Okay, depression is clearing so I thought that I would make some videos before the depression comes back. Gotta be quick.
So, here are some videos that I made yesterday.
I might even have enough energy and enough nerves to do some more today.
To say that my father Richard was a misogynist would have been an understatement. Of all of the traits that I may have picked up from my father, thankfully his misogyny and hatred of women wasn’t one of them.
People keep fixating on the sexual abuse at the hands of the babysitter as my reasons for desiring to end my life via M.A.i.D..
This of course ignores the professional malpractice I endured at the hands of Canadian Forces military social worker Captain Terry Totzke. Professional malpractice that denied me treatment for major depression, severe anxiety, and haphephobia. Professional malpractice that also interfered with my safety and wellbeing. Professional malpractice that caused me to have life long issues with sexual identity.
There are many more reasons for why I would like to be put to sleep. The year and a half of sexual abuse is only a part of the equation.
Why do I view my death as the only appropriate answer?
It’s quite simple. I don’t want a chemical lobotomy. I also don’t want to be blamed for not “trying hard enough”.
The damage is done.
Not really too much to say in this one.
The Department of Justice is a massive organization with more money and more lawyers than the law firm representing me could ever dream of having access to.
The goal of the DOJ is to work out a settlement that will allow the DND and the CAF to look like the heroes while not admitting that children were fucked over by the defective and easily manipulated pre-1998 military justice system.
The DOJ has already tried arguing that the DND and the CAF shouldn’t be responsible for the victims of Captain McRae’s teenaged accomplice. That the DND and the CAF should only be responsible for the children abused by Captain McRae himself. The problem with this is that even though the original CFSIU investigation into Captain McRae was well aware of numerous victims of Captain McRae and his teenaged accomplice, at least 25 according to the father of the teenaged accomplice, the chain of command interfered with the CFSIU investigation and limited the charges against Captain McRae to only those involving Captain McRae’s teenaged accomplice.
In a nutshell, under the DOJ’s argument, only the teenaged accomplice would receive any funds or acknowledgement from the DOJ, the CAF, and the DND.
I didn’t realize until December of 2013 when I tracked my mother down and went to see her in Calgary that I had slipped into my friend’s dresses once or twice on CFB Shearwater.
My father wasn’t around, so he never found out. Which was probably a very good thing.
The next time I wore dresses was actually on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach. I had a female friend. Her parents were very traditional in the sense that girls had to wear dresses. So she and I would slip off base, swap clothes, and hang around for a while. This of course was during the time I was in the care of military social worker Captain Terry Totzke for my “homosexuality”. So this would have been in the period of 1981 to 1983. Again, I don’t think my father ever knew.
There was an incident on CFB Griesbach that caused me a lot of conflict though. I knew it would have been after I was placed into the Westfield program by Alberta Social Services. Sue, my stepmother, was going to take my younger brother to Dairy Queen for ice cream. I asked Sue if I could come. Sue, who was only about 12 years older than me, looked at me and said “Retards don’t get ice cream”. She was obviously referring to my involvement with Westfield and the problems that my untreated depression, anxiety, and other issues were causing for my father and her. Anyways I started crying. She came over and grabbed me and looked me straight in the face and said that if I didn’t stop crying like a little girl that she was going to take me to Sears and buy me a dress and that I could cry like a little girl all I wanted too.
This caused me great conflict for three reasons. 1) I hated being called a retard. I was getting teased and taunted enough on base having to take the short yellow bus to school, but now my own stepmother was calling me a retard. 2) I despised [brother] for how he could cause all sorts of shit in the house but it was always my fault for not looking after him. 3) I really wanted a dress. I was kinda hooked on Alice’s dress from Alice in Wonderland.
As things had become way out of control at home with Richard and Sue and as Richard was blaming me for “fucking with his military career” and dishing out the physical abuse to go along with that, my desires for dresses took a back seat.
