Back to where I was after being walloped with the news that uncle accused my mother of molesting him.
Shortly after his visit to the detachment and his ridiculously feeble attempt to try and derail the file from going any further I am informed that charges have been recommended to the Crown Counsel and that a court date of Sept 14th, 2007 has been set. This would be the first of my many heartbreaking misconceptions about how the "justice" system works. I had no idea that the police "recommend" charges - I do know what the word "recommend" means in the real world but I thought that the police were the folks that laid the charges and that Crown Counsel represented the victims. I was seriously mistaken and also very uniformed.
The police make the arrests, take the statements, do all of the research into the Criminal Code as to what charges SHOULD be filed.......that is SHOULD not WILL. In the province of BC the Crown Counsel holds all of the cards. The file goes to a gate keeping committee who decide if the case is winnable - simply put. They are funding out of the public purse and they decide which files to pursue. If they think it is unwinable than they bounce the file back and say thank you for your time and have a nice life.
I wait patiently for the entire summer to pass with my eyes on the prize of Sept 14th. I cannot believe that in less than 2 months I will have the chance to go to court and see my abuser stand in front of a judge and have to answer either Not Guilty or Guilty. I am ok with either plea because he is the one that will be crucified by the Crown Counsel. He is the one that will be presented with the sworn affidavidt of what he said to me in front of my therapist. Bring it on. I even went and bought a new suit!!!
The week of Sept 10 - 14th was a week of chaos. I had clients coming in from out of town that had to buy a house THAT week. That is a pressure keg of a situation at the best of times! I was frantic all week - the market was super fast, they were coming from Ontario and were really struggling with the huge price difference between here and there and I was wondering how the heck I was going to explain that I was going to be AWOL on Friday......oh by the way.....I know you need to buy a house but I have to go to court to watch my abuser enter a plea.....hope you understand........
Late Thursday afternoon after a grueling day of driving around looking at houses and trying to find new listings to look at we parted company - they to their hotel and me to the closest Starbucks for a much needed shot of caffeine. My phone rings.....it is the caseworker at a Private Organization who has someone ended up with my file to act as a messenger, etc. I hardly know this woman - she is so sweet and kind but I had never even met her - and she tells me........16 hours before I will have my day in court ..........that...........Crown Counsel has refused the charges. I am silent - she asks me if I am still there.......yes I am but I have no idea what you are talking about.......I was given a court date of Sept 14th so how can it be that the afternoon ( conveniently after Crown Counsel office hours) before court you are telling me there is no court date, there are no charges and my file has been sent back to the detachment. Stunned. Numb. Confused. Hot tears pour down my cheeks as I sit in Starbucks trying to figure out what is going on. I try calling the police officer - I get her voice mail. She works Monday to Thursday and she is now off duty until Monday. I call the main desk - I ask who would be taking her calls for her while she is off ( oh how naive I was ) I am told to leave her a voicemail and she will get it on Monday. I try calling back the caseworker.......she has gone home for the day.
I am sitting in Starbucks....all around me people are chatting, working on their laptops and just going about their day........while I feel like my world has worth nothing more than the crumbs on the floor from someone`s muffin.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Monday, April 16, 2012
The letter below was sent to my 5 aunts - and I am sad to say that I did not receive any answers to my questions. I rec'd a 2 line letter from one aunt and an email from another aunt that really had nothing to do with my letter.
At the time that I wrote this email to them my police officer was fighting fiercely to provide Crown Counsel any little bit of information that she could to assist them in moving forward with the recommended charges. I wrote this email and forwarded it to her for her approval, corrections on any dates, etc. and confirmation that it would not jeopordize the file in anyway.
Crown Counsel in BC are the office that takes the police files and decides if the charges will be laid. I understand that in other provinces the police lay the charges and Crown moves ahead with defence. If that were the case in BC none of the 3 years of creating a file the size of that we did would have had to happen. Trust me - I would have walked into that court room with my head held high while someone else would have folded like a cheap tent in the parking lot.
The chief prosecutor who was assigned all of the sexual abuse/assualt cases looked at my file and all of the information and he spoke with my officer and he wanted to proceed but......he could not override the gate keeping committee who made all decisions about whether charges were laid or not. How's that for a kick in the heart?
This is the letter I sent:
I am about to share with you some very difficult information that you will likely find hard to read and hard to accept. However, the time is right to expose a situation that has likely been perpetuated for many years within our family. There is no doubt in my mind that this has been a generational issue and perhaps one of you reading this letter can even relate on a personal level.
For many years your brother, Bernard perpetrated a sexually abusive crime against me. You should also know that I was not his first target but unfortunately I was the weaker person and found myself in a situation that took me many years to get out and one that I will likely be coping with the aftermath from for the rest of my life.
