Barrieland: Moving Out

Picking up where we left off from Barrieland: The Complete Story, Part 1.

Disclaimer: This is Part 12 and the final instalment of the Barrieland series. Please read the Full Disclosure Disclaimer on Part 1 before proceeding.

And then, if you haven’t read them yet, please read the previous posts before continuing to gain full context:

  1. Barrieland: The Complete Story (Part 1)
  2. Barrieland: Moving In (Part 2)
  3. Barrieland: Meet the Neighbours (Part 3)
  4. Barrieland: Ghosts, Ghouls & Other Things (Part 4)
  5. Barrieland: Home Alone (Part 5)
  6. Barrieland: Am I Losing It? (Part 6)
  7. Barrieland: Hello, I’d Like to Speak to a Medical Professional? (Part 7)
  8. Barrieland: Well Now That Doesn’t Look Right (Part 8)
  9. Barrieland: The Lost Files (Part 9)
  10. Barrieland: I Think It’s Time To Leave (Part 10)
  11. Let’s Talk About OsgoodePD – York University (Part 11)
  12. Barrieland: Moving Out (Part 12); You are here.

I’m going to pick this part of the story up from the moment I had enough of York University & OsgoodePD’s disgraceful YUSA union tactics they used to force my hand to quit my job in the middle of a global pandemic, which you can read about in the previous blog post titled: Let’s Talk About OsgoodePD – York University.

“A dollar underwater keep on dreaming for me”.
I posted this photo on May 5th, the anniversary of Dominik’s death after I spent the day shooting video of Dakota in the woods behind my house which became the “Without You” official music video. This dollar is upside down and above water on the floor of my Barrie basement suite because I am a goddamn poet.

If it hasn’t been made clear already, I was struggling immensely almost from the moment I moved to Barrie because it was clear to me from the outset that I had some of the worst neighbours a basement tenant could have, and I’ve had my share of shitty neighbours over the years.

It’s difficult to explain fully how awful OsgoodePD treated me without being able to show you the many Zoom meeting calls that I had with them throughout this time, and although I had intended to reach out to Zoom again at some point with all the meeting ID’s I managed to grab from my laptop before I ultimately gave the equipment back, at this point I’m pretty sick of all this, too, so I probably wont. And they probably have them recorded anyways.

So otherwise, let’s just discuss some of my last days in Barrie.

On one outing, I took my bike back downtown and took myself on a ride along the waterfront down some paths I had seen before but hadn’t checked out yet.

The Oro-Medonte Railway

As I mentioned before, one thing that was interesting to see in Barrie was all the historical information about the area, which is really all over the place so you have to take a second to take a look at all the plaques if you find yourself in the city.

Cruisin’. That backpack I have and wear I’ve had since my Wonderland days, which means it’s like circa 2010. It has paint splattered on it from the Halloween Haunt art department spilling a can in one of our golf cart buggy things.

When I took myself down the Kemperfelt/Waterfront Heritage trail, I didn’t know how far it really went, but I told myself I’d cycle a couple hours until I either got tired or ran out of water.

Welcome to Barrie!
You can learn a LOT about Barrie from all of these handy notices along the trail.
The East End – 1900s. These two signs are right downtown Barrie near where that photo of my bike was taken.

I wasn’t the only one doing this of course, I caught many other cyclists and some walkers stopping to read the content on these signs. I won’t get into what’s on all of them necessarily but I did snap some pics and was live tweeting a lot of this as I went, I definitely recommend you check this trail out.

Site of the Village of Kempenfelt

Like I said, some of these signs are along the waterfront, but where it gets more interesting is as you get closer to Orillia (yeah, you can cycle to Orillia from here!)

And there’s cool art along the way too, like this lighthouse carved into an old dead tree outside someone’s house. I’m a big fan of lighthouses.
Here’s where it starts getting real fun.
I just like bridges too, sometimes. This overpass was along the way, and part of it is marked “Private Property” right beside where the Railway trail really begins from this side.
Here we go!

So I didn’t google any of this before heading out this way (standard practice for me) so I stopped wherever there was a sign that caught my eye to see what was going on. Which is where I learned that this is the old railtrail.

