Tag: Scott Dwayne Arthur Gill

In a recent text message, my brother Scott said that it was okay for me to use his name and his pictures.

I had no idea that these pictures existed until I visited Marie in December of 2013.

Even though Richard had very decent camera equipment for the time, there really doesn’t exist any pictures of my brother or I. Richard had tons of pictures of military aircraft, pictures of him and his buddies drinking on training exercises, and pictures of lots of other things that weren’t my brother and I.

Scott had texted me asking about the class action and we messaged back and forth for a bit.

I sent Scott a meme that I had gleaned from twitter:

That’s when he responded that Sue had given him a few pictures a while ago, but that he shredded them.

That’s when he said that I could use his name and share his pictures.

Yeah, we were about the same size as kids. Lots of people on Canadian Forces Base Griesbach and Canadian Forces Base Downsview mistook him as being the older sibling while I was mistaken for the younger sibling.

I’ve never mentioned Scott’s name for two reason.

The first reason is that I have no idea who he actually is.

The second reason is a lot of people really don’t want their names mentioned in matters like this.

When I say I don’t know who Scott is, I mean that.

The only thing that we really have in common is that we were sexually abused by the same person.

Yes, we have the same sperm donor.

Yes, we had the same egg donor.

Yes, we popped out of the same vag.

But we were raised feral.

I was born in Sept of ’71

He was born in Feb of ’74

Our mother was only around until early 1977, so he knew her about three years. I knew her for about six years.

I knew Richard’s anger and his drinking. I don’t think Scott remembers too much of that.

During our time on CFB Shearwater and CFB Summerside Richard was only around periodically, but when he was it usually wasn’t a pleasant time for anyone.

Once on CFB Shearwater, Richard was drinking and watching hockey and yelling at the TV like he always did. Scott was still in a walker and obviously bothering Richard. Richard told me to take Scott to his mother for her to look after him. Marie was downstairs doing laundry. I don’t think Richard realized this. So, I did as Richard said, I tried to take Scott to his mother. That didn’t work out too well, and down the stairs Scott went. Richard denied to Marie that he asked me to take Scott to Marie.

And that’s par for the course in Richard’s house.

Grandma came to live with us on Canadian Forces Base Summerside. Richard was rarely home.

And this is when Scott and I went full feral.

Grandma had a lot of issues from her time in Indian Residential School and from her rampant alcoholism. So she was never really around to raise my brother and I if you know what I mean. Yeah, she kept food in our bellies, and she kept darning our clothes no matter how worn out they had become, but she wasn’t their for Scott and I, so we just drifted around in our own spheres.

When you grow up in a household like that, especially a household on a military base where everyone minds their own business, you tend to go wild.

And wild we did go.

People have asked me if I am serious about the number of times that our babysitter abused my brother and I on CFB Namao. When I tell them that I am they give me an incredulous look as if I am lying. “Why didn’t you tell someone” is what they always ask. Even Alberta Crown prosecutor Jon Weribicki asked this in 2011. The entire time of our stay on CFB Namao, grandma was the only constant in the house. Richard was rarely home. And the one constant about grandma is that she was usually pissed drunk.

The older kids on base used to make “chugga, chugga” sounds when grandma was around. I wouldn’t learn until later in life that “Chug” is a derogatory term for an intoxicated Indian.

So, that’s why Scott and I were the babysitter’s favourite playthings. He knew we were practically on our own and that there was no one for us to tell.

I know Scott was hoping that I could make the babysitter stop, but that was well beyond my abilities.

I think our lack of parental units on CFB Shearwater, CFB Summerside, CFB Namao, CFB Griesbach, CFB Downsview set my brother and I on a collision course with the likes of Captain McRae and his teenaged accomplice as well as the others on the other bases.

Because of Richard’s well documented issues and his refusal to accept responsibility for his family, and his need to blame others, a massive rift was created between Scott and I as kids.

Richard didn’t love either of us, and he didn’t like the either of us.

Richard’s family wasn’t like one of those families you hear of where the mother and father have issues, but they love their children and they try their best.

Richard never actually had legal custody of my brother and I. He took advantage of the National Defence Act in 1977 to have our mother thrown out of the PMQ and off the base. Marie wanted to take my brother and I back to Nova Scotia to stay with our uncle, Al Dagenais. The reason for this was due to Richard’s drinking and physical abuse getting out of hand. Richard wasn’t concerned in the least about losing Scott and I. He was terrified of having to pay child support.