In the summer of 2006 I started therapy to deal with the overwhelming anxiety that I had. Anxiety to the point that I had great difficulty even leaving my home to go to work. Anxiety that kept me from sleeping most nights. Anxiety that was consuming most of my mental energy. During the course of treatment I finally found a safe place where I could disclose the reason for my anxiety. For the next 11 months, in a safe and trusting environment, I worked hard to get to a place where I was able to confront your brother with this accusation and to illustrate to him what the result of his actions had been on my life. A Confrontation was scheduled for June 2, 2007 and your brother attended this meeting held with myself, himself and my therapist. I read a letter which I had written to him. After hearing this letter your brother offered up the following: 1/ that he had been sexually abused by 2 of his sisters and 2/ that "if it was an apology you want you've got it". A direct self incriminating statement that was given in a most flippant and unremorseful manner. And, in case you might be thinking that this is a situation of
” therapist induced memory,” his lack of denial, arrogant behavior and unfeeling apology are proof that I am not making any of this up. I had wanted this meeting to be one of healing and moving forward and I had hoped that he would be remorseful and ask for my forgiveness. He did neither.
His arrogant attitude led me to make a very difficult decision - I asked my therapist to arrange for me to report this abuse to the RCMP. On Tuesday June 12, 2007 I met with a detective from the Serious Crimes Division and spent 2 hours telling her things that I thought I would never ever have to tell another person. To illustrate the fact that the police detective believed me - I was given the decision to make - do I want to go ahead and have them arrest him at his home right at that time or did I want to give him the opportunity to come into the detachment and voluntarily present himself. I suspect that if she did not believe me this choice would not have been offered to me. I chose to give him the opportunity to present himself which he did. The following Monday he was arrested, handcuffed and put into a cell and then interrogated by a detective. At no time did he ever deny this allegation nor did he offer up a defense. He had however, obtained legal counsel by this time.
Following his arrest he asked to speak to the detective once again. He met with her at the detachment where he disclosed the following to her: That at the age of approx. 12 years old he was sexually abused by my mother. This would mean that she would have been approx. 21/22 years of age and married to my father. When this information was disclosed to me I cannot tell you how sick I felt. I sat down on the kitchen floor and cried. There are only 2 choices here - either he is lying or he is telling the truth. Since my mother is deceased I have no opportunity to even confront her with this statement. Perhaps that is why he made this statement, knowing that she could never defend herself. I don't know. All I know is that today I am haunted by this allegation. This file has gone before Crown Counsel who have asked for more information which I have since supplied. The file will be going back to Crown Counsel in the near future.
The reason for this information being shared with you is this: if you can either confirm or provide proof that he is lying regarding any of his allegations I would very much appreciate that. I can imagine how you might be feeling right at this point. I've been there. It's not pleasant. But as I stated earlier, I have no doubt that I was not the first victim of sexual abuse in this family over the past generations and unless this is confronted and dealt with I will not be the last. I have paid a very high price for this "secrecy". Perhaps I may not have even suffered the abuse that I did if this had been dealt with in a previous generation. But, I am dealing with it now. I only wish my mother were alive so that I could have the truthful answers that I desperately need. I'll also accept that you may feel this is just too awful to even think about and choose to not respond. I welcome your positive responses but please, before you respond, understand that I am not capable of dealing with any negative or harsh replies at this time. I only want to know the truth as dealing with the unknown is far harder than learning to accept the known. If you were in my place would you not want to know?
I have to ask this question: Why is the truth so hard for some people to face? The truth shall set you free. Hiding your head in the sand so that you cannot see all that is happening around you will only result in you not seeing the boot aimed directly for your ass. I love this sentence! A fellow Realtor shared it with me and the simplistic truth of it is just too good not to pass on!
Monday, March 12, 2012
"Be Our Guest, Be Our Guest, Be Our Guest"
And......we're off - let the games begin! The file is open and a number has been assigned - I am now known as #07-20901. Next on the to do list for the RCMP is to interview my abuser. I elected to allow him to present himself at the detachment and I'm told that he was there lickety split after the officer called him and offered him his choices.
Oh how I wish I could have been a fly on the wall but I had to settle for a verbal description of the event. He appeared at the front counter and asked for the officer. He had no clue what was about to happen but he was officially invited to be a guest at the crowbar hotel! The officer met him at the front counter, read his rights and just like - on went the silver bracelets and down into the bowels of the detachment and into a cell. Where.....he was given the privelege of having a moment or two to himself before the real fun started!
About 30 minutes later he was taken from the cell and brought up to a "hard" interview room and his video/audio taped interview was underway. There was no doubt in anyone`s mind that he was guilty of alot of bad behaviour - he had openly admited it 10 days ago - and the goal of the interview was to have to him verbally say the `word``. Which didn`t happen. At some point he had retained a lawyer - one that was relatively unknown in the finer circles in Langley. He couldn`t very well go to one of the law offices that had handled conveyancing for his office for the past 30 years so he opted for Plan B. The officer called me after he had left to apprise me of all the information that she could without breaching any Privacy Act issues. She did coroborate a lot of my dates, etc. that I had given and locations etc. but she couldn`t nail him down not even when she told him that my therapist would be providing a statement to go with my file to Crown Counsel.
