I started blogging back around August of 2011 just after I received my social service paperwork from the Alberta government.
I quickly realized that I had no one to talk to about the events that I had lived through on Canadian Forces Base Namao, Canadian Forces Base Griesbach, and Canadian Forces Base Downsview.
And talk I wanted to.
To go from someone who had been reviled by his own family for causing the events on Canadian Forces Base Namao and for having fucked with his father’s military career to now being one of at least 25 children that got chucked under the fucking bus by the Canadian Armed Forces due to chain of command decisions made by grown adults in May to June of 1980.
I had begun counselling sessions in May of 2011 with a counsellor from the EFAP program at work, I could tell that he wasn’t able to comprehend any of what I was telling him. Sure, the counselling went on for a few years. It was nice having someone to talk to even if he had nothing to offer in the slightest.
I thought that these blogs would get me more answers and more details about what had happened on CFB Namao. But this hasn’t worked out. Yes, I have been contacted by other brats who were abused on the base at the time. But much like I had been prior to my crash course in the damaged military justice system, most people who had grown up on military bases as children had no idea of just how fucked up things were on the bases back then.
There are generally two types of base brat. The ones that came from somewhat functional families and who undoubtedly participated in the shunning of kids from dysfunctional families that would occur on base. And those that came from dysfunctional families like mine that are unaware that their own serving parent sacrificed the wellbeing of their children to appease the chain of command.
The members of the former group will not under any circumstance admit that there were dysfunctional families on base as that means that they would have to admit to the fact that they often participated in the shunning and harassment of the children of these families.
And you had better fucking believe me when I say that a military community is not very tolerant of non-conformity. The military is built around 100% conformity.
The members of the latter group will not admit that their family was dysfunctional as they subconsciously know what happened, but they don’t want to have their suspicions confirmed.
I quickly came to realize that the general public has no idea of what happened on the bases in Canada, and the general public just doesn’t seem to care.
The media that once existed in Canada no longer exists. It’s all downsized, consolidated, and owned by the Americans. And timing is everything. The last 25 years have been extremely unstable in the geo political sphere, so the story of how the National Defence Act allowed matters like Captain Father Angus McRae to be buried often becomes sidelined due to current events.
So, I type away on my blog in the vain hope that something will come of this all the while knowing that this blog will only really appeal to a very small minority of people.
Well, it was one year ago today that Scott texted me wanting to how our class action against the Canadian Armed Forces was proceeding.
I explained to him that the DND and the DOJ were still trying to have me disallowed as the representative plaintiff.
He asked me if he should be the representative plaintiff.
And that was the last I ever heard of him.
The next time that I heard anything about him was on August 14th, 2024 when I received a next-of-kin visit from the Vancouver Police Department at the request of the Edmonton Police Service.
What killed him?
Still don’t know.
The official cause of death is “ruptured spleen” due to a fall.
But was the fall due to a heart attack? Heart attacks are a Gill clan specialty.
Was it a grand mal epilepsy seizure? His seizures were getting bad recently.
Was it his ketamine habit?
He had been taking Ketamine infusion treatments and apparently started finding his own sources of ketamine. When I went to his apartment back in August of 2024 to give the landlord the okay to dispose of his belongings someone showed me a picture of a needle of ketamine that had been found on Scott’s computer desk where he had been right before he got up and fell.
Someone else had confirmed that Scott had originally snorted the ketamine, but then quickly graduated into intravenous injections.
Because of where I work I am more than acutely familiar with how addictive ketamine is, and how deadly this drug is when misused.
I know that people are offered ketamine infusion therapy for the treatment of major depression, but it’s not something that I would ever entertain no matter how euphoric the high is and no matter how much it promises to free me from my depression.
I know that Scott suffered from depression. It would have been impossible to live in the Gill household and not come away with mental trauma, major depression, and anxiety.
Just as the coroner wasn’t able to establish a cause of death, they also weren’t able to establish an exact time of death. Scott was discovered only after the downstairs neighbour started to complain about a putrid liquid leaking into their suite.
Even though Scott had no will as I was the one disposing of his body I also had to make basic decisions about his apartment.
When I went in to the space the smell of death and rot was still heavy in the air even though the property management company had removed the plywood flooring and sealed the parts of the framing that couldn’t be removed.
Scott had apparently bought this condo suite a few years back. But he had apparently sold the condo suite a few months before his death and was paying rent to the new owner.
The condo was apparently sold for about $80k. What ever happened to that money is anyone’s guess. There really wasn’t anything worth keeping. And I couldn’t breathe in the space. As I said it smelt like death and rot. And I didn’t have a HEPA / Carbon half mask.
As I was listed as his executor on the cremation paperwork, when the crematorium provided his certificate of cremation to the credit reporting agencies I started getting a lot of calls from creditors asking when they were going to be paid.
But here’s the funny thing.
Even though I can pay to have his body cremated.
Even though I can choose what to do with his cremains.
I have no access to anything else.
I had one of his creditors that sent his outstanding bill to a credit agency and that credit agency wanted me to make payment arrangements.
Wrote a nice little letter to this agency informing them that I had absolutely no intention of paying seven to ten thousand dollars to a court to be awarded official legal executor status when it appeared for all intents and purposes that Scott had no money, no will, and no other relations outside of me.
Haven’t heard from them since.
So, with the death of Scott that means that the Gill / Dagenais blood line is finished. I’m the only one left. Scott’s dead. Richard’s dead, I’m sure that Marie’s dead.
Now, the really strange thing was the VPD knocked on my door on August 13th, 2024.
Our stepmother Sue lived up in Morinville, AB.
Morinville is maybe 30 minutes north of Edmonton on the St. Albert Trail.
I had taken the SIM card out of Scott’s phone and installed it into my phone as his phone was locked but it was blowing up with messages and texts. By installing the SIM I was able to read and respond to the text messages coming in to his phone.
Apple isn’t very helpful in situations like this.
The one message that I didn’t expect to ever see because of the bad blood Scott claimed existed between him and Sue was Sue herself.
Haven’t heard back from her since.
And honestly I don’t expect to hear back from her.
There wasn’t a lot of closeness in our family.
Richard was a piss tank alcoholic with a short fuse and rage issues.
We grew up on military bases where dysfunctional households were ignored and shunned.
Richard kept us isolated from our relatives.
Richard made sure that Scott and I and anyone who would listen understood that Scott and I were the unwanted baggage that he was forced to endure.
But yeah, much like when I had found out that Richard had died, Scott’s death hasn’t affected me much.
There had always been so much animosity between Scott and I.
Richard had pretty well washed his hands of his parental responsibilities and expected grandma and I to raise Scott. But grandma was just as much of an alcoholic as Richard was, and in the aftermath of CFB Namao I wasn’t psychologically able to look after myself let alone anyone else.
As I said, Richard wasn’t a dad, he was a father. And a very reluctant one at that.
He never raised Scott and I to be brothers.
For the most part he left Scott and I to grow up feral on the bases.
Scott went one way.
I went another.
Scott’s death does reinforce one thing for me and that is we, and by we I mean all humans in general, don’t matter and when we die, no one outside of immediate family gives a fuck. It’s like we may as well not exist.
This is just the rough outline at the moment, I will try to fill in more details as time goes by.
.
1923
June – My paternal grandmother is born in the Athabasca region of Alberta.
1935
October – As she is Swampy Cree, grandma is enrolled in an Indian Residential School named Holy Angels located at Fort Chipewyan, AB.
1938
March – Grandma leaves Residential School
1941
– Uncle Norman born
1946
June – Richard Gill (my father) born in Peterborough, Ontario
December – Marie Annette Jacqueline Dagenais (my mother) born in Hull, Quebec
My father’s father leaves the family. Unsure of the details.
