Tag: Canadian Forces National Investigation Service

A touchy subject.

Because I wish to obtain Medical Assistance in Dying and because I post about it on social media, the algorithms keep filling my feed with posts that deal with M.A.i.D.

There are those who are convinced that the government’s intention with M.A.i.D. is to save money on mental health treatment by forcing people with mental illness to undergo M.A.i.D. instead of living on social assistance.

Others are convinced that the government is going to send white vans around in the cities of Canada to euthanize the homeless and the elderly.

One of the major problems that mental health care faces in Canada is that our general population is overwhelmed by American media. American media is dangerous in the fact that it pushes an imaginary economic reality that does not exist. Americans believe in low, low, low taxes. Which is why they have massive infrastructure problems, crappy schools, non-existent social safety nets, and almost non-existent health care. That, and America’s defence spending is completely out of control.

Fellow Canadians see the low taxes that Americans pay, and so they demand from our governments that we pay the same stupidly low taxes up here as they do down there.

Which is why our health care is crumbling. Which is why mental health care is almost non-existent. And which is why mental illness is vilified as being due to laziness and poor personal choices.

America has had homeless mentally ill people wandering the streets and living in tents on the street for years, like since back in the ’70s and ’80s. And this problem is coming up to Canada.

American style austerity is a cancer.

But Canadians love their low, low taxes and their cheap imported goods, so don’t look for any kind of funding increases any time soon.

A lot of disabled rights groups and mental health rights groups want mental illness yanked as one of the criteria for being able to access Medical Assistance in Dying.

But the problem with doing so is that you deny people such as me the right to end our lives as we see fit. You also ensure that I suffer mental pain for 10, 20, or even 30 more years.

Better mental health funding wouldn’t have done anything for me. As I’ve said before, I was a “dirty little secret” and my lack of mental health treatment was due to the desire for secrets to be kept from the Canadian public. No amount of public mental health funding was going to change that.

And having the government of Canada rescind the right of Canadians such as myself to avail ourselves to a humane and painless death at the time of our choosing isn’t going to increase the funding for mental health treatment and housing for persons with mental illness.

To get Canada on track again, Canadians would have to eschew American style disaster capitalism and embrace full democratic socialism. Canadians would have to learn to understand that higher taxes do lead to overall better outcomes as any of the Nordic or Scandinavian countries can attest.

But changes like that would take years, especially when you consider how much money American right wing think tanks pump into Canada on a yearly basis to try to convert us into a mini-USA.

I don’t know what the solution is for the time being.

As I’ve said, I make my application in March of this year. Hopefully I get my two assessments by no later than July. So hopefully I can undergo my procedure and cease living sometime in December of 2024 or early 2025.

I don’t want to be forced to suffer as a casualty in someone else’s war.

Banning M.A.i.D. for mental illness isn’t going to cause 500k new low income houses to be built.

Banning M.A.i.D. for mental illness isn’t going to cause 500k new assisted living homes to be built.

Banning M.A.i.D. for mental illness isn’t going to give those living with disabilities or mental illness $100k in yearly income assistance.

But banning M.A.i.D. for mental illness will prolong the suffering that persons like me have to endure, and I would envision that it would increase the number of suicide attempts and suicides as persons try to escape their pain and torment.

I don’t envy the struggle the mental health and disability advocates face, but please don’t fuck with my ability to die peacefully and painlessly.

Getting close

My journey towards death keeps progressing.

I really was hoping to do more videos and blogs, but at this point in my life I am a one topic person.

And it’s not like this was the easiest story to find out.

The vast majority of it, in fact well over 90% of it had remained hidden from me all of these years.

I was the homosexual, I was the pervert, I ruined everything.

Do you understand how fucking mind destroying it was to discover the truth in August of 2011?

Discover that everything that I had known up to that point in time was an absolute lie?

I suffered so much.

Even though I had been diagnosed with major depression, severe anxiety, and a host of other mental health issues, I was never allowed to receive treatment.

Instead I’d be on the receiving end of my father’s mental and physical abuse and my stepmother’s mental and physical abuse.

Even when my mental health had deteriorated to the point that my civilian social workers were calling for me to first be placed in a psychiatric facility for children, and then removed from the home for my own welfare, those options were denied to me.

So, I suffered alone through grade school and junior high school.

Always getting picked on.

Always getting beat up.

I was an easy target for sexual abuse as what happened with the babysitter was obviously my fault, so any older man who wanted to sleep with me while I lived on Canadian Forces Base Downsview in Toronto was obviously my fault, right?

I asked for it. I mean I obviously asked the babysitter to molest me and my brother, so I must have been asking for what happened in Toronto.

Even when I was just about 16 and I nearly got strangled in High Park, I never said anything as it was obviously my fault.

I was forever hesitant to bring up the topic of Earl as I was sure that no one would believe me and that my own father would blame. During Earl’s criminal trial his defence counsel tried to imply that because I was over the age of 14 that everything had been consensual.

When I dropped out of school back in 1987, it wasn’t because I was having major difficulty with major depression or severe anxiety or because I had a “funny walk” or because I was an obvious faggot because I didn’t like girls. Nope, I dropped out of school because I was a lazy self centred asshole who thought of no one put himself.

Two years later when Mr. Bowles, Mr. Ford, and Mr. Aitken wrote letters to the North York Board of Education vouching for me to allow me to enter the Alternative and Independent Study Program (AISP) Richard didn’t give a shit. He said that if I wanted to live under his roof I had to go to a “real” school and fucking sit there, stare at the blackboard, and take some “fucking basket weaving courses”.

I ended up having to move out and quit school for the second time when I refused to leave AISP and go to a “normal school”.

See, what I was enduring from my father wasn’t just neglect. It wasn’t just physical abuse. It was mental destruction.

I had fucked with Richard’s career goals, and I was going to pay the fucking price.

It was my fault that I couldn’t keep the babysitter’s hands of my brother’s body.

Me? I was a homosexual so no wonder I allowed the babysitter to molest me.

It was my fault that Richard and Sue had to move into the PMQ with us on Canadian Forces Base Namao even through Richard was more than happy living off base with Susan.

