Rose's Cantina

Ashley Simpson: Don't Let Her Die in Vain

2022-04-27T10:26:00.007-07:00

Six years ago, I was combing through my Facebook and I saw post from my cousin Julie Major. Her brother and his wife were frantically looking for their daughter Ashley who just days before had Facetimed her mom saying she was planning to return to her home in Niagara.

Ashley never made it home. She was murdered in cold blood in her home in Salmon Arm then buried in a nearby field. It would be five and a half years before her body was located, and her boyfriend was charged with second degree murder.

Today, Ashley's urn has a sacred spot in her parents' home, and Derek Favell is in jail awaiting trial by judge and jury. The trial is expected to go into next year sometime.

This has been an agonizing journey for Ashley's friends and family. The pain has never stopped, and the wounds are broken open every time the family has to sit through a series of pre-trial proceedings. Fortunately, this ordeal will end but the pain will never wane for the people, including me, who have been touched by her case.

That same pain is being felt by many families in Canada who continue to look for their loved ones, all who vanished without a trace. Katrina Blagdon, Nicole Bell, Deanna Wertz, Amber Ellis, Jaclyn Smith, Pamela Jones, Caitlin Potts -- these are just a few of the women who are missing. Many are indigenous, but many are not -- despite what the media will tell you.

What the women who go missing have in common is that they are mothers, sisters and daughters. They are the women who help you in a restaurant or a bank, or they serve their country with distinction. There are doctors, lawyers and other professionals on the list, too. Some are hard working immigrant mothers and daughters who left their countries only experience violence in their adopted country.

Oh yes, and they are the victims of domestic abuse. They are harmed by the men they trust and love. They are raped, and hit by hands and plates and cars. Their bank accounts are drained. Their possessions are taken from them. Their children are terrorized.

Many of these women are known to police who visit their houses even though they are law abiding citizens.

Their only crime is trusting men. And that is an ungodly disgrace.

If they are lucky and brave, they are able to leave their abusive relationships. If they stay, they risk dying at the hands of their partners; their bodies are hidden from view then discarded with a shrug -- and there isn't much law enforcement can do. No body, no charges.

Nearly six years it took the RCMP to find Ashley and charge her partner.

Six years!

How long will it take to find all the others? That is the most heartbreaking question of all.

Today, on the day Ashley was taken from her family, I have an announcement.

I am writing a book. It's called Gypsy: The Life and Death of Ashley Simpson. It will be published hopefully in 2023, after Favell's trial has concluded. Much of it has been written already. All I need is an ending.

Gypsy will explore Ashley's life and death in the context of a continuing epidemic of domestic violence and murder in this country. I wish I could say I had answers. But I do have hard questions.

Here's what I know.

Our women are crying.

Our women are bleeding.

Our women are dying.

And the men just walk around free.

This is not a book I wanted to write, but it's a book that I feel compelled to write for the family, and for Ashley who sits like a dragonfly on my shoulder as I type this. She is with me always, whispering in my ear, her words keeping me up at night.

Don't let them forget me.

My life mattered.

Don't let me die in vain.

Vigil for Justice: Amber Ellis

2022-04-27T07:49:00.003-07:00

Amber Ellis, 33, is another woman to add to our list of missing woman in Ontario. Her mother Donna Ellis contacted me and asked that we remember Amber as part of our Vigil for Justice.

Amber is the mother of two children, and she disappeared without a trace on February 2021. You can read about her case here.

Vigil for Justice: Still missing

2022-04-24T07:50:00.004-07:00

It worries me that six years later, these women or their remains have not been found. It's understandable given the fact that the Okanagan is a such a sprawling piece of Canada full of mountains, woods and creeks.

Our Ashley Simpson is the only one. And while we are grateful for the small miracle that brought Ashley home to her parents, and put her boyfriend on trial, it still bothers me that the families of these women have no closure. Six years is a long time to grieve, but the Simpson family can tell you that not knowing what happened to a loved one is excruciatingly painful.

Please read this excellent article, and share it, as a reminder that no woman is safe in this country, and justice is not always served.

Deidra Ann Smith: Vigil for Justice

2022-04-23T13:36:00.001-07:00

On April 30, there will be a virtual vigil for Ashley Simpson and other women who have been murdered or who are still missing in our country. Nearly every month, I am contacted with stories about these women and I would like to include as many as possible as part of the vigil. If you have a story you would like to share, please contact me at rosalita54@gmail.com

On New Year's Eve 2017, Deidra Ann Smith and her boyfriend Justin Robichaud had much to celebrate. Deidra, a mother of three, felt her life was finally getting back on track after years of struggle. The couple decided to throw a party and invited the neighbours to their basement apartment in St. Catharines for a party.

Later, in the wee hours of the New Year, the neighbour returned and bludgeoned the couple. Their bodies were transported 300 kilometres to Haliburton where they were lit on fire; the remains were covered with branches and abandoned. Her family filed a missing person's report on January 24. Three days prior, a woman walking her dog discovered the bodies.

I'll let her sister Tasha Davidson tell the story from there.

It happened in Jan 2018. She was missing for only 21 days but as I’m sure you can imagine, it felt like a life time ago. We had weekly protests in front of the St Catharine’s court house all summer long. It was covered by The Standard and CHCH news as well as a few local radio stations.

My sister and her boyfriend were murdered in a double homicide in their own apartment while they slept by the tenants upstairs. They killed them by hitting them in the head with a hammer and then rented a car and took their bodies and their belongings and stopped in Toronto to pawn their belongings. They then drove three hours away and set their bodies on fire. Some poor soul found them 21 days later walking her dog up in Haliburton.

You can find stories on the case but what you won’t read is how the Crown and Justice system failed in the worst way. It’s a long drawn out case and in the end, out of the three accused, one is walking around on a two-year probation for being an accomplice. The other two just got sentenced this past summer and one is out this November and the third will be out next November. The Crown made a huge mistake and ended up getting accused of abuse of process and they ended up giving all three deals.

The original two counts of first degree murder and two counts of indignity to human remains was eventually dropped down to two counts of manslaughter. That’s it. What they did to my poor baby sister after wasn’t even given a second glance.

The sentencing judge had the power to go against the deal and give more time than the proposed 6.5 years but chose not to. Canadian justice needs to do better. We have gone to our MP and he was supposed to speak with the Minister of Justice. We have yet to hear from him. I pray they do better for Ashley. Our loved ones deserve more than what they endured in their final moments . #justicefordeidrasmith #justiceforashleysimpson #iammysisterskeeper #justiceforkatrinablangdon #betheirvoice

Ashley Simpson: Vigil for Justice

2022-04-21T09:31:00.005-07:00

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.

Last April, we gathered around our bonfires and computers to pray that Ashley Simpson would be found and finally returned to her loving family. It was the fifth anniversary of her disappearance.

A few months later, her remains were found, and her boyfriend was sent to jail. He is now awaiting trial.

On Saturday, April 30, 2022, the Simpson family is asking you to come back together to give thanks, and to once again pray. This time, we pray for justice for Ashley as well as for closure for the families of the many murdered and missing in this country.

There are still women missing in the Okanagan including Nicole Bell, Caitlin Potts and Deanna Wertz who all disappeared around the same time as Ashley. Their families continue to struggle, and need our continued support. We will also pray for family of Pamela Jones an elderly retired school teacher who was bludgeoned to death in her carport in Salmon Arm eleven years ago. Her killer has never been found, and her son Lance continues to struggle with the fact that there still are no suspects in the case.

This year, we will also be holding vigil for Katrina Blagdon, a veteran, who went missing on December 31, 2021 from her St. Catharines home, and still has not been found. Her family travelled across the country to spend the last three months scouring the Niagara area looking for her.

Katrina Blagdon

Finally, we ask you to think about Jaclyn Smith, another Canadian veteran, who disappeared from her home in Costa Rica in 2021 after a fight with her partner. She is still missing.

If you are not familiar with these cases, please take a minute to learn about them.

If you do not pray, please light a candle, write a poem, post a piece of music on Ashley's Facebook page or on Katrina's page in their honour. You can also make a donation to Wings of Mercy a volunteer group that uses drones to find the missing in rural and remote communities. Or you can contribute to the fundraiser for Katrina.

Together, we can raise awareness about the plight of families who lose their loved ones in tragic circumstances.

Our vigil will begin at 8 p.m. Hope to see you there!

Katrina Blagdon: Three Months Gone

2022-03-31T11:17:00.007-07:00

As winter turns to spring, Katrina's Army is stepping up its efforts to cover the waterfronts around St. Catharines/Niagara in all ways possible in hopes of finding the Army veteran who went missing on New Year's Eve -- three months ago.

There have been many developments, mostly positive in her case:

The family finally has possession of her home, car and dog and evicted her ex-boyfriend who had changed the locks on the house. Her bank account has finally been frozen.
A reward of $20,000 has been posted by her family for information leading to Katrina, no questions asked.
A legion of volunteers have been putting up posters everywhere, and are meeting many times a week for ground searches. This is a well organized effort, so as not to waste anyone's time looking for her in places that have already been searched.
There are a number of fundraisers taking place that are helping the family with their expenses. It's been a long road for them since all of the family are from out-of-town. Volunteers have also organized a meal plan for them to ensure that they can spend their time looking for their girl.

