“Where were the parents?” That’s what I see in the comments section whenever I read about child abuse in the news. A lot of people question where the parents were and how they could have let this happen to their children—lots of blaming. But let me tell you, nobody can blame a parent more than they blame themselves. It’s torture. 

When I became a dad my life changed completely. I was young at the time and it felt like I grew up overnight. When things didn’t work out with my ex, I became the primary caregiver for my daughter and I was so grateful. She was, and is, my whole world. I would do anything to protect her. What I didn’t know back then was who I had to protect her from. I thought I was protecting her from strangers—not imagining I had to protect her from her own mother. I don’t intend to share any details of what my little girl endured in her mother’s home, but it’s something that no child should ever have to endure and what most people cannot even imagine. It’s something I can never erase from my own mind, but now my life’s mission is to erase it from my sweet daughter’s. “Where were the parents” you ask?  I was right there. And I didn’t know.

When the police came knocking on my door, my life suddenly changed, and I was thrown into a world I didn’t understand. I felt powerless, lost, overwhelmed, and hopeless. I thought that I’d never be able to put all the puzzle pieces together to even have a hope of finding a path to recovery, to heal from the abuse that had torn through our lives.

What happened next, after the abuse was uncovered, made us feel like victims all over again. There were a lot of kind people who spoke with us, but we never knew who we were going to have to talk to next and we rarely saw the same person twice. Once people got what they needed from us to do their own job, we didn’t hear from them again. We felt very alone, like we were invisible, inadequate, or disposable. And, all that time, I couldn’t help thinking that those who hurt children and cause all this pain, get more support than we do! In the end, we were left with a pamphlet listing a number of places where we could seek help. But by this point I could barely get through the day, never mind finding the energy to seek out services. I’m not sure I could’ve even brought myself to tell people what had happened. I didn’t have the words. I couldn’t. Getting through the day was all I could focus on. 

Throughout the investigation, it felt like no one was on the same page. We had to repeat the horrific details too many times to count, starting from the beginning each time. I started to think the reason we had to do this was because I wasn’t doing a good enough job, that maybe if I had spoken better or explained our story more clearly, then maybe we would have had more help. The constant repetition, and the consistent lack of support or acknowledgement, made me feel like it was my fault we weren’t getting help.

I was connected to Toba Centre after most of the investigation was over. It was at this point when things finally started to change for us. The people at Toba Centre understood what we were going through. We finally felt supported.

I know that Toba Centre has a vision for a new approach to child abuse response and plans for a new centre, and I cannot tell you what a huge difference it will make. For victims and their families, it will be life-altering to have a safe and comprehensive support system. To have people whose primary goal is to help you get through the trauma and recover is essential, and that support does not exist today. It is a sad truth that victims receive less support, less recovery resources, and in a less organized manner than that of their abusers.

Most importantly, it is reassuring to know there are people who will support us over time. There’s no schedule or timeline for healing. They believe in us, and remind us that we can, and will, recover. Sometimes you need people to believe in you, especially when you’re hurt so badly that you just don’t know how to believe in yourself anymore. 

Toba Centre makes me and my child feel valued as a human-beings.

They make me feel like they genuinely want to hear what I have to say and want to know how we are doing.

They offer guidance and regular check-ins. 

They are also organized and knowledgeable about systems I know nothing about, removing a large burden of stress.

They make me feel empowered, like I have a team and a support system that has my back. 

They initiate a lot of communication which is helping remove that feeling of being invisible or disposable.

And, they are so organized and know what the next steps are, which helps alleviate the feeling of being overwhelmed.

I now feel empowered and hopeful that we can heal from the trauma we have faced.

For myself, today, I can’t say that I don’t still blame myself. Or, that I don’t go over and over in my mind, asking whether I could have somehow prevented what happened. But, day by day, it is getting better. The less hidden away we are, and the more open we become, the more hopeful we feel. My daughter deserves a childhood and my only priority is to give that to her. I know now that she can be okay and that is all I need. 