It was my fault we moved from Canadian Forces Base Namao to Canadian Forces Base Griesbach.

It was my fault that we became involved with the military social worker in October of 1980.

It was my fault that we became involved with Alberta Social Services in November of 1981.

It was my fault that we had to move to Canadian Forces Base Downsview in Ontario in April of 1983 to avoid my apprehension by Alberta Social Services. This of course ruined Richard’s plans so far as being a Boeing VTOL factory trained maintenance technician on the CH-147 Chinooks.

So, it’s not that Richard didn’t care or give a shit.

Richard was actively seeking retribution.

And I was going to pay the fucking price for what I had done.

It’s not just the never ending depression that I have to deal with.

It’s not the never ending anxiety.

It’s the memories of back then.

It’s Captain Totzke telling me that I was a homosexual.

It’s Captain Totzke telling me that I’d end up in prison.

It’s Captain Totzke telling me that I was going to be just like the babysitter.

It’s Captain Totzke telling me and my father that sports were not an option for me as I’d be sexually aroused by naked boys in the change room.

It’s my father telling me that I couldn’t go swimming because there’d be naked boys in the change room and that I wouldn’t be able to control myself.

It’s the memories of pissing the bed and going to school smelling like piss.

It’s the memories of sitting in school on CFB Griesbach and being able to run my hands through my hair and having clumps of hair come out.

It’s the memories of having to play outside in the Edmonton winters with clothing that was not even suitable for spring.

The physical and mental abuse at the hands of my grandmother, my father, and Sue don’t help much either.

I think the real final nail in my coffin so-to-speak was the sham 2011 CFNIS investigation which “couldn’t find any evidence that the babysitter was capable of what I accused him of” even though the CFNIS had the 1980 CFSIU DS-120-10-80 investigation paperwork that literally backed up everything I had said about Captain McRae and the babysitter.

As you can see, there’s more to my desire of death than just some silly little bit of depression.

It’s no big secret.

(( I will preface this post by stating that I am not speaking in an official capacity for my employer, Providence Health Care)))

If you’ve paid attention to the news over the last little while you’ll be familiar with the fact that St. Paul’s Hospital does not offer Medical Assistance in Dying on the premisses due to the fact that Providence Health Care is a Christian faith based organization.

Bobbie, you’re an atheist, how can you work there?

The same way all the other employees that follow different religions and faiths do.

Due to media attention that was generated over the transfer of end-of-life patients to other non-Catholic facilities to obtain their M.A.i.D. procedure, the Ministry of Health was being called upon to take action.

And action they did, they sat down with Providence and came to an agreement.

M.A.i.D. will still not be provided at St. Paul’s Hospital.

However, M.A.i.D. will be provided in a brand new facility being built directly adjacent to the hospital.

So far what I know is that the new building will not physically touch the Providence buildings, but will be close enough that a small walkway will connect the new facility to the Providence 2 building.

The new building will belong to and will be operated by Vancouver Coastal Health.

Patients at St. Paul’s who are requesting medical assistance in dying will be “transferred” from the care of St. Paul’s to the care of the VCH M.A.i.D. program.

I know more or less the exact location of this new building.

I know that it is supposed to be in full operation by the summer of 2024.

The oddly interesting thing about where this facility is going is that it is being connected to the Providence II building where the Providence IV building was supposed to connect. Due to the government in the ’80s and ’90s failing to provide the required funding, only half of the modern St. Paul’s Providence buildings were built.

Providence 1 was built, the funding fell through for Providence 2 so Providence 2 was built in two stages. Parking levels P2 to 1st floor. 2nd floor to 10th floor came a year or two later. However Providence 3 and Providence 4 were never built.

Will I obtain my M.A.i.D. procedure there?

Nope.

First, I believe that the M.A.i.D. facility will only be available for patients on site.

Second, this would terrorize my co-workers.

I once joked with the chief pathologist on site that I wanted my autopsy done on site……. the replied “Don’t even joke about that. I wouldn’t let my staff do an autopsy on someone they knew”.

With the exception of one electrician, no one at work knows what I’ve gone through and no one except for that same electrician knows that I wish to avail myself to M.A.i.D.

As I’ve said, I have two options.

One option is to arrange to donate my organs, in which case my procedure will occur in a hospital like Vancouver General where my corpse can be taken to an operating room immediately after my death so that my organs can be harvested.

The other option that I have, and this is the one that I am favouring, is to have my M.A.i.D. procedure take place in a funeral home.

This would be the easiest for me to set up. A one stop shop if you will.

Put to sleep

Store my corpse for the required 48 hours.

Cremate my corpse.

As of today it is 14 weeks and 5 days until I see my doctor to make my formal application for M.A.i.D.

I don’t seem my two assessments as being completed before anytime before June or July of 2024.

After that comes the 90 day cooling down period.

Then comes the prescription.

The prescription for M.A.i.D. is apparently valid for 1 year.

I don’t think I’d want to linger for the full year.

I’ll definitely want to take some time off work, not too long, maybe about 6 months.

And then I’d like to undergo my procedure.

In the meantime the new M.A.i.D. facility will be in operation.

Ssssshhhhhh…….

Okay, so it’s been suggested to me to not publish anything at this moment that speaks directly to the class action or the subject of the class action as it has entered a critical phase.

I watched a movie yesterday on Netflix titled “The Luckiest Girl Alive”.

The film centres around an adult woman who is trying to make the perfect life for herself in order to hide her past.

Her past involves surviving a school shooting with allegations that she may have been involved with the shooting.

As the story progresses we learn that just prior to the school shooting she had been raped by three of the popular boys. During the shooting two of the boys are killed and one boy survives but is paralyzed.

At the time of the rape the girl was blamed for being assaulted with her own mother hinting that her own daughter was loose.

The school didn’t want anything to proceed legally.

And in the aftermath of the shooting, the paralyzed boy was looked upon with sympathy from the community and it appears that in order to scuttle any chance of the girl ever bringing rape charges against the boy and ruining his new found stardom, it was leaked to the community that she was implicated in the shooting.

In the end, everything unravels, as an adult she is able to get the paralyzed boy to confess to the fact the he did rape her.