All of these activities are listed on Katrina's Facebook site, which you can find here.

It remains a desperate situation made worse by some people who are attempting to thwart all efforts to find out what happened to Katrina. There has been a bit of an angry backlash by some well meaning folks who have been asked not to harass the ex-boyfriend and his posse.

And to make matter worse, the family has been unable to get Katrina's cats back from someone who has been keeping them at the request of the boyfriend. (I cannot believe I'm even writing that!)

There is a lot going on in the world, but sometimes we need to help our own. If you are in St. Catharines/Niagara please volunteer in whatever way possible. If you have a kayak or a scull, get out on the water where instructed if it is safe to do so. If you can help search in other ways, please consult the Facebook page for its series of ongoing organized searches. And if anyone can donate or buy a t-shirt, keychain or other item, please help. And share this post, if you can.

Katrina is a wonderful caring individual who would do the same for you or your family member.

Trevor Lanyon: Australian on the move

2022-03-26T11:43:00.004-07:00

There are people who come into your life for a purpose, who are sent by some divine spirit to lift you up, help you out, and support you in times of need. Trevor Lanyon was one of those amazing people.

He sadly left this Earth in February as a victim of a car crash in Sarasota Florida where he made his home for many years. He was only 68.

I met Trevor when I was living a Disney princess' life in 1989. He was dressed in a morning suit, and opened the door of St. James Manor in the town of York in England. My husband Dan and I were on a long delayed honeymoon, and I was six months pregnant with my daughter, Marissa. Dan was a work-a-holic and never had time for vacations that didn't involve conferences and high level meetings, so this trip was big. I left my two older children, Nicholas and Stefan in the care of a babysitter and off we went to explore the British countryside.

Trevor was an assistant butler at the manor. He also served as the night bartender, and served us our coffee after dinner at the manor's stately Michelin-starred dining room. The manor had fallen on hard times, and we were the only guests so we spent a lot of time with Trevor who regaled us with stories of his unique past. He was born in Australia, and became an accountant, a profession he said he hated. So he set off for Greece where he worked in a restaurant and became an expert in preparing the country's wonderful cuisine. He left Greece for Scotland, and eventually ended up at St. James Manor.

"If you're ever in Canada, please look us up," I told him and gave him a napkin with my number.

"Hmm, well, me girlfriend and I are looking to come to North America," he smiled. "If we come, we'll definitely look you up!"

Two weeks after we arrived home from our trip, Trevor and his girlfriend Angie were on our doorstep in Oakville. They stayed for two years with Angie taking on nanny duties and Trevor running the kitchen, and renovating our basement. They didn't accept a dime from us; they only wanted a place to stay until they planned their next adventure. So when I announced that Dan and I were headed back to Ottawa, the pair decided to bid us farewell and explore America on their bicycles. Talk about a walk-about!

Trevor answered an ad from an elderly couple who wanted someone to drive their car to Florida, so they packed their bikes and tents and headed South. From Florida, they cycled across the U.S. to California picking up odd jobs along the way. They then set their sights on Alaska.

We got the odd postcard from them, and Trevor wrote us with tales of working as a Greek chef in Fairbanks National Park. And then came a terrible phone call from Angie saying that they had been involved in a horrific crash on the Alaska Highway. Trevor was in hospital, and nearly died.

Months later, Trevor arrived in Ottawa without Angie. The pair had split and he was devastated. And so he decided to move back to recover.

He couldn't have picked a better time. Only months before, Dan left me and the kids and moved to Montreal with his mistress. I was beyond devastated and could barely take care of myself, let alone work and mind a family of three kids under seven.

Trevor came to the rescue, and took over the household duties and renovated yet another basement. He literally was my knight in shining armor.

Both of us needed to heal, and we did this together as friends. He took a weight off of my soul. I truly believe that I would not have survived if not for Trevor's kind and steady presence.

Months later, he was off again, headed back to Florida. That was more than 20 years ago. Every once and while, I'd google him but there wasn't much. He was a simple man who probably never owned a computer. He preferred fishing and chatting up friends at his local, I suppose.

Just last year, I found him on Facebook.

We shared a few photos and laughs, and he told me he was living an uneventful life there though he admitted he'd become something of a Florida man quite a few years back and had had a couple run ins with the law. Last I talked to him, he said he was headed out to listen to a buddy's band and have a couple of Buds.

"I'll send you a photo if I can figure out how to make a camera work," he wrote.

I never got the photo. Just a message from his sister Maureen to tell me of his passing. It made me sad to hear, but I realized that Trevor had lived his life on his own terms. Godspeed, Trevor.

Save me a seat, and we'll catch up one of these days.

Update:

Trevor's sister Maureen sent me this note.

Finally heard from Trevor's closest friend in Sarasota, gave lots of info on his last years. Seems he turned his life around, gave up drink. Was heavily involved in the Grace church running the thrift shop, feeding the homeless, running bible studies and whatever else needed doing. He got baptized 4 years ago. This would have pleased our Mum. Teresa says he had a favourite spot they went to often, on the water, so she will scatter his ashes there for us.

Amen

Ashley Simpson: The Pledge

2022-03-19T12:37:00.005-07:00

Today, Ashley's friends and family joined together to wish her well on her next adventure. I like to think that Ashley is not gone as long as people remember her spirit, her smile, and her love of the big adventure.

Over the 32 years she spent on this planet, Ashley touched the hearts of everyone who met her. She challenged her cousins, friends, nieces and nephews to always to push the envelope, to do better, to be better. As her Aunt Patty said today at the service, Ashley was always there for people whether she was driving them home after a party, or helping to organize one. She was a bright and shining light in the world, and she is now taking her act on the road.

Even on her worst day, Ashley brought out the best in people. People started fundraisers and search parties, they flew drones over the treacherous landscape. She reminded everyone that in this life we all need to do our part. And she continues to make her mark. In her name, people are calling for our society to do better in protecting the women and girls who are most vulnerable, to teach them at an early age to value their own self worth, and steer clear of the men who try to harm them.

Because of Ashley, there is now an organization called Wings of Mercy that now boasts more than 1,000 volunteer members who help families search for their missing loved ones all over North America. Since her disappearance, the group has developed new software to help law enforcement, search and rescue and volunteers to identify key markings in rugged terrain that could lead them to the missing.

Ashley's case inspired thousands of people to join social media groups in support of the families of the missing. Her own Ashley's Army has more 1,500 members from coast to coast to coast. Her supporters are there for anybody who needs help.

On a personal note, Ashley inspired me to write blogs to raise awareness about the epidemic of domestic abuse and violence in Canada. Nearly every month, I now receive messages from families of women who have gone missing. In most cases, those women have been abused by their partners. I find it chilling that there are patterns in these cases that eventually lead to the doorsteps of men who have already committed violence.

It is clear to me now that we need to do a better job in teaching our girls how to protect themselves against domestic violence, and place their own value above the interest of any man or boy. Girls need to feel confident that if they ask for help someone will listen. And they need to know there are resources out their to help them leave toxic relationships.

We must also to teach boys growing up that women and girls are not their playthings, or commodities that they can own and control. We can all play a role in making this happen. Parents, teachers, grandparents, bosses, the media and law enforcement.

Ashley's case is a grim reminder that even the most loved and fearless woman is easy prey for a man who has it in his heart to do her harm. It is a cautionary tale. And it is one that bears repeating.

Ashley's dad always says he will never give up in helping the families of the murdered and missing. He made that promise on the grave of his daughter. I pledge to do the same, in Ashley's name. And every member of Ashley's Army will also take that pledge, I am sure.

We have seen the end game. We don't want that for our girls and women or for the families left to grieve.

Now it is time for all of us to do our part.

Safe travels, Ashley. Your work on this Earth is done. I pray that you can now truly rest in peace.

Our work is just beginning.

Jessie Stokes: A domestic abuse survivor's story

2022-03-18T12:48:00.007-07:00

Sometimes, I am in awe of the women in my family. I think about the sacrifices made by my grandmothers and aunts, and the strength and grace of my cousins who often stare down adversity.

I come from a family of widows. My grandmother Ina Crown mourned her first husband who died during WWI. My mother Vera buried her own soldier husband, my father Russ, after he died as a result of PTSD at only 34. As a little girl, I watched the women close to me struggle, and cry when they thought I wasn't looking. I was always looking, and learning.

I still am.

Against all odds, they soldiered on. They were Steel Maples, standing tall against every storm.

In my own generation, I have marveled at the sacrifices made by my cousins to raise whole families on their own, and to deal with many mental and physical health challenges, and I am humbled watching Ashley's family endure the loss of their lovely girl whose only fault was picking the wrong guy.

We've all been there. The Simpson women are not invincible, but we are warriors. We are not super women but we are strong enough to get through the unimaginable. Divorce, loss, single motherhood, addiction, depression, even suicide attempts.