This day was bittersweet for me. I headed out for this cycle to once again, get away from the tenant above me, all the while worried about Dakota but trying to think things through properly and exercise helps me with that.

But as I stopped to read these signs here, I was getting more text messages from Skippy.

These maps are small and a little tough to read but you can get the gist of how the area became what it is today when you read about it on these signs.

Skippy at this time was still pissed off at me, and I think I already shared a lot of the initial messages that went through on this day when I detailed them in an earlier post, but basically he was asking when I was moving out and he wanted his money for July rent.

More Abuse From a Former Friend

So here’s the thing about the July rent saga.

I sent Skippy the rent for July ($1000), and then Skippy sent it back.

And then he texted me asking for it as though I hadn’t paid it which, if nothing else, is harassment.

And then I sent him half the rent, after I moved out on July 13th (I remember the date because it’s my brothers birthday).

And then he texted me again asking for it, and that’s when he was also sending me those “threatening” text messages saying that I was bound by law to pay him the rent.

The rent he kept returning to me.

It’s like he doesn’t know banks keep a record of transactions or something, so I’m gonna show you my end of it, because again, all of these are true stories and whether you take my side in them at all or not, they happened, in exactly the way I’ve been describing to all of you.


And for good measure here’s my transaction sending him the half-rent after I moved out.

Service fees suck when you’re as poor as me, guys. But I like Motusbank a lot, they give you interest on checking and savings accounts, and the accounts are free!

So he was sort of ruining my ride at this time, but I pressed on, cycling away and thinking about how I was going to afford a U-Haul to move out and who I could ask to help me move.

These signs are the same style as thought Indigenous signs I found in Dorset. This one’s about the Black Settlement in Oro Township.
A lil’ about The Ice Industry.
A lil’ about the Barrie Gas Company.
An old farmhouse in the middle of a field, as seen from the Oro-Medonte Railway trail.

I could’ve kept going and made it to Orillia in no time at all, but it was pretty hot and I was running low on water, so I didn’t go much further than where this farmhouse is before deciding to turn back and get home to Dakota.

I took a couple detours, too, though, to see what some of these other roads looked like. They look like this. All of them.

By the time I got back to Barrie, I knew I needed a drink, so I went over to the main part of downtown to find a convenience store. And there seemed to be some sort of Barrie street fest going on, so I took a little walk to see what was up.

Shame no one from Rock 95 was around to hear my music pitch about my band.

Then I walked over to a convenience store, and I may have mentioned this part before, but that’s when I locked my bike up outside it, and almost immediately after removing my bike from its lock (drinks in hand still), I realized I suddenly had a very flat tire. And I’m not saying the guy who was smoking a cigarette outside the store is responsible for it, I actually initially thought maybe I had hit something on the Oro-Medonte trail, but the timing of it was pretty suspect, and how quickly the air flew out of it right after I bought my pops.

So I headed to the waterfront for a quick rest before I’d have to walk my bike all the way home from here, which was a little frustrating given I’d just spent a lot of time biking and was pretty tired, but I took this all in stride too. This is when I saw Bill and Deaf Rob again outside the Gazebo as I described to you in The Lost Files.

Chillin’. Not the same day, but did happen. Those marks on my legs are from Gypsy Moth Caterpillar and Mosquito and Black Fly bites that I couldn’t help but scratch.

When I got back from all of this I put my plans into motion.


I wanted to share all those things first to show you, again, Barrie isn’t ALL bad and sketchy, and there’s a lot you can learn just by taking a walk or a cycle on these trails.

But back to the main story of this post, me moving out finally after weeks of uncertainty and fear.

A Not So Fond Farewell

I can’t remember if I shared this one already. Rhonda was all over the place with the way she spoke to me sometimes, so at this point I’d decided I was going to just pretend we never met at all.

At this point, I definitely needed out, was seriously concerned about the well being of the kids above me and confused about all the activity I’d hear up there, and my landlord/former police officer “friend” was doing absolutely nothing to help me, and in fact, his messages bordered on harassment at this stage, too, all because he was upset when I wouldn’t answer him right away.