The only type of glimmer that I had in my teenage years of the fascination I had with dresses as a kid was when I went to see Ridley Scott’s Legend in the theatres. I wanted Lilli’s “Black Evil Dress”.
It wouldn’t be until I had my first apartment in New Westminster around 1995 that I started to buy dresses on the sly and wear them in my apartment.
Because of my time with Captain Totzke and my father’s attitude I knew that this was probably due to my “homosexual perversion”.
It wouldn’t be until I got my union job at St. Paul’s in 2005 that I really got into dresses. First it was skirts. Skirts that could conceivably pass as “kilts”.
But by 2008 I was mainly wearing dresses.
My wardrobe at this point is mainly dresses and skirts. I do own a couple “utilikilts” and one pair of jeans.
Why do I wear dresses?
I think that on CFB Shearwater it was just childhood curiosity. When you’re under 5 I don’t think that you have a clear understanding of societal gender roles. Don’t forget, it was very common up until the early 1900s for boys under the age of 7 or 8 to wear dresses. When a boy turned 7 or 8 they were “breeched” and given their first pair of trousers / pants as well as their first haircut. Toilet training and the lack of mass produced clothing would account for this.
This is Franklin Delano Roosevelt wearing a dress.
Historians have had to go back and reevaluate paintings from the Medieval and Early Modern Eras as a lot of the paintings depicting girls in dresses may have actually been both boys and girls in dresses. To tell the two apart boys tended to wear plain dresses while girl’s dresses tended to have small amounts of finery attached to the dress.
But I think that from CFB Griesbach and onwards my desire for wearing dresses had more to do with my gender identity having been destroyed by my sexual abuse on CFB Namao along with the “conversion therapy” that I was receiving from Captain Terry Totzke on CFB Griesbach.
At the time my IQ was evaluated using a professional psychiatric test. I was evaluated to have an IQ of 136 +/- 6.
Maybe this figured into my desire to wear dresses. Dresses don’t have genders. They’re clothing.
As Richard would often say, maybe I was too fucking smart for my own fucking good.
You don’t become a woman by wearing a dress anymore than a woman becomes a man by wearing pants.
Don’t forget, but society heavily frowned upon women wearing pants right up until WWII when women were then required to work on the assembly lines to build weapons and aircraft.
Dresses are comfortable and easy to wear.
And the less things I have touching my body, the happier I am.
I think the destruction of my gender identity also figures into my desire to wear dresses.
I don’t identify as male or female.
I have no desire to be a woman.
But I also don’t fit into society’s definition of a man.
Therefore I’ve never felt locked into society’s demands that I wear specific clothing.
I have no attraction to women, but I also have no attraction to men.
I have had sex with both earlier on in my life.
During the late ‘80s and into the ‘90s I was mainly with men, but it always felt mechanical.
But don’t let this sound like I was involved with 1,000s or partners.
Maybe about 10 guys total.
Maybe about 2 or 3 women.
And I haven’t been with anyone since the early 2000’s
My attraction to men is stymied by the fact that I’ve lived all my life with the knowledge that homosexuality is a mental illness and that it is inherently evil. Having sex with men always brings back memories of my father, of Terry, and of [baby sitter / accomplice]. This cannot be escaped.
My attraction to women is stymied by the fact that I’m not really attracted to women.
What am I?
I identify as “queer”. Not gay. Not bi. Not straight. Not trans.
Maybe I am gay, but unfortunately that was taken away from me back in ’78 through ’83.
When I legally changed my name in 2008 I chose Bobbie specifically because this is the unisex spelling of this name.
Bobby = male
Bobbi = female
Bobbie = unisex.
I hated the name Robert as this is a boy’s / man’s name.
The fact is I wear dresses ‘cause I like dresses and I don’t identify with either gender.
The problem is the military police, the Canadian Forces Special Investigations Unit, and numerous other “adults” such as Canadian Armed Forces officer Captain Terry Totzke were well aware of the abuse.
