several minors over the past couple of years.

Peter was the main witness for the prosecution. Peter’s testimony is completely blanked out in Captain McRae’s court martial transcript. However, the Military Police Complaints Commission was kind enough to summarize how Peter came to be involved with the prosecution of Captain McRae.

In the MPCC final report, the MPCC indicates that the court martial transcripts indicate this about Mr. X
Mr. X is Peter, my babysitter.

Peter was the only boy that Captain McRae was actually charged with abusing, even though the Canadian Forces Special Investigation Unit knew in 1980 that he had been molesting more than just Peter.

In 2011 the CFNIS knew.

In 2011 the Provost Marshal knew.

In 2011 the Judge Advocate General would have known.

In 2011 the Vice Chief of Defence staff would have known.

In 2011 the Chief of Defence Staff would have known.

In 2011 the office of the Minister of National Defence would have know.

As soon as the Alberta Serious Incident Response Team transferred my complaint against Peter from the Edmonton Police Service to the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service the CFNIS would have known who Peter was and what risk my complaint against Peter posed to the Canadian Armed Forces.

And this is why ANY mention of Captain Father Angus McRae was removed from the CFNIS investigation GO 2011-5754.

Someone up the chain of command had made the decision that my complaint against Peter was to go absolutely no where.

The knew the liability risk that this would pose if a connection was made between myself, Peter, and Captain Father Angus McRae.

This is why I fully believe that my father was encouraged to “forget” that his mother was raising my brother and I. There could be absolutely no way of linking Peter to us, especially not in the authority roll as our babysitter.

When I went to Federal Court in 2013 asking for the court to quash the findings of the 2012 MPCC review the Attorney General of Canada argued that the CFNIS were correct to strike any mention of Captain McRae from CFNIS investigation GO 2011-5754 as my complaint had been against Peter S. and not Captain McRae. The Justice hearing my matter agreed with the Attorney General on this point.

I’ll tell you first hand, this lunacy, and this subterfuge is enough to drive a sane person mad.

If you’ve ever wondered

For most of my life I’ve been outright lied to.

I wasn’t a victim in 1980.

I was a homosexual monster.

My father wasn’t a drunk asshole with rage issues, I was just too sensitive.

I wasn’t having psychiatric issues due to the abuse and the conversion therapy, I was just acting up to get attention.

Later in life, when I tried to receive justice for what had occurred on Canadian Forces Base Namao I was accused of lying. I was accused of making things up, of blowing things out or proportion. The Minister of National Defence himself accused me of playing games and having angles.

Throughout the CFNIS investigation GO 2011-5754 I was told time and time again that P.S. couldn’t have done what I accused him of, I was told time and time again that there was no fire at PMQ #26 on 12th Street. I was told that the base chapel was in a different location. I was told that I couldn’t have been molested in the base chapel by Captain McRae as the chapel didn’t have a rectory.

On May 3rd, 2011 and May 4th 2011 I sent Master Corporal Christian Cyr some emails that detailed the chapel and other places on the base. Not a single one of these fucking emails was included in the investigation. It’s like they magically disappeared. But I know that Cyr received these emails as he used a certain phrase from one of my emails in one of his reports.

When I got my hands on the Certified Tribunal Records from the Military Police Complaints Commission, I was fucking horrified.

I had submitted my foster care records to the CFNIS in August of 2011 to bolster the fact that there was no on at home that my brother or I could have told about the abuse.

Instead the CFNIS focused on a paragraph or two that said that I was emotionally disturbed and causing trouble.

The CFNIS ignored the fact that my foster care records said that it was our grandmother raising my brother and I on base and that grandma was invited to live with us in 1977 and didn’t move out until 1981.

This was important as my father denied ever hiring a babysitter. Of course he’d deny it, it wasn’t him that hired the babysitter, it was his mother.

I just can’t figure out if it was Richard that erased his mother from our house or if the CFNIS suggested that he not mention his mother as that would help ensure that P.S. could not be indicated as our babysitter, thereby casting further doubt on my allegations against P.S.

The CFNIS ignored the part of my foster care records that said that my brother and I viewed grandma as far too authoritarian and strict. They completely skipped the part where I told the psychologist that I was going to kill myself if grandma didn’t leave the house.