Grandma relocates her family back to Fort McMurray, Alberta
1963
Richard joins the Royal Canadian Navy with a grade 9 education
1967
– Richard and Marie married
Marie had met Richard via her brother Al. Al and Richard served in the navy together.
1968
Unification of the Canadian Forces, Richard remusters into the Air Force.
1969
July –
Richard is photographed as a member of the Sea Kings on HMCS Ottawa, the first ship of the Canadian Forces where French is the primary language spoken.
October 29th –
The HMCS Ottawa was amongst the ships that were returning from the United Kingdom as part of exercises. The HMCS Kootenay suffered a major explosion in the engine room due to faulty maintenance. 9 members killed, including three that had been my father’s drinking buddies when he was in the Royal Canadian Navy before unification. As Richard was attached to the Sea Kings he would have been involved with the rescue flights flown to evacuate crew members from the HMCS Kootenay.
According to Bill Parker my father’s personality changed for the worse in the aftermath of the Kootenay. He was no longer pleasant to be around. He was very moody, very withdrawn, and his drinking was getting the better of him.
1971
I was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia
moved into my first military PMQ – 23 Seafire Ave on Canadian Forces Base Shearwater
moved into my second military PMQ – 14 Fulmar Ave on Canadian Forces Base Shearwater.
1974
– Scott born in Halifax Nova Scotia
Captain Father Angus McRae investigated and charged for committing “Acts of Homosexuality” at Canadian Forces Base Kingston / Royal Military College Kingston. It would appear that McRae’s commanding officer did not approve of the charges.
1971 to 1976
– My mother made frequent use of what was called “The Battered Wives Club” on CFB Shearwater. This was a loose knit group of military families that would often take in the wives and their children from abusive military households as the military at that time didn’t consider domestic issues to be a concern of theirs.
1976 –
My frequent visits and lodgings at the IWK Children’s Hospital in Halifax prompt medical staff to ponder about getting social services involved as the medical staff have concerns about my father and my mother.
My first posting. My father was posted to Canadian Forces Base Summerside on Prince Edward Island. We lived at 353 High St in the town of Summerside. This housing development had been built for the Canadian Armed Forces for housing families of military members. As such the Defence Establishment Trespass Regulations applied to all civilians living in this housing.
1977
January –
my father arrested for domestic assault and battery. He had apparently gotten into a fist fight with his own mother / my grandmother when she had come out to visit us over the ’76 Xmas holidays. Both were apparently quite intoxicated while this was going on.
My father’s drinking increases exponentially. He is more angry than ever and often breaks things or smashes things. Fights between my mother and my father increase with my mother often taking my brother and I to go stay with “relatives” that weren’t our relatives.
Spring –
My mother suddenly left just before the summer of 1977. My father would explain that my mother was a slut and a whore that ran off with a guy named Gus from the P.P.C.L.I.
It turns out that my father used the Defence Establishment Trespass Regulations to have my mother ejected from the PMQ. This was a common practice that was documented in a document called “Canadian Forces Response to Spousal Abuse in Military Families” which was a report that was commissioned by the Canadian Armed Forces.
Summer –
My grandmother arrives from Edmonton, Alberta to raise my brother and I. I get chucked into Sunday School.
1978
June –
Grandma returns to Edmonton
July –
I’m hospitalized after an incident on my bicycle. No next of kin listed on my admission records. Note on my admission records state “Father in Iceland with Airforce, will return this evening”. Iceland hosts an airfield that is used by NATO countries. Also, prior to 2006, the United States leased land and ran an Airforce base there.
August
Captain Father Angus McRae arrives at Canadian Forces Base Namao after having been transferred there from Canadian Forces Station Holberg on Vancouver Island.
Scuttlebutt on one of the Facebook groups for base brats indicate that Captain Father Angus McRae was transferred to Edmonton as a result of an interaction that he had with a teenaged boy on CFS Holberg.
My family arrives on Canadian Forces Base Namao after my father had obtain a compassionate posting from the Eastern Command social worker.
September
Grandma and her husband Roy (Andy) William Anderson move into the PMQ on Canadian Forces Base Namao to raise my brother and I. My father would claim that “training exercises” kept him away from home for 6 to 8 week stretches at a time
Grandma starts taking Scott and I to Sunday service at the base chapel.
November
After a night of heavy drinking with grandma, Andy decides to take a shower to help him sober up. Andy slips in the bathtub and cracks his skull on the rim on the bathtub.
My grandmother didn’t have a driver’s licence. Captain Father Angus McRae, the base chaplain, would occasionally give her rides into Edmonton to see Andy at the Misericordia
During these visits we were looked after by a male teenaged babysitter who would later be revealed to be an altar boy of the chaplain. This babysitter would also be described as a pedophile as a result of molesting children across Canada.
1979
My father meets a woman named Vicki whom lives in Wetaskiwin. My father frequently stays at her place until they break up.
My father meets a new girlfriend whom would end up becoming his second wife. My father met this woman through his half-sisters who attended highschool with this woman in Oshawa, Ontario.
My father would live off base with his girlfriends as he didn’t want to bring them home to meet his mother as grandma was adamant that Richard must get back together with Marie. Grandma would tell me to not believe anything Richard had said about Marie and that the truth would come out one day
Over the course of 1979 and into 1980 the abuse at the hands of the babysitter increases at a marked rate. The babysitter is becoming more aggressive with his abuse and even begins to demand penetration.
There are a few times where the babysitter would find me on base and escort me over to the chapel. Once in the chapel we’d go into the rectory where the father was. We’d have wafers, watch TV, listen to music. The father had a collection of magazines that looked like the ones my uncle had, so I never thought anything bad about them. And besides up at 447 squadron in the canteen they also had the same magazines and some of the centrefolds on the walls. After looking at the magazines or listening to music the father would give me a tumbler full of a “sickly sweet grape juice”. I never remember going home after these visits.
1980
April
The babysitter had me over to his family’s PMQ and was buggering me in his bedroom. His younger brother walked in and caught the babysitter in the act of buggering me. This younger brother notified numerous other kids on the base.
A group of about 10 to 12 older teens gathered on the lawn of babysitter’s PMQ and started throwing rocks and yelling homophobic taunts up at the window.
When I was leaving the babysitter’s PMQ to go home I was attacked by a group of teens and beat up in the middle of 12th Street.
My life on base became a living hell after that. I was no longer allowed to play with the other kids. I was no longer allowed to go to the base pool. I was no longer allowed to go to the “kid’s disco” at the Lamplighter Pub on Saturdays.
May
The babysitter is investigated by the base military police based upon numerous reports received from the parents of military families on base that the babysitter had been molesting their children.
As a result of the investigation of the babysitter the military police became aware of Captain Father Angus McRae’s involvement with molesting children on the base.
A decision is made by the base chain of command to not call in the Morinville RCMP to handle the babysitter. The National Defence Act states that military dependents are only subject to the Code of Service Discipline when accompanying their serving parent anywhere outside of Canada. Why the Canadian Forces thought that it had any power to withhold the babysitter’s crimes from the RCMP is unknown. It was claimed that the babysitter was only 12 years old in 1980. The babysitter has been confirmed to have been born on June 23rd, 1965.
On May 12th, 1980 Captain David Pilling requests that Canadian Forces Special Investigations Unit acting section commander Warrant Officer Fredrick Cunningham initiate an investigation into Captain Father Angus McRae for having committed “acts of homosexuality” with teenaged boys on the base.
Over the course of the investigation Warrant Officer Cunningham meets with Base Commander Colonel Daniel Edward Munro. At one of these meetings Cunningham requests that Munro confine McRae to his quarters so that McRae is unable to interfere with the CFSIU investigation by using his command authority as a captain to intimidate ranks lower than his and enlisted parents.
June
Prior to June 20th, The CFNIS have numerous charges against Captain McRae related to the abuse of numerous children, but the brass orders the number of charges brought against Captain McRae to be reduced to only those related to the charges involving the babysitter.