It was a Friday afternoon in the summer of 2017 when the grandparents arrived to pick up their 5 year old granddaughter, Kate, for the weekend.  This was a typical scenario since their daughter, Noelle, worked shifts and was estranged from her children’s father;  Noelle’s parents regularly cared for her children while she worked  and often  provided childcare when she was unable to be home.    When they arrived, rather than seeing their granddaughter waiting with a smile & eager to get the show on the road, they were met with police cars and officers blocking most of the street…as well as being inside the house.  As the story would unfold, the grandparents learned that their daughter and Noelle’s boyfriend (stepdad to Kate and her brother) were handcuffed and led out of the house in front of the very young children and taken away in separate police cars; the arrests were made for child abuse and child sexual abuse imagery, but details were scarce.  Even though the grandparents were identified as being Noelle’s parents, at no point was further information shared other than that Noelle was being questioned.

A communication was made that the young children were to be interviewed at the corner store parking lot by Child and Family Service workers.  At this point the CFS Workers interviewed each child and at no point would communicate with the grandparents who were not only care providers for their grandkids but were also family and the parents of the children’s mother.  When the grandparents were trying to chat with the kids to try to ‘normalize’ the situation somewhat, a CFS worker called out from across the parking lot and said that there should be no conversation with the children.  At no point did they explain the process of what was going on, nor attempt to establish the grandparent’s connection with the children.  Once these interviews were done, the children were to attend Children’s Hospital for forensic exams.

The family sat in Emergency at the Children’s hospital for five hours.  They were in crisis; they were in trauma and no one came out and interacted with them.  No one came out to explain the situation or to see how Kate, the child who was to be examined (and by this point was very frightened) was.  It seemed that no one cared.  We didn’t matter.  Kate didn’t matter.  

After the forensic exam was finally done, the Police called to say that Noelle was ready for release and that she was ‘in a bad way and would obviously need help’.  What seemed to have unfolded was that Noelle was arrested so that she could be used as to leverage information from Jason (Kate’s stepdad) – information about how he had been abusing Kate for at least a year and had been posting naked photos and videos of her online, and selling them to a ring of pedophiles like himself around the world on the internet.  The police showed Noelle some of the pictures and she was overcome with guilt, shock and grief….devastated that this happened under her roof and by someone she loved and trusted.  The trauma of that evening was too much to bear.

Noelle’s parents described her as disheveled and incoherent upon release from the police.  Noelle wanted to die.  She felt shame and felt that she had been manipulated to build a case against Jason (even though there was already clear evidence to his guilt).  Noelle was left in a cold interview room with a table and a chair….and often no one else with her….no one to counsel her or to help her understand the process of what was happening.  She was suicidal and her parents did not think she was going to survive the night.

They attempted to have Noelle admitted to the Crisis Response Unit but after a brief interview with Noelle (who was inconsolable & unable to maintain her thoughts) they sent the family home ‘to rest’.

Three years later Noelle still battles the effects of that night:  she is a shell of herself.  She is often sullen and distant and will not talk about what happened even though Jason is now in jail and Kate is doing well for the most part. ‘Noelle is a victim.  We are all victims’ say the grandparents. ‘We didn’t know where to turn to or what to do to get the support we needed.  We were lost and felt like we had to fend for ourselves. Along this journey we did meet empathetic people who meant well but felt that many of the professionals they encountered did not work in such a fashion as to help provide support and direction….instead we were left to fend by ourselves and do what we thought best’. 

The photos and videos of Kate will likely persist in the dark corners of the internet, perhaps forever, and the profound trauma that Noelle feels will likely be with her for all time but had the supports been different at the outset, their story would be very different.

While the grandparents are still seething at the system’s shortcomings, they are so very happy to learn about the development of the new centre that would help families navigate the process following disclosure of child abuse. Their hope is that the new centre will keep ‘a file open forever’ such that victims and their families can always get the help they need.

‘This is what we needed and it’s shocking that we don’t already have something like this; it’s time’.

Let this story be the reason you step forward today to support the Manitoba Child Abuse Response Centre. Let’s fix a damaged system. For children. For families. For Manitoba.