The CFNIS ignored the psychological report of the psychologist hired by the Canadian Forces that said that my father accepted no responsibility for his family, blamed others for the problems with his family, expected others to solve the problems with his family, that he denied any knowledge of his kids having problems, blamed his mother for hiding those problems from him.

So, in the end, Richard died in 2017 without ever having to own up to the horrific fucking hell he put me through to cover for his own irresponsibility that led to my brother and I being sexually abused for 1-1/2 years on CFB Namao.

What’s even worse is that the CFNIS had in its possession the CFSIU investigation paperwork and the Court Martial transcripts which indicated that the Military Police in 1980 knew that P.S. was molesting children on the base.

What’s even worse is that the CFNIS had done CPIC checks on P.S. and found that he was charged and convicted in 1x in 1982, 1x in 1984, 2x in 1985 for the sexual abuse of children.

“Mr. Bees, we just couldn’t find anything that would indicate that P.S. was capable of what you accused him of”

Why did the CFNIS spin the investigation the way they did?

Why did the Canadian Forces, the Provost Marshal, and the CFNIS go out of their way to protect a multi-time convicted child molested?


Someone up the Chain of Command made the decision that I was never to be linked to Captain Father Angus McRae via P.S.

If P.S. abused my brother and I as a result of the abuse, the grooming, or the instructions that P.S. received from Captain Father Angus McRae, there would be the possibility of compensation.

After all, Captain McRae was a member of the regular force, he was living on a secure defence establishment in housing provided to him by the Canadian Armed Forces, as he was a regular force member he was subject to the Code of Service discipline 24/7, and I lived on the same defence establishment that the Canadian Forces were supposed to provide security for.

If my matter had made it to court and through discovery it was learnt that Captain McRae had molested many other children on CFB Namao, CFS Holberg, CFB Portage La Prairie, and CFB Kingston, where would the liability end?

If my matter had made ripples in the media, how many other kids that had been abused on the bases across Canada would start coming forward.



You sure about that?

Well, as it turns out a Commanding Officer outside of the CFNIS ordered the CFNIS to destroy evidence and the fucking CFNIS complied. It has to. It has no fucking choice. Section 83 of the National Defence Act says that every person subject to the Code of Service Discipline WILL obey the LAWFUL command of a superior officer. There are no fucking exceptions for the investigators within the CFNIS.

Section 18.5 says that the Vice Chief of Defence Staff can direct the Provost Marshal and the CFNIS.

Let’s quit fucking pretending that the CFNIS are real police.

They’re not.

They’re soldiers first and police officer second.

Jesus Fucking H. Christ.

You do not destroy evidence.

Especially not on the order of some fucking jerk-off commanding officer.

The Canadian Fucking Forces just keep getting worse and worse as the days go by as more shit floats to the top of the swamp.

But Bobbie, doesn’t this make you happy?

Why the fuck would it make me happy?

I counted on these fucking assholes to keep me safe as a child when I lived on their fucking defence establishments.

I counted on these fucking assholes to ensure that justice was carried out and that every attempt was made to make me whole again after the fucking abuse. Instead I got 2-1/2 years of psychological abuse at the hands of military social worker Captain Totzke.

When it became apparent that my father was incapable of looking after me due to his issues, I counted on the Canadian Forces to assist Alberta Social Services with my care, not help my fucking father skip to a different province.

In 2011, when the CFNIS took my matter away from the civilian police, I was counting on the CFNIS to help me escape from a lifetime of being blamed for allowing the babysitter to have molested my younger brother. Instead the fucking worthless CFNIS acted to protect the DND and the CF from civil actions and potential public humiliation had the truth about CFB Namao been made public.

I was told by the Military Police Complaints Commission that there was no way possible for the Canadian Forces to interfere with a CFNIS investigation, that the CFNIS were free from Chain of Command influence.

Well, as it turns out, this is all bullshit and fucking lies.

Bullshit and fucking lies is all the Canadian Armed Forces seem to be good at.

Telling the fucking truth seems to be far beyond the abilities of the Canadian Armed Forces.

So, if you’re still trying to grasp why I want to die via M.A.i.D. after M.A.i.D. for psychiatric issues becomes law in 2023, this is why.

My whole fucking life has been one horrific fucking joke. Everything I knew as a kid was absolute fucking lies. My sexuality was destroyed by Captain Totzke. My mental health and well-being was destroyed by my own father and the Canadia Armed Forces. All for the sake of keeping a fucking secret.