Today, I honor my cousin Jessie Stokes, who is a survivor in all possible ways. At a young age, she raised a daughter on her own, and is now bringing up two young boys while pursuing a career in social work. It's been a rough road for Jessie, who like Ashley, was a victim of extreme violence at the hands of her partner. Yesterday, she was celebrated by the 2nd annual Champions of Change in British Columbia. She received an award as the Brave Survivor of Violence, an individual showing resiliency, strength and dignity in the face of high risk violence.

I am including a video of the virtual ceremony which includes a moving address by Jessie herself who proudly came out of the shadows to tell her story. In it, she talks about her struggles, and her path to a better life. She also explains that she wouldn't be here today if it were not for the police officers, therapists and social workers who supported her in her journey.

Today, she is using her skills and training to help women who struggle with addiction. She hopes one day to work with other victims of violence, and share her first hand experience with them. The world needs a lot more Jessies the been-there-done-that women who can gauge when silence masks fear, and when a plea for help is to not ask for help at all.

It's hard to watch this video, and it may trigger some women, but I urge every woman to share it with women they know who are at risk.

Get up. Get out. Tell somebody. And always have a plan.

Congrats, Jessie.

You've made us all proud!

Katrina Blagdon: Two months gone

2022-03-03T08:22:00.002-08:00

Katrina (Trina) Blagdon disappeared from her home in St. Catharines, Ontario on New Year's Eve 2021. She was last seen at a sub shop at 6 p.m. There have been no sightings of her since. Please read the message below this post and help if you can! RS

A message from Trina's friend, Mara Morgan:

Katrina after all these weeks as I sit here crying writing this it breaks my heart that I still don’t know anything about what has happened to you. You were such an outgoing person and so kind, funny and compassionate that I could not imagine anyone hurting you on purpose. I am praying you are alive and well and needed some alone time. 

I have been trying to find pictures of you in Afghanistan, so people can see the kind of person you are, strong, resilient and hard working. I must say I am very happy to have found two of the most beautiful pictures that show the essence of your soul. The smile that lit a room and the soldier in uniform ready for all.

One is the day we all lined up to get our group picture with the people we trained, lived, slept and ate with while we were away from our family and friends back home. Now this family that had our backs while we were away from home are the ones that have your back NOW STILL and until you return home.

Second one is the one when we so proud stand to receive, Our Medal parade. The one we worked so hard to get through tears, of missing our loved ones from home and from working long hours while we are away, getting hurt at work and late nights of standing in our bunkers while the rocket attacks were going on. Emotions high and all you still had that contagious smile that you are so known for.

I am here waiting, like all your Brothers an Sisters you served with, waiting for you to come home so we can get together and catch up and pick up where we left off. 

A message from Trina's sister Kelly: 

Trina! Baby sister, how do I tell them how much you mean to us? To me?
Do I tell them about the time that you and sister Shelly used to make Blair witch videos just to make us laugh? 
Do I tell them about the time we walked along the cove road and sang songs? I was visiting from university and you wanted me to come and meet your friends lol. A little sexual healing, Jewel and Jay Z never hurt anyone.
Do I tell them about how you used to live with me so you could work at Tim Hortons  in the summers? How I danced around your room with a pot and metal spoon while singing during your first hangover I witnessed 
Do I tell them how we made plans to get posted to the same area (Petawawa) so that we could remain close?
Do I tell them how you called the police when you found out someone had laid their hands on me? Just once. 
Do I tell them how when you arrived in Afghanistan I burst into tears at the sight of your face? I had already been there for almost two months and was just so home sick. You hugged me and said “oh come see little sister”. Then we cried and laughed and cried some more. 
I think this is enough for my heart today. I NEED people to know who you are my beautiful, brave sister! I need you to come home so I can wrap my arms around you and say “come to big sister”.



Here is the latest information. 

Katrina Blagdon: Somebody knows

2022-02-14T12:54:00.000-08:00

If Katrina Blagdon inexplicably walked off to end her life, only she would know why. Friends and family might have mentioned to the police that she was depressed or in despair. But those haven't been the words that have been used to describe her.

She was looking forward to returning home to Nova Scotia. She had just spent time with her boys. She had been chirpy and happy -- her usual demeanour -- on her posts on Facebook.

Katrina was an open book, according to all who knew her. She wasn't a drug addict or mentally ill. She was a seasoned soldier who had seen it all on a tour of Afghanistan. She settled in St. Catharines to start her civilian life as a homeowner with savings and was the proud owner of a lime green Jeep.

No. Katrina did not off herself. She did not accidentally fall into Martindale Pond during a brisk midnight walk around her neighbour. And it seems unlikely that if she were planning her own demise that she would be having a submarine sandwich with her boyfriend and playing board games.

So.

This punts this case into your world, people of Niagara.

Someone knows something.

Someone saw something.

Take it from me, a person who has lived and breathed the case of my cousin Ashley Simpson for six years, plenty of people in Salmon Arm knew stuff about Ashley and Derek. They talked about it online.

They got into fights about it, and threatened me and her family.

It was the worst kept secret in her town.

And people covered up for her alleged murder, Derek Favell, who goes on trial tomorrow in British Columbia charged with second degree murder. (For shame!)

Everybody suspected and some people really knew.

Police didn't find her by just taking a divining rod into a wilderness area not far from her home.

Some anonymous person called in with a tip.

That led police to a place they hadn't looked.

And let me tell you, everybody looked for her.

So if you know what happened to Trina, don't be afraid. Pick up the phone. Even if you have a bad feeling, even if something just didn't sit right over the days before she disappeared, make the call.

Nobody will hurt you.

There is a reward, if that helps.

But by God, I am asking you on behalf of her kids and her lovely family.

Do the right thing.

Inside the Ottawa Insurrection

2022-02-04T07:32:00.004-08:00

Embed from Getty Images

I wanted to share the observations of a Facebook friend who lives near the downtown core. It pretty accurately describes the scene, and offers some insight on what's to come.

As someone living near downtown, I’d like to share some firsthand observations about the “Freedom Convoy” that is occupying the city, as some people continue to believe it is a peaceful protest for truckers:

• There are some semi trucks, but the vast majority are pickup trucks. 95% of them have Ontario or Quebec plates: they did not drive across the country, they largely came from nearby.
• The occupiers are 99% white and 90% male. I’m told that 90% of Canada’s truckers are vaccinated. The occupiers don’t represent truckers or the broad population of Canada.
• The signs and rhetoric do talk about “dropping the mandates”, but many of them also believe COVID or the vaccines to be some kind of conspiracy or hoax. These people do not seem to believe that the pandemic is real.
• The honking is constant, going on about 18 hours a day in the core. It’s deafening at the street level and a constant irritation even from inside. It is much more stressful than you would imagine. We don’t get as much honking where we are, but there have been loud helicopters circling above most days for 6-10 hours.
• Going anywhere near the occupiers practically guarantees harassment. They yell at anyone wearing a mask and will sometimes try to remove it from their face. Health care workers have gotten some of the worst of it. My wife and I did a 20-minute walk from Centretown back to our homes on the weekend and were yelled at a handful of times by occupiers, even though we took side streets and were not wearing masks.
• Police are, quite simply, not enforcing any laws for the occupiers. I’ve had several friends report things from property damage to threats and harassment. They call the police and are told some variation of “We’re busy, call back if your life is in immediate danger”.
• A lot of the trucks have “FUCK TRUDEAU” flags or writing on them. Many contain unhinged conspiracy theories about the pandemic. More than you would expect have death threats on them, against Trudeau, the government, or vague enemies like “traitors”.
• There are minor crimes constantly being committed. If they were done by someone homeless, the cops would immediately shut it down and fine them. This includes open fires, treating every street/alley/park like a toilet, setting up tents (in the streets), sleeping overnight in idling trucks, and drinking on the streets. These aren’t necessarily putting anyone’s lives in danger, but the selective enforcement of laws is infuriating.
• The occupiers seem to delight in making residents as miserable as possible. People living downtown have no means of changing federal policy, but have been enduring constant hardship since the occupation started.
• Many businesses in the core have shut down until the occupation leaves, including the Rideau Centre. This makes it even harder for the locals to get food or supplies, as well as the financial damage to business owners and employees after an already difficult 2+ years.
• People working in restaurants or other businesses that remain open are regularly harassed by the occupiers. Many of these are just young people trying to do their part-time jobs. 
• The occupiers are building some structure in Confederation park and are stockpiling propane tanks and gasoline. The NCC, who manages the park, asked the police to remove this. The police reported that they had, then it turns out they didn’t and the stockpile is still there. The NCC doesn’t know what to do now.
• As the occupation goes on, it brings more right-wing extremists. Yesterday, a large group of Q-Anon supporters arrived, including a woman who has told everyone she is the queen of Canada, has secretly deposed the government, and called for the 70,000 people who follow her online to kill anyone trying to vaccinate children.
• The police have said that they suspect the occupation is being influenced and funded by American political actors. The police have also said that they suspect the occupiers have and are bringing in more guns.
• As a result of this, about half of my friends have left their central homes to stay with family or friends indefinitely. Most people do not have the privilege of having another place to go, and many have avoided leaving their homes unless necessary because of the street-level noise and harassment.