Which was directly a result of him calling the cops on me for some reason that he never fully explained (although reading back now, does it seem normal to any of you that my friend of 15+ years would call the cops to my house because he allegedly suspected a mental health crisis, instead of like, just offering me some resources or talking to me like a friend would about this in any way instead of the sketchy way he was acting?) and a direct result of him talking shit about me to my family and friends, to the point where I’ve since had to ask my family to stop all communication with anybody who says they know me, because again, I was receiving multiple harassing calls and text messages at this stage from many unknown numbers.

I couldn’t trust a damn soul.

And even when it was time to move out and I organized myself a U-Haul, no one in my family was available to help me.

My sister and dad were too busy working (dad works full-time & overtime for Canada Post), and my brother Matt had an allergic reaction that landed him in the hospital, so he was unavailable, too. And my other brother Mike, when I first reached out asking him what day he was free, he wouldn’t give me a date, so I just went ahead and booked the first U-Haul I could get, and then when I told him what day I needed him, he said he had appointments for work, too. When I’d bring this up to him again he’d say that I didn’t give him enough notice, even though I was planning and told him I could rent the U-Haul around his schedule.

It seemed no matter what method I used to seek help, no one could help me. I guess I’m that unreasonable to deal with.

I’ve never felt so alone as I have this past summer dealing with all of this in Barrie.

Except for how I feel now living back with my family here in Vaughan.

I’ve had this thing about moving to Arizona since I started researching it a bit more last year. It looks like a good fit for me personally, despite the political stuff about it (they don’t seem as Liberal as Canadaland), and I was excited when I learned that Arizona actually gets some snow in the northern areas like Flagstaff, so it could be a good fit for Dakota too. It’s also cheaper to live here than the coveted California I’ve always dreamed, and keeps me close to many states and provinces for potential music touring, which is something Ontario just cannot offer at all.

I didn’t know U-Haul was a company based in Arizona when I booked it, so I laughed when I later noticed these license plates, taking it as a positive sign that I was making the right move.

As I explained recently on Twitter, the other reason I’m interested in moving to Arizona at some point is because I’m interested in volunteering with Alice Cooper’s organization Solid Rock which works with vulnerable youth and gives them a safe space to be creative. I’d reached out to my former employer Brian Moncarz who worked on Alice’s most recent album Detroit Stories to see if he could help facilitate this for me (because in order to move to America, I need a sponsor, since I’m Canadian), but I never heard back from Brian. In any case I’ll still be reaching out to Alice Cooper’s organization when it makes more sense to do so. [EDIT: Sept 5th 2021: I’ve since heard back from Brian and will be chatting on the phone with him this week. He’s upset about some of the things I’ve said on Twitter about him (understandable). We’ll see how it goes].

I’ve used U-Haul a few times and I like how easy it is to order a truck, but I knew I’d have some issues with this one because of a bad review I read on Google about the place I was picking up from, The Whimsical Emporium.

That’s all on Twitter, too, but after several calls with U-Haul I was able to get my refund sorted out, so it’s all good now. I still really like U-Haul, they’re the most affordable moving truck option I’ve ever come across and they do a good job providing options.

I might be using them again in the not so distant future, but I haven’t decided to best method of getting Dakota and I out west yet, we might just book an RV instead. [EDIT: Sept 5th 2021: RV’s are a little too pricey still. So we’ll probably just rent an SUV and stop at a couple motels instead].

Anyways, I’m not going to dwell too deeply on the move-out process, because again, I’ve already detailed a lot of that mess on Twitter and I kinda feel like I’ve talked more than my fair share of shit about that.

[EDIT: Sept 5 2021 10:28AMEST: It wasn’t something I would have ever liked to do, it’s just not in my nature to talk that way, so publicity out against people, especially people I cared a lot about. I struggle with this, too, if I should have ever said anything at all about any of it, but I still think these things were important enough to share, so I’ll take the heat that comes with it. For the sake of transparency, I’m keeping some of the below tweets in this post about it, though, because renters need to be aware of some of this stuff so that they don’t get taken advantage of.]

During the day, since I was all by myself and had the truck all day, I took my time as best I could and was glad that my upstairs tenants weren’t home while I was doing it.