Even if the Minister of National Defence, Anita Anand ekes out a meagre apology, what the fuck is that going to do. It’s not going to bring my father back so that he can apologize and eat humble fucking pie for what he did. It’s not going to undo the abuse at the hands of P.S. or Captain McRae. It’s not going to undo the psychological abuse I suffered under Captain Totzke.

Knowing what I’ve learnt about the Canadian Armed Forces and their knack for bald-faced lying and duplicity makes anything the Canadian Forces, the Department of National Defence, or the Minister of National Defence absolutely worthless.

Why would any person in their right mind want to willingly live in complete torment knowing what I know and seeing what I’ve seen.

This is the reason why M.A.i.D. has such a powerful allure for me.

I’ve already been through enough in life.

Suicide will never be an answer for me. Why should I have to suffer more in the end? Why should I have to risk surviving a botched attempt?

No amount of counselling, talking, arts therapy, magical healing crystals, or chakras will undo what was done.

My bed has been made. Now I have to lay in it. Sucks that the housekeeper making my bed was a member of the Canadian Armed Forces.

The peaceful exit of M.A.i.D. is what I look forward to.

No pain. No suffering. No more depression. No more anxiety. No more torment. No more lies.

Just nothing.

And believe me, I’m okay with that.

It’s far better than what I live with now.

What comes after this?

That’s the big question, isn’t it?

What comes after this life. For as long as humans have been able to question what the future holds humans have obviously wondered what happens after death.

No one has survived death.

Yes, there are those who have “come back” from “death” but upon closer examination they were declared dead before they actually were. As no human has ever survived death, living humans have no idea of what happens after death and decomposition.

I honestly don’t believe that anything happens. Other than irreversible decomposition.

Who you are goes away when your brain dies.

There’s no magical kingdom in the sky where everyone goes and hangs out with their best buddies from high school.

There’s no burning pit of fire for those who go against the wishes of the magical sky daddy.

The human brain is very inquisitive. It has an innate need for knowledge.

And when the human brain can’t come up with answer that satisfies its thirst for knowledge, it has a tendency to make up answers that quenched this thirst. God. Heaven. Angels. Hell.

Humans created god.

Humans created heaven.

Humans created angels.

Humans created hell.

Humans created the afterlife because the human brain can not comprehend its non-existence after its death.

At least that’s my take on it.

And it only makes sense really.

The human brain spends almost the entirety of its existence learning, and observing, and calculating, and dreaming, and plotting, and scheming.

It can create beautiful wonders out of nothing, it can take basic minerals and make electronic devices that border on absolute magic. The human brain has launched probes into space that are still communicating with the Earth as they pass through the heliosphere.

The human brain can create music, and numbers, and mathematical formulas, and spoken language, and written language, and poetry, and literature.

So for the brain to be able to do all of this, and then at the end simply die and turn into a congealed blob of fat cells and dead neurones indistinguishable from the dead nerves in the body’s feet is quite insulting and unimaginable for the brain.

Hence why we have an afterlife. Our brain needs the afterlife. Even though the afterlife doesn’t exist, our brain still needs it to exist. Lulling itself into a false sense of security with the fairytale of an afterlife allows the brain to function on a daily basis without going insane at the prospect of realizing that it’s all for naught.

How well did I know Richard?

I honestly didn’t know Richard all that well.

And that’s probably for the better. Peering too deep into the black pit of his soul would probably drive anyone insane.

I don’t remember Richard very much from CFB Shearwater. I vaguely remember a motorcycle ride.

I remember some sort of string controlled model airplane that he had.

I remember him walking to work once in the fog.

But that’s it.

I remember him on CFB Summerside, but again, not that much.

I know that Marie drove him to the airfield at the base a couple of times when he had to go away on training exercises.

I remember my grandmother, and Kimberly Wood, and even my mother before she left, but I don’t ever remember Richard except for when he picked me up from the hospital after my bicycle incident in July of 1978.

I remember he almost set the PMQ on fire once when he left the kettle on the stove and he fell asleep. The kettle melted and the handle started burning.

I remember him wanting to build me a wooden go-cart but that came to an end the night he came home drunk and went to the basement.

CFB Namao, he was rarely around. Just like on Summerside, it was his mother raising us, not him. He would occasionally stop in and take my brother and I down to Wetaskiwin to visit his girlfriend Vicki. When Richard started seeing Sue around the summer of 1979 he would occasionally pick my brother and I up and we’d go over and stay at Sue’s place for the weekend.

