The Letter

When I first uncovered the family secret, I hadn’t had any real contact with my family for 16 years. I couldn’t exactly call them up and be all ” Heeeeey! What’s with the all the rape and murder?” I wasn’t immediately keen to talk to them anyway, save for possibly my sister, but as time went on an idea began to sprout inside my head. An idea that involved contact.

It seemed ridiculous at first because it was so, so simple but before long it became A THING and my brain added it to the its running list of very important tasks.

Tell my parents that I KNOW.

That’s it.

That’s all I needed to do.

This wasn’t a need to confront them and release a bunch of energy on them. It felt vital to tell them their secret was out, definitely not safe with me and then move on. It was bewildering to me how something so small felt so critical but I’ve learned to trust myself over the years. If that wee thing was important, I needed to honour it.

Now, unless I conduct a séance, telling my dad was out of the question. Father Murderer had died in 2014. But my mother, the murderer marrier (it’s totally a word!) was alive and thus she became my focus.

I figured a letter would be best as the thought of speaking to that woman was revolting, my bestie suggested I send it registered mail and that’s exactly what I did.

It took me about two weeks to get it just right. First, I wrote the letter every night in my head as I was falling asleep, ha ha ha! Of course this was involuntary but it was really, really important. I needed to get that vile shit out of my head. It wasn’t mine anyway!

Then, I put pen to paper and ripped through two legal pads in my attempt to get it just right. I didn’t want to be rude or mean because that never feels good no matter how justified but it took me awhile to get there, let me tell ya! In the meantime I’d grown really curious about the whole situation from my mother’s end.




My heart wasn’t set on getting an answer though because A. I knew she’d never tell me anything. Her favourite saying being ” Deny, Deny, Deny” I’m fairly certain she’s going to her grave with the story. B. Liars lie. There was no way I’d believe a damn word of what she said, even if she did respond. But I was definitely curious and I wanted to create a more fertile ground in case she decided to unload what must be a very heavy weight.

I also knew that I’d be talking about this and telling MY story. I felt it only fair to give her a chance to say her peace before I did so.

Sooooo, the letter.

I simply addressed her by our former last name – Huculak- told her that I knew everything and if she ever wanted to tell her version of the story she was welcome to contact me. I then gave that woman my freaking home address and my email address. Aaaahhhh! After not allowing her any access to me for 16 years, I freely gave that information out! Yes I did.

That was a little a scary. My inner child was definitely not comfortable doing that but I persevered and the icky feeling was replaced with something else. I felt like I was on a mission from my higher self. When I handed the letter over at the post office, I levelled up. My daughter offered up her address -sweet child that she is- but I knew I’d be able to handle any negative repercussions. Life has taught me that much. Plus, it was an integrity thing for me. I wasn’t hiding anything.

To date and true to form, she’s never responded. To date the only thing she’s done has been to orchestrate a weak attempt to discredit and gaslight me. Totally on brand for her. No surprise there. BUT the most important thing is this:

On April 13, 2021 Mother Murderer Marrier, went down to the post office, showed her ID confirming her identity and picked up the letter I sent her with the accompanying newspaper articles pertaining to my father’s crime.

She knows that I know.

Task complete.

Moving on. ❤

The Bestest Boy Is The “Baddest” Boy.

At first Mooshum presented himself to us as an old guy, slow and unassuming. Friendly and insistent with a paw about touch, but overall not too demanding. A real gentleman who was settled and stable within himself as a senior dog. Exactly the kind of dog you’d expect to meet when meeting a ten year old dog.

We brought him home with that delusion in mind for a sleepover tryout and it was immediately clear that we’d been sold a bill of goods! Mr. Moosh went from feeble, dotty old dog (LIES) to crazy puppy in seconds. Of course we had to have him! I love me a naughty dog.

I bring you a collection of his silly antics. You can see there’s often a common motivator. We call him the Land Shark!