Two days later on a blistering hot afternoon my phone rings. It is the officer calling to tell me that my abuser had called her and asked her if he could come and talk to her! Would this be the day that he would admit his guilt and stop this train from going down the tracks and picking up speed......would this be the day that he would man up and admit to what he had done so that I could have my day in court and my restitutionÉ She told me that both she and another female officer interviewed him for 2 hours solid and so many times they had him in a corner and he was so close to `the word`but he held out. But of the tales of woe he laid on them about his dysfunctional life and he tried to use the `pity`card. One of those tales of woe that he told them literally took my feet out from underneath me.
As I had been listening to the officer I was walking around the kitchen putting things away and suddenly she grew quiet. `` There is something I have to tell you Michelle`she said. `` Your uncle said that he was abused by 2 of his sisters and also your mother. She had sex with him when he was 12 and that left him feeling so confused because he knew what happened was wrong but it felt right. I`m so sorry Michelle to tell you this.`
Silence. I was on the floor, fighting to breathe, my gut totally tied in a knot. The feeling you get when you get really bad news. I had dropped the phone on the way down and managed to prop myself up against a cupboard and pick up the phone. The officer was calling my name, asking if I was ok, apologizing for what she had told me. She needed more information and she wondered if she could come and see me. Not. I did not want a police car in front of my home. I told her that I would take a few moments and then come up to the detachment. I hung up the phone and I laid on the floor and sobbed. Sobbed because a useless waste of skin had accused a dead women of the most indecent act, sobbed because she wasn`t here to comfort me and protect me, sobbed because I was the one that had been abused for 20 years and had once more just been àbused`` in a most painful way. More painful than any act of the 20 years prior. Sobbed because I realized that this `file`was rapidly spiraling out of control and I had been the one to open Pandora`s box and this was my punishment.
I appeared at the front desk at the detachment and then went outside to sit in the sun by myself. A few moments later the officer appeared and ushered me into a `soft`interview room - 2 doors on either side locked, a table and chair and a couch. No tape recorder, no video tape here just her notebook. I told her that there was no way that my mother could have done that to him because she was already married and living in another city. I told her the family dynamics and how dysfunctional his generation`s family life had been and that there was no doubt in my mind whatsoever that there was abuse going on. I believe that my Grandfather was abusive to some of the older girls, and whether this had in turn happened to the younger boys in the family I did know nor could I speculate. But there was no doubt that there was abuse going on behind those 4 walls.
This day was one of many of the `bad`days that were to come. The emotions ranged from complete hatred for this man who would say such a horrible thing about my mother to despair. I felt very exposed, vulnerable, unloved and unprotected. I wanted to go over to his house and scream at the top of my lungs on his front lawn every obscenty I could come up with. `` Trust in the system Michelle`I was told. Lesson /2 - do not trust in the system.
Oh how I wish I could have been a fly on the wall but I had to settle for a verbal description of the event. He appeared at the front counter and asked for the officer. He had no clue what was about to happen but he was officially invited to be a guest at the crowbar hotel! The officer met him at the front counter, read his rights and just like - on went the silver bracelets and down into the bowels of the detachment and into a cell. Where.....he was given the privelege of having a moment or two to himself before the real fun started!
About 30 minutes later he was taken from the cell and brought up to a "hard" interview room and his video/audio taped interview was underway. There was no doubt in anyone`s mind that he was guilty of alot of bad behaviour - he had openly admited it 10 days ago - and the goal of the interview was to have to him verbally say the `word``. Which didn`t happen. At some point he had retained a lawyer - one that was relatively unknown in the finer circles in Langley. He couldn`t very well go to one of the law offices that had handled conveyancing for his office for the past 30 years so he opted for Plan B. The officer called me after he had left to apprise me of all the information that she could without breaching any Privacy Act issues. She did coroborate a lot of my dates, etc. that I had given and locations etc. but she couldn`t nail him down not even when she told him that my therapist would be providing a statement to go with my file to Crown Counsel.
Two days later on a blistering hot afternoon my phone rings. It is the officer calling to tell me that my abuser had called her and asked her if he could come and talk to her! Would this be the day that he would admit his guilt and stop this train from going down the tracks and picking up speed......would this be the day that he would man up and admit to what he had done so that I could have my day in court and my restitutionÉ She told me that both she and another female officer interviewed him for 2 hours solid and so many times they had him in a corner and he was so close to `the word`but he held out. But of the tales of woe he laid on them about his dysfunctional life and he tried to use the `pity`card. One of those tales of woe that he told them literally took my feet out from underneath me.