Just because nobody has been killed yet does not mean this is peaceful. The media has largely done a poor job of conveying what the experience is like living near the occupation. I don't advise that you visit the core to experience it, but I hope you'll understand the severity of this occupation on our people here in the city.

Ron James: National Treasure

2022-02-01T09:54:00.006-08:00

I'm sure Ron James would cringe at being called A National Treasure.

He'd probably say his body has not yet been discovered in the Tundra or fossilized after his family jewels were eaten by bears. It's true, he hasn't had a cabin in the woods named after him like Pierre Berton where starving comics can go, suck on a pickled toe and try their material out on otters. He doesn't have an Order of Canada or a Governor's General Award, either.

But a National God Damned Treasure he certainly is.

He's had his own television show, and a comedy special that ran so many times on New Year's Eve that the CBC smoked the videotape. He failed as an actor in Hollywood so he came home to make the best of it in Canada -- and what's more Canadian than that!

He does have some hardware including a Gemini and a Genie, and two Canadian Comedy Awards. But he'll even admit that he is a B List celebrity who gets airline upgrades not because he's famous but because he travels so many kilometers every year.

Maybe he hasn't gotten the big awards because people have a hard time finding him. Now in his early 60s, he's still touring Canada and playing the bingo halls and the legions, swapping stories with the locals, and signing DVDs for wayward seniors.

Ron James is our version of the Hardest Working Man in Canadian Show Business, a man who could still draw a crowd around the television on New Year's Eve up or down the Bell channel playlist, but prefers to be a road comic spending his off hours donning hip waders and snow shoes to commune with our rapidly deteriorating climate, what's left of which is being sucked into sinkholes by well meaning do-gooders.

In short -- and he is that -- Ron James is a b'y doing standup in front of a country, asking it to love him.

In his new autobiography, All Over the Map, Ron takes the reader on a journey that would have made the late Peter Gzowski squeal with throbbing love. Whether he's up in a bush plane with a 300 pound narcoleptic bush pilot or sitting beside a Newfie granny forced to travel the country to see her wayward brood, Ron never fails to get the last laugh or squeeze out a tear.

He shares his memories of living with an elfin father back home in Nova Scotia, a man who was fast with a joke and a jig who delighted in the odd trip to Newfoundland.

"So eager was Dad to embrace his tribe, the man practically did a tuck and roll out the passenger-side door onto the road before the car came to a stop...Entering the house as if it were his own, he ruled the place with the skill of a seasoned road comic, regaling the kitchen with bawdy jokes in his typical machine-gun delivery and bug-eyed animation. His face took on that familiar glow born of a good buzz, as our hosts poured rum after rum for the elfin trickster whom I'm sure they thought had left a hidden forest kingdom for a night to work his magic among mere mortals."

Did I say he could write?

While his many stand up appearances leave fans wetting themselves with glee, this book is unafraid to expose the pathos and indignities experienced by ordinary folk who are largely ignored by people chasing fame and the almighty dollar. He writes about good decent people making the best of their lives, just trying to get along.

Mostly, it's just a great, great read especially for people like me who have long since given up any hope of business time at the end of the evening, and prefer the company of a little fellar who can spin a tale or two about the people of this amazing country. He's like a dose of Sleepy Time tea right before bed, or a gummy laced with love and goodness.

Now a small disclaimer here.

I've always been a Ron James fan, and I finally met the man in Ottawa when my dying friend asked if I would take her to one of his gigs at the EY Centre. The doctors had given Jennette the talk, giving her only a few short months.

"What's on your bucket list?" I asked Jennette after the appointment.

"I've always wanted to see Ron James," she said.

Jennette had decided she wanted to go out laughing.

And laugh she did. She laughed so hard, her cancer-ravaged bandaged chin started bleeding all over the place. While she was powdering her nose, and wrapping herself in a Mummy-like bandage, I held a place in line so she could meet Ron James.

Seeing Jennette ambling along on her walker, Ron left his post signing DVDs, and came over to my little friend with a handful of tapes of his greatest hits. He put his arm around her, and posed for a picture, filling her tiny heart with joy.

"Finally, somebody who's shorter than I am!" he quipped. "Don't run over anybody with that walker, darlin'".

Jennette was absolutely elevating like a helium balloon after getting in the car going to go back to her residence.

I still have the DVDs, and now I have the book.

He's a good egg, I say. Damned fine human. Not yet eaten by bears, or given a pin by the G-G to hold up his britches.

So go buy the b'y's book, will ya?

After all, he's a National Treasure.

Jaclyn Smith Ferland: Five Months Gone

2022-01-31T11:53:00.002-08:00

I received a request recently to raise awareness about the disappearance of a B.C. woman who vanished from her home in Costa Rica after a fight with her husband.

Jaclyn Smith Ferland, 40, was reported missing in August from her home near Playa Hermosa after returning home from a physiotherapy session.

A Facebook page has been set up, and dedicated to the search for the Canadian forces veteran whose husband said that she left on foot in "mental distress" after becoming angry with him. She left, he said, after he went into the shower.

This is another disturbing missing person case with an all too familiar ring to it. She left. On foot. With only her passport and wallet, but no suitcase. There has been no trace of her, and no activity on her bank and credit cards.

Family and friends of Jackie say there was no reason for her to disappear into thin air, with no sightings, no cab rides, so security footage, or phone calls home.

A former acquaintance of Jackie, Krista Marshall, who lives in Costa Rica, has joined in the search for the missing woman. Jackie's family has flown to Costa Rica from their home in Abbotsford.

Krista contacted me because she was frustrated that nothing was being done.

"This case is incredibly confusing," she told the Abbotsford newspaper. "There have been zero leads. I know from a case last year where a woman went missing and was found six days later that the environment is very hostile. But how can they find nothing at all?"

The case is very similar to that of Katrina Blagdon, another veteran who went missing in St. Catharines on New Year's Eve. There is no trace of Katrina despite a massive search in the area. Her family is still in the Niagara area and is being supported by volunteers and donations.

Among the volunteers are the parents of my cousin Ashley Simpson who disappeared nearly six years ago in Salmon Arm. Her body was discovered in December and her boyfriend has been charged with murder.

How can so many women vanish into thin air?

Nothing seems to add up.

Why do the authorities and the media lose interest just days after these women go missing?

Please share.

No More Stolen Sisters.

Rose's Cantina Reaches One Million Readers! Time for a Margarita.

2022-01-25T08:45:00.006-08:00

A note to my readers on the occasion of my million view milestone.

People become bloggers for many different reasons. They want to express themselves creatively. They want to make money. They want to become influencers.

I began blogging to save my mental health.

It all began back in 2009 when I published an essay in the Globe and Mail entitled: We're Living the $10 Life. In the essay, I wrote about the serious downturn my life had taken after a bitter divorce that left me reeling. Even though I had recoupled with the wonderful Scott, we were barely making ends meet.

It was a terrible time for both of us even though we had enjoyed successful careers in the past. When we met, Scott was living in misery. He'd taken a buyout and left his career as a CBC cameraman to pay off an abusive ex-wife. I was a freelance speechwriter, and I had lost most of my income because I was a Liberal living in Stephen Harperland.

Together we were raising three teenagers, cannibalizing tropic fish and a gaggle of dogs.

It could have been a sitcom if it wasn't so sad.

The article turned out to be a big hit for me but it was highly polarizing. Many readers left me warm and thoughtful messages while others left comments that were extremely hurtful. I was called every name in the book: a loser, a complainer, a waste of air. If my life was so bad, why didn't I kill myself?

That sort of thing.

I didn't take it personally. In fact I realized I had hit a nerve.

So I decided to try out this blogging thing, and immediately set up an account with Blogger. That was 1,200 posts ago.

Blogging is invigorating. It involves unlimited navel gazing. It illicits powerful hits of seratonin at all times of the night and day.

Looking back, I cringe at my own self-involvement, and often mean-spirited postings. I was angry and hurt and sometimes frankly mentally unwell at times. That is why it is always good to go back and delete some shit. Which is the other upside of blogging -- it's not like being published a newspaper some place -- you can always delete it. (Though of course, not really.)

Back at the beginning, I found it so freeing to write about my life, its ups, its downs. Poverty. My life as a single mother. The constantly evolving puppy pile.

What began as a daily rant has evolved into something a bit more gentile. I got tired of listening to myself. It was dragging me down.

And so I began to write more essays about the people in my life including my friends Roger and Jennette who allowed me to record their very strange life, including their gruesome health challenges. Chronicling Jennette's terrible journey through cancer changed me forever, and pinged the hearts of so many readers. She truly was an inspiration to me and remains in my heart today.

Six years ago, I was invited on another terrible journey being taken by my cousins John and Cindy whose daughter Ashley disappeared in Salmon Arm after a fight with her boyfriend. The Simpsons allowed me into their nightmare where I rode shotgun through all the searches and heartaches.

I stopped blogging altogether for months at a time because I was so damned depressed that I couldn't write. Maybe it was Trump, maybe it was just the whole injustice of the world around me. Maybe it was because I couldn't save the day, make things better. People died. Children remained unfound. Killers were still on the loose.