But again, I didn’t see much of Richard until he moved back in to the house in August / September of 1980. He brought Sue to live with him as well at this point.

I remember thinking after Richard had moved back in with us that my real father had died in a military exercise and that the Canadian Forces had replaced my real father with an imposter hoping that I wouldn’t notice.

He was so very different from what I had remembered before. Also, he was around a lot more now than he had ever been before.

In October of 1980 we were moved 10km down the road from CFB Namao to CFB Griesbach at taxpayer expense .

By the summer of 1981 Grandma had moved off base and moved into her own apartment on 107th Ave and 111th street.

Richard still was going away on training exercises and dumping my brother and I on Sue’s lap.

Things under Richard’s domain were not all that pleasant.

Richard was the ultimate control freak. And as my brother was 7 and I was 10, nothing was ever going to be as perfect as he wanted it.

It got to the point that Richard put my brother and I in the base daycare centre before we’d go to school. Richard would wake us up in the morning, we’d get dressed, have breakfast, and then we’d have to go sit in the day care centre until it was time to go to school.

If you ever want to get tormented and teased and get the shit beaten out of you, try being a 10 year old military dependent living on a military base and going to a day care centre for toddlers on a military base.

After school was just as bad. We weren’t allowed to have keys for the house. So after school we’d have to stand on the front porch of the PMQ and wait. School would get out at 15:00. Richard would get off work at around 16:30. Winter time in Edmonton could get really fucking cold. And no, we could’t go over to other people’s PMQs and wait there. We had to be standing on the porch when he got home.

One winter day my brother decided that he had enough of freezing, so he went and kicked one of the basement windows in and then climbed down into the PMQ. Richard went through the fucking roof. I can’t remember what he did to my brother, but it was my fault for not keeping an eye on my brother and letting my brother do something that he could have hurt himself doing.

“The boys did not seem to show fear”
Yeah, that’s always a good thing.
Yep. Mr. Gill sure didn’t have any problem disciplining me or my brother.
And yes, when Richard made a decision YOU DID NOT question it.

Yeah, it was funny but in a sad funny way how Richard was. Other kids on base could “whine” or “cry” and usually get “their way” with their parents. But when it came to Richard. His decisions were final. And any questioning his decisions were taken as a direct challenge to his authority. And you did not challenge his authority. Period.

Not overly warm.

Yeah, that was Richard. “Not overly warm”.

When I tried to track down my Uncle Doug in 2011 I made contact with his widow Yvonne. She said almost exactly thing this social service worker had to say. Richard could appear to be friendly. And he would help out. But you had to stay out of his way while he was helping or he would explode in anger.

Bob Becker said the same thing. Ed Blaha said the same thing.
Almost anyone who met my father would say the same thing.

He was “pleasant”, he “seemed nice”, but he seemed to be troubled by something.

In 2011 he told the CFNIS that I was nothing but trouble in school. But in 1982 he told Alberta Social Services that he wasn’t aware of my brother or I having any trouble in school as the school never tells him anything.

More than likely it was he didn’t want to hear what the schools had to say.

Richard kept my brother and I not out of love but out of a desire to “control the costs”. His friends were always asking him why if having kids was so upsetting to him why he didn’t ship us off to live with our mother. His answer was always that as long as we lived under his roof, he could control the costs, but if we went to live with our mother he’d have to sign his paycheque over to her, and that was not going to happen.

You’ll also notice that it’s not my imagination. It’s right there in black and white. Richard had abdicated his parenting role for my brother and dropped my brother in my lap.

This is how Richard was. Richard wasn’t going to wear my brother. Any issues that my brother had obviously weren’t due to Richard’s complete lack of parenting skills. No, it was painfully obvious that any issues that my brother had were due to me not looking after or raising my brother properly.

When I examined Richard for Federal Court in 2013 he said the reason that my brother and I were never involved in activities after we moved from CFB Griesbach was because I showed no interest.

Again, here I am showing absolutely no interest and it’s obvious that I not getting anything.

Here he is telling social services that we were involved with “swimming, bowling, hockey, cubs, beavers” but that we aren’t involved with these any longer as he “doesn’t feel the boys get enough from them”.

What a fucking load of shit.