As I had been listening to the officer I was walking around the kitchen putting things away and suddenly she grew quiet. `` There is something I have to tell you Michelle`she said. `` Your uncle said that he was abused by 2 of his sisters and also your mother. She had sex with him when he was 12 and that left him feeling so confused because he knew what happened was wrong but it felt right. I`m so sorry Michelle to tell you this.`
Silence. I was on the floor, fighting to breathe, my gut totally tied in a knot. The feeling you get when you get really bad news. I had dropped the phone on the way down and managed to prop myself up against a cupboard and pick up the phone. The officer was calling my name, asking if I was ok, apologizing for what she had told me. She needed more information and she wondered if she could come and see me. Not. I did not want a police car in front of my home. I told her that I would take a few moments and then come up to the detachment. I hung up the phone and I laid on the floor and sobbed. Sobbed because a useless waste of skin had accused a dead women of the most indecent act, sobbed because she wasn`t here to comfort me and protect me, sobbed because I was the one that had been abused for 20 years and had once more just been àbused`` in a most painful way. More painful than any act of the 20 years prior. Sobbed because I realized that this `file`was rapidly spiraling out of control and I had been the one to open Pandora`s box and this was my punishment.
I appeared at the front desk at the detachment and then went outside to sit in the sun by myself. A few moments later the officer appeared and ushered me into a `soft`interview room - 2 doors on either side locked, a table and chair and a couch. No tape recorder, no video tape here just her notebook. I told her that there was no way that my mother could have done that to him because she was already married and living in another city. I told her the family dynamics and how dysfunctional his generation`s family life had been and that there was no doubt in my mind whatsoever that there was abuse going on. I believe that my Grandfather was abusive to some of the older girls, and whether this had in turn happened to the younger boys in the family I did know nor could I speculate. But there was no doubt that there was abuse going on behind those 4 walls.
This day was one of many of the `bad`days that were to come. The emotions ranged from complete hatred for this man who would say such a horrible thing about my mother to despair. I felt very exposed, vulnerable, unloved and unprotected. I wanted to go over to his house and scream at the top of my lungs on his front lawn every obscenty I could come up with. `` Trust in the system Michelle`I was told. Lesson /2 - do not trust in the system.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Is It Really Possible To Lose Your Mind?? Or Just Misplace It.
Once the legal process was underway my emotional health was tested severely. Days would go by waiting for promised calls, days would arrive with calls of disappointing news, months would go by waiting for Crown Counsel to either reward me with my day in court or bounce my file back to the detachment yet again looking for even more information. These 3 years were the hardest years of this entire journey and during these years was when I truly felt like I was being blown into a million little pieces. I toss this chapter in here because as I try my best to recount those 3 years I can dispense with the long winded explanation of "losing one's mind" from my perspective.
Have you ever said these words " I'm going to lose my mind"? Anyone with offspring will say that approx. 10 times per day! But......have you ever said those words to your therapist in a desperate plea for someone to help you, to rescue you because you are so worn down by the feelings of the fear, the panic, the anxiety and the pain? I have used those words more than once and I have used them when I truly, deep in my soul felt like I was coming apart in all directions.
I have sat on my couch in the middle of the day with all of the blinds closed, huddled under the quilt absolutely terrified that I will not be able to look after myself for the rest of the day, never mind the rest of the week or my life. I have poured myself into a seat on an American Airlines 757 bound for Dallas, Texas to fall into the safe arms of my best friend in the entire world. I have made that trip at the strong suggestion of my therapist that I go far away, into the sunshine and escape the constant "poke and jab" that the legal system was laying on me. Note: It is a legal system not a justice system. I have laid on the floor hugging my dog as though she were a life raft and I a drowning soul. I have had to pull over and park because my panic attack was consuming every grey cell in my brain. I have walked into the doctors' office convinced that I was having a heart attack and I needed to be somewhere safe. What I received was a shot in the arm of 10ml of Valium that never even fizzed on the best part of me other than to slow down my breathing. The average person would be out like a light for several hours with that dose but I walked to the lab (much to the utter amazement of the tech), had an ecg and blood work done and walked home and was still wide awake 3 hours later when the dr called to tell me that I had not had a heart attack - no surprise to anyone but simply a matter of protocal whenever someone presents with chest pains. I have walked into the dr's office looking like a homeless person in my pajamas and completely distraught and when asked why I was so upset - I had no words to string together to even answer that question. I'm not sure which was scarier to the doctors - me showing up in the throes of a "heart attack" or me showing up looking like a homeless person! If you want to get right in to see the dr try one of the above!
I finally came up with a description of how I felt so that I could explain to all of my various caregivers just what was going on in my head. I told them that I felt like a big jigsaw puzzle. I was all put together - ok sort of put together! - and then I started therapy and my puzzle started to come apart and then I entered the dark world of the legal system and all of the pieces blew apart and landed on the floor. My job was to learn how to put those pieces all back together one at a time which I have finally succeeded in doing so. But....along would come a demon of the past or present and I would feel like I had been swept off of the table and I was in a heap of pieces on the floor again. Sometimes it was just a minor gust and only a few pieces hit the hardwood but there were some occasions when hurricane force winds swept my world off of the table, knocked every piece apart and tossed them haphazardly all over the room. I used this analogy for 4 years during my therapy to best explain my world at any given time.
So yes, it is possible to actually lose your mind but the good news is that if you just keep looking and patiently put the pieces back together enough times you can put your puzzle together and hang onto your mind. You will however lose the excuse of " I'm losing my mind" to get out of missed appointments, etc!!!