Prior to 1998 it was the commanding officer of the accused, and not the provincial crown prosecutor, that would recommend for or against charges and then cause these charges to flow to either summary trial, courts martial, or even to the civilian courts.
One of the other boys took great offence and blamed the babysitter for the charges relating to their abuse not going forward. This other boy was noted by Fred Cunningham to be a “prolific pyromaniac”. Canadian Forces fire marshal records would verify that this boy had lit fires in his own PMQ in an attempt to “play the hero” by discovering the fires and calling for help.
June 20th – Fire at PMQ #26. This is the babysitter’s PMQ. The babysitter was not home at the time. The babysitter’s mother had noticed the faint smell of natural gas in the morning and had called the Base Construction engineers to take a look at the leak. The babysitter’s sister was in the shower having a shower.
The babysitter’s mother was in the kitchen watching the construction engineer looking for a gas leak. As the engineer was moving the stove back into place, the gas line ruptured.
The gas ignited into a “torch” and started a fire that engulfed the kitchen and started to spread into the dining room.
In an attempt to shut the gas off, the construction engineer ran into the basement where he collapsed and died from a heart attack. The mother had to rescue her daughter from the PMQ. Total damage to the PMQ was $56k in 1980 dollars. The PMQ was worth $70k in 1980 dollars.
Base Commander Colonel Daniel Edward Munro was satisfied with the military fire marshal’s report that it was obviously just a defective gas line on the stove and that calling in the provincial fire marshal to conduct their own investigation was not required.
It should be pointed out that the gas stove was located just inside the back door of the PMQ. The back door of the PMQ faced the roadway and the front doors faced a common area lawn. To give the hose a slight tug to cause a small leak wouldn’t have been that hard to do.
June 28th – Captain McRae officially arrested and charged with the service offences of Gross Indecency, Indecent Assault, and Buggery.
Captain McRae requests a military courts martial.
July
15th through 18th Captain McRae’s Courts Martial.
The babysitter and his family were living on Canadian Forces Base Petawawa in Ontario when the Canadian Forces requested the babysitter return on his own to testify against Captain McRae. The babysitter’s father objects to this and the Canadian Forces relent and allow the babysitter’s father to return to Edmonton with his 15 year old son. The father is barred by the Canadian Forces from entering the courts martial.
During the courts martial, the courts martial panel hears that Captain McRae admitted during his ecclesiastical trial with the catholic church to having molested numerous boys for years.
Entered into evidence is that the investigation discovered that Captain McRae had been receiving the children of service members in the rectory of the base chapel and had been giving these children alcohol and then taking them into the bedroom to “fool around” with them.
After hearing the evidence against him as well as the babysitter’s testimony, Captain McRae changes his plea from innocent to guilty.
Captain McRae sentenced to 4 years which was reduced numerous times over the next few months. Captain McRae ended up serving a sentence of 10 months.
Minister of National Defence Gilles LaMontagne approves of the sentence applied by the courts martial panel.
The media catches wind of this event, but the Canadian Armed Forces quickly throw a “wall of secrecy” around the courts martial and permanently seal all of the documents and evidence.
August
My father moves back into the PMQ with his new girlfriend. He had been living off base with her.
September
During the start of the school year at McArthur school, the school on base for military dependents, I am frequently beat up and teased for being the babysitter’s “girlfriend” and/or “wife”. This is my introduction to slurs like “homo”, “faggot”, “queer”, and “cocksucker”
Towards the end of September my family was moved from CFB Namao to CFB Griesbach. These two bases we 10km apart from each other
October
My brother and I are brought to the attention of Canadian Forces military social worker Captain Terry Totzke by our respective teachers and principal at Major General Griesbach School, the school on base for the children of military families.
November
My family is interviewed on separate occasions by a psychiatrist.
My father is found to accept no responsibility for his family, he likes to play the victim, he feels like everyone is attacking him, he blames others for his problems, he expects others to solve his problems for him.
I am found to be suffering from major depression, severe anxiety, haphephobia, have extremely low self esteem. I am also found to be very poorly informed about sex. I mention that I am terrified of my father and that I expect him to drown me in the toilet. I also remark that “my brain tells me that I’m going to kill myself if granny doesn’t leave the house”.
My brother is found to be a very quiet, lonely, and isolated child.
1980 – 1983
During the course of my involvement with Captain Terry Totzke he would often come to school to talk with me in the office. Other times he would come and pick me up at the school and drive me over to base headquarters where he had an office. Other time my father would take me to see Captain Totzke.
As I had never seen Captain Terry Totzke in uniform I would never realize until 2011 that Terry was a member of the Canadian Armed Forces and that he held the rank of captain.
Terry knew about what had happened on Canadian Forces Base Namao.
Terry was concerned that I was exhibiting signs of a mental illness called homosexuality as I had been known to be having sex with the babysitter.
Terry was concerned that I had allowed the babysitter to molest my younger brother.
Terry had mentioned to me that he had asked the base military police to keep an eye on me and that if I ever tried to kiss or touch another boy that I would be off to the Alberta Psychiatric Hospital for treatment.
Terry said that I should avoid situations where I would see other boys naked as that would awaken my desires to touch them. This resulted in me not playing sports anymore or being allowed to go swimming anymore.
Once Alberta Social Services became involved with my family, Terry and my father would both inform me that I had to be very careful with what I told Pat and Wayne as Pat and Wayne would twist my words and use my words against me.
1981
During the summer of 1981 Grandma moves out of the PMQ.
After Grandma moves out Sue promises my brother and I that if we never want to go to church again that we don’t have to.
November – Due to the inaction of Captain Terry Totzke with my brother and I, our respective teachers and our principal notify Alberta Social Services. As the PMQ that I lived in and the school I was attending were on a Defence Establishment, Alberta Social Services pretty well required Totzke’s permission for their dealings with me.
1982
Richard and Sue are still having great difficulty in their relationship.
Social Services note that Richard and Sue refuse to talk to each other or even acknowledge each other during the counselling sessions and instead Richard uses me to communicate with Sue and Sue uses Scott to communicate with Richard.
Richard informs Scott and I that if Sue leaves him, he’s going to put our dead bodies into a duffle bag and that no one will ever find the either of us and that he’ll just go live in the barracks. This isn’t the first time that Richard has sworn that he would kill Scott and I, but this is the most memorable.
Richard and Sue get married in a private ceremony in the PMQ on base. My brother and I are given $50 each and told to go away for the day and to not come back until close to bed time.
In the spring of 1982 I am formally admitted into the Westfield Program for emotionally disturbed children until a psychiatric bed can be located. My father signs the paperwork surrendering me to the Westfield Receiving Home for Children. Neither Richard nor Captain Totzke seem to realize that by signing this paperwork Richard has placed me into the foster care system.
Both my father and Terry tell me that my involvement with this program is due to my attraction to boys and that this program would help me get over my homosexuality.
During various meetings with Alberta Social Services my father claims that my issues are due to his mother “who was extremely cruel to his children, especially when she was intoxicated, which was frequently”, he explained to Alberta Social Services that he had brought his mother into the house to raise his children after his wife “abandoned” him. He further explains that his mother is an alcoholic who refuses to seek treatment for her drinking issues.
The babysitter is arrested and convicted for molesting a young boy in a small town just north of Canadian Forces Base Petawawa in Ontario.
Christmas ’82. We fly out from Edmonton to stay with Richard’s father in Oshawa, ON.
Richard and his father do not appear to be in friendly terms. Even though we moved to Canadian Forces Base Downsview in April of 1983 and would frequently go visit Sue’s parents in Oshawa, we never again ever saw Richard’s father even though he lived about 10 blocks away from Sue’s parents.
1983
January
26th – Captain Totzke instructed by my civilian case worker and my two child care workers that he is to inform my father and my father’s commanding officer that my father is to start attending all family counselling sessions or I am to be removed from the house and placed into either residential care or foster care.
