Never had to make cremation arrangements before, but here I am.
Gotta take some time off work next week to fly up to Edmonton to go through my brother’s paperwork to see what comes next.
Air Canada has bereavement flights.
I gotta book a hotel room for a few nights, the sad thing is that Edmonton is not a very transit friendly city. The good thing is my brother’s apartment seems to have been located near an LRT stations, so as long as I book a hotel near the LRT I should be okay.
The cremation facility is going to take care of notifying all of the required government agencies and credit bureaus. If he’s financed a car guess I’ll have to tell the dealership to come pick it up.
As I said previously, contact between by brother and I has been almost as non-existent as contact between my father and I.
I honestly don’t know very much about him, where he worked, what his hobbies were, etc.
But, that’s the way that Richard raised us.
I once told Scott that we pretty well lived feral on the bases and he chuckled about that.
And it wasn’t that Richard was just a neglectful and absent parent.
Richard loved to play mind games. It was my fault whenever Scott got into trouble, and it was Scott’s fault whenever I got into trouble. I guess that men like Richard will do anything to avoid taking responsibility for their issues.
And Richard saw absolutely no problem with allowing his mother to live on base to raise my brother and I. She was a woman that he described to Alberta Social Services as being “extremely cruel to his children, especially when she was drunk, which was frequent”. But he was okay with that as that meant that he didn’t have to personally spend time raising his kids.
So Scott and I grew up in a household where you kept your back turned to the wall at all times so that you didn’t get attacked from behind in a surprise ambush.
There were no emotions to be expressed as kids least Richard or Grandma would rage out. And on military bases, whenever the parents or guardians were raging out it was obviously because the kids deserved it.
So yeah, Scott and I spent as much time out of the PMQ and as far away from each other as possible as kids so that one wouldn’t catch the beating the other was receiving. Beatings, beratings, and derision were common place things in our household. Well, truth be told, in the military company towns that the PMQ patches were, child abuse and child neglect was rampant, it’s just that the Canadian Armed Forces had its way of “washing the laundry” in house so that no one on the outside world would ever learn about what was going on in the closed military family communities that were isolated from pubic view.
The Edmonton Police Service constable who is handling Scott’s file has agreed to try to contact my stepmother Sue to let her know about Scott.
On Tuesday evening I was about to settle down on my bed and watch some Netflix before going to bed.
As I was about to lay down there was a rapid knock at the door. I walked over to the door and opened the peephole but I couldn’t see anyone so I said “Hello?”
A voice answered back ” Hi, this is the Vancouver Police Department, we’d like to talk to you, you’re not in any trouble”
I opened the door.
The one constable introduced himself and he asked me if I knew why they were here.
I invited them in.
I told the one constable that I was pretty sure that it had something to do with my brother as just about everyone else in my family was dead.
He asked me what my brother’s name was and I told him.
He said that beforehe could tell me anything more that he’d need to check my ID. So I provided him with my ID. He said that the name on my ID card didn’t match what they had on record. So I told him my birth name.
He then said that he was sorry to inform me that Scott had been found deceased in his apartment. The last he had been seen was on August the 8th and the police had been asked to do a welfare check on the 13th. And Scott was found on the floor of his apartment.
I told the constable that I wasn’t surprised. Scott did suffer from Grand Mal Epilepsy and he also had five stents in his heart.
He asked me if I was going to be okay. I told him that I’d be fine. And I guess the way that I said this took him by surprise a little. So I gave him an extremely brief “Reader’s Digest” version of my dysfunctional family and how my brother and I only started talking in 2013 after I went to Federal Court for judicial review. I said that prior to that Scott and I really had no use for each other, and that was the way that Richard raised us.
Currently the Alberta coroner is conducting the autopsies and toxicology testing and once they’re finished they’ll give me Scott’s death certificate. The only thing the medical examiner has said so far is that Scott’s heart was pretty well plugged solid.
Once I have his death certificate I can go to Edmonton and check out his apartment to see what I want to keep, what can be donated, and what can go to the trash.
It also looks like I’ll have to figure out what to do with his body. Creamation is probably what I’ll end up giving him.
Then I guess I have to settle out his finances. I’ve never had to look after anyone’s affairs before so this ought to be interesting.
I’ll have to check to see if he had a will. If he’s like me, he probably lived day to day without any longterm plans for the future as quite honestly we never expected to have a future.
It’s just too bad that he doesn’t get to find out if we prevail against the Canadian Armed Forces and the Department of National Defence. That’s one thing that he had been looking forward to.
Growing up as nothing more than glorified trailer trash living on Canadian Armed Forces bases in the hidden squalor of the PMQ patches with out of control alcoholism and angry men with untreated PTSD and other issues meant that life sucked for a lot of kids.
Sure, there were the good families on base, but more often than not they’d turn a blind eye to the dysfunction that was going on all around them.