This movie, along with “unbelievable” have a somewhat bittersweet taste for me.

Whereas the female characters in these two films receive their justice at the end of the film, there won’t be any such thing for me.

The babysitter will always be the innocent little angel.

I will forever be the homosexual pervert that allowed the babysitter to do what he did to myself and my brother.

When I talked with the babysitter’s father in 2015, he absolutely loved his son. He blamed himself for what his son had done.

My father threw me under the fucking train. No matter how bad my mental health issues were and no matter how bad the trauma had fucked me up, it was my fault.

Pictures

Two weeks ago I went to see a photographer who took some pictures.

The last time Albert took some pictures of me was back before COVID-19

I honestly have no idea of where I would have ended up in life had I not been raised in a severely dysfunctional family.

Richard was not the type of parent to foster any type of growth.

Shut you fucking mouth. Why the fuck do you have to listen to that shit? Just go to school and take some fucking basket weaving courses and stare at the fuclking blackboard.

I learnt electronics from Richard? Not fucking likely.

I learnt automotive mechanics from Richard? Definitely a big fucking no there.

Surely Richard instilled a love of computers in you? Between 1987 and 2000 I didn’t own a computer. Never really had an interest in computers. Sure, I use the internet for my blogs, and doing research and such, but nope, no great love for computers

I was into make-up in the period of 2006 to 2011, but my dealings with the Canadian Armed Forces destroyed me emotionally and mentally. In a way I probably should have listened to Richard.

Wearing make-up died.

But my dresses never left.

Anyways, enjoy the pictures…………

This dress has a ton of fabric.
Me
Me again
Yep, me again
Guess who?
Blue
Yet another dress
Uh-oh my slip is showing…..

Photography.

I took this past Friday off from work to be photographed by a professional photographer.

I met Albert back in 2017 when he came to the hospital to document an energy savings program that phsycial plant had implemented.

He was brought in by the planner that had looked after the project.

He didn’t say anything to me at the time, but he asked the manager to contact me and to tell me that he was interested in taking some photos of me in his studio.

I went over and we did a photoshoot for a few hours.

It was interesting.

So, I decided that I’d like to have some more photographs taken seeing as how my wardrobe has become far more than second hand dresses. Also, my tattoos cover far more than what they did back in 2017.

I contacted Albert about a month ago and we set up an appointment on Friday.

I took four dresses over in addition to the dress that I was wearing.

I also took my favourtie heels.

Rode the scooter from Braid skytrain station over to Albert’s place.

Albert should start a therapy / photography service.

We talked for about 30 to 40 minutes before going into the studio. He seemed to want to flesh out why I wanted to pay to get my photographs taken.

I explained to Albert that I have a decent camera setup, and I like taking photographs of mechanical things, and odd things. I don’t like to photograph people and I don’t like people in my photographs.

I also explained that I am far too self concious and far too critical to take pictures of myself.

Albert asked me what happens when people want to take picture of me.

I told him that for some reason my brain reacts different.

For example, when I was in Iceland over the summer no matter where I went, both tourists and Icelanders were asking to take my picture.

I think the reason that I love dresses and colours and designs is they offset how absolutely dead I am on the inside.

Let’s face it, with what I’ve been through in life, I have the ultimate “resting bitch face”. People think that I’m angry. I’m not. I’m just completely dead on the inside.

As social services indicated back in 1982, I couldn’t express emotions, I couldn’t express happiness or sadness. Whenever they tried to get me to express my emotions it would usually end up in a temper tantrum. I had no idea of how to make friends. I was completely isolated. Captain Totzke and my father had no interest in getting me the help I needed at the time, so things were just left to fester.

I should have the photographs in a week’s time. Albert has to process the images. I’ll get them in RAW format, but he’ll also render JPG versions of the photos. Most of the portrait full frame shots were taken with a Medium Format digital camera.

“Moving On”…..

Bobbie, why don’t you just move on, get on with your life?

That would be great, but that’s not how this works.

Therapy won’t work.

Pretending that the past never occured won’t work.

Captain Terry Totzke and his ham fisted conversion therapy have pretty well ensured that therapy won’t work.

As I said, it’s not like no one knew about the events of CFB Namao.

Captain Terry Totzke knew.

My father knew.

So this isn’t some sort of secret that I’ve kept within for the last 40 years.

I was lied to by mcpl Robert Jon Hancock, mcpl Christian Cyr, wo Blair Hart, mwo Terry Eisenmenger. Not only was I lied to by these four, they tried to fucking gaslight me. I would also have included Sergeant Damon Tenaschuk of the CFNIS Pacific Region, but I think Sgt. Tenaschuk was the first CFNIS investigator that I met that wasn’t willing to follow the orders of the chain of command like an obedient mindless robot.

What constitutes as gaslighting?

Telling me that there never was any type of fire at PMQ #26 even though they had the Canadian Forces Fire Marshall’s records for that exact fire.

Telling me that there was never a rectory attached to the chapel and that Captain McRae didn’t live on the base, but that he lived off the base.

Telling me that Our Lady of Loretto chapel didn’t exist on the base when I lived there even though the blueprints for the chapel indicated that it was built in 1956 and still stands to this day.

Telling me that the babysitter wasn’t capable of committing the crimes I accused him of even though they had CFSIU DS 120-10-80 in their possession right from the start of the investigation in March of 2011.

Refusing to talk to my father again once my social service paperwork indicated that his statement to the CFNIS was completely implausible.

Lt. Col. Gilles Sansterre outright lied to me when he told me that the CFNIS and the Provost Marshal couldn’t figure out who Fred R. Cunningham was and that he couldn’t have known anything about the Captain Father Angus McRae matter even though Sansterre had access to the CFSIU DS 120-10-80 paperwork and would have known that Warrant Officer Fredrick R. Cunningham was the lead investigator and the military’s witness against Captain McRae.

And that’s what gets me.

They had absolutely no concern for me or my well being. Not from 1978 to 1980. Not from 1980 to 1983. And not from 1983 to the current day. To the Canadian Force.

The CFNIS willingly and intentionally withheld the existence of CFSIU DS 120-10-80 and the court martial transcripts from the Alberta Crown.