28th – Captain Totzke informs my civilian social workers that my father has just been transferred from Alberta to Ontario effective immediately and that the move will occur in April.
Sometime between January 1983 and April 1983 my father keeps me home from the Westfield Program. He tells me that I was expelled from the program because I wouldn’t stop kissing and touching other boys.
April
a moving truck arrives one day without notice. The majority of my belongings are piled up at the curb to be disposed of. Later that day we are loaded up in the Datsun B210 for the trip to Ontario. When we cross the Saskatchewan border I asked my father why we had to move. His reply was that because I was still showing signs of being attracted to boys that the counsellors wanted to give me drugs to stop this attraction but that he didn’t want me to take those drugs and that I had to understand that he was saving me.
Alberta Social Services gave Children’s Aid Society of Toronto a heads-up about the imminent arrival of my family. Children’s Aid tried to contact my father via the Canadian Armed Forces. The Canadian Armed Forces stonewalled C.A.S.T.. C.A.S.T. ended up tracking my brother and I down through the public school system.
My father and Captain Totzke had given Alberta Social Services assurances that I would be placed in a psychiatric hospital to receive treatment upon our arrival at Canadian Forces Base Downsview in Ontario.
I was instead enrolled at Sheppard Public School as CFB Downsview did not have its own school for military dependents.
October
Roy (Andy) William Anderson dies at the age of 58 after having spent the last 5 years in hospitals and nursing homes having never recovered from the slip in the bathtub in the PMQ on Canadian Forces Base Namao.
My father almost succeeded in conning Children’s Aid into believing that there was no reason for Alberta Social Services to be involved with his family and that Pat and Wayne had blown everything out of proportion.
1984
Children’s Aid and the North York Board of Education come to realize that there is intense sibling rivalry between my brother and I, and both agencies comes to the realization that Scott and I can never be at the same school.
Richard sent my brother and I up to Edmonton to spend the summer with our grandmother. Grandma’s drinking has peaked, probably due to the death of her husband in October of ’83.
Scott mentioned something to grandma about the babysitter. This sent grandma in to a rage and fury. Grandma wanted to know if I knew what the babysitter had done to Scott. I managed to escape the apartment and made my way up to CFB Namao. Once at Namao I tried to report the babysitter to the military police. The Military Police said that as the babysitter was a military dependent he had to be dealt with by the civilian police. So I went back to Edmonton and this time went to the Edmonton Police Service. This did not work out at all.
Grandma gave me my first beers to drink after she caught me sipping the foam off a pair of bottles that she asked me to open for her and her friend Hazel.
During the summer of ’84 grandma takes Scott and I out to Terrace, BC to see her first son, our uncle Norman. Unlike my father and my uncle Doug who were only metis, Uncle Norman was full blood. Uncle Norman was about 6 to 8 years older than my father. My father was born when my grandmother was 23.
In October of 1984 a fellow base brat from CFB Downsview and I were in the same behavioural therapy program at Elia Jr. High and Dellcrest. He convinced me that I should join Sea Cadets over at the Dennison Armouries.
My babysitter was convicted in 1984 for molesting an 8 year old boy in Manitoba.
A search of newspaper records indicate that in 1982 a 17 year old male babysitter had molested numerous children in a neighbourhood directly adjacent to Canadian Forces Base Winnipeg. The mother of some of the molested children was upset that the 17 year old babysitter had never been charged due to the young age of the victims
My babysitter would have been 17 years old in 1982
Even though his family had been residing on CFB Petawawa in 1982, his family may have been posted to CFB Winnipeg to get away from CFB Petawawa. Posting problems to other bases was a known phenomenon back in the day.
Late 1984 – Early 1985
Scott has his first Grand Mal seizure.
Richard had discovered Scott, called the ambulance, and went to North York General with Scott.
I had been out of the house all day, but when I arrived home Sue told me to get straight up to my room. She mentioned nothing about Scott. She just said that Richard wanted me waiting in my room when he got home.
When Richard came home he was slamming doors. Richard and Sue started yelling at each other.
Richard stormed up the stairs and into my room. Before saying anything he gave me a massive backhand across my face that drew blood and knocked me to the floor. Richard then started demanding to know where the drugs were that I gave to Scott. I kept asking “what drugs?” which only made him more furious. He started tearing my room apart stating that if and when he found the drugs he was going to make the next beating even worse than this one.
A few days later when Scott was released from the hospital all Richard would say is that I was goddamn lucky that Scott had Gran Mal Epilepsy and that I hadn’t given Scott any drugs.
What has always been perplexing about this is that Richard knew that Marie’s mother had died of an epileptic seizure and that one of Marie’s brothers had epilepsy.
1985
The babysitter’s family arrives back on Canadian Forces Base Namao.
In May the babysitter is found molesting a 9 year old boy that lives on the base. He is charged by the civilian police for this matter.
The babysitter is ordered off the base by the Canadian Armed Forces. The babysitter’s father rents him an apartment in the West End of Edmonton.
In June the babysitter is arrested and charged for molesting a 13 year old newspaper carrier. The babysitter lures the newspaper carrier to his apartment with video games.
In August the babysitter is convicted in court of the charges relating to the boy from CFB Namao and the newspaper carrier. The Alberta crown prosecutor specifically mentions that the babysitter is a danger to children and informs the court of the babysitter’s conviction in Manitoba in 1984 for molesting a young child.
July
Richard sends Scott and I to spend another summer with grandma.
Somewhere between the summer of ’84 and this summer, grandma has “found jesus” again. She’s given up drinking. She frequently drags my brother and I to church service at St. Joseph’s Basilica on Sundays. She had even joined AA and appears to have stopped drinking. This is a new experience as I had never really seen grandma sober.
Sober grandma was not as pleasant as intoxicated grandma.
August
My father and my mother finalize their divorce. Somehow Sue discovers this and there is a massive domestic disturbance in the PMQ on Canadian Forces Base Downsview that results in my father being detained by the base military police.
During the investigation, the military police hear disturbing things from the neighbours about how my father treats my brother and I. As the military police can’t find us, they ask Richard where we are. Richard tells them we’re in Edmonton with our grandmother. The CFB Downsview military police contact the Edmonton Police Service and ask the EPS to do a welfare check on my brother and I.
Upon our return to Toronto after having spent the summer in Edmonton the base military police had to speak to my brother and I about concerns they had for our safety living with our father. A couple of recommendation from the military police. Get out of the house if my father starts raging out. Jump from the second story window if necessary. Call for help from inside someone else’s PMQ. Never call 9-1-1, call the base military police instead as the civilian police can’t just respond to calls from on the base.
I was after this visit by the military police that I had my first inkling about the HMCS Kootenay. Bill didn’t name the ship, but he said that my father had been at sea and he had lost some very close friends in an “engine room explosion” and that Richard was never the same after that day. Bill said that he knew my father had a temper and that my father was prone to violence and that he had been hitting my brother and I, but Bill said that I had to forgive my father. Bill said that he really wished I knew my father before the “engine room explosion” as he was a much different guy. Bill said that much like on Shearwater, my brother and I were always welcome to come stay in his PMQ when my father was out of control and we needed a place to stay for a while.
September
My father surprises me with a small birthday cake and a card with $20 inside. He apologized for not remembering my birthday for the last few years (since 1977 to be exact). Promises that he will never forget again. This would be the last birthday acknowledgement that I ever had from him.
I wouldn’t discover until 2011 that we were under the supervision of the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto and that he was just buttering me up incase CAST was to find out about the massive domestic dispute that had occurred over the summer of ’85.
1986
Attended cadet camp at RMC Kingston
1 week prior to the end of summer training camp we were to call our parents to see if they were going to attend the graduating ceremonies and then drive us home after. That’s when I discovered that my father had signed my brother out of juvenile detention and he was going to take my brother and our stepmother to Washington, DC for a vacation and that I would have to take the bus from Kingston to Toronto.