When I lived on CFB Namao, Grandma had me in bowling, beavers, swimming, basketball, and hockey. The fees for military dependents on base were minimal, but the parents still had to buy the equipment. My grandmother would use her CPP cheques to pay the fees and buy some of the equipment. She would force Richard to pay for the rest.

Grandma is the one who took me swimming. She’d take me to bowling. She’d take me to basket ball. She’d take me to hockey. She would always coax one of the other fathers to tie up my skates for me as her hands were too arthritic.

The reason why we didn’t do these sports on CFB Griesbach was twofold.

First, the arena, the pool, and the bowling centre were up on CFB Namao. Richard was not going to waste his time driving up to the other base and then waiting around.

And as Richard had told me in the fall of 1982 when Westfield was going on a swimming trip to the Kinsmen Sports Centre for a swimming trip and he refused to sign the permission slip “There will be other naked boys around and you won’t be able to control yourself”.

That’s why there were no more sports activities like swimming, or bowling, or hockey……. Richard didn’t want me becoming aroused around other naked boys like I had done with P.S. on CFB Namao.

Which make it even more painful every time I look at his 2011 statement that he gave to the CFNIS when he professed he knew nothing about the babysitter P.S. from CFB Namao.

Richard made my life a living fucking hell because of what P.S. had done to me and my brother on CFB Namao. Or more specifically, what I had enjoyed doing with the babysitter and what I had allowed the babysitter to do to my younger brother.

Yeah. As a kid I had no fucking idea of what was going on. If I did something wrong I’d get a spanking, or sent to my room without supper, or grounded. And if my brother did something wrong I’d get a spanking, or sent to my room without supper, or grounded. There was absolutely no fucking winning no matter what.

P.S. was twice my age. There was nothing I could do to stop P.S.. But that’s not the way that Richard saw things.

As I said in a previous post. I was Richard’s scapegoat. Anything that went wrong with my brother or with me was obviously my fault. And he needed a scapegoat as he sure as he couldn’t take responsibility.

All I need are horns and a red ribbon in my hair.

When it was his responsibility to look after us, school wasn’t telling him anything, his mother wasn’t telling him anything, social services wasn’t telling him anything, the psychiatrists and psychologists weren’t telling him anything.

When my brother got into to trouble. It wasn’t Richard’s responsibility. Richard couldn’t take responsibility. So the responsibility had to become someone else’s responsibility.

I fully understand this now. Fuck, I fully understood this when I got my social service / foster care paperwork in 2011.

But understanding this does nothing to erase the memories of the beltings, the backhands, the open handed slaps, the shoves to the ground, the hours and hours of frustrated crying not understanding what the fuck it was that I was doing wrong.

From Home Visit in November of 1981

Yeah, this would be an understatement. My brother and I didn’t like each other much. And I don’t think Richard really cared.

I was suffering from major depression and severe anxiety and receiving no treatment for either. I was still dealing with the fallout from CFB Namao. And here I am at age 10 being held responsible to raise a 6 year old who was having his own issues due to CFB Namao and the dysfunctional household that we were living in.

The rivalry between us had become so extreme that the North York Board of Education had to separate us and send us to other school.

In the school year of 1983-1984 my brother and I went to Sheppard Public.
We had to be separated. I stayed at Sheppard, my brother went to Downsview Public.
This report was written in September of 1984 when I started Gr. 7 at Elia Jr. High.

And Richard gave not the single slightest fuck whatsoever.

Richard was controlling the costs.

Richard wasn’t signing his paycheque over to “that bitch”.

That’s all that mattered to Richard.

“I like responsibility”

It’s not so much that I liked responsibility. I just liked being away from Richard. I liked not being anywhere near Sue. I liked not having to be in their house. I liked the fact that the owner of the pet shop appreciated the work I was doing. I liked the fact that the owner of the store never once yelled at me or hit me. I liked having little animals to play with. I liked being able to buy a hot dog at the Julius stand in the mall or go over and get a cheese burger and fries at the McDonalds in the parking lot. I liked being able to play arcade games at the Wizard’s Castle in the mall.

It’s not that I liked responsibility. It’s that I found somethings that were sorely missing from my life at home. Respect. Trust. Admiration.

I guess that’s one thing that always irked Richard, ’cause he sure mentions it a lot in the social service records. I “admire” my mother. Fuck, this must have made him absolutely sick. After everything that he was doing for me that I still had the audacity to “admire” or “adore” my mother, the women who in his words was a “miserable bitch” that “ran away” and “abandoned” him and left him with her kids to raise.