The CFNIS willingly and intentionally withheld the existence of the transcripts from Courts Martial CM 62 from the Alberta Crown.

The CFNIS and the Canadian Forces Provost Marshal intentionally withheld CFSIU DS 120-10-80 and CM 62 from the Military Police Complaints Commission in 2012 and the Federal Court of Canada in 2013 in order to sell their narative that “they did the best they could in a historic child sexual abuse matter but that the evidence just wasn’t strong enough”.

So, how does one move on from not just child sexual abuse, but psychological malpractice, and then intentional professional misconduct?

I’ve been trying to engage the media since 2011 over this matter.

Except for David Pugliese, not a single fucking person has ever spoken to me. The Canadian Forces said this, the Canadian Forces said that, don’t you think the Canadian Forces would have done this or that if there was enough evidence?

The media in this country is useless. There is no such thing as investigative reporting anymore. No one goes digging for the story. Especially not when it comes to DND and the CAF.

David has been outright forthcoming with how the DND and the CAF have both threatened him with access to government officials and offical news information if he kept digging up dirt.

Others though seem as if they don’t want to risk losing advertising dollars or government contracts by making the DND and the CAF uncomfortable.

Don’t believe me?

In 2014 I was supposed to have been interviewed by Maclean’s as part of their bombshell stories on sexual abuse in the Canadian Forces. Everything was a go pretty well until the day of the interview.

Turns out that the parent company of Macleans had just days before signed a multi-year contract with the federal government to provide cellular phone service to the DND and the CAF.

The day I arrived at this magazine’s offices in Toronto I was told that the editior who wanted to run my story abruptly stopped working for Macleans and that Macleans wasn’t interested in running attack pieces on the Canadian Forces any more and that this topic was best left for the DND and the CAF to sort out.

I was told by Alberta Crown prosecutors Jon Werbicki and Alberta Chief Crown Prosecutor Orest Yeriniuk that I simply waited too long and that it wouldn’t be in the best interests of the public to bring charges against , meanwhile just a week or two ago it was announced in the Canadian Media that a 97 year old nun was charged with three counts of gross indecency from the 1960s.

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/canada/article-97-year-old-nun-charged-with-historical-sexual-assaults-at-residential/

What the actual fuck?

Oh yeah, it happened at a residential school and not a Canadian Forces Base. And it was investigated by police officers of the Ontario Provincial Police, not soldiers posing as police officers of the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service.

Attacking the residential schools is okay because society expects these literal hellholes to be places of abuse.

It’s the year 2023, almost everyone expects to hear of new stories about the church involved with child molestation.

No one dares attack the Canadian Forces as they’re our defenders and surely our defenders wouln’t have turned a blind eye to child sexual abuse on the bases, right?

So no, there will be no therapy.

There can’t be.

Counsellors have no idea of what life was like on military bases.

Counsellors have never heard of child sexual abuse on the bases.

Counsellors will never be able to overcome the one major hurdle, and that is the simple lack of an acknowledgement.

The only way in which a counsellor could hope to do anything is to gaslight me on a major scale.

Saturday October 28th, 2023

So, just sitting down eating a bite for lunch and enjoying a soy cappuccino.

I’m probably going to ride my scoot over to the VCC-Clark skytrain station and take a run out to Value Village in Coquitlam and maybe the one out in Port Coquitlam.

People have asked me repeatedly how I can live without a car.

I say very easily.

I haven’t owned a car since 1998 when I moved downtown.

But even before that, when I did own cars, I usually couldn’t afford to drive them.

I bought a 1977 VW Rabbit when I was 15. This was so that I could get a membership at the base auto club. The car really wasn’t drivable, but it was something that I could learn mechanics on from guys like Bill Parker and Bob Wrightson at the autoclub.

In a way I wish I had never been a member of the autoclub. My brother had a friend named Greg. Greg was younger than me, but much like my brother they were both built larger than me.

I stayed clear of Greg. Avoided him at all costs.

Anyways somehow Greg got it in his head that because I could tinker on cars that I was going to fix his V6 Chevy Nova.

Straight fours is all I had ever worked on at the autoclub. Never had touched an American car, especially not a V-anything. Anways, I was at work on night at Bob Becker’s workshop when my brother, Greg, and a few of their buddies show up. My brother told Greg that I could fix cars, so therefore I was going to fix Greg’s car. The car that showed up with no distributor, no ignition coil, no spark plugs, and no spark plug wires. These were all in a jumble in the trunk of the car.

As could be expected, I couldn’t fix the car.

Greg and his buddies caught up with me at a Plaza on Keele just to the south of the entrance to the base. Fuck did they ever beat the shit out of me. And it wasn’t like it was anywhere near a fair fight. I was maybe 110 lbs tops. There was Greg. Greg had to be about 5″ taller than me and maybe weighed close to 150 to 160 lbs. And the other 3 were about the same size and stature. There was also this older guy, can’t remember his name, but he had to be around 40 or 50 years old.

I remember avoiding home and instead heading over to Billy Donuts on Wilson Ave.

The owner called the cops.

But ratting out on Greg would have been the end of me so I refused to say anything.

I knew that telling Richard would have been an absolute waste of time.

This was pretty well when I started to make sure that no one knew that I had any interests in cars or fixing things.

The first road worthy car that I ever owned was in Edmonton, AB.

I bought that car in August of 1990.

I made a mistake and I quit the job that I had prior to ensuring that the job I was going to was going to work out.

So I ended up on welfare.

A guy in my apartment building noticed that I liked to work on cars so he asked me if I wanted to make some extra money under the table working on cars for his brother. Who could turn down extra money to make ends meet when you’re on welfare. Welfare barely paid the rent at the time, let alone bought goceries.

I worked on a few cars for his brother Adam who owned a used car dealership on the south east side of Edmonton.

There were some sketchy things going on in that shop. So I didn’t stay very long.

It wouldn’t be until sometime in the 2010s that I would find out that in the years after I had involvement with Adam that some skectchy shit really was going down in that shop.

The car that I bought in 1990 was my transport when I decided to leave the welfare rolls in Alberta and try my luck in Vancouver in February of 1992.