1987
February – Over the protests of the executive officer of my sea cadet corp., my father enrols my brother in the sea cadet corp that I am a member of. This XO worked with at-risk-youth involved in the criminal justice system. This XO had informed me that my brother had been giving the police my name and my DOB whenever he had been arrested. The XO did not want my brother in the corp as he couldn’t trust my brother.
May – After the disastrous cadet weekend at Canadian Forces Base Borden, I quit cadets. The XO ‘knew’ that my brother had joined in with some of the troublemakers from a different cadet corp that were staying in the same barracks as we were and had snuck over to the female’s side of the barracks. I highly suspected that Scott had done what he was accused of, but if I would have told the XO that my brother did do what he was accused of my father would have beaten the shit out of me for “not looking out for” my younger brother and allowing him to get into trouble.
My brother by this point had been in and out of group homes and juvie. He was hanging out with a group of small time thugs and would engage in strong armed robbery, B&E into hotel rooms and houses, stealing cars, etc.
August – Grandma dies.
September – picked up all of the forms and all of the paperwork required to allow me to get my learner’s permit and sign up for the Young Driver’s of Canada program. My father explains that I cannot have my driver’s licence as long as I live under his roof as this will make his insurance rates go up. If I want my licence I need to move out.
Fall –
Scott had stolen our stepmother’s Chevrolet Chevette and went for a joyride with his the guys he hung out with. They nearly didn’t make it off the base as Scott lost control of the Chevette on the circular road for the PMQs and nearly struck a utility pole. Numerous people reported him to the military police, but he had gotten off base by the time the MPs arrived.
I was asleep in my bed in my bedroom in the basement as I often slept in due to chronic fatigue due to my depression.
Richard had come home from grocery shopping with Sue when they both noticed that the Chevette wasn’t in the parking space.
Richard grabbed me by the ankle and yanked me out of bed. My head hit the concrete floor. Richard started punching me and kicking me demanding to know what I did with the Chevette. As I was trying to crawl under my bed to get away from him he’d just pull me back out. I kept telling him that I didn’t know what he was talking about as I was asleep. He then started ranting about how I wasn’t raising Scott right, that I didn’t protect Scott from the babysitter, that Scott was acting out the way he was because I let the babysitter molest him.
November – dropped out of school and moved out of the house shortly there after. My father’s anger was getting out of control and my father had lost complete control of my brother. Even my father was afraid of my younger brother.
Started working full time and started renting a room in a house just off base. The house was a PMQ in the LDH housing that was off base but was adjacent to where I worked. It was rented by a member of the Canadian Forces who had just split up with his wife. His wife took the kids. As the wife was civilian she had to move out. This member did not want to move out of military housing and he did not want to move into the barracks, so he kept renting this PMQ and had decided to rent two of the three bedrooms out.
1988
Worked. Worked a lot.
1989
One of the owners of the company that I worked for had a friend in Timmins, Ontario that needed some help with servicing their amusement machines, so I was asked if I would like to spend a few weeks up north. I went up north and spent most of my time servicing video games, pinball machines, and jukeboxes that had been provided by this company to the various community centres on the Indian reservations on the shores of James Bay.
When I returned to Toronto that summer, I found out rather abruptly that the Canadian Forces forbade the renting of rooms in the PMQs and that I had to find a new place to live. So I moved into my car at the base auto club carefully sleeping in the back and sneaking on and off base to get to my car.
One day while heading to work I encountered Mr. Bowles, my former science teacher from Pierre Laporte. He implored me that I had to finish school, that I had way too much potential to waste. He said that if I was willing, he would get my other favourite teachers like Mr. Ford and Mr. Atkinson to write letters to a school program called A.I.S.P., the Alternative and Independent Study Program. He said that A.I.S.P. was ideal for kid who didn’t fit into the typical school programs or structures.
I was accepted into A.I.S.P.
As I needed a place to stay, I went back to Richard and asked him if it was possible to stay at his place until I finished A.I.S.P.. I explained to him that I intended to take grades 9 and grade 10 in the first year, and grade 11 and 12 in the second year. He accepted.
A.I.S.P. was is a unique program that placed heavy emphasis on the Independent portion of its name. At the time is was run from the second floor of a former elementary school. At the time the school was running only kindergarten and a few of the first grades on the lower floor. A.I.S.P. had the second floor. There was definitely not enough room in this school to house the resources that grades 7 through 12 would require. And there definitely wasn’t enough room to accommodate all of the students if the students were to all show up at the same time.
This is where the “independent” portion of the name came into play. Any branch of the North York Public Library or any library from any of the local junior high or high schools were available to us for study or for research. If we wanted to drop in on a subject being taught we could just show up at a local junior high or high school and sit in on their class. Our physical education programs took advantage of the various locals school. Yes, the teachers at A.I.S.P. ran classes but it was more like “here’s your assignment for the next week, hand in your work when you’ve completed it”
I was walking from A.I.S.P. to the North York public library main branch which was just north of Yonge and Sheppard in North York. My father also worked in the government of Canada federal building at 4900 Yonge Street, which was right across from the library. I don’t know where Richard was going to, but he saw me and the kids I were with. In typical Richard dramatic fashion he floored his Mustang GT, pulled a u-turn in the intersection of Yonge and Sheppard, raced up beside us, and then jumped on the brakes. He got out of the car in and in a profanity laced tirade wanted to know what the fuck I was doing out of school, did I take him for a fucking idiot? How fucking long did I think that I was going to be able to pull this shit off for.
When I got home that night, Richard was ranting again about A.I.S.P. and that he wanted me to”the fuck out of that fucking school and back into a normal fucking school” and that all I had to do was “sit the fuck down, look at the fucking blackboard, and mind my own fucking business” he even suggested that I just “take some fucking basket weaving courses” to get my grade twelve.
Things did not get any better over the next couple of weeks. I ended up dropping out of school again and I got a job
1991
1992
Moved to Vancouver in February of 1992
1993
1994 –
Arrived back in Vancouver from Toronto.
End up with a room at the Sally Anne on Dunsmuir street. EI took a couple of weeks to reroute from Toronto to Vancouver. Received BC social service assistance which was to be paid back.
It was becoming painfully self evident that only those with supportive parents met success in life and that I was destined to forever be wasting my life making welfare wages.
I had been eying up the Lions Gate Bridge for a couple of weeks. Knew that I wouldn’t be able to simply jump off, but that I would have to drink some liquid courage but doing so would put me at risk of being discovered.
Saturday June 11th made my way to the Lions Gate Bridge.
1995
1996
1997 – As a result of the finding of the Somalia Inquiry, the Canadian Forces Special Investigations Unit is disbanded and replaced by the Canadian Forces National investigation Unit. The Provost Marshal is stood up for the first time since the ’60s. All military police are placed under the command of the Provost Marshal and are in theory removed from the local chain of command, but the changes in the National Defence Act fall critically short of placing members of the base military police and the CFNIS outside of the overall chain of command, and thus investigators with the base military police and the CFNIS must still obey the lawful commands of anyone with a superior rank.
1998
Bill C-25(1998) “An Act to Make Amendments to the National Defence Act” passed in the House of Commons.
There are two key sections to this bill.
The first is the removal of the 3-year-time-bar from the National Defence Act and the application of the relevant Criminal Code “statute of limitations” for Service Offences that are Criminal Code in nature.
The second is the removal of the requirement for the commanding officer to conduct a summary review of the investigation. Also removed are the commanding officer’s ability to summarily dismiss charges brought against their subordinate. Charges will now be reviewed by a military prosecutor.
Unfortunately there is no language in the Act to apply these changes retroactively.