When we lived on Canadian Forces Base Downview in Ontario, my father Richard pretty well abandoned Scott to the little thugs, wannbe gangsters, and outright shitheads that ran riot in the civie houses around the base.
As such, Scott was involved with the juvenile justice system in Ontario.
But, Richard just didn’t give a fuck.
As I said previously, Richard didn’t keep my brother and I because he loved us. Richard kept my brother and I because, as he told his friend Jacques one evening, “As long I they live under my roof, I control the costs. If I send to live with the bitch mother of theirs I may as well sign my paycheque right over to that cunt. And that’s not about to happen”.
The Canadian Armed Forces knew that they had a problem with spousal abuse. But the Canadian Forces turned a blind eye to it. When it came to child abuse and child neglect on the bases, the military did everything it could to pretend it didn’t happen.
Scott had tried to get on the right path over the years, but he always ran into the same ghosts from the past that I had. I think that once Scott realized just how horrible of a father Richard really was and how defective Scott’s childhood had been becuase of Richard, he started to change.
And so it goes, with Scott’s death I’m the last of the Gill / Waniandy clan.
In a recent text message, my brother Scott said that it was okay for me to use his name and his pictures.
I had no idea that these pictures existed until I visited Marie in December of 2013.
Even though Richard had very decent camera equipment for the time, there really doesn’t exist any pictures of my brother or I. Richard had tons of pictures of military aircraft, pictures of him and his buddies drinking on training exercises, and pictures of lots of other things that weren’t my brother and I.
Scott had texted me asking about the class action and we messaged back and forth for a bit.
I sent Scott a meme that I had gleaned from twitter:
That’s when he responded that Sue had given him a few pictures a while ago, but that he shredded them.
That’s when he said that I could use his name and share his pictures.
Left – Robert Gill (7 yrs) and Right – Scott Gill (4-1/2 yrs) Picture taken in late summer of 1978 on Canadian Forces Base Namao in PMQ #11 – 12th street
Yeah, we were about the same size as kids. Lots of people on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach and Canadian Forces Base Downsview mistook him as being the older sibling while I was mistaken for the younger sibling.
Scott Gill (rear row, 5th from the left) Grade 1, Guthrie School Canadian Forces Base NamaoScott Gill at Downsview Public School sometime between 1984 and 1986(l-r) Margret Mary Waniandy Anderson, Marie Annette Jacquline Dagenais Gill, Scott Dwayne Arthur Gill, Robert Wayne Gill. About September / October 1978 While Richard was away on training exercises.
I’ve never mentioned Scott’s name for two reason.
The first reason is that I have no idea who he actually is.
The second reason is a lot of people really don’t want their names mentioned in matters like this.
When I say I don’t know who Scott is, I mean that.
The only thing that we really have in common is that we were sexually abused by the same person.
Yes, we have the same sperm donor.
Yes, we had the same egg donor.
Yes, we popped out of the same vag.
But we were raised feral.
I was born in Sept of ’71
He was born in Feb of ’74
Our mother was only around until early 1977, so he knew her about three years. I knew her for about six years.
I knew Richard’s anger and his drinking. I don’t think Scott remembers too much of that.
During our time on CFB Shearwater and CFB Summerside Richard was only around periodically, but when he was it usually wasn’t a pleasant time for anyone.
Once on CFB Shearwater, Richard was drinking and watching hockey and yelling at the TV like he always did. Scott was still in a walker and obviously bothering Richard. Richard told me to take Scott to his mother for her to look after him. Marie was downstairs doing laundry. I don’t think Richard realized this. So, I did as Richard said, I tried to take Scott to his mother. That didn’t work out too well, and down the stairs Scott went. Richard denied to Marie that he asked me to take Scott to Marie.
And that’s par for the course in Richard’s house.
Grandma came to live with us on Canadian Forces Base Summerside. Richard was rarely home.
And this is when Scott and I went full feral.
Grandma had a lot of issues from her time in Indian Residential School and from her rampant alcoholism. So she was never really around to raise my brother and I if you know what I mean. Yeah, she kept food in our bellies, and she kept darning our clothes no matter how worn out they had become, but she wasn’t their for Scott and I, so we just drifted around in our own spheres.
When you grow up in a household like that, especially a household on a military base where everyone minds their own business, you tend to go wild.
And wild we did go.
People have asked me if I am serious about the number of times that our babysitter abused my brother and I on CFB Namao. When I tell them that I am they give me an incredulous look as if I am lying. “Why didn’t you tell someone” is what they always ask. Even Alberta Crown prosecutor Jon Weribicki asked this in 2011. The entire time of our stay on CFB Namao, grandma was the only constant in the house. Richard was rarely home. And the one constant about grandma is that she was usually pissed drunk.
