December 14, 2001
LEONARD
This story deals with painful subjects. I hope you can bear with me.
A few years ago, there was a party. It was a welcome home party for my cousin who was just released from the penitentary. He was in jail for a few years charged for a brutal murder of a woman in his home community. Everyone around the area knew that he took the rap for the gang style rape and murder of a woman. He was the only one to go to jail.
People still walk in fear of the other guys who walk free. Some have committed suicide or have since died in weird ways.
This particular party, I was just in my early teens. People in my age group were very screwed up and our parents seemed to allow us to run free drinking and such.
The party grew as more booze was brought in. I did not know what would transpire that night. I only knew there was booze and everyone was in a happy mood.
The party was filled with teenagers and a few adults. The honorable guest from jail was called by telephone and asked to come out and party. So his brother hung up and everyone continued partying.
My cousin who was in jail, I will call, Gus (I do not want to use his real name), entered the house from the back door. Everyone greeted him. Smiling and drinking, having a good old time.
After awhile, this guy, who was the brother of the murdered woman, entered. The room went dead quiet. Everyone sat in absolute fear. He walked in, stared at Gus and walked back out. Everyone let out a sigh of relief as he walked back out. This man was known for his extreme violent and unpredictable behaviour. Tall, quiet and extremely dangerous.
The party went on. Everyone getting drunk and just having fun.
We were drinking at my sisters home. They were out of town at a hockey tournament. I am not sure how we decided to have a party, but we did so anyway, in her home.
The party was in full swing. The door flies open and my sister and her husband come in. My brother in law is furious because we are caught having a party. Everyone runs out. We all scattered in all directions from the house. I could understand him getting angry. As I was running from the house, I looked back and he literally kicked his brother off the back steps.
The night was cold. We had nowhere to go. Everyone was scattered in the small community. I could hear other drunks yelling around for the others. I was with my two cousins, and we walked to my uncles’ home and used the phone.
We decided to go to my aunts’ home about five miles away. We started walking down the dark dirt road. I simply got to cold and turned around. I decided to find somewhere to sleep. I was very drunk and I found a warm spot in my sisters wood shed. I started crying, feeling sorry for myself. I felt abandoned by my family. I remember thinking that if I died there, they might cry at my funeral. I lived a very troubled life, looking back, I wonder how I stayed alive with all the stuff I had to live through.
My sister heard me crying and took me inside and I went to bed, I was almost frozen. I awoke and found my friend sleeping beside me. I can only guess that someone went and found him somewhere outside also.
The days that followed were terrible. The cousin, Gus, who was invited to the party by his brother, was missing. He was missing for a number of years. Police interrogated all of us and accused us of murder. I remember the police man calling me a liar and a murderer.
He body was found many years later by a child who was blueberry picking on an island close to the community. Actually his bones, with some missing parts. According to reports, he was found under a log. Police, sent away, his bones to be analyzed. They concluded he died of natural causes.
The memories of that night came back. The old rivalries among the families.
The most painful memory of my entire life was being accused of murder. To this day, people whisper. I can see the strange look of fear in their eyes. I can see the medicine man who has been told lies about me. Even my relatives, who throw ‘the one who got away with murder’ in my face and to reneg the statement after I confront them. I run into people from towns and cities all around that someone told them I murdered a guy and got away with it. It was and still is very hard to find any friends. My reputation has been tarnished. Even trying to better my life, people from my home community find where I am and sneak around and tell people about how I murdered the man. It hurts my career choice as an aspiring actor, so somewhere down the road I will sell my story, I vowed. Maybe if someone sees a film on that night, the real murderer, if there is one, will appear.
Even Gus’ mother who is my aunt, I gave an offering of tobacco and a gift with my dearest explanation about the events have not stopped the rumours. I also gave my tobacco to my Creator to talk of my innocence. He has not struck me down.
The accusation of murder is even a lot worse than living through a childhood of sexual abuse, physical abuse, emotional and spiritual abuse. A horrific childhood witnessing family and community violence. Watching relatives and other families beat the crap out of each other. Witnessing other kids being sexually abused, beaten, traumatized and terrorized. Living with a people who deny my story. Living with a people who find it uncomprehensible that I seek help to straighten out my life. Some people have even told me to shut up and that counselling makes things worse. Many attempts to keep my mouth closed. Some even went so far as to spread rumours about my affair with my counsellor to keep me sick like the rest of the community. Watching people still stuck in denial.
It is even worse than having my spirit repressed. My gay spirit, my two spirit. Disclosing my sexuality was not accepted. Looking back, I see that I was always two-spirited. My family and friends all worked overtime in denying me my life. This repression made me discover my true two-spirited/gay life in other unhealthy ways. To this day, I still have to take the brunt of daily anti-gay remarks from my family and community. I wonder how I can survive that constant bombardment of mental and phsycological abuse. It also went as far as my attempt of suicide by hanging myself, overdosing on pills and sitting in the tree with the rope around my neck and the shotgun in my mouth. Still I could not do it. My suppression continued in absolute denial.
I wonder why I continue to assist and help people who very much hate me for being alive.
Everyone seemed to have an agenda for me, except me. I did live the life I was told to live for many, many years. I have learned to ‘act’ since I was a child to please everyone around me. I honestly do not wish my life on anyone, alive or unborn. Being threatened, even beaten and terrorized made sure I stayed in my place.
Maybe it is better or easier, in their minds, that I am a murderer, than for people to find out that I was abused in many ways during my entire life.
Would my own people allow the perception, of me being a murderer, than to devulge the various abuses that went on unchecked in our communities?
As I look back, this is what I see. I am a lot healthier, after years of counselling through ceremonies and mental health counsellors. I still look around and see many people who are sick and living in denial.
I healed myself at sweat lodges, sundances, and other ceremonies along with conventional means such as counselling. I did this alone with out the support of my family. It was painful to see other sundancers with there families, helping and supporting them, meanwhile I stood alone.
My only voice is my computer, my internet connection with my website.
I continue to live with those rumours of my being the crazed gay murderer, if it makes them happy, so be it. I know the truth.
Stand strong in your truth.
Help FREE LEONARD PELTIER