I broke my bed frame trying to take it apart (growing frustrated with being unable to pull apart my wicked handy work without tools), and moved literally every item by myself except for 1 at the very end.

And I talked a lot of shit on twitter about the apartment which I’m unsure actually meets Ontario code for rental properties. Here’s just a couple samples from my twitter on this:

The bathroom.

Mostly I was just so pissed off at Skippy at this point, and doing this helped me feel marginally better in what was otherwise one of the worst experiences of my entire life.

If you’re a new tenant in a new place, take a look into stuff like this. And if it seems wrong, document it if nothing else so that you have evidence of it, in case it magically disappears one day like it did for me.

And make sure you get contracts whenever you move into places, and don’t do it under the table; this protects you and the landlord, so if one of you doesn’t want to take part, something’s up.

Again, I have nothing to hide here. I have done nothing wrong, but I’m not sure my former landlord can say the same.

Anyway, you get the idea. This place had more problems than anywhere I’ve lived and… well, check out what my other place looked like after the former tenant there set the upstairs on fire.


The former landlord at my King City place was super stingy on this renovation, too, but that’s a whole other story. It met code, though (we think?). Point is, I’ve lived in some pretty dingy places in my time, but this Barrie place which was a brand new renovation was by far the worst.

Near the end of moving out it had started to rain pretty hard and the upstairs tenants returned home.

And I was nervous.

Earlier in the week I had told them that I was getting rid of some stuff by the end of the week, but I hadn’t told them I was moving. I did this for my own safety, unsure of what they’d think of me moving out so suddenly, given all the bad interactions I’d had with them over the last couple months. I was trying to be extra polite when I had this exchange:

I had sent her a picture of what I was referring to. But, when I got her response, I was a little disturbed again; everything was about this girls little boy, and I was trying to do something nice for both the kids.
The gift.

So I packed it up in a plastic bag with a note, telling the boy basically to keep playing his guitar and one day he’d be a pro and left it by their front door, knowing I’d be in plain view of the Ring Doorbell.

The part of this I of course never explained to the kids or the people above me, is that this piece of art was a gift I’d received from my ex’s mother one Christmas.

It was actually quite thoughtful of her to pick something out that she knew I’d enjoy, but given everything I’ve got through in that relationship, with that family, I didn’t want to hang onto it. So I thought it’d be a better fit for the kids.

Yeah, I regift sometimes, so what?

But of course, I couldn’t leave something for the boy and nothing for the girl. So I packed up that toy I once asked the boy if his sister would like into a garbage bag to keep it safe from the rain, too, with a note for her as well.

In the note to her, I told her she was smart and kind, and explained that I won the toy I was giving her at the CNE when I wasn’t much older than her (true – I won it playing that game where you have to knock 3 bottles off a platform with a baseball; I was good at Shot Put as a kid).

I didn’t text the upstairs tenants again to tell them I was doing this; I assumed they received an alert every time someone/something went in front of their Ring doorbell and that they’d be notified of me doing this anyways. And I didn’t want to run the risk of them not opening this garbage bag and then their daughter not receiving the gift (yes, this is how badly I believed they were abusing this little girl, not even giving her toys).

Fortunately, she got the gift. I don’t know if she ever got the note.

I knew this would be one of the last exchanges I ever had with them, and felt terrible knowing I was leaving these kids in what I, an adult, knew was an unsafe situation for them, and knew that they, as two young kids 10 and under, had no choice but to stay.

So when I saw them for the last time on the 13th, it was hard for me.

This is true, too.

The last item I needed to put into my moving truck was the big storage chest that once belonged to my grandmother Janina that my aunt had brought me one day.

It’s insanely heavy because it was made in the 40’s or 50’s sometime and it was the only item I couldn’t carry by myself.

And like I said, the upstairs tenants had returned home now.

And as I walked past their front door again for like the 80th time that day, the little boy came out.

The boy: Why are you moving?

Me: I just have to move, bud.

The boy: But why?

Me: Sometimes people just have to move.

I didn’t know what to say.

The boy: Are you moving because there’s mould in your apartment?

Me: No, I just have to move.