In the summer of 2020 I made another complaint to the CFNIS regarding the man in the sauna that P.S. had provided me to at some point in time between May of 1980 and June 23rd, 1980.
This man was an officer of the Canadian Armed Forces who had been sent up to Canadian Forces Base Namao to assist Captain Father Angus McRae during the investigation into the “acts of homosexuality” that Captain McRae had committed with young boys on the base. This officer was a Major at the time. This officer himself would go on to have complaints of inappropriate sexual relations with children brought against him.
I made the complaint as I had evidence, paperwork from the Canadian Forces itself, that indicated that this Major was on the base during the relevant time and would have been a prime suspect as he would have no doubt been very familiar with P.S. as it was the statement of P.S. that brought Captain McRae to the attention of the military police and the CFSIU.
The investigating officer, Sgt. David Winship has only been in contact with me twice since the summer of 2020. This is not very confidence inspiring to say the least. In fact, the last time I was in contact with Sgt. Winship he said that there would only be communications from the CFNIS if something were to turn up. Basically it was “Fuck off Mr. Bees, and leave us the fuck alone. Don’t bother us with the shit from your childhood.”
Back in November of 2021 Minister of National Defence Anita Anand announced that the Canadian Armed Forces were going to hand over sexual assault investigations to the civilian police.
Not long after this story hit the media, I received this email from the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service Victim Service Coordinator
In January I received this email from James:
Why the fuck are the CFNIS so bound and determined to keep control of my investigation?
So, here I am engaged with the Military Police Complaints Commission once again.
This will be complaint #3
Complaint #1 for the original CFNIS GO 2011-5754 was a fucking unmitigated disaster. At that time I had no idea that the Provost Marshal would be looking after the complaint first and that the MPCC was extremely handicapped by the National Defence Act.
Complaint #2 worked out a little bit more in my favour. The MPCC laid out that the Military Police in 1980 knew that P.S. was molesting younger children on base and that this is what led the military police and the CFSIU to investigate Captain McRae in the first place. The MPCC also pointed out that the CFNIS had the CFSIU investigation paperwork and the Court Martial transcripts in their possession during the investigation of my complaint.
It will be very interesting to see how the Canadian Forces Provost Marshal responds to my complaint this time.
My complaint this time is related to the conduct of Sgt. David Winship of the CFNIS. That’s the way it goes. As I’ve explained before a person wishing to make a complaint to the MPCC can only complain about the investigators, not the investigation.
So anyways, my complaint is related to Sgt. Winship’s failure to comply with orders of Minister of National Defence that all sexual assault investigations be handed over to the outside civilian authorities. As part of my complaint I have included the email that I had received from Sgt. Damon Tenaschuk in which a legal officer with the office of the Judge Advocate General informed Sgt. Tenaschuk that due to the 3-year-time-bar that existed prior to 1998 Criminal Code charges could never be brought against Brigadier General Daniel Edward Munro.
I explained to the MPCC that just as the 3-year-time-bar would have prevented the CFNIS from laying charges against Captain Father Angus McRae in 2011, and as the legal officer from the JAG confirmed charges could never be brought against Captain Father Angus McRae’s commanding officer Brigadier General Daniel Edward Munro I full believe the reason for the CFNIS not handing my case over to the civilian police is that no charges can ever be brought against the man in the sauna whom P.S. provided me to for the purposes of receiving oral sex from an underage prepubescent male. I explained to the MPCC that as long as the CFNIS conduct the investigation they can give the Crown the most laughable case ever, a case that the CFNIS know will not be prosecuted. Or they can delay the case until the man I have accused dies. “Sorry Mr. Bees, we tried but the Crown wasn’t going for it” or “Oh geez Mr. Bees, retired Brigadier General R.B. died, that’s the end of the investigation, sorry”.