  1. Sniffed out the cat’s food within seconds of entry into our house and hoovered up every last bit. Welcome to the family!
  2. After being “successfully” trained to never enter the kitchen again -its where the cats eat- he sneaked in on tippy toes and brought the glass cat food bowl out into the hallway in his mouth, to eat the food there.
  3. Tried to grab a piece of pizza out of my mouth. Jumped up at my face, jaws wide open to snatch it. Snap!
  4. Regularly eats road toast and anything else his nose sniffs out in the wild. I have taken so many rotting, meaty bones of unknown origin out of his mouth on walks that I now wear rubber gloves because…ew, gross!
  5. Hunts mice and eats them. This would be awesome for pest control except when you eat a mouse, you’re also eating any parasites a mouse might have and then you get parasites too! Parasites that make you uncontrollably poop a slimy mess EVERYWHERE.
  6. Stole a ring box of jewelry off my dresser and tossed it around like a toy, spilling everything out. I was finding jewelry in the carpet for weeks.
  7. Roots through bags and purses for lip balm to eat. Likes gum too.
  8. Chases cars, with us dragging behind on the other end of the leash.
  9. Plows headfirst into the fence after cars, garbage trucks, cop cars with zero regard for safety.
  10. Stole and ate a pack of giant Rockets, plastic package and all.
  11. Stole and ate a whole apple. This is a regular thing. He loves apples. I just give them to him now, ha.
  12. Casually eats off of unattended plates.
  13. Casually eats off attended plates! At our last family dinner one of the kids let him the house while we were eating and it was a freaking circus trying to protect our dinner plates! I still laugh at the scene when I remember it.
  14. Slips under chairs rooting for food, and either drags the empty chair across the room or tips the chair and its occupant over.
  15. Knocked a grandbaby over in the high chair doing the same thing…
  16. Tries to eat anything with fur. I don’t own anything with fur but my daughter has a pair of mukluks and Mooshy LOVES the rabbit pom-poms.
  17. Eats the peanuts I set out for the birds.
  18. Digs giant holes in the garden. He’d rather dig a hole against the fence to lie in than sleep on the cozy bed of hay I made for him.
  19. Ripped a thorny rose bush out of a spot he wanted to lie in.
  20. Shits in my raised garden beds. He backs his butt up into the beds and just ..goes. Ha ha ha.
  21. Plows through all fences put up to stop from doing bad garden things.
  22. Snoops. Usually he sleeps on the porch or in front of the gate but there are times when I catch him in the yard, snooping around, looking for bad things to do. He always starts when I call his name and comes running like he’s soooo innocent but I know the truth. He snoops in the house too. When we were putting the new floor in we couldn’t keep him out of the bedroom!
  23. Plows through anyone on his way to do important dog business. The amount of times I’ve been taken out at the knee by this guy…too many to count. This is especially hilarious with my balance issues.

See? Bad news. 😉 All the way around ❤

He’s sneaky and surprisingly fast for an old guy. You’ll see him limping along, struggling to get up, breathing hard but in reality he’s a fake ass bitch. I don’t want to say it’s all an act but there is definitely some deception going on here, ha ha. The eyes and ears might not work but that nose does! Once he gets a good whiff of something there is no stopping him. Its kind of inspiring…

When he’s not being an asshole about food, he really is a good boy.

  1. Before he got dementia and reverted back to his wild self he ignored a cookie being bopped on his head by a silly baby. (Ok, this was a rare event. He’s always been a land shark.)
  2. He rarely barks.
  3. Unless you’re a coyote and he has to ferociously defend the yard from you. He hates coyotes! If he were free to roam, he’d chase them away. He keeps our little dog safe. He also barks (or alerts) at sketchy people, throwing off bad vibes. He kept my daughter safe. AND he barks and rushes the fence at mean neighbour dogs barking at me too.
  4. He’s also quietly protective of the babies. Lying beside them at all times, keeping them company, watching out for danger. When the babes were little, you could always find Mooshy lying right next to them. It got to be annoying because while I trusted him, I couldn’t obviously trust a baby not to poke him or pull at him but that dog refused to move from their side.
  5. He gets along with the other animals, studiously ignoring the cats and letting our bossy female dog have the last word. This is amazing because I know he was an ass to small creatures in his first community. And you can tell he’s using all his energy to not be an ass here, ha ha. Which I appreciate ❤
  6. He gives very nice kisses on the cheek. We have a little ritual where I lean over to him and offer up my face for him to slurp, ha ha.
  7. When he’s excited about something he bounces up and down and does an adorable little dance that just makes your heart go SQUEE ❤
  8. Our cat was hiding after being traumatized by a stranger in the house and as I was calling out for my kitty in a panic, Mooshy sniffed him out of his hiding spot and whined to alert me to his whereabouts! All on his own. Amazing! He’d never done it before and he’s never done it since. I thought he was just so smart!
  9. He LOVES kids and, aside from the food thing , is excellent with them. Receptive to all touch, tolerating their curiosity. I believe pets and kids ought to be supervised at all times and I’d never let a kid be an ass to an animal but you know sometimes you don’t get to them in time and a poky finger goes up a nose, or a baby crawls over a furry body. Never once has he reacted with teeth. In fact, there have been times when I’ve had to put him away because he’s TOO tolerant and *I* can’t handle how easy going he’s being. Most dogs see a kid coming and move out of the way, not Mooshy!
  10. He’s super tolerant with us too. He doesn’t like being messed around with and tries to run away when we clip his nails or wash his butt (ha!) or clip his fur or clean his ears but he’s never reacted stronger than that. Not even a muzzle bunt. I can’t say the same for my other two dogs. Mooshy grew up wild and free, the other two were (are) pampered house dogs! Moosh is calm and stable. When you hear people talk shit about Rez dogs, just think about that. If I had to rank my pets based on that, Mooshum is number one. Of course we don’t do that here but I’m just saying. Rez dogs get a bad rap and it’s crap. For a lot of different reasons.