When Rhonda saw me walking by moving things outside again, she asked if I needed a hand, I told her, yeah, actually, I need help with just 1 thing.

And she helped me carry that big storage chest out.

And while she did, I asked her one thing: Do you guys have mould in your apartment? Because your boy said —

Rhonda: No, no. We had to move from our old place because of mould though.

Me: Oh, okay.

She didn’t ask me why I was leaving or why it happened so suddenly.

For the record I was asking about the mould because I planned on telling Skippy about it if they hadn’t already, but I never mentioned it.

Once it was in the truck, I thanked her, and she went back inside saying it was no problem, and that was the last time I spoke to Rhonda.

But I still had a couple small things to grab from inside before leaving for good, and that’s when I saw her daughter had run to the window on the main floor, pushed the curtains open, and with the most devastated look on her face looked at me and placed her hands on the window, pointing to the truck, looking at me confused.

It’s like she knew I couldn’t help her. Like she knew she’d be locked back in her room soon. Her room with the boarded up windows on the upper level, where you can’t hear a thing.

I can still see exactly the way she looked at me that day, as if to say, “why are you leaving me here?”.

And she ran out to the front door and as we stood in front of the Ring Doorbell, with me on the stairs, she handed me a toy.

The girl: I want you to have this.

Me: Are you sure? It’s yours.

I felt awful. I tried to smile but even that was hard, and anyone who saw me can tell how badly I was faking it then.

The girl, something to the effect of: Yeah, you gave me one. I want you to have this one.

I thanked her, and I took the toy.

I keep it in my bedroom now. With my other toys.

And then I took the last of my things into my U-Haul and the rain came crashing down.

So I sat in the truck waiting for it to calm down.

And I watched the little boy run out in the rain with his arms extended backwards like he was flying, playing in the storm.

And I tried my hardest to keep my composure.

I never looked back at the house to see if she went back to the window.

And if you’re wondering at this stage, why I tweeted about this, all while keeping the kids names hidden, but all while publicily posting their address on this blog… I never heard back from The City of Barrie Police department or Simcoe County Police department or even the Family Connexion place; all the places I had reported this suspected abuse.

So I still have no idea if they’re there. If they’re okay.

And I can’t stop thinking about it. So I figure, if some cops read this, they’re either think I’m batshit insane and do nothing, or, they’ll drop by for a visit one day just to check-in.

And I know there’s a chance I could be wrong about it all. I know there could be logical explanations for all of the things I saw and heard.

But if I never heard back from any sort of reputable authority on it, how would I ever know?

And I know that maybe, because it’s not me and my family, that they don’t need to tell me anything about this, if they investigated or not, if I was wrong or not, but I feel in my gut I’m right about it, and the thought that it could still be going on even right now as I type this makes me feel physically ill.

Because I think about stories I’ve heard or read of other kids, where abuse goes on for years and years and nobody says a single thing about it. Letting it continue.

And I was so scared during all of this that I even forgot to look up if Barrie had a non-emergency line. I only remembered these things exist last week when I had to call in an unrelated thing; a mentally ill/on drugs man walking around Jersey Creek Park in Vaughan who had begun to follow me.

Right after this tweet I remembered non-emergency lines exist and called it in. Later I saw a YRP cruiser going through the park, so I’m hoping they found him.

But after what happened with me and the hospital, and with the police officers coming into my apartment without my consent, without explaining why they were there… would you trust that Barrie non-emergency line, after how they handled me when I called 9-1-1? I’m not sure I can.

Which is why I also had to write all these blogs out.

So that other people like you and me know what to really do in these situations.

Because I was way in over my head from the very beginning. I still am now.

And as a result I lost my job, had to move back in with my family who don’t treat me well, and now I’m planning my next escape, to leave Ontario for good and all these experiences behind.

Because there’s nothing left for me here.

And York University keeps making my life more difficult, even after quitting.

They removed access to my HR Self-Serve almost immediately.

The manipulated my e-mails, removing ones that incriminated them. I documented this on Twitter.

Then they sent me registered mail asking for their equipment back by a date 3 days after they sent it out; I didn’t even receive the letter until days after their request. It’s like they were looking to purposely take action on me.