I spent so much time on and off living in that car. The best place for car camping at the time was Stanley Park. There were also industrial areas that one could camp out in.

Around the spring of 1993 I couldn’t afford to keep the car any longer so I got rid of it for free with a scrap dealer.

I ended up moving back to Toronto around the fall of 1993. That didn’t work out so well so I ended up back in Vancouver by May of 1994.

I lived down at the Sally Anne until about August of 1994.

From ’94 to ’95 I primarily rode the bus, rode a bicycle, or walked to work from New Westminster to East Richmond.

In 1996 I got my hands on a very good condition 1984 Diesel Rabbit.

Kept that until I moved downtown in 1998.

I’ve owned a few motorcycles through my life, but I’ve only kept them for a few seasons.

Most were used, only one was new of a showroom floor.

That one was written off by a cab driver that ICBC found 100% at fault for the incident.

After getting cut off by that cab driver and seeing how easily someone else could end my life for the sake of beating a green light I realized that motorcycling wasn’t for me.

My greatest fear of getting injured in a motorcycle collision isn’t dying. It’s surviving. Motorcycle helmets really don’t protect the rider when struck by another vehicle. Motorcycle helmets, much like bicycle helmets are meant to protect the rider from incidents involving the motorcycle rider alone.

My father had a friend named Jacques Choquette. One night while Jacques was riding home on his motorcycle Jacques hit a pedestrian. Jacques ended up losing part of his skull and part of his brain. The guy was a fucking psychotic nutcase after the incident. No impulse control. Anger outbursts from nowhere. Seizures. Jacques was the one who tried to strangle me in the basement of the PMQ on CFB Downsview while my father stood to the side chuckling.

That’s what I’m most afraid of. Ending up with brain damage and having to live for 40 or 50 years like a fucking psycho like Jacques.

I bought a motorcycle back in 2020 at the start of the pandemic. I rode it for that first summer. It has sat in the under ground parking lot since.

I wanted to do some modification to it, but my depression told me that I’d get started and never finish the fucking thing off like I never finish anything else off.

So all in all, I’d say that even though I’ve had my driver’s licence since I was 17, I’ve actually only driven a car for maybe 5 years of my life. That’s about 14% of my adult driving life.

Total riding time of motorcycles would be less than 8%.

Riding bicycles would be close to 20%, riding the bus would be another 20%, walking would be almost 46% if not more. I’m probably a little high on the bicycle and the bus.

I think that I can credit my father and his driving skills and his belittling attitude.

Richard could be a complete asshole behind the wheel.

Everyone else on the road was a stupid asshole, a stupid cunt, a fucking idiot, or some fucking goddamn asshole that got their licence from a cracker jack box.

This is why he was forever rear ending other vehicles.

I could never figure out why he would never get his pride and joy fixed after various collisions. But as I would learn later in life, you never wanted to claim against your insurance for any accident that you were at fault for. That’s how the ’83 Mustang GT went from being a showroom new car in 1983 to a wreck with the driver’s seat falling through the floor and needing wood to hold it in place by the time I moved out of the house in 1987.

The collisions I know of from being in the car when they happened were the time he rear-ended a Jaguar over by the Don Valley parkway. Slammed right into the back of the car at an intersection. As usual it was my fault becuase if I hadn’t asked him for a ride to work this would never have happened.

The next time was on Keele Street just before we got back on to base. He rear ended a Metropolitan Toronto Police Service cruiser. And this was back in the day when they were bright white with yellow reflective strips. I didn’t stick around to see who he blamed the collision on. I just walked home.

Richard wasn’t adverse to throttle blips to let the driver infront of him at the lights know that he was displeased with the fact that because they were driving so slow he got caught behind them at the light.

He also had this habit of passing cars as we were coming to intersections and once he passed through the intersection he’d start swearing at the light to change and teach that silly fucker a lesson.

Of course there were also the times that he drove drunk.

He wrote off his 1969 Ford Thunderbird that he had bought with his retention bonus. Wrote that car off around 1975. Wrote it off in the PMQs of Canadian Forces Base Shearwater. That put me in the hospital for stitches.

The next time that he crashed a car due to drinking was after our mother left in 1976 / 77. He had gone to the junior ranks mess on CFB Summerside and was driving back home to our PMQ at 353 High Street in Summerside. Somewhere on the highway he crossed the centre line and clipped an on coming car.

My brother and I were more or less unscathed. But I ended up with a fat lip after the other driver asked my father if he had been drinking and I told the other driver that my father was drink at the bar on base. Guess I wasn’t supposed to rat out the rage fueled alcoholic, was I?

Maybe that’s why I don’t care much for driving. My father’s rage behind the wheel and his alcoholism ruined driving for me.

Also, not having help with my cars in the early days made me realize just exactly how much of a fucking money pit cars are and how one’s paycheque just goes into the endless pit of car culture.

Other people.

One thing that I have realized is that people living in our society really don’t have as much control over their lives as people believe that they do.

For some reason people have more control over the lives of others that they do over their own.

I don’t remember being asked if I’d like to be born.

My parents were horny, they fucked, he ejaculated and didn’t pull out, and nine months later I popped out.

Did I ask to be born to two parents that were already suffering mental illnesses? My father battling depression and alcoholism, my mother suffering from anxiety.

Did I ask to be born to an alcoholic father?

Did I ask to be raised by a residential school survivor who had her own severe mental health issues?

And puhlease, don’t tell me that I should be happy that I was blessed with the miracle of life.

There’s over 7.8 billion people on the face of the planet.

Pregnancy, birth, and life are not a “miracle”.

And if your argument is that I should be happy that I don’t live in an underdeveloped country, well fuck you. I live in this country. I was raised in this country. I was abused by fellow citizens of this country. I was fucked over by institutions of this country. You don’t get to negate the shit I live through by erecting fanciful strawmen and bad faith fallacies.

Contrary to the teachings of Captain Terry Totzke and master corporal Richard Gill, I didn’t deserve the sexual abuse from Captain McRae and his teenage accomplice, P.S.