And then I got a phone call from John Simpson in early December saying that Ashley had been found and her boyfriend was in jail charged with her murder.

As sad as the ending was, I realized that my blogging about Ashley had made a difference. For better or worse, I realized that my blog had gotten the attention of the media, the cops, the community.

Being a pain in the ass wasn't a bad thing after all.

And so I made a turn, and a decision.

I was going to do for others what I did for the Simpsons. I was going to help those families out there looking for their loved ones.

In just the past few months, I've already written about Pamela Jones, the retired school teacher who was murdered 10 years ago in Salmon Arm. Her killers have never been brought to justice, and her son Lance continues to fight for victims' rights.

And just this past month, I decided to take on the case of Katrina Blagdon, the army veteran who is still missing in St. Catharines, Ontario.

Someone has to speak for the missing. Someone has to be a pain in the ass of law enforcement and the bad guys who seem to get away with hurting our women folk. Someone has to give the media, and the government a kick in their lazy butts, and remind them that every missing person is a wife, a daughter, a mother, a husband, a friend.

And that someone is me.

I want to thank all of the readers who have supported this blog over the years, who took the time to click on the link, who took even more time to leave me a kind note.

As this blog reached the milestone of one million readers early this morning, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the kindness of friends and strangers. My readers are awesome.

And there's something else.

Believe it or not, blogging saved my life.

Now it's time for a party!

Katrina Blagdon: The Search Continues

2022-01-24T14:12:00.002-08:00

On Sunday, volunteers travelled to St. Catharines from across the province to help in the search for Katrina Blagdon, the 37-year-old Army veteran who went missing on New Year's Eve. They fanned out across the area surrounding Martindale Pond, and the Henley Course, in hopes of finding any evidence of what might have happened to the mother-of-two. Searchers included other military personnel, as well as friends and family of the well-liked woman who was reported missing on New Year's Day.

The last sighting of Trina was on New Year's Eve around 6 p.m. at a local sub shop. She disappeared without her wallet or her lime green Jeep, and there has been no cell phone activity since that night.

Her family, some of whom have come to St. Catharines from as far as Nova Scotia, are being supported by more than 3,000 members of a Facebook site which has been set up to organize searches and to provide accurate information about her case. She is also being supported by a well organized fundraising drive that includes a Go Fund Me page which has raised more than $8,000 to support the family in their search as well as a raffle for a bucket of booze, even a bath salts fundraiser.

The family is also being provided with home cooked meals and dining gift certificates. One of the chefs is John Simpson whose daughter Ashley Simpson disappeared six years ago in Salmon Arm. Ashley's body was just recently recovered, and her boyfriend has been charged with second degree murder.

Raising money and cooking food is the Simpson family's way of giving back. Both John and his wife Cindy are professional cooks who work on the ships that travel the Great Lakes. They had pledged to help the families of the missing and murdered in Canada, but they did not expect that on the weekend John left to bring his daughter home from B.C., another family's child would go missing right in his own backyard.

"I never met Trina but she seems to be a wonderful woman who gave her time to the country in service in the Armed Forces as I once did," he wrote on her Facebook site. "Her family needs our support and I will always pay this forward as I have gotten my girl back. Not the way we wanted but home is home for us."

Despite these efforts, many who suffer in the Missing and Murdered community continue to be frustrated by the lack of quick action by authorities in cases that do not involve children or the elderly. The mother of Shaelene Bell who went missing from Chilliwack last January is calling for creation of an early alert system that would kick in when people disappear.

According to a petition on Change.org, one of the challenges encountered when a person goes missing is the time it takes to bring awareness of a case into the public spotlight.

"Days can be wasted and critical evidence lost or destroyed in the process," the petition says.

Shaelene's body was located six months after she disappeared. Her family believes quicker action could have resulted in her being found much earlier.

To date, according to Canada's Missing website, approximately 70,000 people were reported as missing across Canada in 2020. Roughly 40,000 were minors; the remaining 30,000 were adults.

Another problem with the system is that unless it can be demonstrated that foul play is a factor in a disappearance, authorities have their hands tied in pursuing an investigation. Thanks to the efforts of families of the missing in Ontario, the Missing Persons Act came into effect in July 1, 2019 which will give police increased resources to investigate missing persons cases.

The act is design to help police who are stonewalled because of privacy regulations that limit their ability to investigate the whereabouts of the victims and whether they had accessed their bank accounts -- even if they have landed in hospitals.

The legislation was prompted by the efforts of Maureen Trask whose son disappeared in 2011. Trask could not even get information about whether her 28-year-old son visited a hospital because she did not have power of attorney.

"Without having that information, it's very difficult to track their movement including things like video, perhaps at places where they were last known to be," Trask told the CBC at the time.

Most of the call for change has come from families who have lost loved ones, such as the Simpson family and others like RL Dakin who volunteers her time setting up social media sites for families who have taken to Facebook and Instragram to ask for help locating their loved ones.

"It wasn't until I had that personal experience that I understood how frightening and heartbreaking the experience of having a missing loved one can be," she said. "It made sense to me that if there was a missing person's group for someone it should be well organized because that would improve the efficiency of any search effort. Instead I was seeing groups where it might be day five or six, and members were still asking where the poster was, and no one was there to answer."

In coming days, another group of volunteers will take on a search using drones to surveil areas where it is difficult for search and rescue personnel to tread. Wings of Mercy was created in response to the plight of the Simpson family and friends who were unable to search the treacherous terrain around Salmon Arm where their daughter Ashley was eventually found.

Today, that Facebook group has more than a 1,000 members who are trained in the use of technology to conduct search and rescue in remote and rural locations. Since the creation of the group, new software has been developed to help pinpoint areas of interest which many searcher may have missed.

One challenge continues to be keeping up the momentum in a search after the initial first few days. Communities don't have the resources to pay for professional searches, and so it is left to the families and friends to continue to comb the bushes and scour the fields.

The biggest challenge remains keeping these cases in the public eye. Media rarely cover them after the first few days, and only express new interest if there is a development such as the location of a body. Fortunately, social media is there to fill in the gap. By joining these missing persons groups, people become invested as they learn more about the missing individuals and their families.

The group Please Bring Ashley Simpson Home continues even now, and is needed more than ever by the Simpson family. Its 1,400 members have supported A GoFundMe campaign that raised nearly $8,000 to help offset the expenses of bringing Ashley home.

The social media groups also offer incredible support, and hope for the families like Katrina's.

"We never give up," John Simpson says. "We will be there for Katrina's family until we find her."

Katrina Blagdon: Trina's Army

2022-01-21T11:37:00.004-08:00

Just be a good person, love who you can, help where you can, give what you can."

Trina Blagdon, December 14, 2021

Ask anyone who knows Trina Blagdon, and they will tell you that they have never known a more positive person. While others are trashing their exes, and complaining about the plague, Trina spends her time on Facebook posting positive messages.

But she is so much more than platitudes. Trina is a woman of action.

She was a soldier for 14 years, and has been to Afghanistan. She saw first hand what suffering was. Like most who served, she kept her suffering to herself, preferring to help others in her military family through the hard times. She took in a girl whose mother was deployed.

"I've never been more scared in my life," Rachel wrote on her Facebook page when Trina went missing. "My rock was leaving, my mom, my best friend. I fell into a pretty deep depression and I would lie in bed at Trina's for days just trying to understand my own feelings and thoughts.

"You better believe Trina was there daily, getting me up even to get some fresh air. She got me my first job at McDonald's, brought me there with my resume and sat outside until I came back out and I had the job!"

She was there often for many other women who served including Stacey.

"She helped me through a really rough time in my life. She was my friend when nobody else wanted to be. She took me to a Christmas party, brought me to her home, told me to pick out a dress from her closet. She did my hair and makeup and off we went together.

"I remember on the way there I said to her, 'You don't need to do this.' She replied with a simple smile."

It's been more than 20 days since Katrina disappeared into thin air somewhere between New Year's Eve and New Year's Day after sharing subs with her boyfriend in my hometown of St. Catharines, Ontario.

There are no indications that Katrina was depressed. In fact, she was happily making plans to return to her home in Nova Scotia sometime this month.

And so we ask: why would someone as happy as Trina, so full of love for others, so delighted in being a mom, and a veteran, and a woman with a bright future, disappear in the middle of the night without a car, without her wallet, without any cellular activity?

As a veteran, Katrina had resilience built into her. She knew that if she was in trouble, she could reach out just as her friends so often reached out to her. She knew her military family had her back.

She also had tons of support from her loving parents, sisters and baby brother, her sons, her friends.

I am sure she would have connected, if she could.

Which leads me to darker thoughts. Sometimes an unexpected malevolent wind blows through when it's least expected. Sometimes, that wind blows from a place where we seek love and shelter.

Sometimes your enemy comes from within.

We hope, against all odds, that Katrina will be found safe and sound.

In the meantime, we will continue to knock on doors, comb the fields, and review the tapes.

We are Katrina's Army. We will never give up.

And she will not be left behind.