Have you ever said these words " I'm going to lose my mind"? Anyone with offspring will say that approx. 10 times per day! But......have you ever said those words to your therapist in a desperate plea for someone to help you, to rescue you because you are so worn down by the feelings of the fear, the panic, the anxiety and the pain? I have used those words more than once and I have used them when I truly, deep in my soul felt like I was coming apart in all directions.
I have sat on my couch in the middle of the day with all of the blinds closed, huddled under the quilt absolutely terrified that I will not be able to look after myself for the rest of the day, never mind the rest of the week or my life. I have poured myself into a seat on an American Airlines 757 bound for Dallas, Texas to fall into the safe arms of my best friend in the entire world. I have made that trip at the strong suggestion of my therapist that I go far away, into the sunshine and escape the constant "poke and jab" that the legal system was laying on me. Note: It is a legal system not a justice system. I have laid on the floor hugging my dog as though she were a life raft and I a drowning soul. I have had to pull over and park because my panic attack was consuming every grey cell in my brain. I have walked into the doctors' office convinced that I was having a heart attack and I needed to be somewhere safe. What I received was a shot in the arm of 10ml of Valium that never even fizzed on the best part of me other than to slow down my breathing. The average person would be out like a light for several hours with that dose but I walked to the lab (much to the utter amazement of the tech), had an ecg and blood work done and walked home and was still wide awake 3 hours later when the dr called to tell me that I had not had a heart attack - no surprise to anyone but simply a matter of protocal whenever someone presents with chest pains. I have walked into the dr's office looking like a homeless person in my pajamas and completely distraught and when asked why I was so upset - I had no words to string together to even answer that question. I'm not sure which was scarier to the doctors - me showing up in the throes of a "heart attack" or me showing up looking like a homeless person! If you want to get right in to see the dr try one of the above!
I finally came up with a description of how I felt so that I could explain to all of my various caregivers just what was going on in my head. I told them that I felt like a big jigsaw puzzle. I was all put together - ok sort of put together! - and then I started therapy and my puzzle started to come apart and then I entered the dark world of the legal system and all of the pieces blew apart and landed on the floor. My job was to learn how to put those pieces all back together one at a time which I have finally succeeded in doing so. But....along would come a demon of the past or present and I would feel like I had been swept off of the table and I was in a heap of pieces on the floor again. Sometimes it was just a minor gust and only a few pieces hit the hardwood but there were some occasions when hurricane force winds swept my world off of the table, knocked every piece apart and tossed them haphazardly all over the room. I used this analogy for 4 years during my therapy to best explain my world at any given time.
So yes, it is possible to actually lose your mind but the good news is that if you just keep looking and patiently put the pieces back together enough times you can put your puzzle together and hang onto your mind. You will however lose the excuse of " I'm losing my mind" to get out of missed appointments, etc!!!
The Gray Drab Room
I've stewed about how to write this half of the blog. This half details the 3 year epic journey through the legal system. So many dates, so many notes, so many emails.....it's all overwhelming. The dates I will be using need to be confirmed but the story is the same.
June 4, 2007
It's Monday morning so that means my usual weekly therapy session at 9am. This one is going to be a doozy because on Saturday I had my confrontation with my abuser that my therapist organized and monitored. In that meeting I read my letter to my abuser and at the end he flippantly apologized for what he had done. He admited it! In front of my therapist! But oh what a shallow, hollow, meaningless insincere "apology" it was. I kinda think he was looking to save his ass and thought that his words would make it all go away. Well they didn't. I cried all day Sunday out of frustration and decided to take the next step.
Into Fred's office I go and I have barely sat down and said hello when I blurted out the words......I want to go to the police. Holy dinah! To know that 1 year before that he had advised me that there is no Statute of Limitations on these types of abuse and suggested going to the police. My reaction that day was one of intense fear - I had been groomed for years to never say anything or bad things would happen and there was no way in hell that I was going to the police.
Fred, in a very calm manner, asked me what had changed my mind. Simple answer: He had admitted his guilt in front of a 3rd party and he had zero remorse. I'm sure Fred was the proverbial duck at that moment - calm and collected on the surface but swimming frantically under the water!! We talked about the legal issues and potential liabilities/civil law suits and I decided that I needed to get some legal advice before I went to the police. Fred called my lawyer and explained the situation and why I needed to see him and the appointment was set for the next day.
June 5, 2007
I think the world of my lawyer. He is a lovely devoted family man who has numerous photos of his children and grandchildren in his office and loves to point out the newest addition whenever he can. To know that I was going to walk into his office and cause him hurt and embarrasement by disclosing my situation was very hard. He gave me a big hug and asked me a few questions and told me that I had nothing to worry about from a civil suit perspective and told me he was proud of the way I was taking a stand. That went well!