And contrary to the opinions of Captain Terry Totzke and my father, I didn’t deserve 2-1/2 years of conversion therapy.

I was a concious decision of Captain Totzke to deny my of the treatments I required for my mental health issues.

Sure, Totzke may have only been following the orders of his superiors. But he still made a decision. I had no say in the matter.

My father went along with the decision to deny me my treatment. Yeah, sure, Totzke outranked my father, but my father still had choices at his disposal. He made a choice to play along.

When my father had his meltdown in the PMQ on Canadian Forces Base Downsview in Ontario, somebody within the military police made the decision to not notify the Metropolitan Toronto Police Service thereby ensuring that Richard’s inability to control his anger wouldn’t be reported to the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto.

Somebody in the Canadian Forces chain of command made the conciousous decision to run a “dog & pony show” investigation in 2011. Somebody made this decision even though they knew full well that due to limited resources, only victims of crimes have access to mental heatlh treatments.

Somebody in the Canadian Forces chain of command made the conciousous decision to hide the information contained in the CFSIU DS 120-10-80 investigation paperwork from the Alberta Crown prosecutor in 2011 thereby forcing the Alberta Crown to make a horrific decision.

Somebody in the Canadian Forces chain of command decided to hide the existence of CFSIU DS 120-10-80 from the Military Police Complaints Commission in 2012 thereby ensuring that the MPCC wouldn’t discover until 2020 that the CFNIS in 2011 knew all about the criminal exploits of P.S..

Somebody in the Office of the Judge Advocate General made the decision to not allow the CFNIS to talk to former base commander Daniel Edward Munro in 2017 due to the inability to lay charges against Munro due to the 3-year-time-bar that existed only in the military prior to 1998.

So, as you can see, a lot of people made decisions for me or they made decisions that directly affected me.

Hopefully I get to make the one decision that I should be allowed to make, and that is to end my life through Medical Assistance in Dying.

Saturday October 21st, 2023

Well, my out of control self consciousness makes it hard for me to do the videos that I wanted to.

I know, this sounds silly coming from the guy who has pretty well switched his wardrobe over to dresses a few years ago. But yeah, I don’t like talking about my plans for M.A.i.D. in public nor do I like to discuss the events of Canadian Forces Base Namao in public. Again, that probably sounds silly coming from the guy who writes these blogs and who has a Vimeo channel, but my readership and viewership is so minimal on both of those platforms that I’m basically just shouting into the eternal void.

But at least it’s therapeutic.

Next Tuesday I get to ask a M.A.i.D. provider some questions related to the assessment process.

In five months time I will be at my physician’s office making my official request for Medical Assistance in Dying.

Does that mean that I get to be put to sleep in five months? Nope. Not at all.

First, I have to hope that the “disabled rights groups” and the “evangelical nutcase” groups don’t fuck with this legislation. If “disabled rights groups” want more funding, go for more funding. Just don’t fuck with my ability to obtain peaceful sleep. You think that by making me suffer longer than I need to that somehow you’ll get more funding? Nope. You want more funding, go fight for more funding. Do not fuck around with people requesting a peaceful exit. The fact that you don’t hear a lot from these “disabled rights groups” except for around the topic of M.A.i.D. makes me wonder who is actually backing these groups. Especially with their outlandish claims that the government is just going to start executing disabled people instead of taking care of them.

As I’ve said elsewhere, I’ll probably be around for the most part of 2024.

I don’t know how long it will take for the assessments.

If I apply in March and get my assessments by June, then I’ll have to wait for a 90 day cooling off period to expire. That takes me into October.

I’ll have 1 year to utilize my prescription for M.A.i.D.

Right now, all I can do is kinda window shop for the events leading up to my death.

I have in mind the funeral homes that I would like to use for my procedure and my cremation. I could pay for the reservation now, but I don’t even know if I’ll be allowed to be put to sleep. And, once I receive my prescription for M.A.i.D., my life insurance will actually pay for the funeral home reservation and the cremation of my corpse.

Again, for those wondering what I mean by a reservation at a funeral home, there are a growing number of funeral homes that will allow the M.A.i.D. procedure to occur on their premises. Then after I have been declared to be deceased they will hold my corpse as required for the 48 hour holding period. Then after the 48 hour hold period it’s into the cremator my corpse goes. What happens with my ashes is anyone guess, at that point in time I’ve long since ceased to care.

After I receive my prescription for M.A.i.D. is when I can really start planning.

I’ve been getting my skin loaded with tattoos.

I’m not artistic, and I think the reason that I waited until my 20’s to start getting tattoos is I was always under the impression that tattoos had to be “artistic” representations of naked women and Viking warriors, American eagles, etc. It took a while for me to realize that tattoos could be shapes and lines and blocks.

After I get my prescription for M.A.i.D. is when I can discretely approach my tattoos artists to see if they want to save any of their tattoo work. Yes, it is legal to skin a human corpse. And there are companies that will preserve tattooed human skin.

But, this isn’t the type of thing that you just start shopping around for, especially not before you have your M.A.i.D. prescription in hand.

And then there’s work.

I definitely do not want to keep working right up to the day of my death. I’d like to take a month or two off prior to my death. Just to wind down, clean things up, tie up as many loose strings as possible. I think that I deserve a little respite.

A few videos

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.

Richard the Misogynist

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.

Many other reasons for M.A.i.D.

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 is death the only appropriate answer?

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.

My Class Action

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.

The fucking irony of ironies

Hold on to you fucking hats boys and girls………

Guess who might not see a single red fucking cent from his class action brought against the Canadian Armed Forces.

I kid you not.

Even if the DOJ goes ahead and settles this matter out of court, I might not see a single nickel from the action.

See, even though the babysitter had been groomed by Canadian Armed Forces officer Captain Father Angus McRae. And even though the babysitter had been recommended to families such as mine by Captain Father Angus McRae in his role as padre for the base. And even though Captain McRae was using the babysitter to bring us young children over to the rectory attached to the chapel. And even though the chain of command made decisions to not bring the RCMP to deal with the babysitter and the horrific crimes he committed against the children living on the base, the Government is arguing that the babysitter was not a member of the Canadian Forces and that Captain McRae had no real authority over the babysitter and therefore the Government of Canada is not responsible to compensate those who were only abused by the babysitter.