Around 1986, when we were living on Canadian Forces base Downsview in Ontario, one of Richard’s air force buddies asked Richard “Rick, if these fucking kids are driving you nuts, why don’t you give them back to their fucking mother and let her deal with the stupid fuckers”. Richard’s reply was that by doing so he’d be signing his paycheque over to that bitch and that as long as Scott and I lived with him he could control the costs.

So yeah, the household that Scott and I grew up in was completely devoid of any type of loving relationship.

Everything about Richard was penny pinching for my brother and I, but extravagance for Richard and his friends and relations.

Christmas was almost non-existent for Scott and I as kids as were birthdays. Anything we did get was usually from our mother (but secretly paid for by our uncle Doug).

Socks and underwear day is how Scott referred to christmas.

So yeah, it’s no wonder my brother and I don’t really know anything about each other.

When we lived on CFB Downsview in Toronto, my brother and I ran with totally different crowds.

I got further sexually abused and I got introduced to child prostitution. I know that I came damn close to being on a child pornography tape.

I don’t know if any of the men who took advantage of me while I lived on Canadian Forces Base Downsview got their hands on Scott, but I do know that Scott was familiar with one of these guys.

I’m almost 100% certain that Scott never turned tricks like I did, but I have no doubt that he got sexually abused as well.

I moved out of the house in late 1987 just after I had turned 16.

I never saw Scott again until the spring of 1990 when I was home on a layover on a six month contract job. My father took me up to Uxbridge, Ontario to see him.

I moved to Edmonton with my father in June of 1990 after my six month contract had ended. Richard said that “we could try to be a family again”. Scott didn’t move with us due to his obligations in Ontario at the time.

I lived on Canadian Forces Base Greisbach for about 1-1/2 months before my father bought a house in Morninville, AB.

The thing about “being a family again” didn’t work and I had my own apartment by October of 1990. I can’t remember when my brother finally arrived in Edmonton, but it was after I had my apartment.

Just as things didn’t work out between Sue and I in “her” new house in Morinville, things didn’t work out between Sue and Scott in Sue’s new house.

I guess that my brother and I were too uncouth to be in “her” house.

It’s probably a good thing that she got her kid off the bases before he got too old.

Scott ended up at my apartment with Richard stating that “I owed it to him (Richard)” after all he did to raise my brother and I without the help of that “silly bitch of a mother” of ours.

Richard absolutely refused to help with groceries or anything else, so Scott ended up going out to our mother’s acreage.

I left Edmonton in February of 1992. The economy sucked, I was unemployed and on welfare. I moved to Vancouver, BC.

I forget the actual sequence of events, but one day on the way to work Scott and his girlfriend were riding the Skytrain.

I think this was when Scott was attending “Columbia Academy of Arts” to be a mixing technician for music recording.

I’m thinking that this was around 1996ish. We didn’t stay in contact for more than a month or two.

Around 1998ish, Richard called me up at my place of employment and told me that Scott needed help to fix his car and because I owed Richard for all that he had provided to us when we were kids this was expected. Again, Scott and I didn’t stay in contact.

I know that Scott and his girlfriend celebrated New Year’s eve 2000 in Vancouver.

The next time I saw Scott was in 2003 when I went to Edmonton with my then girlfriend to see Richard. Richard had no time. I spent more time hanging out with my stepmother than I did with Richard.

That was the last time that I’d ever see Richard alive.

I saw Scott maybe once or twice during the week my girlfriend and I were in Edmonton.

I never did see Scott again until the summer of 2013. I had to contact Scott due to a Federal Court matter I had going on in which I had read his statement to the CFNIS in 2011 and I had some questions to ask him about his statement and the notes that were taken by the investigating officers. I also wanted to share with him the contents of our previously unknown Alberta Social Service Records and our Children’s Aid Society of Toronto records and my foster care records.

We hung out over the course of a week. That was something that I never thought would have been possible before. But after having read the social service records I realized that Scott and I turned out the best we could considering the defective household that we grew up in.

The highlight of the visit was Scott and I stopped for coffee and donuts at a coffee shop in the east side of Edmonton. Anyways, we’re sitting there and this elderly gent comes up to the two of us and asks us if we could please stop swearing as it’s too much for him and his wife.