So let’s break this down quickly.

I picked up the above letter from the post officer on July 19th if my memory serves (check with Canada Post, since it’s registered mail, I had to sign for it).

It says “The University has not received your response to my e-mail sent on July 12th“; but I had a Zoom meeting on July 9th in which they, once again, were in my opinion wasting my time and harassing me and I verbally said I quit. In that Zoom call, where I once again, in near tears, expressed to them that I was in an unsafe living situation and did not feel comfortable speaking to them in this virtual way, while I was in that home, and the tenants above me could overhear what I was saying.

The ignored me repeatedly when I said these things, and instead pressed on to question me about such controversial tweets like ones where I mentioned @jimadkinsmusic and @jimmyeatworld which, I still have no idea why THOSE would be so controversial as to sit me in an 11.01 meeting with 3 YUSA Union reps. They never explained what the issue really was.

I wish I was joking about that guys, but I’m not. Check the Zoom calls!

Regardless, as I stated, in that Zoom call I was now so fed up with these assholes that I said “You know what, I quit” – I was genuinely sick of the harassment at this point and their nonsensical questioning. And then later that day, my manager Rene, without any other communication, finally, after weeks upon weeks of my asking for it, send me a Work From Home Agreement that stated I was to return to the office in August 2021. Without ever explaining anything about it, how they came to that decision, or asking me if I had received my vaccinations at this time. In a global pandemic.

To which I responded to that e-mail: this is mental abuse and you should be ashamed of yourself. Consider this my formal quitting.

So how then, would I have received an e-mail from this person on July 12th? How would I have responded to it in any sort of meaningful time frame?

And then of course, how could I get their equipment back to them by July 16th, if I only picked up this letter from the post office on July 19th?

Do you guys see how utterly stupid these people are?

And as a result we had the following exchange about the equipment:

This was where I complied evidence of them deleting my e-mails.
This is this asshole still not getting it.
Is this not clear enough for you, Rene?
Also, this.
Fortunately the courier did arrive within my specific window, as I was otherwise going to smash the equipment in the street. He arrived around 1:45PM.

And that last part is true too, for some reason, York then starting trying to call me on… my dad’s business line? How do they even have that number?

They barred me from my own employment records, which is something I brought up several times, and they continue to make it difficult for me on this, too. [Sept 5 2021: They still have not sent me these records, I have reached out several times and at this point, I’ve also e-mailed Victoria Watkins and the entire YUSA staff telling them what has been going on. Not that I’m trying to cause more shit for myself, but this is no way to treat someone, employee or otherwise.]

They sent me my Pension & Benefits information so late (dated July 30th, 2021 – my birthday, thanks for the gift assholes!) that I was unable to move from the company Sun Life plan to my own plan. I’ll add that letter for you here:

“From date of termination” which was July 9th, and this letter was dated July 30th (I’ll post another image below), and I was out of town until August 1st, a Sunday). Way to York, you fucked the dog again!
Shall I continue, York, or are you ready to fold your filthy hands yet?

And in addition to that, a lot of the information on my Pension & Benefits letter (which, P.S, wasn’t sent via registered mail for some reason although doesn’t it make more sense that this one would be, when you compare it to the other one?) is incorrect, for example, they don’t list a Beneficiary although I had named one upon my hiring, and they still list me as married though that one, I’ll take the “blame” for, since I had only told this to my manager and coworkers and hadn’t bothered to follow up with York since they struggle with basic things like address changes (I talked about this already).

On this, I had to reach out to York Pension & Benefits to have my spouse removed from this, using what’s called a “Spousal Settlement Form”. I’ve also reached out with 3 follow-up questions, like why they even require this at all, since they are in no way lawyers representing me or my ex-husband in our divorce case and in my opinion they have no legal right to even ask for this information, and the act that they have a process in place for this makes no sense to me.

Here’s the document they required me to fill out, despite never getting confirmation from me I was married, that I needed to provide before I could move my pension fund out of York’s and into my own via TD Canada Trust.

If there was a logical reason or law associated with needing this document to facilitate my pension transfer, surely they could provide me with it, right?

At this time they still have not answered my questions about this.