But Bobbie, didn’t you say that the babysitter had taken you over to the chapel on five different occasions and that at Captain McRae’s request he gave you a “sickly sweet grape juice” which was later determined to be wine?

Well, because the CFNIS never undertook that investigative path in 2011 after I told the CFNIS about the visits to the chapel, there was never any investigation into this.

And the CFSIU investigation paperwork from 1980 doesn’t help much as the military police and the CFSIU conceded during their investigations that they had only touched the tip of the iceberg, that not all of the parents on Canadian Forces Base Name wanted their children associated with the obvious taint that would have come from being a male victim of male-on-male sexual abuse and so they wouldn’t let their children be interviewed by the investigators.

And then there’s that fact the some of Captain McRae’s abuse victims along with the victims of the babysitter had moved off the base during the summer of 1979 posting season and weren’t around to be interviewed by the military police and the CFSIU in May of 1980 when the babysitter’s activities along with Captain McRae’s activities became know to the military police, the CFSIU, and the base chain of command.

Am I angry?

nope.

Am I upset?

nope.

Am I surprised?

nope.

I’ve spent the last 12 years learning about the military justice system.

I’ve come to the conclusion that the Canadian Armed Forces are literally fucked seven ways from Sunday.

It’s an organization, that while not brimming full of child molesters and pedophiles, will do anything it can to not own up to the fact that its twisted and broken “justice system” as well as its self-interested parochial chain of command knew that there were pedophiles and child molesters praying on military dependents but was happy to look the other way so as not to create a public relations nightmare.

I can’t ever see the Department of National Defence or the Canadian Armed Forces owning up to and fixing this mess. They don’t have to. They’re so fucking untouchable that they never have to worry.

They’re not legally obligated to look after military dependents.

Ethically, sure. Legally, no.

Again, look at how the Canadian Armed Forces fucked over the 12 to 18 year old Army Cadets from Canadian Forces Base Valcartier in 1974 from the “grenade incident”. The only people in the room who received any type of help when a grenade detonated were the regular force members who were negligent in their duties and allowed the grenade in to the barracks and allowed the cadets to handle and play with it.

From 1974 until 2011 the Canadian Armed Forces told the victims and the families of the victims who died to basically fuck off and go pound sand due to the civilian nature of the cadets. The DND and the CAF weren’t legally responsible, the kids were on the base at their own risk.

Finally in 2011 the Ombudsman released a scathing report that chastised the Canadian Forces for compensating the negligent members of the Canadian Forces who allowed the bloodshed to occur while at the same time ignoring the death, pain, and suffering that the cadets aged 12 to 18 endured.

And that’s where I am at along with all of the other victims of the babysitter.

So far as General W.D. EYRE and the rest of the chain of command at National Defence Head Quarters are concerned, the child victims of Captain Father Angus McRae and his teenaged accomplice can go fuck themselves in the politest of terms.

To men such as General W.D. EYRE and even women such as Minister of National Defence Anita Anand are concerned the children from Canadian Forces Base Name and the other bases that Captain McRae served at are just collateral damage that must be endured in order to keep the image of the Canadian Armed Forces unblemished.

I thought that everyone knew.

When did Bobbie start wearing dresses?

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. 

Just queer.

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.

Anyways……………..

The fact is I wear dresses ‘cause I like dresses and I don’t identify with either gender.

An Update

The matter is still with the lawyers, and it does seem to be moving forward.

The Department of Justice has indicated that the government would like to settle this matter out of court.

The DOJ is no longer objecting to me being the representative plaintiff due to my very public desire to obtain Medical Assistance in Dying at the conclusion of this matter.

The DOJ is even entertaining the inclusion of base brats that may have been abused by Captain McRae and his “agents” on previous posting such as:
Canadian Forces Station Holberg on Vancouver Island;
Canadian Forces Base Portage La Prairie in Manitoba;
Canadian Forces Base Kingston in Ontario from when McRae was at the Royal Military College at Kingston.
And any other base or station that Captain McRae may have been stationed at during his brief career in the Canadian Forces.

The feeling that I get is that the DOJ would like to exclude the children abused by McRae’s “agents” if they can.

“Agents” are the older kids that Captain McRae abused and groomed and in then in turn used these “agents” to bring younger children to visit with Captain McRae.

In my case I can remember five very distinct visits to the rectory at the base chapel. Each visit ended with me being given a tumbler full of what I remembered at the time as being a “sickly sweet grape juice”.

I have no memories of what happened after the “grape juice”.

I don’t even remember how I got back home after the visits.

And no, there would have been no one at home who would have noticed that their 7 – 8 year old charge was shitfaced drunk as both of his guardians were piss-tank alcoholics. My father was rarely home, and my grandmother was usually in the city on the weekends visiting with her husband in the nursing home, at the Rosslyn Inn drinking, at the Canadian Legion drinking, or just pissed drunk in the PMQ.

And yes, it doesn’t matter that I lived on a Canadian Forces Base in housing for military families. Dysfunctional families existed in the military community just as they existed in the civilian world. But unlike in the civilian world, it was very hard for the children of these dysfunctional military families to receive any type of assistance as the military communities on base were the epitome of the “company town”.

For instance, when my family was shuffled off from CFB Namao in the aftermath of the Captain McRae fiasco the teachers at the school for the children of military families ob CFB Griesbach brought my brother and I to the attention of the military social worker.

When our teachers brought us to the attention of the civilian social workers with Alberta Child and Family Services, the military social worker didn’t cooperate. The military social worker ran interference and acted to stymie our civilian social workers.

But back to the matter of “agents”.

The DOJ is trying to argue that the Government of Canada should only have to pay damages to those for whom Captain McRae was charged with molesting and that no damages are owed to the victims of the “agents” or the victims of Captain McRae who were drugged or intoxicated prior to their sexual abuse.