Katrina Blagdon: Fourteen Days Gone

2022-01-14T08:10:00.000-08:00

As John Simpson prepared himself for a return to British Columbia to retrieve the ashes of his beloved daughter Ashley, another women's family began a frantic search for their own missing loved one right in John's own backyard.

Trina Blagdon was reported missing on New Year's Day. She is 37, the same age Ashley would be if she hadn't been murdered six years earlier in the small town of Salmon Arm. John couldn't help but notice the similarities between the two women. Ashley was raised in rough places, in logging and fishing camps across the country working as an assistant to her dad who is cook. She knew how to live in the wilderness, and survive in the elements.

Trina is a military vet who retired in 2016 as a M/Cpl after 14 years in the Army. She had proudly fought in Afghanistan, and there wasn't much she hadn't seen in her young life. So going missing on New Year's was alarming for her family. People like Ashley and Trina don't vanish into thin air.

It's been a week since John brought Ashley home in an urn, and it has been 14 days since Trina disappeared from his home community of St. Catharines, Ontario. She was last seen on New Year's Eve after visiting a fast food joint. Police believe she is travelling on foot.

After a short family grieving time, John knew what he had to do. He got on social media to round up anyone who would join him to look for Trina in the Niagara area. Then he put on his boots, and heavy coat, and went out looking for her himself.

"We know what it's like and we want to help," he says. "We want to help people out of that situation and bring families closure."

John knows first hand what it's like for a family when the search and rescue forces go home. Just days after Ashley disappeared, officials ended their rescue attempts and it was left to the family to travel to Salmon Arm, right across the country from their home in Niagara, to look for her. John went back several times, so did Ashley's sister Amanda and her friends. The search for Ashley nearly killed him, and certainly caused financial hardship for the family.

He doesn't want anyone to relive his horror story, so he is dedicating the rest of his life to helping raise awareness, and funds, to aid in the search for the missing.

And he wants people to know that governments need to know better, and do better in supporting the families. John was cut off Employment Insurance because of a provision which deemed him ineligible for support because he had to leave the province to look for his daughter. It was a cruel blow but he had to soldier on to find his daughter.

It took six years before Ashley's body was located by hunters in the wilderness not far from the home she shared with her boyfriend, Derek Favel who is due in court on January 18, charged with her murder.

Six years of excruciating pain, always wondering, always fearful when the telephone rings.

"It's hard to wonder how, as you're grieving and trying to find your lost child, how you're going to pay the rent because you're not working any more and put food on the table for the rest of the family.

"What stops a country from trying to find its citizens who have gone missing?" he asked a reporter recently.

John only received government assistance after Ashley's body was found.

Today, his grief is as profound as it has ever been. And so he takes some comfort in knowing that he is doing something to help Trina's family.

So tonight, once again, he is meeting some mates and putting together a plan to locate her.

He has learned the hard lesson as part of the club no one wants to join.

The love has to go somewhere.

Ashley's Ashes

2022-01-07T03:54:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, John Simpson took his daughter Ashley for a walk in the drizzly nasty B.C. weather, and had a long talk with her.

It's been six long years since the pair were together, working side-by-side, cooking up grub up in Pink Mountain, B.C. Six years since Ashley disappeared after a fight with her boyfriend, Derek Favell, who now resides, rightly so, in a prison of his own making.

Now, they are once again joined at the hip, together again forever, their fate sealed by a moment in time.

The talk was one-sided, of course. Ashley will never again make cupcakes for her nieces or take a dare to toboggan down a steep hillside in a bikini. There will be no more fishing trips, or adventures. No more photos for the selfie queen.

John is bringing his beloved daughter home in a box. He only has Ashley's Ashes to talk to now, but it gives him comfort. He can feel her spirit emanating from her urn, and take some solace in the fact that she is no longer exposed to the rain and the snow on a hillside where she was discovered by hunters a month ago.

She is here, with her family, which is where she belongs.

"We take turns talking to her, taking her for a walk, offering up some herb for our girl, doing a little shopping for snacks," he says, as he himself is comforted by his daughter Amanda and Ashley's cousin Bobbie Lynn who accompanied the grief stricken father on this terrible journey.

"She had such a huge love for life, and now there's a huge hole in our hearts. There will be way more tears when we get home."

John wants to thank all of Ashley's supporters -- Ashley's Army as he calls them -- for raising money, and bolstering his spirits with posts of support on social media. He'll need their strength as he faces the next big challenge -- looking her killer in the eye, in court, and seeking justice for Ashley.

He knows the road ahead will be long, and painful.

But just for today, John's heart is filled, as he takes his walk with Ashley, and does his crying in the rain.

If you have a moment, dear reader, please leave a note at the end of this blog or in the comments on Facebook. How did you know Ashley? What do you remember about her? How has her death changed your life? What can you do change the world to make it safer for the hundreds of women and girls who go missing every year?

Pamela Jones: 10 Years Gone

2021-12-13T12:32:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday Mom, I miss you terribly. I try very hard to make you proud of me every single day, I will never stop fighting for your justice; I love you!!! Today would have been my mom's 83rd birthday; I am quite sure she would have made it to this milestone no problem, her killer had other ideas!!! My birthday wish for Mom, is Justice and closure."

December 9, 2021 -- Lance Jones

Ten years ago, Pamela Jones was murdered in cold blood in her car port in Salmon Arm, B.C. The former school teacher was known by nearly everyone in this town of 17,000 but to date no one knows who left the senior to die alone.

The police have never told the family how she died. Her son, Lance Jones, was denied access to the medical examiner's report, and says he's been kept in the dark and basically told to keep his mouth shut.

He now lives in Calgary, Alberta. Every day, he does 100 push ups in his mother's memory; so far he had done 59,000 push ups.

He also runs the Pamela Jones Foundation to raise awareness about the epidemic of murdered and missing individuals in Canada.

"If I were to come to a point at the end of my life and I didn't have answers it would not be because I didn't fight for them every single day," he wrote to me this week after hearing about an arrest in the Ashley Simpson case and the discovery of her body.

"I lost my little brother at 39-years-old two years ago from a Fentanyl over dose. That was likely caused by grief," he said. He is hopeful after hearing of Ashley's discovery, but remains despondent.

"I have literally lost the last 10 years of my life to anguish and grief," he said. "They were the best 10 years of my life lost. Meanwhile the killer got to live the best 10 years of their life free. The killer should pay for that."

Ashley was missing for almost six years. Caitlin Potts, Deanna Wertz and Nicole Bell are still missing.

"I think it's great that Ashley's been found," says Jane Aubertin, the mother of Nicole. "There's hope for the rest of us that Caitlin is going to be found, Deanna is going to be found, Nicole is going to be found. There is hope."

And in the end, right now, that is all these poor families have.

Hope.

Ashley Simpson: Death Threats for the Holidays

2021-12-11T09:24:00.004-08:00

I was going to write something a little upbeat this weekend.

It's been a sad time for the Simpson family, but everyone is grateful to the RCMP that Ashley's remains were found. Even after nearly six years, it's gratifying to know that they never stopped looking for her.

And we were pretty pumped that Derek Favell has finally been charged with second degree murder and is remanded into custody until December 21, with the judge giving him the opportunity to secure legal counsel. No problem, dude, everyone is entitled to a lawyer. We'll give you that.

But seriously, Derek. You need to get better friends. I mean, it appears, you still have some. Like this beauty who sent me a friendly note of condolences on Messenger.

I have questions.

Amanda, what's up girl? Why so angry?

Perhaps you need some counselling. Or an actual life.

My cousin John whose daughter was murdered also received a lovely note from you last night. I cannot share it because it is so profane that I would lose my blogging rights if I were to repeat it.

Very creative. The seven words you can't say on television. Plus some new ones that hadn't been invented when George Carlin did his famous routine. You must be British. Only the British refer to males as c---ts.

Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?

I didn't block you BTW because if I blocked you I wouldn't be able to show this nice note to the RCMP which I am doing right after I get off this blog.

People go to jail for uttering death threats, you know?

Anyway, anything happens to me or my family...

Well it won't.

You are a sniveling coward hiding behind your keyboard. Oh yeah, an anti-vaxxer, too.

See, I checked you out.

If you are a real person, you might want to seek legal counsel before the cops come knocking on your door. But don't worry.

I hear Derek knows a lot of lawyers these days.

Have a lovely holiday season!

Ashley Simpson: What I Want for Christmas

2021-12-08T11:46:00.004-08:00

This is Amanda, Ashley's sister. If anyone knows her whereabout please contact myself or my mother....ASAP!!!

April 30, 2016

My cousin Julie Major was worried and shared the post on Facebook with her friends and family. I was confused.

I had never heard of Ashley Simpson, or Julie's brother John who had apparently been adopted years ago by my father's brother, Murray. It's a long story. Suffice to say Julie had many siblings who were adopted by my aunts and uncles, who raised them as their own.

I knew three of the little adoptees but had no recollection of Uncle Murray adopting John who was the blood grandson of Murray's wife Henrietta. Stay with me here.

So now I had a cousin named John and his daughter was missing out in Salmon Arm.

I was intrigued.