Were they to hand my case over to the civilian police, the civilian police are more than likely completely unaware of the existence of the 3-year-time-bar that existed from 1950 until 1998 and which put a 3-year time limit on the prosecution of indictable offences committed by persons subject to the Code of Service Discipline. I don’t think that the civilian police would be willing to do a “Dog ‘n’ Pony” show investigation into my complaint for the sake of helping the Canadian Forces do a coverup. And when it came time to prosecute retired Brigadier General R.B. and then civilian authorities were informed that the 3-year-time-bar meant that prosecution was impossible, I don’t think that the civilian police would have hesitated to tell me the reason as to why R.B. gets off scot-free.
I sent a letter to Minister of National Defence Anita Anand asking her why women who served in the Canadian Armed Forces get justice while males, who were sexually abused as children, are ineligible to receive justice.
Recently I made acquaintances with a woman named Nacy who was married to Jean-Yves Dagenais. Jean-Yves is the younger brother of my mother. He was the uncle I don’t think I ever met.
I met my uncle Albert (Al) Dagenais various times while we lived on Canadian Forces Base Shearwater. But I honestly can’t remember meeting Jean-Yves.
One interesting thing that Nancy did mention is that Marie, Nancy, and Jean-Yves drove up from Regina because Marie was in a panic that her children were in danger. It turns out that Marie was still on Prince Edward Island and had been told where Richard had moved to. Marie called up Jean-Yves and borrowed some money to fly from PEI to Regina, and then the three of them drove up to Canadian Forces Base Namao.
Apparently when they arrived the found grandma feeing my brother and I at the kitchen table. We didn’t appear to be in any distress.
I remember this visit. Not too much detail. I sure didn’t remember Nancy or Jean-Yves. I know that I had been told about my mother coming for a visit as I went and waited by the entrance to the PMQs with a flashlight for them to come. I figured that with the flashlight she’d see me better and she wouldn’t drive past.
I remember Marie bitching about the house numbering. And yes, the houses were numbered weird. Or at least weird when compared to the civilian world. In the civilian world the houses tend to be numbered odds on one side and evens on the other. The house numbers also increase typically from the lower cross street to the higher cross street.
This was not how they were numbered on CFB Namao. The houses were numbered sequentially down one side of the street and then sequentially up the other side. This is how our PMQ #11 on 12th street was literally across the street from P.S.’s PMQ #26 on 12th street.
I’ll never figure out who it was that told Marie that we were living on Canadian Forces Base Namao. There were only two people who would have told her. And they’re both dead now. It was either my grandmother, or my uncle Doug. There is no way on Earth that Richard would have ever called Marie.
Grandma was always of the opinion that Marie and Richard should never have separated and that Richard should have swallowed his pride and asked Marie back in.
Doug never really liked Richard. When uncle Doug would come back from the oilfield every six weeks or so, Doug would buy my brother and I toys and other things to Richard’s chagrin.
Most of the xmas present that my brother and I received like our little B&W tvs and the little Coleco rifle games for those TVs were bought by Doug in Marie’s name.
If I was a gambling man I’d have to say that it was Doug and not grandma that called Marie to let her know where Richard had technically kidnapped her children to.
Grandma was too afraid of Richard to have gone behind his back to tell Marie where he had moved to with their kids and without a valid custody order.
Uncle Doug just didn’t seem to give a fuck. Yeah, he wouldn’t outright antagonize Richard, but he would do things that he knew would rub Richard the wrong way.
For example, when I moved back to Edmonton in June of 1990 with Richard “so we could try to be a family again”, it was Doug that introduced me to Marie. It was also Doug that tried to get me to go for my small “m” metis papers.
Small “m” metis papers really don’t amount to too much, other than you can rightfully say that you have First Nations DNA. I think Doug knew this would kill Richard as Richard had spent his entire life pretending that he wasn’t Half Cree and Half Irish.
Nancy said that when Marie, Nancy, and Jean-Yves arrived that my brother and I were sitting at the kitchen table happily eating our breakfast. So I don’t know if Nancy and Jean-Yves came at a later time, but I do know that when Marie arrived I had my father’s military issue flashlight because it was getting dark.