June11, 2007
It's Monday again and here I am back in Fred's office. We said our good mornings and I swallowed hard and said......I'm ready to go to the police. Fred works closely with the police in their troubled youth division so thankfully he knows his way around the detachment. Usual circumstances would dictate that I would have to enter at the front counter and tell my story to whichever officer on General Duty was available and that office would then pass the file over to Serious Crimes and from there an officer would be assigned to my file. All of which could take days if not weeks. Fred excused himself and phoned the Superintendent of the entire detachment ( a very lovely lady I might add!) and she personally handpicked a constable to handle my file. I found out later that this did not sit well with the female corporal head of Serious Crimes! The meeting was set for the next day at 1pm at the detachment. I had absolutely no idea what I was about to walk into.
I'm sitting on the bench in the waiting area with Fred. I have a water bottle in my hands that I was twisting so hard in my hands I rubbed the ink off of the bottle. I am sitting right by the door. In a nanosecond I could be up off that bench and out the door. That thought crossed my mind a thousand times in those few minutes. Everywhere around me officers are chatting and going about their day - it is after all just another day at the office for them. For me.......I feel like I am about to sent to the chamber of doom.
The door opens and a tall dark haired female officer steps out and nods to Fred. This is it.......I am about to walk thru that secured door by myself and I will not come back out the same person that went in. The tension in the air is palbable as Fred rises to his feet and looks at me, waiting for me to do the same. I want to throw up but I can't because I can't breathe. He takes me by the arm - gently but firmly - and steers me in the direction of the "door". The officer introduces herself - her name is Michelle - well now at least we have something to make small talk about as we go up to the next floor in the elevator. The door opens and all I can see are rows of desks and I hear the sounds of officers talking. Interior decorating is not in the budget of the RCMP but apparently they get a smokin' rate on drab green/gray paint because it is everywhere. I follow Michelle down a short hall and she opens the door to a room and motions for me to enter. Now, how dumb am I - I think we are going into a private office like a doctor's office so that we can talk in private. Well think again! This room is a grey box. There is no window. There is a table with 2 chairs. There is a camera mounted above the table aimed directly at the chair I will sit in. There is no clock on the wall. Nothing. The door shuts with a loud bang and scares the hell out of me. I am directed to sit in the far chair. I am in the "hard" interview room I will come to learn.
And so it begins. The most humiliating, terrifying, gut wrenching, embarrassing, soul splitting experience. Out onto the table goes a tape recorder and the officer hits the play button. She reads aloud the date and time and her name and mine. She turns to me and advises me that this interview will be both audio and videotaped. I nod my head. Lesson 1 - all answers have to be spoken so that the tape can record it. " Yes" I say, "I understand and agree". And with that......the 2 1/2 hour regurgitation of 20 years of my life begins. I am very proud of the fact that I never cried once during those 2 1/2 hours. I gave all of the information in as much detail as I could. At the end of the interview the tape is turned off and I feel absolute exhaustion. The officer turns to me and tells me that she is going to have him arrested but that I can make the choice of how he appears at the detachment. She will send a marked car over to his house, arrest him and bring him for questioning or she can call him and ask him to appear at the detachment on his own within the next 24 hours. I chose to take the high road and asked her to call him and allow him to present himself. Oh how I wish I could take that choice back. We are done, she and I, and she opens the door and the cool fresh air conditioning hits my face and I am suddenly aware of how hot I am and how flushed I feel. She leads me to the elevator and walks me out of the detachment. I cannot look at her. She knows so much horrible stuff about me know. She walks a bit further down the side of the outside wall, out of range of the security camera and gives me a big hug and tells me how sorry she is that we met under these circumstances. She promised she would do her absolute best to see that the charges she is going to recommend to the Crown Counsel will be approved. I thanked her for her kindness and understanding and went home at 3:30pm and went to bed for the rest of the day blissfully unaware of how the next 3 years were going to be an emotional battle that would bring me to my knees more than once.
June 4, 2007
It's Monday morning so that means my usual weekly therapy session at 9am. This one is going to be a doozy because on Saturday I had my confrontation with my abuser that my therapist organized and monitored. In that meeting I read my letter to my abuser and at the end he flippantly apologized for what he had done. He admited it! In front of my therapist! But oh what a shallow, hollow, meaningless insincere "apology" it was. I kinda think he was looking to save his ass and thought that his words would make it all go away. Well they didn't. I cried all day Sunday out of frustration and decided to take the next step.
Into Fred's office I go and I have barely sat down and said hello when I blurted out the words......I want to go to the police. Holy dinah! To know that 1 year before that he had advised me that there is no Statute of Limitations on these types of abuse and suggested going to the police. My reaction that day was one of intense fear - I had been groomed for years to never say anything or bad things would happen and there was no way in hell that I was going to the police.
Fred, in a very calm manner, asked me what had changed my mind. Simple answer: He had admitted his guilt in front of a 3rd party and he had zero remorse. I'm sure Fred was the proverbial duck at that moment - calm and collected on the surface but swimming frantically under the water!! We talked about the legal issues and potential liabilities/civil law suits and I decided that I needed to get some legal advice before I went to the police. Fred called my lawyer and explained the situation and why I needed to see him and the appointment was set for the next day.