"Why would she not call?" Julie asked me in a Messenger post. "It's not her nature to not contact her mom or dad or anyone. She knows her father would come anywhere to get her home safe and sound. He would move the sun and the moon for his kids."

I decided to write a post about Ashley's disappearance. That's what I do. I write blogs.

And so began my involvement in her case.

I simply could not believe how fucked up the whole investigation was. The family suspected her new boyfriend, Derek Favell, who didn't contact her mom for days, then disappeared from view. Cops seemed to be asleep at the wheel, I suppose because back in 2016 they thought it normal for young women to disappear into thin air. (It was.) Locals started fighting when a frantic John arrived with a posse after travelling across the country to find Ashley. Everyone was pointing fingers. Ashley's dad was about to explode, and may have come close to being arrested himself.

Rumors were running wild.

Who was this Ashley? We don't know her. She probably got picked up by a phantom trucker, or maybe she was eaten by a bear.

Locals involved closed ranks and began to spread lies.

I'm a city girl who is used to seeing justice served in the majority of major crime cases. I was shocked that this little hotel worker could simply disappear and nobody was looking for her.

So I contacted her parents and began my own journey to find Ashley, and to hold those responsible to account. First, it was a blog a day. Then a blog a month. That was five years and eight months ago.

In May, we held a virtual vigil for Ashley to commemorate the fifth anniversary of her disappearance, and I wrote a series of blogs, and her parents appeared on numerous television shows, and in the news. Still nothing.

I told the local CBC that as long as I was alive, I would never stop looking for Ashley and putting pressure on the cops to find her. I even prayed to God, and God and I are rarely on speaking terms.

I couldn't get her out of my mind. It was like I had been implanted with a computer program that was always running in the background. I got tips and gave them to the cops. I made friends with people all over the world who call themselves silent searchers.

Even though I'd never met this particular branch of the Simpson family before 2016, I was now considered family. And I would do anything for them.

Then last Friday, we got the news that Ashley had been found "in the wilderness outside of Salmon Arm" and that the boyfriend was in custody charged with second degree murder.

I have so many questions. On the last day of her life, Ashley was in the company of Derek Favell's two friends. When reached by the media this week both said they were no longer his friends. They said they hoped he went to jail.

I have the last picture taken of her with one of those individuals. What about him? He said he dropped Ashley and Derek off, and went home. Okay.

Then how did Derek get rid of the body? By bus? Did he call his mom to pick them up?

Even if Derek acted alone in committing this terrible crime, he could not have hidden her body alone, of that I am sure. Derek relied on friends for transportation so how could he drag Ashley kilometres down the road and get rid of her? Not possible.

Why are the police so circumspect in relation to where she was found? How did they find her in the middle of the wilderness when all ground searches came up without a trace of her? Remember this is a place with rugged terrain and the recent floods and fires would have made it even more difficult to find human remains left to the elements for more than five years. So who tipped them off?

Mostly, why did it take so long? Everyone and their brother concluded that Derek was the main suspect but he was allowed to move to Fort Saskatchewan and other places over the years, and live his life while the Simpson family continued to suffer.

He was only recently considered a suspect. Huh.

Meanwhile, he and his buddies continued to threaten members of the local media, and close friends of Ashley's whenever her disappearance was discussed. They spread wild rumours and innuendo about her character. Derek told a friend of mine that he wasn't even her boyfriend. He was her driver.

People in the local community also feared for their safety. Others kept their silence. To them I say, I hope you sleep well at night.

A journalist asked me last night how I felt when I heard the news. I had to think.

I feel relief that Ashley has been found and will be returned to her loving parents. I am sincerely grateful to the RCMP unsolved crimes unit who took over this case just six months ago, and solved it.

I feel sadness that Ashley's life was cut short in such a senseless act of domestic violence. I feel intense pain for the families of the other women who disappeared from the area that same year, and have not yet been discovered.

But mostly, and I'm not alone here, I am trying to swallow a feeling of intense anger with a side order of disgust that it took this long for justice to be served.

My sense is that this is not nearly over. Others need to be held accountable. Those who helped Derek hide Ashley's remains. Those who hid him, and covered up for him, and made false statements to the media and the police.

Mostly, I fear that the justice system will try to wrap this case up in a big red bow, and send Derek on his way to oblivion alone while others get to walk around and play with their kids, and celebrate Christmas with them.

The Simpsons will never have that kind of Christmas.

There will always be an empty seat at the table.

Ashley Simpson: A Sister's Grief

2021-12-07T09:17:00.003-08:00

As the news of the discovery of Ashley Simpson's remains and the arrest of her boyfriend for murder was exploding all over the news, Amanda Langlois was quietly trying to figure out how to explain to her children that their aunt wasn't coming home.

"I'm having a very difficult time with this," she wrote in an email. "I feel sad, heartbroken and defeated. I'm stuck here trying to build up the courage to tell my daughters about this horrendous outcome."

Ashley has three sisters, Amy, Amanda and Tara who have been through living hell since Ashley disappeared five years and eight months ago. So have Ashley's nieces and nephews especially Amanda's oldest daughter who is described by the family as Ashley's "mini-me".

After Ashley's disappearance, Amanda's daughter withdrew into herself and became quiet, and somber. She didn't smile for months.

The discovery of Ashley's remains, while welcomed by the family, has opened fresh wounds in everyone who knew and loved the 32-year-old. It was hard enough coming together to hold a vigil for Ashley to mark the fifth anniversary of her disappearance last May; now the sadness and anxiety is compounded by the thought of a lengthy trial in British Columbia.

John Simpson has vowed to be there, even though he will have to drop everything and travel across the country. Friends have set up a Go Fund Me page to help with the expenses. It's only money, as far as John is concerned, but the family continues to face financial hardship, including trying to find a way to give Ashley a send off after her body is returned to her family.

What hurts Amanda the most is the fact that she tried to believe Ashley's boyfriend when he told her he had nothing to do with her disappearance.

"I can't even believe he looked me right in the face, told me he loved my sister, and said he would never hurt her. I feel ashamed that I almost believed him after four years. I feel furious that he let us go on this long. I hope he burns in hell.

She is grateful to the RCMP for finding her sister in a wilderness beyond her home in Salmon Arm but it's cold comfort when all she wants is her sister back.

"I'm a bit relieved that we will finally have her home, but I'm in so much pain that she's coming home in a casket."

Please contribute to the effort to help the family. The link to the Go Fund Me Page is here.

Ashley Simpson: Against All Odds

2021-12-06T11:22:00.003-08:00

Statement from the Father of Ashley Marie Simpson

December 6, 2021

On April 16, 2016, our 32-year-old daughter Ashley Simpson vanished into thin air from her home in Salmon Arm, B.C. It wasn’t like Ashley. She took to Facetime every day to speak to my wife Cindy and her friends.

It was more than a week before her boyfriend called Cindy. We knew something was terribly wrong, and so a contingent of her family and friends hit the road in hopes of finding her.

When we arrived, it was clear that no one was looking for her. She had only recently moved to the Silver Creek community, and local residents were distressed to find a small but vocal group of strangers converging on them, bringing the police to their doors.

We encountered many roadblocks, and some individuals who were determined to lead us off track in our search. Our team was inconsolable at the thought of returning to our home in Niagara-on-the-Lake without finding a trace of Ashley.

But we never gave up, and returned to the area many times.

It’s been five years and eight months since that terrible spring. We have busied ourselves raising money to help others in similar situations, and I have dedicated my life to raising awareness about the epidemic of missing and murdered women in this country. My wife Cindy has, at all times, been available to the media to answer all questions in hopes that someone would come forward to give us answers. She also worked behind the scenes with the RCMP and gratefully accepted the support of the officers in charge of Ashley’s case.

We always had hope that, against all odds, Ashley would return to us.

Last Friday, December 3, our prayers were answered. Unfortunately, there was no storybook ending. The detectives from her case travelled from B.C. to personally tell us that they had found our daughter’s remains, and had arrested a suspect. All we could muster were tears of joy mixed with sadness.

We had always hoped that Ashley would be found alive, against all odds, but we also knew that, realistically, the chances of that outcome were slim. As a father, I can tell you, no one can be prepared for news that their daughter was found murdered and left to rot in ground.

But we are grateful that she will be returning to us so she can finally be laid to rest in a place where her family and friends can visit her. We would like to invite all to share that day with us.

The Simpson and McGean families would like to thank the many RCMP officers who were involved in the case. In particular, we would like to thank RCMP Constables Kim Jones and Carla Rivard who worked tirelessly to find Ashley and bring her killer to justice. Their support, sensitivity and encouragement has been a lifeline to my wife Cindy.

When Kim visited us last week, she brought with her Ashley’s rings which were found at the scene. It was a very emotional time for all of us, including Kim and Karla. Sometimes we forget that police officers are people, too. Though they never met Ashley, the officers have spent years doggedly running down every clue, even the smallest ones.

Kim told us when she found Ashley that she followed a single beam of light that shone through the clouds and directed the way to Ashley’s grave. I cannot tell you what a comfort that was to us.