Maybe Marie came up by herself initially and then Nancy and Jean-Yves came up the next morning.
Nancy said that after seeing that my brother and I weren’t in any danger that things became testy between Jean-Yves and Marie.
Nancy would go on to say that because Marie had abandoned my brother and I on Prince Edward Island and left us in the house alone by ourselves Uncle Al was furious with Marie and she didn’t think those two ever spoke again. Probably explains why Marie was never mentioned in Uncle Al’s obituary. And this probably explains why Marie wouldn’t say anything about Al when I went to visit her in 2013 and 2014.
I don’t honestly remember too much about when Marie left. I know I was crying. I know my brother was crying. And I know that Marie was crying. She packed my brother and I a suitcase each of our clothes.
Marie took us over to another PMQ on base and left us with one of Richard’s airforce buddies. I can’t remember who this guy was other than he had two kids that were older than me. It was one of these older boys that gave me their bicycle when his father bought him a new bicycle. What I also remember about this guy is that he had a reel-to-reel tape deck that I was fascinated with.
So yeah, my brother and I weren’t abandoned.
Until the day I die I will never forgive Marie for leaving me with an alcoholic rage fuelled monster suffering from PTSD and intergenerational family trauma. But no, she didn’t abandon us like Richard and his melodramatic outbursts would make it sound like.
Richard would have been fucking pissed. Richard was at sea with the airforce when Marie left. Richard was fine with having children so long as he didn’t have to look after them. And now with Marie gone, he was going to have to look after his own kids. So he brought his alcoholic and psychologically damaged mother out from Edmonton, AB to raise my brother and I.
And as we know from my Alberta Foster Care records, Richard always had to play the victim. And I kid you not, Richard was excellent at bullshitting. There’s a reason why Alberta Social Services noted Richard as “frequently telling different stories from one meeting to another”. He lied, and he lied good.
And I also know for a fact that Marie didn’t abandon us like Richard said she did. Richard made an application to the PEI courts for child custody. The application never went anywhere in the court. The court made no determination as to child custody. If Marie had abandoned my brother and I like Richard claimed she did, it would have been a slam dunk. Richard would have been awarded custody and in fact the courts may have awarded Richard child support payments from Marie.
Yet, none of this happened. Richard wasn’t a kind old man who didn’t want free money from Marie because he had a kind heart and didn’t want to cause her further distress. Richard was a man who could carry a fucking grudge better than Allied Van Lines carries furniture.
At the time it wasn’t common knowledge, but it is now that service members back in the day often abused the National Defence Act and the Defence Establishment Trespass Regulations to their own advantage.
The Hillcrest housing development was built to DND spec by a private builder and was then leased to DND by this builder. Any property that is leased by DND becomes a “Defence Establishment”. Only members of the Canadian Armed Forces or civilian employees of the Department of National Defence have any legal right to be on a Defence Establishment.
Military dependents such as my brother and I and our mother have no legal right to be on a defence establishment. We’re only there at our serving parent’s pleasure.
There was a report commissioned by the Canadian Forces in 1996 to look at spousal abuse in the Canadian Forces. The report was finished in the spring of 2000 and released.
The report found that men would often use the Defence Establishment Trespass Regulations to eject their spouse out of the PMQ and off the base when the marriage was breaking down.
Once kicked out of the military housing and off the base the non-serving spouse often found it impossible to serve papers on the service member as they and their lawyers would be barred from the base or from approaching military housing which was located on a base.
The report would also discover that the serving member’s superiors would often lie to outside social service agencies about the child custody status of the children, implying that the service member had custody. This would deny the non-serving spouse of any civil benefits.
Now, the odd thing about Richard’s claim that Marie abandoned my brother and I is that he himself would readily abandon my brother and I when it fit his needs.