June 5, 2007
I think the world of my lawyer. He is a lovely devoted family man who has numerous photos of his children and grandchildren in his office and loves to point out the newest addition whenever he can. To know that I was going to walk into his office and cause him hurt and embarrasement by disclosing my situation was very hard. He gave me a big hug and asked me a few questions and told me that I had nothing to worry about from a civil suit perspective and told me he was proud of the way I was taking a stand. That went well!
June11, 2007
It's Monday again and here I am back in Fred's office. We said our good mornings and I swallowed hard and said......I'm ready to go to the police. Fred works closely with the police in their troubled youth division so thankfully he knows his way around the detachment. Usual circumstances would dictate that I would have to enter at the front counter and tell my story to whichever officer on General Duty was available and that office would then pass the file over to Serious Crimes and from there an officer would be assigned to my file. All of which could take days if not weeks. Fred excused himself and phoned the Superintendent of the entire detachment ( a very lovely lady I might add!) and she personally handpicked a constable to handle my file. I found out later that this did not sit well with the female corporal head of Serious Crimes! The meeting was set for the next day at 1pm at the detachment. I had absolutely no idea what I was about to walk into.
I'm sitting on the bench in the waiting area with Fred. I have a water bottle in my hands that I was twisting so hard in my hands I rubbed the ink off of the bottle. I am sitting right by the door. In a nanosecond I could be up off that bench and out the door. That thought crossed my mind a thousand times in those few minutes. Everywhere around me officers are chatting and going about their day - it is after all just another day at the office for them. For me.......I feel like I am about to sent to the chamber of doom.
The door opens and a tall dark haired female officer steps out and nods to Fred. This is it.......I am about to walk thru that secured door by myself and I will not come back out the same person that went in. The tension in the air is palbable as Fred rises to his feet and looks at me, waiting for me to do the same. I want to throw up but I can't because I can't breathe. He takes me by the arm - gently but firmly - and steers me in the direction of the "door". The officer introduces herself - her name is Michelle - well now at least we have something to make small talk about as we go up to the next floor in the elevator. The door opens and all I can see are rows of desks and I hear the sounds of officers talking. Interior decorating is not in the budget of the RCMP but apparently they get a smokin' rate on drab green/gray paint because it is everywhere. I follow Michelle down a short hall and she opens the door to a room and motions for me to enter. Now, how dumb am I - I think we are going into a private office like a doctor's office so that we can talk in private. Well think again! This room is a grey box. There is no window. There is a table with 2 chairs. There is a camera mounted above the table aimed directly at the chair I will sit in. There is no clock on the wall. Nothing. The door shuts with a loud bang and scares the hell out of me. I am directed to sit in the far chair. I am in the "hard" interview room I will come to learn.
And so it begins. The most humiliating, terrifying, gut wrenching, embarrassing, soul splitting experience. Out onto the table goes a tape recorder and the officer hits the play button. She reads aloud the date and time and her name and mine. She turns to me and advises me that this interview will be both audio and videotaped. I nod my head. Lesson 1 - all answers have to be spoken so that the tape can record it. " Yes" I say, "I understand and agree". And with that......the 2 1/2 hour regurgitation of 20 years of my life begins. I am very proud of the fact that I never cried once during those 2 1/2 hours. I gave all of the information in as much detail as I could. At the end of the interview the tape is turned off and I feel absolute exhaustion. The officer turns to me and tells me that she is going to have him arrested but that I can make the choice of how he appears at the detachment. She will send a marked car over to his house, arrest him and bring him for questioning or she can call him and ask him to appear at the detachment on his own within the next 24 hours. I chose to take the high road and asked her to call him and allow him to present himself. Oh how I wish I could take that choice back. We are done, she and I, and she opens the door and the cool fresh air conditioning hits my face and I am suddenly aware of how hot I am and how flushed I feel. She leads me to the elevator and walks me out of the detachment. I cannot look at her. She knows so much horrible stuff about me know. She walks a bit further down the side of the outside wall, out of range of the security camera and gives me a big hug and tells me how sorry she is that we met under these circumstances. She promised she would do her absolute best to see that the charges she is going to recommend to the Crown Counsel will be approved. I thanked her for her kindness and understanding and went home at 3:30pm and went to bed for the rest of the day blissfully unaware of how the next 3 years were going to be an emotional battle that would bring me to my knees more than once.
Monday, August 1, 2011
A Huge Mistake
I've been spending time organizing my emails, etc. that I have saved/received/sent during the time from when my file was opened with the RCMP until the day that I slammed it closed on May 25, 2009 - the result of a phone call that blew my world into a million little pieces. I made the mistake of rereading the letter of complaint that I sent to the Superintendent of the Detachment at that time. A big mistake. A huge mistake. I thought that I had neatly packaged all of that up but what I discovered in the past few weeks is that the cruel words of that phone call are still very near the surface.