When Sue first moved in with us she did a few good things. We stopped going to church with Grandma on Sundays. Sue said that if we didn’t want to go to church we didn’t have to. The Dutch have never been very religious. The Netherlands has always been a highly irreligious country.

Sue also put her foot down with Grandma’s drinking and Richard’s drinking. I know that Grandma’s drinking caused a lot of tension between her and Sue.

Sue also said at the start that she was going to get Richard to stop hitting us. In the end Richard’s ability to play the victim and to blame the actual victims got Sue hitting my brother and I. To be very clear, she was never anywhere near as violent as Richard could be.

She was more of the flyswatter type. And she was also good with pinching.

I think the only reason that Sue started hitting my brother and I was out of frustration and inexperience. At the time she would have been in her very early twenties. I had always joked that she was the older sister that I had never asked for.

Her and I were so close in age that one day Sue had me on the ground on my back in the front yard and she was slapping me. The female military police officer that lived in PMQ #69 came over and grabbed Sue and pulled her off of me. The female MP told Sue that if she ever caught her fighting with her little brother that she was going to tell our father. Yeah, the MP thought that Sue was my older sister.

On more than one time Sue referred to me as a “retard”.

And due to my untreated major depression I was prone to fits of crying. On more than one occasion she would tell me that if I didn’t stop crying like a little girl that she was going to take me to Sears and buy me a dress.

I don’t hold any grudges against her.

She was a kid herself back in the early ’80s.

She had fallen in love with a man that had some very major psychological issues.

The man she fell in love with had children that he refused to accept responsibility for.

Both of the kids that she was expected to look after had “secrets” that Richard and the Canadian Armed Forces were doing everything they could to keep hidden. I often wonder what she would have done if she had known that my brother and I had been sexually abused by our babysitter P.S. and at least in my case Captain Father Angus McRae for 1-1/2 years.

The only person that I blame for back then is Richard.

He could have looked after these issues had he been 1/4 of the man he pretended to be.

But to be honest, it wasn’t just Richard that was to blame.

The Canadian Armed Forces also share a lot of the blame.

Men like my father were a dime-a-dozen in the Canadian Forces. Men who couldn’t fit into society anywhere else. They fit into the military. As long as guys like my father were willing to put their lives on the line for the country, the Canadian Forces was more than willing to turn a blind eye to what went on in the PMQ patches. A guy like my father could never have survived out on civvy street. He needed to be amongst other guys like him. Other guys who maybe drank too much, or hit their wives a little too often, or who maybe disciplined their kids a little too frequently.

My father wasn’t the only alky with rage issues and some form of untreated military related psychological trauma.

There were others.

There were many others.

In the end, there is no fixing or undoing the damage that Richard created.

My Brother’s statement to the CFNIS

When I made my complaint about the babysitter in March of 2011 I had mentioned that I had witnessed my brother being abused numerous times by P.S. as P.S. would sometimes abuse us each on our own, but would more often than not abuse the two of us together in the basement of my family’s PMQ on babysitting days.

The CFNIS asked if I knew how to contact my brother. I told the CFNIS that the last time that I spoke with my brother was in 2003 when I had ridden my motorcycle up to Edmonton to see Richard.

I suggested to the CFNIS that they could talk to Richard and Richard could put them in contact with my brother. What I didn’t know at the time is that my brother had a falling out of sorts with Richard and Sue and hadn’t spoken with them since around 2007.

I wasn’t too optimistic that Richard would give the CFNIS my brother’s contact information as I was certain that Richard was going to take a very dim view of the fact that I was trying to shirk my responsibility for what I had done on CFB Namao by allowing P.S. to abuse my younger brother.

In August of 2012 on Facebook I was able to track down my brother’s wife at the time, and I asked her to pass my contact information.

My brother contacted me and we talked a bit about things from back then (1978 to 1980).

I even went up to Edmonton for a few days from June 30th, 2013 to July 5, 2013 to see him.

It was during this visit that he had explained to me that he hadn’t spoke with either Richard or Sue since about 2007 due to a funeral that he didn’t want to attend.

At the time I was going through my first go-round with the Military Police Complaints Commission. And up to this point I had not seen a single document from the CFNIS investigation. I was literally flying blind with my complaint against the CFNIS.