I have no idea of who the woman was that brought me to the hospital after my bicycle incident.
But I do know that Iceland is nowhere near Prince Edward. In fact it’s 3,341km from Prince Edward Island to Iceland. By way of comparison it’s 3,359km between Vancouver, BC and Toronto, ON.
Grandma had already returned to Edmonton to be with her husband Andy Anderson when I was admitted to the hospital.
Richard received a compassionate posting from Captain Lynda Tyrell in August of 1978 and we ended up moving to Canadian Forces Base Edmonton in August of 1978.
This isn’t the only time Richard would abandon my brother and I.
One of Richard’s favourite places to drop off my brother and I was Canada’s Wonderland north of Toronto. Richard would buy my brother and I the $29.99 season’s pass. He’d drop us off just about every weekend that the park was open during the spring and the fall. He’d drop us off just about every day of the week in the summer. He’d drop us off at 08:00 in the morning and he’d pick us up again at 22:00 after the park closed. That’s almost 14 hours in that fucking park.
He’d give my brother and I $10 each for the day. Even back then, $10 didn’t go very far in a park where hotdogs were about $4 ea. I don’t know about my brother, but I used to just go hide and try to sleep for the afternoon and evening. You can only ride the same rides so many times before they become outright boring.
As my brother would call it, this was “Richard’s Discount Babysitting Service”.
I used to pray that every time that Richard would drop me off there that I would be kidnapped and killed and then when the police found my body they’d arrest Richard for child endangerment.
That’s why when I read Richard’s statement to the CFNIS on June 9th, 2011 I nearly choked.
” – In T.O. he (Richard) refused to take him(Robert / Bobbie) to Canada’s Wonderland because of (sic) he was bad; the school found out and said it was child abuse.”
“- He (Robert / Bobbie) threatened to call the police”
You get the feeling that Richard loved good ol’ melodrama and playing the victim?
I have my records from the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto. There’s nothing at all mentioned in there about Canada’s Wonderland or abuse.
The Children’s Aid records make note of the intense sibling rivalry that existed between my brother and I. The records also noted that my father didn’t perceive any trouble between my brother and I, that he but it down to “boys will be boys”. He was also adamant that our family didn’t need to be involved with social services, that our involvement with social services in Alberta was unwarranted. But the Children’s Aid records also make note that due to budget constraints and staffing issues they couldn’t dedicate a lot of resources towards my family unless someone called them about witnessing physical abuse. And living on a military base meant that no one would rat-out another family.
And I highly doubt that the school or Children’s Aid would really give a sweet flying fuck if I went to Canada’s Wonderland or not. But I’ll bet you that Children’s Aid would have loved to have known about Richard’s discount babysitting service.
Yeah, I don’t care how much my murder would have hurt, the suffering and the agony I would have gone through would have been worth seeing the police and the courts destroy Richard.
Now, back to the part where Nancy and Jean-Yves were startled to see my brother and I sitting at the kitchen table happily eating our breakfast.
In our interviews with Alberta Social Services both my brother and I described our grandmother as a threat and very authoritarian.
In my initial assessments with the psychologist hired by Canadian Armed Forces officer Captain Terry Totzke this is what I had to say.
My desire to die is nothing new. It’s been with me for so long as I can remember. It’s just that the fear of pain has kept me alive. But yeah, I would have been 9 years old when I said this.
I guess that first impressions can be very, very deceptive and very misleading.
When Nancy, Jean-Yves, and Marie first showed up in September or October of 1978, Andy Anderson had yet to slip in the bathtub and crack his skull open. Grandma had yet to start drinking. And P.S. had yet to be our babysitter.
And almost two years to the date in 1980 I have major depression, severe anxiety, and I want to kill myself.
When I talked to my brother back in 2013, one of the things that I mentioned was that I remembered grandma having a “Block Parent” sign in her bedroom window.
My brother remarked that kids would have been better off getting into the “Free Candy Van” than coming to our house for help.