I tweeted about a lot of that stuff and more, but you can sift through my posts for it yourself.

They even messed up my final pay check and then lied about that, too, with a very weird break down and very strange amount allotted for vacation. To the point where I had to request two earlier pay stubs just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

They still have not paid me out for my 88 sick days, and frankly, that’s all I ever wanted out of this, since they’re MY days that I could have taken at any time but never did. It was always explained to me that upon leaving, you get your sick days paid out. I was banking them for this reason, and now they tell me that’s not the case. Convenient!

This company (OsgoodePD specifically, let’s not even get into what York U makes) that makes at least $10 million dollars a year, that I worked for for going on 8-years when they decided I was expendable.

Frankly though, I think at least point I’ve provided more than enough evidence of their wrong-doing and those assholes aren’t worth any more of my time. And if they haven’t seen all this yet, I know one day they will, and I hope it makes them feel like total shit.

And because I don’t have the money to really fight this stuff (that was my very real bank account information I posted for you guys, I have about $1200 left to my name and a lot of personal debt); I’m hoping I can still get a bank loan just to get me out west so I can look for a job there and start fresh. [EDIT: Sept 5th 2021. Got a small loan. It’s enough for the car rental and gas, and then I really need a job QUICK. Thanks banks, for helping me put myself further into debt!]

It’s impossible to find work in Ontario right now during this pandemic, even Tim Hortons was a bad experience for me here but at least they paid me for the 5 hours shift I did.

And I’ll have to just try and forget about these kids and hope that they’re okay now. Because if all the things I’ve done amounted to nothing, then the problem isn’t with people not calling these things in, it’s with the police departments, social workers, and medical professionals who don’t know how to do their jobs, communicate effectively with people, or, they’re also bound by laws and regulations that make it impossible for them to investigate these issues properly.

But that’s above my scope, but again that’s why I cc’d Mary Park on a lot of this stuff. If nothing else, this story makes a great case study for her Search & Seizure law conferences, and maybe she knows some lawyers who can use it to change the legislation to help police officers in these situations.

Because clearly I’m the big loser in this whole mess. Well, me and the kids.

And remember how I said it continued to get worse for me?

You might be wondering how, after all this, it could possibly get worse.

I already told you about my sexual assault filing over on the Record 3 post, but for those that haven’t read that, I’m going to reiterate a bit about that experience for you here, because it’s important.

After I returned home from Chicago, within 2 days of returning home, I received a knock at my door and it was once again, Victim Services, coming to act like total bastards and rudely suggest I needed help, when I had made it VERY clear that the sexual assault I had reported happened 7-8 years prior and I had already dealt with it with my own registered therapist.

To be extra clear, if your protocol in dealing with victims is to call them every single day and show up unexpectedly at their door and repeat the same line you’ve been fed in your training with no further context, you’re going to have a horrible time with someone like me in particular.

On this day, they told me I was continuing to send e-mails (which I wasn’t) and that it was “historical” as if that was a “gotcha” moment, which makes no fucking sense to say to anyone and certainly not a victim who was being regularly harassed by her abuser, or, unknown abusers at this stage.

I’m not someone who abuses emergency service lines, so don’t dare talk to me like I do.

When I moved back to Vaughan, when they weren’t outright showing up at my door, I was being followed by York Region police officers (all over the place, and always right after I tweeted about my whereabouts, weird right?).

And 2 days after this Victim Services pair showed up at my door, 2 more York Region officers came by on the Thursday saying that they had received a call that I (who was napping at the time, literally), was throwing a party and since I was supposed to be under quarantine (I’m actually exempt, so whoever called this in is an egregious liar who was also clearly stalking me), and that’s why they were there.

When they told this to me I responded: Clearly there is no party here.

It was quiet as hell on my street that day.

The officers agreed.

And then I expressed to those officers on that day that it was real “funny” to me that only after I reported Andrew as the person who had sexually assaulted me, and only after I had moved back to Vaughan, where he’s also from, did the harassment really kick up a notch leading to now multiple officers coming to my door to check in on me. And he knows where I live, he’s been to my house.