The older kids on base used to make “chugga, chugga” sounds when grandma was around. I wouldn’t learn until later in life that “Chug” is a derogatory term for an intoxicated Indian.
So, that’s why Scott and I were the babysitter’s favourite playthings. He knew we were practically on our own and that there was no one for us to tell.
I know Scott was hoping that I could make the babysitter stop, but that was well beyond my abilities.
I think our lack of parental units on CFB Shearwater, CFB Summerside, CFB Namao, CFB Griesbach, CFB Downsview set my brother and I on a collision course with the likes of Captain McRae and his teenaged accomplice as well as the others on the other bases.
Because of Richard’s well documented issues and his refusal to accept responsibility for his family, and his need to blame others, a massive rift was created between Scott and I as kids.
Richard didn’t love either of us, and he didn’t like the either of us.
Richard’s family wasn’t like one of those families you hear of where the mother and father have issues, but they love their children and they try their best.
Richard never actually had legal custody of my brother and I. He took advantage of the National Defence Act in 1977 to have our mother thrown out of the PMQ and off the base. Marie wanted to take my brother and I back to Nova Scotia to stay with our uncle, Al Dagenais. The reason for this was due to Richard’s drinking and physical abuse getting out of hand. Richard wasn’t concerned in the least about losing Scott and I. He was terrified of having to pay child support.
Around 1986, when we were living on Canadian Forces base Downsview in Ontario, one of Richard’s air force buddies asked Richard “Rick, if these fucking kids are driving you nuts, why don’t you give them back to their fucking mother and let her deal with the stupid fuckers”. Richard’s reply was that by doing so he’d be signing his paycheque over to that bitch and that as long as Scott and I lived with him he could control the costs.
So yeah, the household that Scott and I grew up in was completely devoid of any type of loving relationship.
Everything about Richard was penny pinching for my brother and I, but extravagance for Richard and his friends and relations.
Christmas was almost non-existent for Scott and I as kids as were birthdays. Anything we did get was usually from our mother (but secretly paid for by our uncle Doug).
Socks and underwear day is how Scott referred to christmas.
So yeah, it’s no wonder my brother and I don’t really know anything about each other.
When we lived on CFB Downsview in Toronto, my brother and I ran with totally different crowds.
I got further sexually abused and I got introduced to child prostitution. I know that I came damn close to being on a child pornography tape.
I don’t know if any of the men who took advantage of me while I lived on Canadian Forces Base Downsview got their hands on Scott, but I do know that Scott was familiar with one of these guys.
I’m almost 100% certain that Scott never turned tricks like I did, but I have no doubt that he got sexually abused as well.
I moved out of the house in late 1987 just after I had turned 16.
I never saw Scott again until the spring of 1990 when I was home on a layover on a six month contract job. My father took me up to Uxbridge, Ontario to see him.
I moved to Edmonton with my father in June of 1990 after my six month contract had ended. Richard said that “we could try to be a family again”. Scott didn’t move with us due to his obligations in Ontario at the time.
I lived on Canadian Forces Base Greisbach for about 1-1/2 months before my father bought a house in Morninville, AB.
The thing about “being a family again” didn’t work and I had my own apartment by October of 1990. I can’t remember when my brother finally arrived in Edmonton, but it was after I had my apartment.
Just as things didn’t work out between Sue and I in “her” new house in Morinville, things didn’t work out between Sue and Scott in Sue’s new house.
I guess that my brother and I were too uncouth to be in “her” house.
It’s probably a good thing that she got her kid off the bases before he got too old.
Scott ended up at my apartment with Richard stating that “I owed it to him (Richard)” after all he did to raise my brother and I without the help of that “silly bitch of a mother” of ours.
Richard absolutely refused to help with groceries or anything else, so Scott ended up going out to our mother’s acreage.
I left Edmonton in February of 1992. The economy sucked, I was unemployed and on welfare. I moved to Vancouver, BC.
I forget the actual sequence of events, but one day on the way to work Scott and his girlfriend were riding the Skytrain.
I think this was when Scott was attending “Columbia Academy of Arts” to be a mixing technician for music recording.
I’m thinking that this was around 1996ish. We didn’t stay in contact for more than a month or two.
Around 1998ish, Richard called me up at my place of employment and told me that Scott needed help to fix his car and because I owed Richard for all that he had provided to us when we were kids this was expected. Again, Scott and I didn’t stay in contact.
I know that Scott and his girlfriend celebrated New Year’s eve 2000 in Vancouver.
The next time I saw Scott was in 2003 when I went to Edmonton with my then girlfriend to see Richard. Richard had no time. I spent more time hanging out with my stepmother than I did with Richard.
That was the last time that I’d ever see Richard alive.
I saw Scott maybe once or twice during the week my girlfriend and I were in Edmonton.