1999
2000
The babysitter attempts suicide
2001
March 2001 – As a result of the previous year’s suicide attempt, the babysitter hires an Edmonton based lawyer and initiates a $4.5 million dollar civil action in the Alberta Court of Queen’s Bench against Angus McRae, the Archdiocese of Edmonton, the Canadian Armed Forces, and the Department of National Defence.
The Department of Justice represents the CAF and the DND.
2005
2006
August – made contact with Richard via voice mail.
Let Richard know that I was sick and tired of being blamed for what had happened on CFB Namao and that I was sick and tired of always being blamed for having “fucked” with his military career. I was sick and tired of always hearing from Scott of all of the things that Richard had done for him. I told him that I was seriously considering going to the police with a complaint against the babysitter.
Richard called me back the next morning, his voice was shaking.
He wanted to know why I just didn’t simply move on.
He said that everyone made choices back in 1980 and that there was no undoing the past.
Richard told me that I had to understand something about the babysitter. He said that it was his mother who hired the babysitter, not him. He said that he told grandma that he found the babysitter to be creepy and not very trustworthy, but that grandma wasn’t going to listen to him. Richard had no problem recalling the babysitter’s name.
For the next couple of weeks Richard would call me on a daily basis to see how I was and to have small talk that sounded very forced.
The calls stopped after a few weeks.
I never spoke to Richard again after that.
2008
I decide to make a change in my life to escape the past. I start looking into legally changing my name.
May of 2008 my name is officially changed to Bobbie Garnet Bees.
Department of Justice communicates with the babysitter’s lawyer and signals their intentions to pay a settlement
Cheque issued to babysitter. Amount paid unknown.
2011
In March of 2011 I decide to finally go after the babysitter. I figured that if I could get the babysitter to admit to what he had done that Richard would finally stop blaming me.
March 4th, 2011 I sent an email off to the Edmonton Police Service asking how I would go about pressing charges against my former babysitter.
The Edmonton Police Service forwards my query off to the Alberta Serious Incident Response Team and asks ASIRT who’s jurisdiction my complaint belongs to. ASIRT in turn forwards my complaint off to the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service at Edmonton Garrison.
Two more weeks of this and then I’ll be back at work.
Sleep, sleep, and more sleep……..
I know that I need to take vacation time, but vacation time is so unproductive.
I’ve never had much in the way of hobbies or interests. Travelling was never a big thing for me. I don’t have anything that I want to go see. I’m not really concerned with experiencing other cultures or customs.
Right now I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Nanaimo. Just spent a few days here. I come here periodically just to get away from the noise of Vancouver. I’ll be heading back in a few hours.
I’ve never been able to enjoy vacations.
Especially in my younger days my life derived so much of its meaning from work. I never felt comfortable not working or being away from work. It wasn’t that I was worried about being replaced. It’s just the my life is so empty that without work I feel even more empty.
Trust me, this isn’t what I wanted. But as I’ve alluded to previously, acceptance and respect were never found in my father’s house.
Actually, come to think about it. I don’t ever remember Richard taking any type of vacation time. The only time I can remember him taking time off was when he took Sue to Banff after they were married in 1982. And yes, even back in the days that I was growing up on the bases in Canada, members of the regular forces were entitled to annual vacation leave.
Makes me wonder now how many times he went on annual vacation, but called it a “training exercise” and just left Scott and I with Sue or grandma while he fucked off outta town. ‘Cause I certainly don’t ever remember him taking time off from the military for vacation.
One thing that I did notice in the current 2024 Canadian Forces Leave Policy Manual is a little blurb that members of the forces who are taking courses are recommended to take their vacation prior to the commencement of their courses due to the inability to take vacation during their course. I wonder how many of Richard’s 6 or 8 week courses at CFB Wainwright were actually 4 week or less courses, but he tacked on his vacation prior to the course so that he could get out of town and go hang out with his drinking buddies while leaving his kids at home for the women in his life to look after.
Anyways, yeah, there were no family vacations as kids. No travelling. No trips to the zoo. No trips to the museum. Nothing. Even when we lived on Canadian Forces Base Downsview in Ontario there weren’t even trips down to the States.
Well, time to go get something to eat before wandering over to catch the ferry back to Vancouver.
I wonder if the Chief of Defence Staff and the Vice-Chief of Defence Staff stop by for the birthday festivities.
Well, today marks my babysitter’s 60th birthday!
Happy birthday!
I don’t honestly know what he looks like now.
His younger brother and his older sister sure look happy for him though, eh?
And there’s the Canadian Armed Forces, still handling things for him all these years later.
I don’t know where his father is.
I wonder if the Vice Chief of Defence Staff or even the Chief of Defence Staff have sent him cards for his birthday.
Handling things for the babysitter and sealing the deal with a weird handshake and a pat on the bum
If I sound a little sarcastic or a little bitter, that’s ’cause I am.
Not a word of a lie, but I had no birthday parties from the time my mother was ejected from the PMQ on CFB Summerside by my father in 1977 until my birthday in 1985. And that one was so that my father could butter my ass up just in case civilian social services found out about his destructive blow-out in the PMQ in August of 1985.
He promised that he would never ever forget my birthday again.
There was no birthday in 1986.
1987 was going to be my 16th birthday. He promised that he was going to sign me up for and help me with paying for driving classes with Young Driver’s of Canada. Nope. Changed his mind. Whose car would I be driving? Sure as fuck wasn’t going to drive his ’83 Mustang. If I thought that he was going to buy me a car I had another fucking thing coming. I should go speak to that cheap bitch mother of mine and she could pay for the driving lessons and then buy me a fucking car, what has she ever paid.
He sent me a $100.00 gift card for the Old Spaghetti Factory in September of 2006. This was due to the fact that I had chewed him out in August of 2006 for all of the shit related to CFB Namao and the aftermath of CFB Namao.
So yeah, from 1977 until the asshole’s death in 2017 I had 2 birthday acknowledgments and one attack on my mother. That 2 years out of 40.
Meanwhile the babysitter’s father loves him. Blames the military for the way his son turned out.
The babysitter’s sister lied for him.
The babysitter’s younger brother lied for him.
Fuck, even the Canadian Armed Forces were handling things for the babysitter.
But what the hell, it’s his birthday, Happy Birthday!
I dropped out of school at the start of grade 9. That’s junior high school. I never made it as far as high school.
Had to get out of the PMQ.
1987 was the start of the grade 9 school year for me.
September of 1987 was also two years removed from the summer of 1985.
The summer of 1985 was the last summer that my brother and I spent with our grandmother.
The summer of 1985 was also the summer that my father went on a rampage in the PMQ on CFB Downsview. He did some very significant damage to the PMQ. It took three military police officers to subdue him.
When my brother and I arrived back in Toronto from Edmonton my father was required to notify the base military police of our arrival so that they could come speak with us. When they did come to speak with us they told us that during their investigation they grew very concerned when they couldn’t find us so they started talking to the neighbours and that’s when they started hearing about Richard’s yelling and screaming and his physical abuse. The military police said that if my father ever lost his temper again that we were to flee the house before calling the base switchboard to ask for the military police.
In September of 1985, my father bought me a birthday cake. This blew my fucking socks off as he had never acknowledged a single birthday of mine since 1976, the year before my mother left. Even though he promised to never forget my birthday again, he never acknowledged my birthday again thereafter.
And his temper started to get out of control again by the spring of 1986. He just knew how to hide his outbursts better as he was under supervision of the military.
By the summer of 1987 my brother had graduated to credit card theft, B&Es, and car theft. He had also grown significantly larger than me and he was even physically larger than Richard. Richard could no longer control Scott. And Scott was now running with a group of thugs. Kids who had been in and out of the juvie system.
As Richard had given up on trying to control Scott, he instead turned to lashing out at me for allowing Scott t have been molested by the babysitter on CFB Namao and this is why Scott was acting as violent as he was.
So yeah, by the time September of 1987 rolled around, I had to get the fuck out of the house.