This has not been a good thing. I have stirred up emotions and feelings that should have been left alone. The black is coming back and I am fighting to breathe and rise above it once again. I am trying hard to push through this on my own, to not burden my friends with my neediness, to focus on the good as much as I can. I am fighting with that need to not be alone but to be by myself - if that makes any sense. This is where Esme is my lifesaver. Her needs will always come before mine. Without her, I don't think life would be worth the fight.
This has not been a good thing. I have stirred up emotions and feelings that should have been left alone. The black is coming back and I am fighting to breathe and rise above it once again. I am trying hard to push through this on my own, to not burden my friends with my neediness, to focus on the good as much as I can. I am fighting with that need to not be alone but to be by myself - if that makes any sense. This is where Esme is my lifesaver. Her needs will always come before mine. Without her, I don't think life would be worth the fight.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Take Me As I Am..........
I've been sorting and organizing all of my emails, notes, official papers, etc. that pertain to my adventure with the "justice" system. First thing anyone must learn and embrace when dealing with the courts is this: It is a LEGAl system not a JUSTICE system. Until you can embrace that and prepare yourself to be disappointed more than you ever have before do not go to the police. It is not the police officers' fault - it is our stupid, antiquainted, out moded, "accused has all the rights" system that we in Canada are stuck with.
When you go to the police and have your statement taken there are many steps to be followed which I will share with you in future posts. Here is the lesson that I learned the hard and painful way and I had to wait until I was knee deep in pain, humiliation, embarassement and frustration to be educated. The first step is that the police recommend whatever charges they can to Crown Counsel - who let's all understand this one fact - are there to defend the victim of the crime. Step one at Crown is that the file goes to a "gatekeeping" committee who reiviews the file and makes the decision as to whether to press charges and forward the file to the appopriate prosecutor or to bounce the file back to the police. Here is the criteria that the file must meet to be accepted:
1. Is this a winnable case? Reason: It is the public's money that is being spent at Crown so they only take on cases that they are sure they can win. LOVELY.
2. Will the victim be a credible witness in a court room? And they can tell this from a bunch of paper? They must be pyschic.
There are 3 more criteria that are just as meaningless to a victim. My RCMP officer actually took my file to the Court House and met with the prosecutor who handles all of the sex crime files and from what I was told he felt the file was worthy of taking to court but even he can't over ride the committee at the front door. That hurt me right to the core. I know for a fact that my abuser would have folded like a cheap tent the first time he even parked in the parking lot at the Court House. I know that he would have either had to plead guilty or hire some lawyer to defend him and then the prosecutor would have had the chance to rip him to shreds on the stand. I know that I was cheated out of the opportunity to be able to write and read a Victim's Impact Statement. It felt like being abused all over again. I grieved deeply for a year as I tried to accept the fact that I would never be able to have justice. I still grieve for that loss and I probably will for the rest of HIS life.
So.........before I sit down and piece together 3 years of RCMP interviews,etc. let me leave you with this:
I might not be someone's first choice, However, I am a great choice.
I don't pretend to be someone I'm not, because I'm good at being me.
I might not be proud of some of the things I've done in the past, however, I'm proud of who I am today.
I may not be perfect, however, I don't need to be.
Take me as I am, or watch me as I walk away.
When you go to the police and have your statement taken there are many steps to be followed which I will share with you in future posts. Here is the lesson that I learned the hard and painful way and I had to wait until I was knee deep in pain, humiliation, embarassement and frustration to be educated. The first step is that the police recommend whatever charges they can to Crown Counsel - who let's all understand this one fact - are there to defend the victim of the crime. Step one at Crown is that the file goes to a "gatekeeping" committee who reiviews the file and makes the decision as to whether to press charges and forward the file to the appopriate prosecutor or to bounce the file back to the police. Here is the criteria that the file must meet to be accepted:
1. Is this a winnable case? Reason: It is the public's money that is being spent at Crown so they only take on cases that they are sure they can win. LOVELY.
2. Will the victim be a credible witness in a court room? And they can tell this from a bunch of paper? They must be pyschic.
There are 3 more criteria that are just as meaningless to a victim. My RCMP officer actually took my file to the Court House and met with the prosecutor who handles all of the sex crime files and from what I was told he felt the file was worthy of taking to court but even he can't over ride the committee at the front door. That hurt me right to the core. I know for a fact that my abuser would have folded like a cheap tent the first time he even parked in the parking lot at the Court House. I know that he would have either had to plead guilty or hire some lawyer to defend him and then the prosecutor would have had the chance to rip him to shreds on the stand. I know that I was cheated out of the opportunity to be able to write and read a Victim's Impact Statement. It felt like being abused all over again. I grieved deeply for a year as I tried to accept the fact that I would never be able to have justice. I still grieve for that loss and I probably will for the rest of HIS life.
So.........before I sit down and piece together 3 years of RCMP interviews,etc. let me leave you with this:
I might not be someone's first choice, However, I am a great choice.
I don't pretend to be someone I'm not, because I'm good at being me.
I might not be proud of some of the things I've done in the past, however, I'm proud of who I am today.
I may not be perfect, however, I don't need to be.
Take me as I am, or watch me as I walk away.
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