We want to thank the dozens of people who dedicated their time and energy to find our Ashley. We thank the media for always checking in on us to keep Ashley’s case alive. In particular, we want to thank the hundreds of people who are part of Ashley’s Army, an online community that has provided great support to us over the years, and to the Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women’s group who continue to call for justice for the many Indigenous women who remain missing.

As well, we thank the volunteer members of the Wings of Mercy who continued to search for Ashley using ATVs and drones.

We sincerely hope, by finding Ashley, that this gives other families hope that their loved ones will be found and returned to them. There are hundreds of unsolved cases of murdered and missing women and children in Canada, and we must remain mindful that every missing person is someone’s child. No one deserves our ending and families deserve our respect, love and dignity.

The coming months will be difficult for us, but we are strong. We will attend every trial and push for the truth to be revealed. And we will never stop in our quest to fight for more and better resources to support the families and victims of these senseless crimes. We want to change things, and to be the voice for the missing. Our goal is to reunite more families, and support those who are left behind.

From the beginning, our motto has been Never Give Up. And we never will.

We will continue to build Ashley’s Army, in the name of my daughter. It’s what she would have wanted. This is not the end. This is the beginning.

We will not remain silent.

Hear us roar.

John Simpson, Niagara-on-the-Lake

Please find a link to a fundraiser to help our family in the days ahead.

Mellie's Christmas Skate

2021-11-25T10:40:00.002-08:00

Embed from Getty Images

The wind whipped through the peach trees that lined the route Meggie took to get home from school. The skin on her face felt raw from the driving sleet, and her hands were numb from the biting cold. She could feel it through her damp mitts, the ones Grandma had knitted for her in the early fall.

“You never know in this country when the weather’s gonna change,” Grandma told her when she handed her the season’s supply.

She was grateful for Grandma who always had many pairs at the ready. Meggie marveled at the old woman who would knit her fingers raw to keep the family wrapped in warmth during the long cold Niagara winter, with its punishing breath fueled by an angry Lake Ontario.

The little girl couldn’t wait to get home today. It was the last day of school, and her backpack was full of treats from the annual party, as well as cards from well- wishing classmates. It was nearly Christmas, and thoughts of presents and candy filled her head distracting her from the cold.

Meggie rushed in the side door of the tar-papered old farmhouse she shared with her grandparents, Lila and Ernie, her mother, Lettie, and her two brothers. A pair of ancient uncles rounded out the crew.

She dropped her damp mitts and thin pink coat in the hallway and bounded upstairs expecting her Grandma to be hovering over the stove making stew.

She looked around the big kitchen. There was no one there.

Meggie turned the corner into the dining room and was surprised to see everyone sitting around the old oak table. Her aunt Elsa was there, along with her uncle Ken. The ancients were there, too, but there was no sign of Grandpa or her mom.

Elsa looked up and saw the little girl standing in the doorway. Her eyes were red, and her face looked as if she had eaten a pound of sour grapes.

“Hi Mellie,” she started. “How was school today?”

Mellie smiled.

“Great!” she reported. “I got all kinds of stuff at the party and my friend gave me a Nancy Drew book for Christmas.”

“Oh that’s nice, sweetheart,” Elsa said, her puffy eyes wrinkling. “I’m so glad for you.”

The older woman rose from her chair and approached the little girl holding out her hand.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she said softly and led the girl into the living room.

“What’s the matter?” Mellie asked. She was confused, and a little frightened.

“So Grandma is in the hospital,” Elsa explained. “She’s had a stroke. Do you know what that means?”

Mellie shook her head.

“A stroke happens when there is something wrong with your brain and it sort of stops telling the rest of your body what to do.”

Mellie looked at Elsa with wide eyes.

“That happened to Grandma?”

“Yes, so she’s in the hospital.”

Elsa nodded.

“When is she coming home?”

Elsa looked back into the dining room, but there was no cavalry to come to her rescue.

“So, here’s the thing. Grandma’s not coming home. She went to heaven this afternoon.”

Mellie’s eyes welled with tears.

“To be with Penny?”

“That’s right, to be with Penny who will be there with Grandma to be her dog in heaven.”

Mellie remembered the terrible scene last summer when her Golden Retriever Penny was hit by a car speeding down the country road. Mellie had never loved anything more than Penny and she ran to the dog who looked like she was sleeping except her eyes were open, and a small dribble of red was coming from her mouth.

The little girl was inconsolable as she watched Grandpa and Uncle Chet carry Penny’s lifeless body behind the barn, never to be seen again.

“Will Grandpa be taking Grandma behind the barn to be with Penny?”

Elsa laughed.

“No sweetheart,” she said. “Grandma’s going to be buried in the cemetery at the church.”

“Okay,” Mellie said and got up and left the room. She returned to the kitchen and picked up her backpack, opened it, and admired all the glittery cards and treats. She reached for a plastic bag with a red ribbon and a white tag that was filled with chocolates and jellies. Mellie selected a chocolate covered cherry, her favorite, and popped it into her mouth. She loved chocolate covered cherries, relished them because she only got them at Christmas. They were Grandma’s favorites, too. Mellie wondered if there were chocolate covered cherries for Grandma in Heaven.

Then she ate the whole bag of treats before returning to the dining room where her relatives were huddling, smoking and drinking beer and spirits. She wondered about adults, why they didn’t just eat candy instead of filling their lungs with smelly stuff but she guessed there was a reason for it.

“Can I watch tv?”

Elsa looked up.

“Of course, watch anything you want.”

It was Commander Tom time, and Mellie felt comforted by his big smile, and his stupid jokes, and the puppets that weren’t real people.

Nothing has changed, she thought. Commander Tom maybe doesn’t know Grandma’s gone to heaven. I wonder who will tell him?

The little girl crawled onto the couch, wrapped Grandma’s favorite knitted blanket over her shoulders, and fell into a deep warm sleep. She awoke to see her mom looking down on her, with wet eyes and pouting lips. Lettie placed a hand on her daughter’s left cheek, and left it there for a moment, as if she was trying to capture the little girl’s spirit and kindness to fill the big hole she felt in her heart.

Lettie gave Mellie a big warm hug that seemed to last forever.

“Mom,” Mellie said pushing back slightly. “I can’t breathe!”

“I’m sorry, love,” Lettie smiled. “I’m just so glad to see you.”

Lettie led her daughter back into the dining room where Mellie noticed the people had multiplied. There were aunts and uncles and cousins all smoking and drinking and crying.

“I don’t want to be here,” Mellie told Lettie. “I can’t breathe.”

Her mother didn’t seem to notice her slip down the stairs into the basement where Grandpa kept all the sports stuff. Mellie reached into a box and pulled out her skates, the ones Grandpa had bought at the used sports equipment store last year. She grabbed them and headed outside.

“I hope they fit,” she thought to herself.

She was bundled for cold but was grateful that the wind had died down. The air was calm and she pulled it through her nose into her lungs in hopes of getting rid of the lingering smell of smoke. Mellie walked out into the field maybe a quarter of a mile beyond the peach trees. She always thought they looked like old witches holding brooms.

She sat down on the cold earth and took off her boots and fiddled with the laces of her greyish skates. They were a little tight, she thought.

“I hope Santa brings me new ones.”

The land was covered with a light dusting of snow, and the brilliant December moon lit her way, and revealed puddles that had frozen over, maybe twenty of them. Mellie picked a large puddle about the size of her Grandpa’s car, and started to skate, tentatively at first.

As she gained confidence, she practiced small circles. Pretty soon, she was gliding, and imagined herself like Dorothy Hamell swirling around the set of an Andy Williams special while Mr. Christmas crooned Christmas carols.

This was Mellie’s Christmas special, so she decided to select the song. Rudolph, and Jingle Bells, didn’t seem right now that Grandma was in heaven, and couldn’t enjoy Burrell Ives on the tv. Nor could she ring her favorite bell, the one her own mother had given her as a child. This year, Mellie supposed, her mother would be ringing the bell. Or maybe, the bell would sit in its little box. She reminded herself to talk to mom about the bell.

Grandma loved hearing the churchy songs, the ones about Baby Jesus. So she decided to start with Grandma's favorite.

O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining

It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth.

Mellie knew all of the words but she didn’t understand them. She reckoned sin was about being bad, or wrong, but what was error pining?

Still she continued, at first with a small voice. By the time she reached the chorus, her voice began to soar, as if she was possessed by some sort of joyful noise.

She knew she had to wail it out; she was putting a show on.

Oh hear the angel voices

Oh, night divine

Oh, night divine.

And then, as instructed by the song, she fell hard on her knees and began to cry.

Mellie looked up to the sky and watched the twinkling stars that looked like glittering freckles.

“Hi Grandma,” she smiled. “I love you. Say hi to Penny for me.”

And then she sat on her bum and put on her boots.

Her toes didn’t hurt at all.

She looked up once again, and the stars were covered in billowy clouds, and the moon had disappeared.

Mellie grabbed her skates and headed back to the farmhouse.

She took off her mitts, headed down the stairs, and put the skates back in their box. She padded up the stairs, and into the smoke filled dining room.

She realized that no one had noticed she had left the room.