Which is why I say, and have said, if this is how Victim Services or the York Region Police handles these types of calls, this type of harassment of a victim in a case that happened years prior and I had never intended to report until I let it slip while reporting the child abuse going on in Barrie, then how do they handle young girls and boys who have been victimized, immediately after it happens?

What do they say to a 8 year old girl when they bring her in to the police station? Do they tell her her 911 call is “historical”? Do they tell her she doesn’t have evidence of the assault? Do they tell her she can choose not to bring it to court, like my Detective told me? Would that 8 year old girl even understand a single fucking thing going on if they had been abused by their own mother or father?

I don’t think she would.

And would she feel comfortable when police officer after police officer after police officer calls her home phone to speak with her and not tell her why they’re calling, other than to say, “we offer resources” as if that little girl would have a single fucking idea how to respond to that?

And there was 1 other phone call I received during this time, guys, after I think I made my point with the York Region Police & Victim Services and changed my number to stop THEM from harassing me (yes, I believe both Victim Services and YRP have harassed me in this case at this stage), a phone call that I didn’t tell anybody about because at this point who gives a single fuck about me but me, and it was from another unknown number, but I answered it.

And they said they were from Barrie police, or Barrie victim services. And they offered me the same bullshit line that I’d heard now several times from Newmarket Victim Services. “We got your e-mail, and we’re here to offer you resources and verify if you have left Barrie and are now somewhere else”.

Fuck you. All of you, if this is how you think it’s appropriate to handle this, as if I’d even know what the fuck you are talking about.

I played off that phone call. Saying, “I’m glad you got my e-mail” (vague, what email?), and “No, as I’ve said before, I do not require counselling or otherwise and yes, I have spoken to the police authority in my area”. That part was new, them asking me if I had moved out of Barrie, and so odd the way they phrased it.

And that’s the only time any professional from Barrie has reached out to me in ANY of this. And I still have no idea what they meant by that call, or why they were being so vague.

Or why, in a different call entirely, the Detective on my sexual assault case called me to tell me they’d be closing the case, due to lack of evidence (duh, it was 7-8 years ago, dude), and when he said “it’s historical” I knew he knew those other officers had been to my house.

So when I changed my number, I e-mailed only one police officer; the Detective on my case. Just in case the YRP wanted to speak to me again, or in case there’s an update in the sexual assault file, in case someone else comes forward with a story like mine. Because it did happen, evidence or not.

And it seems the police are starting to figure out why it’s beneficial to have e-mails bounce back to people like me, to confirm that the e-mail went to them. Because I knew immediately this one had, and it was the first time after sending 3 e-mails to this detective, that I had any verification it was sent.

Of course, it was just a vacation bounce back. But he reached out when he got back into the office to confirm he updated my number. And I’m still willing to talk about all of this just as I have been, because it’s important, and what happened to me cannot ever happen to anyone else. I won’t stand for it.

So I think that’s all.

I think I’ll just wrap all of this up now so that I can begin to move on, get a new job, a new place to live, and make new friends.

If you made it this far, thanks for taking the time to read it. I know it’s been a lot.

And if you have any questions at any time, you can reach me by e-mail.

As I’ve stated I’ve changed my number and only a small amount of people have been given it. If you want it, e-mail first.

But I guess, and don’t take this as “legal advice” because I’m not in any way a lawyer, but if I can offer you any bit of advice from what I’ve learned through this:

  1. Document everything as best you can as soon as you think there’s something “not right”.
  2. Trust your instincts. If it feels wrong, it probably is.
  3. Don’t let other people tell you or coerce you into how you should handle things like this; take everything with a grain of salt and remember, people of all kinds make mistakes all the time, even cops, even medics.
  4. If you think you’re in an unsafe situation, get yourself out of it as soon as possible while making the least amount of noise. Don’t tell your upstairs tenants how to parent your kids, find your communities non-emergency line and call when it’s safe to do so.
  5. And don’t think that just because the people abusing you or harassing you are your own family or friends that that means you have to stay. You don’t. It would be unhealthy to stay and let it continue. So even when they give you a hard time and try to convince you to stay, trust your instincts and burn those bridges.

And if no one is listening, yell louder.

One thought on “Barrieland: Moving Out

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