What would really piss me the fuck off is that in the summer of 2011, when I obtained my social service records from across Canada, I would learn that my family was actually under the supervision of the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto from the time we arrived in CFB Downsview in the spring of 1983.
This pissed me off because when I moved out I had to take my employment from part time to full time so that I could afford to rent a place to live.
Had I known about my family having been under the supervision of the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto, I could have applied to CAST for emergency accommodation. I could have even arranged for the courts to make it mandatory for my father to pick up my bills until age 18. Either of these would have allowed me to finish off school while living in a safe environment.
I don’t really have any activities that I lose myself in.
I’ve tried over the years to pick up hobbies and interests, but outside of work I really don’t care about anything in particular.
It’s hard to explain to people, and it’s hard for people to understand.
But there isn’t anything in this world that calls to me.
The household that I grew up in was not one that encouraged curiosity or rewarded ingenuity.
Any interest in any subject was seen as stupid, childish, immature.
This is hard for people to understand.
I honestly will never understand why people refuse to believe how toxic some people can be as parents.
My father was a piss tank alcoholic with anger issues.
Worst off, we lived on military bases across Canada. An environment that didn’t concern itself with what went on behind closed doors.
So there aren’t any activities that I lose myself in.
I keep trying different things, but nothing lights that flame.
Dabbled in cars when I was younger. But never really was bitten by the car bug.
Even the time I spent at the base auto club of CFB Downsview gave me the skills for working on cars, but I never had a spark to work on cars.
Got into motorcycle in my 20s. Just never got bitten by the motorcycling bug.
I loved ice skating as a kid. And I frequently skated until the events of CFB Namao. I didn’t skate from 1980 until 2006. In 2006 I was off on a journey, but I happened to pass by the West End community centre. Can’t explain why, but I rented a pair of skates and went for a skate. It was like I had never stopped skating. Skating lasted for about 6 years before depression and dealing with the Canadian Armed Forces made skating impossible.
Over the years I’ve tried to pick up a musical instrument. I can play music mechanically, but it doesn’t evoke anything within. When I play keyboard I have about as much passion as a MIDI sequencer or a roll playing piano.
Computers and electronics. Again, I can work with ’em. I just don’t find anything to like with them.
I came across this video on TikTok yesterday and it really blew me away as to how naive people, especially adults, can be.
I can assure you that this is not the way it worked on any military base in Canada. Especially not if you had the misfortune of coming from a dysfunctional family such as mine.
My mother left in 1977 while my father was stationed at CFB Summerside. It wasn’t her choice to leave.
Military housing could only be rented to the serving member, the non-serving parent had no legal rights to remain in the house if the serving member didn’t want them there. In fact the language in the Defence Establishment Trespass Regulations meant that the non-serving spouses were only able to remain in the military housing so long as they had the “permission” of their serving spouse. If the serving spouse didn’t want the non-serving spouse there, the non-serving spouse had no options but to leave.
In the aftermath of my mother leaving my grandmother came to Summerside to live with us from the spring of 1977 until the spring of 1978. When she returned to Edmonton my father requested a posting to Edmonton specifically so that his mother could look after his children as his “wife had abandoned him”.
As I mentioned elsewhere in my blog, my grandmother had been through Indian Residential school as a child. She didn’t have much of a formal education having entered school when she was 13 and leaving school when she was 15.
From all accounts she was an alcoholic by the time my father was born in 1946.
When she came to live with us in the military housing in Summerside she was mostly drunk and would often haul my brother and I off to the Royal Canadian Legion or other pubs while she drank.
When my father received his posting from Summerside to Namao he brought her and her husband Roy (Andy) Anderson into the PMQ on Namao to raise my brother and I while he literally buggered off to who knowns where.
It was grandma’s and Andy’s drinking that landed Andy in long term nursing care when he slipped in the bathtub and cracked his skull open. It was because of this that my brother and I ended up in the care of the babysitter.
My father was asked by Alberta Social Services after we became involved with civilian social services in 1981 if he knew why my brother and I were having emotional and behavioural issues.
My father explained to social services that his mother was “extremely cruel to his children, especially when she was intoxicated, which was frequent”.
He would further tell social services on different occasions that his mother would not admit to being an alcoholic, and that she refused to seek help for her alcoholism.
There’s a couple of “not so funny things” about my father’s statements to the CFNIS in 2011 which serve to illustrate just how fucked up the military justice system actually is.
First, my father seemed to imply that my grandmother never lived with us, and even if she did it was just a very brief period of time.
The CFNIS in 2011 knew from my statement to them that grandma had raised my brother and I from the spring of 1977 until the spring of 1981 and that even before we moved to Downsview in 1983 we’d spend a lot of our weekends at grandma’s apartment.
And when I obtained a copy of my social service records from the Alberta government in August of 2011, I gave the CFNIS a copy of the entire set of records.
The CFNIS never attempted to question my father about the discrepancies between his statement and the contents of the social service records. Instead the CFNIS gave Alberta Crown prosecutor Jon Werbicki my father’s statement with absolutely no mention of my father’s statement to social services after Alberta social services became involved with my family.
This resulted in Jon Werbicki stating that “it was very significant that Mr. Bees never told anyone in a position of authority about the abuse”.
And of course in 2012 the Canadian Forces Provost Marshal did not make the existence of these records known to the Military Police Complaints Commission. So these records became “new evidence” that the MPCC wasn’t able to review. And these records became “new evidence” that couldn’t be introduce during my application for Judicial Review in federal court.
Long story short, unlike in the video there was no one at home that I could run to tell.
My father was living off base with whatever girlfriend he had at the moment. He honestly barely lived with us in PMQ #11 on 12th street on CFB Namao. He didn’t move back into the PMQ until August of 1980.
His mother came to live with us on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach. She looked after my brother and I until the summer of 1981 when she moved out and got her own apartment.
My father’s drinking was just as bad as my grandmother’s drinking. And when the two got drunk together there would often be swearing, yelling, and shoving. If my uncle Doug showed up and the three of them were drinking things would really get out of control.
The thing was alcoholism on the bases in the PMQ patches back in the day was always seen as normal. “It’s a tough job”. “It’s a hard life”. “It’s camaraderie and cohesion building”.
It wasn’t until I moved off base and started living in the civilian world that I began to realize that not every weekend was supposed to be a booze fuelled festival.
The dirty secret of the Canadian Forces is that there was a lot of “trailer trash” living on the bases back then.
My new stepmother didn’t like any of this and she decided to try to put an end to my father’s drinking. She blamed my grandmother for my father’s drinking and the relationship between my stepmother and my grandmother was described as “frosty”. One of them had to go, and it wasn’t going to be my father’s girlfriend.
There was one time that I asked my uncle Doug why my father always believed everything that my stepmother said over what I had said. His response was that the father slept with her, not with me. It would be a few years before I would truly understand what that comment meant.
My grandmother lived by two maxims, and no doubt this was beat into her during her stay at Holy Angels in Fort Chipewyan. “Children are to be seen and not heard” and “Children only speak when spoken to”. And yes, Richard was the exact same. Richard did not under any-fucking-circumstance want to be disturbed. You only spoke when he said it was okay to speak. You stood silently beside him and waited for him to acknowledge you before you said anything. And when you said something to him, it had better not be a stupid waste of his fucking time.
Grandma was the same. If you talked at the kitchen table you either got rapped on the knuckles with the wooden spoon, or you got smacked across the mouth.
But yeah, tell me again who exactly I was supposed to tell about the abuse.
My alcoholic grandmother?
My alcoholic father?
My stepmother, who no no doubt had been told nothing about CFB Namao by her new husband, but had been told that his kids were acting up like they were because they liked their mother better than her?
And besides, with the comments of my father and Captain Totzke, everyone knew what had happened.