Yeah, that’s one thing Scott and I did pick up from Richard and his mother. I’m not sure who swore worse, grandma or Richard. Grandma could unleash her profanities and put Richard to shame.

What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you want something to fucking cry about? I’ll give you something to fucking cry about. You fucking little asshole. You goddamn silly fucker. You little fucking cocksucker. That was from both grandma and Richard. Richard wasn’t afraid to let go with “you stupid cunt”, “you’re a fucking stunned cunt” and other choice words directed to his mother and other women around him.

In the fall of 2013 things fell apart between Scott and I, no doubt due to my brother’s recent re-aquaintence with my father.

My father had contacted my brother via our stepmother as Richard wanted to know about the Written Examination for Federal Court that I had subpoenaed Richard with. I guess Richard never thought that I would have seen the statement he gave to the military police in 2011 in which he denied that my brother and I had ever been sexually abused on CFB Namao, and in which he totally erased our grandmother from our past. I also don’t think that Richard thought that I would ever get my foster care records or my social service records.

But nonetheless Richard had to cover his ass.

I don’t blame my brother. I’ve known for a long time that Richard was a skilled and masterful manipulator. I’ll readily admit to being manipulated by Richard. Richard could manipulate anyone. I have no doubt that his manipulation skills were the only thing that allowed him to enjoy a 30 year career in the Canadian Armed Forces.

My brother and I didn’t really speak again until 2019. Since then we’ve had sporadic conversations. Nothing too in depth or extensive, and I honestly don’t think things will ever get better. That’s the way Richard raised us, and that’s what Richard wanted.

Scott and I were two strangers living in the same household.

I don’t think that Scott ever realized as a kid that our family was in as much trouble as it was, I know I sure as hell didn’t have the foggiest idea until I got my social service paperwork in 2011.

No doubt Richard had lied to Scott over the years and convinced Scott that nothing had happened on CFB Namao.

I don’t think Scott honestly believed anything of what I had to say about CFB Namao until the Canadian Armed Forces finally released the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the 1980 Courts Martial transcripts in November of 2020 which indicated that the military police in 1980 were very well aware of what the babysitter and Captain McRae had been doing to young children on the base.

It also helps that I have my class action going on at the moment because if I was Scott I wouldn’t believe a single fucking thing that came out of my mouth.

Do I blame Scott?

No.

How could I?

I know the household that Scott grew up in.

Fuck, I wouldn’t believe anything that came out of my mouth if I was him either.

As kids, when things went wrong in the house Richard would simply blame either Scott or I for what went wrong.

It was like he was doing everything to keep us at each other’s throat.

Gabor Maté observed that “no two children have the same parents” meaning that parents treat each child differently no matter how much they try to treat each child the same. Richard took that observation to the extreme. Not only did Scott and I not have the same father, but the father we had changed on an almost daily basis.

One day I was Richard’s little buddy, and the next day Scott was Richard’s little buddy.

Richard wouldn’t give the slightest fuck about Scott watching cartoons, but if I watched cartoons I’d get berated for watching that fucking horseshit. What the fuck is wrong with you, that shit is for little kids, why the fuck are you watching this?

So of course there would be animosity and resentment between the two of us.

Scott would break something, and I’d get blasted for not watching Scott and keeping him from breaking the thing. So of course I resented Scott. It’s what I was taught.

And I sure wasn’t in any position to raise or care for my brother no matter how much my father insisted that raising my brother was my responsibility.

I was diagnosed at age five as having anorexia due to “societal issues” in the house. At age nine, after having been sexually abused for 1-1/2 years I was found to be severely emotionally disturbed and suffering from major depression, severe anxiety, and haphephobia.

I was in no position to “raise” my brother or to take over as my brother’s father.

So yeah, there really isn’t much of any connection between Scott and I.

Hopefully whatever settlement we get from the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces is enough to help him out because that’s all that I can really do.

There will be no magical time machines to jump into and to go back in time and redo our lives.

I don’t connect easily with people.

I have no emotions to offer.

And I’m undergoing M.A.i.D. sometime in 2024.

Our father never taught us how to love or how to be loved.

Richard taught us how to hate, and how to despise, how to show contempt, and how to be isolated.