Remember that in my case when the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service conducted their investigation into my complaint against Captain McRae’s agent “P.S.” the CFNIS had in their possession the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the 1980 court martial transcripts that indicated:

  • that the investigation into Captain McRae was commenced as a result of the base military police investigation of Captain McRae’s teenaged “agent” that had been accused by numerous parents on the base of sexually assaulting their pre-pubescent children.
  • that Captain McRae admitted to the military police in 1980 that he took boys into the rectory of the chapel, gave them beer, wine, and alcohol, and then took them into the bedroom and “messed around with them”.
  • That during McRae’s court martial, his defence officer tried to use the fact that his “agent” P.S. had molested numerous children on base as a way to discredit the testimony of “P.S.”
  • That P.S. was in fact receiving treatment for his sexual attraction to children.
  • And that Captain McRae had confessed during his ecclesiastical trial with the Archdiocese of Edmonton that he had abused children for numerous year.

Yet, during the 2011 Canadian Forces National Investigation Service investigation the CFNIS was hellbent on the following:

  • Portraying me as a “societal malcontent with an axe to grind against the military”
  • Portraying me as someone who frequently jumped from job to job and was unable to hold down steady employment and therefore I was only doing this for money.
  • Changed statements that I had given to them such as when I told master corporal Christian Cyr about the five visits to the chapel ending with the “sickly sweet grape juice”, master corporal Cyr entered into his log books that “Mr. Bees remembers going to visits at the chapel, but that nothing sexual ever occurred”
  • Master corporal Christian Cyr would try to convince me that I was confused and that I didn’t know what I was talking about in relation to the chapel as his insisted during our various telephone calls that the chapel I indicated to him didn’t exist in 1980, and no military chapel on that base ever had a rectory, and that the military chaplain never lived on base. The CFSIU paperwork from 1980 clearly indicates everything that I told him about the chapel was true. So did the blueprints that I obtained of the chapel.
  • Investigators with the CFNIS tried their utmost to convince me that I was “misremembering things”. For example they tried their damndest to convince me that there was no house fire at PMQ #26 in the summer of 1980 and that I was attributing a fire from a different base to my memories of 1980. It turned out that the CFNIS had the Canadian Forces Fire Marshal’s paperwork for the June 23rd, 1980 house fire that did $56k (1980) dollars in damage to a house worth $75k (1980) dollars and that a construction engineer suffered a fatal heart attack during the fire while trying to shut off the natural gas.
  • Warrant officer Blair Hart told the Morinville RCMP in July of 2011 that the investigation into my complaint was likely to go nowhere due to a lack of evidence. This was well before the CFNIS had tried to talk to any of the other victims / witnesses.
  • The CFNIS removed all mention of my grandmother from the investigation, and never questioned my father about his failure to mention my grandmother when I supplied the CFNIS with my social service paperwork in which my father acknowledges that my grandmother was brought into his house to raise my brother and I after our mother “abandoned” us.
  • The CFNIS had access to the CPIC of P.S. that indicated that he had numerous charges between 1982 and 1999 that were for sexual crimes against children. Even still, on November 4th, 2011 Petty Officer Steve Morris called me and told me that the CFNIS “just couldn’t find any evidence to indicate that P.S. was capable of the crimes that I had accused him of”.

Why would the CFNIS do this? Why would the CFNIS go all out to ridicule and belittle a victim of childhood sexual abuse?

No matter the PR spin that the Canadian Armed Forces like to give the public, the CFNIS are NOT independent of the Chain of Command.

The Minister of National Defence has unfettered command authority over the CFNIS via the military chain of command.

The VCDS is only a step or two away from the Minister of National Defence.

It is extremely concerning that the National Defence Act gives the Vice Chief of Defence Staff the ability to advise and issue instructions to ANY CFNIS investigation.

Yes, the Provost Marshal is supposed to notify the public of this advisement or of the directions, but the VCDS also has the authority to issue “lawful” commands to the Provost Marshal, such as to NOT release this information to the public.

Remember, under the National Defence Act that the penalty for “Insubordination” which is to disobey a “lawful” command from a superior is “Life in prison or a lesser sentence”. The Provost Marshal is subject to this, so is the CFNIS chain of command as are the investigators with the CFNIS.

No civilian police officer in Canada or for that matter anywhere in the western world faces life in prison for disobeying the commands of their superiors.

The only place you find civilian police officers under this type of threat are in third world dictatorships or in goon-thug theocracies.

I mention this for two reasons.

First is that in February of 2016 I met with then Minister of National Defence Harjit Sajjan at his constituency office on Victoria St. in Vancouver. Mr. Sajjan spared no time in accusing me of “playing games” and of “having an angle” insinuating that I was just trying to milk the Canadian Forces for some easy money.

Second is that the DOJ will rely heavily upon the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service to conduct investigations into the victims of Captain McRae and his various “agents”. I have no doubt that the CFNIS will conduct investigations in such a manner as to minimize the number of victims of Captain McRae and to totally prevent the establishment of a valid connection between Captain McRae, his various agents, and the children abused by those agents..

The Canadian Armed Forces are in a public relations battle with the general public. The CAF have been in a PR battle for a very long time. This is why in 1980 the court martial of Captain McRae was moved in-camera and why the number of charges against McRae were minimized and why the Canadian Forces refused to call the RCMP in to deal with the pedophile babysitter. It was a PR battle then, and it’s a PR battle now.

https://ottawacitizen.com/news/national/defence-watch/military-leaders-told-sex-misconduct-scandal-was-a-pr-war

Can you imagine how the Canadian Public would react if it were to discover that the Canadian Armed Forces and the Department of National Defence have been aware for a very long time of the problem of child sexual abuse in the military communities on base and how the chain of command would rather bury the victims instead of punishing the offenders, all for the optics of public relations.

Or for that matter, can you imagine how upset the general public would be to discover that victims of male-on-male child sexual abuse were treated as homosexuals and were given life altering “conversion therapy” at the hands of the Canadian Forces military social workers?

Again with the depression!

Okay, here’s a video on depression and what I went through in the aftermath of the Captain Father Angus McRae Child Sexual Abuse Scandal on Canadian Forces Base Namao

The man in the sauna investigation is dead.

Okay, here is my latest video. It’s about my meeting yesterday with Captain St-Amand and Warrant Officer Petruk of the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service Western Region.