My complaint against the CFNIS failed. Basically it came down to:
-Did the CFNIS take my complaint?
-Did the CFNIS contact other victims?
-Did the CFNIS try to contact the accused?
-Did the CFNIS submit anything to the Alberta Crown?
As the CFNIS did this, the MPCC blessed the investigation.
See, the MPCC, like most police review agencies can only look at the mechanics of the investigation. The MPCC cannot judge or second guess the findings of the CFNIS. That’s why in 2020 the MPCC had to bend the rules a little bit and included documents related to my investigation from a parallel investigation.

I decided to file an Application for Judicial Review in the Federal Court of Canada. One thing that I hadn’t anticipated was that the Military Police Complaints Commission would have to provide me with copies of all of the documents that the Canadian Forces and the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service had denied to me during my initial complaint to the MPCC.

I know for a fact that the Alberta Crown was upset and devastated that the MPCC and the CFNIS had given me a copy of the Alberta Crown’s decision to me. Documents like this are “privileged” and are never supposed to end up in the hands of the victims.

Contained within these documents were copies of my brother’s “Will Say” statement as well as the investigator’s notes from the interview.

Pg. 1 of “will say”
Pg. 2 of “Will Say”

The following are the interview notes taken by
Petty Officer 1st Class Steve Morris.

Much as I did with my father, I gave my brother a written examination for Federal Court.

The following are the questions that I asked my brother

The following are my brother’s answers to my questions.

Two things stand out for me in this mess.

The first thing that stands out is that it’s almost as if the investigators with the CFNIS are taught to ask vague non-specific questions and worse, to transcribe vague and really open-to-interpretation notes of the interview. Who is “he”. Who is “him”. Who is “they”. That was one thing my grandmother used to get furious with me about when I was learning to write in grades 1, 2, and 3. “Only dogs get MAD, humans get ANGRY” and “NEVER use ‘He’, ‘She’,’They’,’Them’ when you know their names”. For a woman that only had two years of formal education, she sure was very fussy about the proper use of language.

The second thing that stands out is that my brother mentions to the CFNIS that it was Richard that told him about my motorcycle.

In early 2002 I bought a demo motorcycle from a dealer. Paid in full. The first vehicle I ever owned that didn’t have financing attached. Came to about $11k all said and done.

In late 2002 I got cut off by a taxi cab that ran a stop sign. The motorcycle went down on the left hand side, which due to the layout of the crankcase breather sent oil up into the air intake box and hydrolocked #1 piston. ICBC found the driver 100% at fault. ICBC paid the dealer to return the motorcycle to like new condition.

Just outside of the 1 year ICBC warranty period the #1 piston and connecting rod failed at highway speeds just outside of Chilliwack. I got the motorcycle towed back to Vancouver. I went back to the dealer and spoke to the mechanic that had rebuilt the bike. I told him about the engine failure. I asked him if they had torn down the engine and checked the #1 piston and connecting rod for damage. He said that the owner of the motorcycle shop wouldn’t allow the mechanics to tear down the engine even though the engine was obviously hydrolocked. The mechanic removed the spark plug, which due to the hydraulic pressure behind it shot up. There was also a squirt of oil that came out of the spark plug hole. The mechanic said that he did start the engine and it sounded rough for a bit, but then as the oil burned up the engine went back to sounding okay. The cost of labour for tearing down the engine and then rebuilding the engine would have put the bike well over ICBC’s limit for writing the motorcycle off. The mechanic explained that by rebuilding the bike the shop stood to make far more money off the rebuild job than if ICBC had simply written off the motorcycle and had given me a cheque to buy a new motorcycle.

So yeah, I nearly lost my life because someone got greedy. But that’s life I guess.

I contacted a couple of lawyers. They both wanted a $10k retainer (standard from what I understand). I had about $6k in the bank. So I called Richard. This did not go over too well. Richard started ranting about the fact that I couldn’t look after my stuff, that I was always breaking anything that had ever been given to me, that I was obviously too fucking stupid to ride a motorcycle and that I was going to kill someone. He then suggested that I contact my mother and ask “that bitch” to pay for this as she didn’t pay a single damn thing towards my brother and I when Richard was raising us.

Yep. Richard had managed to take the high speed engine failure of my motorcycle caused by the wilful neglect of the dealership and spun it around to him being the victim who had to sacrifice everything to raise my brother and I.

Yeah, that was Richard.