It wasn’t like I should have had to tell anyone. That base was a secured defence establishment. How the base chaplain and at least one of his altar boys could molest over 25 children for over 2 years is something that I will never understand.
But whatever. It doesn’t matter if my father lied to the CFNIS in 2011 or if the CFNIS guided my father into saying what he said, the CFNIS accomplished what it needed to do. And that was to sever any potential connection to myself and the babysitter as the babysitter and the babysitter’s documented abuse of young children on the base is what led to the discovery of Captain Father Angus McRae.
Here’s one of my problems. And this problem irks me to no end.
I’m too stupid to be smart, and I’m too smart to be stupid.
In case you think differently, where you end up in life is wholly determined by where you start off in life. Anybody who tells you any different isn’t living in reality.
Anyone who grew up in a dysfunctional family and I mean a really dysfunctional family should be lucky to find basic stable employment.
If you didn’t grow up on military bases in Canada where dysfunctional families were shielded from civilian social services by the military’s wall of secrecy you have nothing to say on this matter.
How dysfunctional was my family? My alcoholic rage prone father brought his own alcoholic rage prone mother into the military housing on base to raise my brother and I as his physical abuse, mental abuse, and drinking was too much for our mother to handle.
My father tried to blame my mental health issues on his own mother. He told Alberta Social Services that my difficulties came from his “authoritarian mother, who was an alcoholic, and who was extremely cruel to his children”.
My issues at the time were not caused by my grandmother, nor my piss tank alcoholic father.
No, my severe depression and my major anxiety were caused by the two years of sexual abuse on Canadian Forces Base Namao.
The “counselling” that I received from Canadian Armed Forces social worker Captain Terry Totzke absolutely amplified and made my issues much worse, considering that my father, due to the chain of command, was expected to not question Captain Totzke’s treatment methods, such as blaming the sexual abuse I endured on CFB Namao as a result of some sort of “homosexuality” that I had exhibited.
And also Totzke’s refusal to let me receive treatment for major depression and severe anxiety really didn’t help the situation much either.
As I mentioned elsewhere, my father was heavily into electronics and computers. So much so that he always had work benches in the basements of the different PMQs that we lived in. He also always had subscriptions to Popular Electronics, Radio Electronics, and occasionally Elektor Electronics. Plus he always had his CAF / DND educational literature laying around, as well as his DeVry course manuals laying around.
Seeing as how my father had very little interest in me as a kid, I thought that if I picked up an interest in electronics and computers, maybe Richard and I would get along as we’d have something in common.
Richard wasn’t the type of person to try to instil creativity or curiosity in a child.
In fact, Richard was so insecure that he was never going to let his stupid fucking kids eclipse him. The stupider Scott and I remained the smarter he would look in comparison.
Picking up electronics and computers was indeed beneficial, but not in the way that anyone thinks.
When people learn that I dropped out of school after grade 8, people always assume that it was because I was a troublemaker or a problem child. The truth is, between my father and my brother, things were becoming too violent and too unhinged in our house on Canadian Forces Base Downsview.
By 1987 my brother was starting to run with a gang of thugs. He had already been to group homes a few times after he’d been arrested for B&Es and car theft. He was only 13 years old, but he was already taller than my father. Richard wouldn’t dare hit Scott. And because Richard could no longer beat Scott he turned his attention to me for failing to raise my brother properly and for not looking out for my brother. Everything that Scott did was because I let the fucking babysitter touch him.
And no, my father never got over the fact that I had apparently “fucked with his military career” by being the cause of the posting from CFB Griesbach in Edmonton, AB to CFB Downsview in North York, ON.
Even though in reality I know that Richard never would have paid for trade school, or college, or university, I know that when I moved out of the house at 16 I pretty well wrote off ever obtaining a trade or a diploma.
Yes, I did get my grade 12 GED, but that doesn’t matter for much.
And yes, I’m a 4th class power engineer. But that doesn’t mean a lot on its own.
See, when it comes to most any job that I’ve ever had, I’m actually nothing special.
Weird.
Misfit.
Fag.
That’s how most of my employers would have referred to me.
I even had one manger refer to me as “Freddie Mercury” as he “knew” that I was gay. Kept making me promise him that I’d use protection when having sex with other men so that I wouldn’t get AIDs and die.
Many years later I would have one manager at work who refused to have anything to do with me, and when I mentioned this to the manger’s supervisor I was told that the other manager felt very uncomfortable around me because I was “too flamboyant”.
Yeah, when you come from a dysfunctional family and you’ve got no family safety net to fall back on, you just have to put up with this shit and keep going. Standing your ground and making a scene is for people that have backup plans.
I’m a loner. I like to be left alone. I don’t interact well with others. I have to fake smiles.
I’m perpetually late for work in the mornings because I really don’t want to get out of bed. I’m usually very disappointed in the morning when I wake up as that means that I didn’t pass away in my sleep.
I don’t have the slightest interest in sportsball, movies, movie actors, or bands. Yes, I like music, and yes I like watching movies now and again, but I’m not a “fan”.
The one thing that has always seen me through like an ace up my sleeve is my familiarity with electronics and computers, and my reading and comprehension abilities.
But the one thing that my skills have never been able to do is make me feel fulfilled or proud. They’re just shit that I can do.
So, what do my skills let me do? Wait, I can’t call them “skills” because I don’t have a diploma or a TQ or a Red Seal. I guess that I can call them hobbies.
This.
Below is a write up from my second round of testing.
(b) Breaker PDC- E3 delayed vital
Voltage data request from holding registers 41000 to 41007
Using modbus slave software to listen to the output of the IP to RS-485 gateway I get this:
RX 05 03 2E EF 00 03 3C 92 –
This means that the system requested that device 05 (delayed vital breaker) send the contents of the holding register (03) 12015 (hex 2e ef) and three subsequent registers, 12015, 12016, 120170. The 3c 92 are the checksum value for the transmission.
My software masqueraded as device (05), with the contents of the holding registers (03), acknowledged that the request was valid (06) and sent the value of decimal 50 (00 32) to the system. The 0a 6b is the checksum for this transmission.
RX 05 03 2E EF 00 03 3C 92 –
TX 05 03 06 00 32 00 32 00 – 32 0A 6B
When my software transmits the value of 50 to the system, the system displays that it read the value of registers 12015 (hex 2e ef), 12016 (hex 2e f0), 12017 (hex 2e f1) as decimal 50 (hex 00 32).
RX 05 03 2E EF 00 03 3C 92 –
TX 05 03 06 00 7B 00 7B 00 – 7B C7 85
When I change the value of registers 12015 (hex 2e ef), 12016 (hex 2e f0), 12017 (hex 2e f1) to the decimal value of 123 (hex 00 7b) the display on the system changes to 123.
Now, please understand that I am not trying to claim to be some sort of genius or expert. I just read the manual for the system, I read a quick write-up on MODbus, I ordered in an off-the-shelf USB-to-MODbus converter, and I bought the software.
Believe me, I’m not trying to claim to be a “hacker” or a technician, or anything like that. I’m also not trying to pretend that I wrote the program, or designed the interface, or “cracked” the system.
I just followed the instructions. When things weren’t clear, or when I needed further information I went searching for it.
I often feel the need to make this clear and to make it understood that I am not trying to claim credit for anything. This is just the stupid shit that I do.
Now, before you ask why I don’t go get a diploma, or a certificate, or a TQ, realize that my depression, my anxiety, my ultra low self esteem, and my intense lack of self confidence have never been dealt with.
Pills, therapy, head shrinkers, magic crystals, tarot cards, and positive thoughts don’t do sweet fuck-all against untreated mental health issues.
And mental health issues can’t be dealt with so long as the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces want to go out of their way to pretend that absolutely nothing occurred on Canadian Forces Base Namao from 1978 to 1980 and that I’m just a “societal malcontent with an axe to grind against the Canadian Armed Forces”.