I never did see Scott again until the summer of 2013. I had to contact Scott due to a Federal Court matter I had going on in which I had read his statement to the CFNIS in 2011 and I had some questions to ask him about his statement and the notes that were taken by the investigating officers. I also wanted to share with him the contents of our previously unknown Alberta Social Service Records and our Children’s Aid Society of Toronto records and my foster care records.
We hung out over the course of a week. That was something that I never thought would have been possible before. But after having read the social service records I realized that Scott and I turned out the best we could considering the defective household that we grew up in.
The highlight of the visit was Scott and I stopped for coffee and donuts at a coffee shop in the east side of Edmonton. Anyways, we’re sitting there and this elderly gent comes up to the two of us and asks us if we could please stop swearing as it’s too much for him and his wife.
Yeah, that’s one thing Scott and I did pick up from Richard and his mother. I’m not sure who swore worse, grandma or Richard. Grandma could unleash her profanities and put Richard to shame.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you want something to fucking cry about? I’ll give you something to fucking cry about. You fucking little asshole. You goddamn silly fucker. You little fucking cocksucker. That was from both grandma and Richard. Richard wasn’t afraid to let go with “you stupid cunt”, “you’re a fucking stunned cunt” and other choice words directed to his mother and other women around him.
In the fall of 2013 things fell apart between Scott and I, no doubt due to my brother’s recent re-aquaintence with my father.
My father had contacted my brother via our stepmother as Richard wanted to know about the Written Examination for Federal Court that I had subpoenaed Richard with. I guess Richard never thought that I would have seen the statement he gave to the military police in 2011 in which he denied that my brother and I had ever been sexually abused on CFB Namao, and in which he totally erased our grandmother from our past. I also don’t think that Richard thought that I would ever get my foster care records or my social service records.
But nonetheless Richard had to cover his ass.
I don’t blame my brother. I’ve known for a long time that Richard was a skilled and masterful manipulator. I’ll readily admit to being manipulated by Richard. Richard could manipulate anyone. I have no doubt that his manipulation skills were the only thing that allowed him to enjoy a 30 year career in the Canadian Armed Forces.
My brother and I didn’t really speak again until 2019. Since then we’ve had sporadic conversations. Nothing too in depth or extensive, and I honestly don’t think things will ever get better. That’s the way Richard raised us, and that’s what Richard wanted.
Scott and I were two strangers living in the same household.
I don’t think that Scott ever realized as a kid that our family was in as much trouble as it was, I know I sure as hell didn’t have the foggiest idea until I got my social service paperwork in 2011.
No doubt Richard had lied to Scott over the years and convinced Scott that nothing had happened on CFB Namao.
I don’t think Scott honestly believed anything of what I had to say about CFB Namao until the Canadian Armed Forces finally released the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the 1980 Courts Martial transcripts in November of 2020 which indicated that the military police in 1980 were very well aware of what the babysitter and Captain McRae had been doing to young children on the base.
It also helps that I have my class action going on at the moment because if I was Scott I wouldn’t believe a single fucking thing that came out of my mouth.
Do I blame Scott?
No.
How could I?
I know the household that Scott grew up in.
Fuck, I wouldn’t believe anything that came out of my mouth if I was him either.
As kids, when things went wrong in the house Richard would simply blame either Scott or I for what went wrong.
It was like he was doing everything to keep us at each other’s throat.
Gabor Maté observed that “no two children have the same parents” meaning that parents treat each child differently no matter how much they try to treat each child the same. Richard took that observation to the extreme. Not only did Scott and I not have the same father, but the father we had changed on an almost daily basis.
One day I was Richard’s little buddy, and the next day Scott was Richard’s little buddy.
Richard wouldn’t give the slightest fuck about Scott watching cartoons, but if I watched cartoons I’d get berated for watching that fucking horseshit. What the fuck is wrong with you, that shit is for little kids, why the fuck are you watching this?
So of course there would be animosity and resentment between the two of us.
Scott would break something, and I’d get blasted for not watching Scott and keeping him from breaking the thing. So of course I resented Scott. It’s what I was taught.
And I sure wasn’t in any position to raise or care for my brother no matter how much my father insisted that raising my brother was my responsibility.
I was diagnosed at age five as having anorexia due to “societal issues” in the house. At age nine, after having been sexually abused for 1-1/2 years I was found to be severely emotionally disturbed and suffering from major depression, severe anxiety, and haphephobia.
I was in no position to “raise” my brother or to take over as my brother’s father.
So yeah, there really isn’t much of any connection between Scott and I.
Hopefully whatever settlement we get from the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces is enough to help him out because that’s all that I can really do.
There will be no magical time machines to jump into and to go back in time and redo our lives.
I don’t connect easily with people.
I have no emotions to offer.
And I’m undergoing M.A.i.D. sometime in 2024.
Our father never taught us how to love or how to be loved.
Richard taught us how to hate, and how to despise, how to show contempt, and how to be isolated.
Beeshive 