I’ve always been lucky with the dogs I’ve taken on as pets and that’s especially true with Mooshy Moosh. If you’re thinking of adopting a senior dog, do it. They might have their quirks but as you can see, they’ll steal your heart in a hot minute and you won’t regret a thing. I know I don’t.

Getting Away, Getting Away…

Getting away with murder.

I’ve come up against another brain block when it comes to this subject again. Maybe I should wait until it passes to write again but I want to keep moving forward damnit! I’ve got a good vibe going on!

I just can’t access sense or emotion here.

Maybe that’s the source of my good vibe. Ha!

At any rate, I’m going to bulldoze through as best I can with what I have so I can carry on with this story.

A note here: My belief, my knowing about my dad’s state of mind at the time of the murders, is not up for debate. None of that nonsense will be entertained. Much love and many thanks for your understanding. ❤

As I read the numerous newspaper articles concerning the murder and my father’s state of mind, it became very clear to me that something was amiss. I was overcome with a sense that I’d seen this act before. Grown up with it in fact!

If I had the brain capacity I’d go into all the details about how every time his trial date would draw near he’d have a “fit” and need to be transferred from Oakalla Prison to Riverview. ( The hospital for mental health patients) Or how his epilepsy was non existent in all the years I knew him, or how he used other people’s prejudices about neurodivergent people to his own advantage and tricked the authorities into thinking he was “crazy” and unable to be in his right mind at the time of the rapes and murders.

Crazy? Yeah…like a fox. My dad was a master manipulator and the tricks that he used on his family were the same tricks he used on the Townsends and the people evaluating him. I knew as much when I learned Linda had been raped and my belief was cemented after reading the last bit of A Bloodstained Hammer. I feel it in my body. I know its true. I feel like any reasonably intelligent person living would come to the same conclusion too. Especially if they knew what I knew.

ANYWAY: My dad raped and murdered Linda and Eyvon (Violet) because he wanted to. Plain and simple. And then he got away with murder.

He was sent to Riverview Hospital where he lived most peacefully. Three hots and a cot. He was given a job on Colony Farm. He probably had access to activities and schooling. No hammers to the head for this guy!

Later on he was allowed to travel unescorted between Colony farm and the hospital. He used the trust he cultivated in hospital staff to make a run for it and was able to make his way back to his hometown of Faust, Alberta where he was caught and returned.

One would think that would be a sign that perhaps he wasn’t “cured” but nooooooo, somehow fours later the man was able to gain enough privilege and freedom to have supervised outings…

and get married.

Married! To my mother. While he still lived at Riverview Hospital under orders from a judge because he’d raped and murdered two people…aaaaah!

Shortly after that, they had me.


Coming soon: The child who wished she was adopted.

The Bestest Boy Names Himself.

It’s coming up on the seven year anniversary of Mooshum’s Gotcha Day and let me tell you, I am shocked.

When we adopted Mooshy Mush he was 10 years old. Never in my life did I imagine this guy would live to be seventeen. At the start of every Summer I say to someone ” I don’t think he’ll last the season” or ” This will be his last Summer with us” and every Autumn he surprises the hell out of me by living life as he always has. Even his Vet is a bit stunned by it all and says he’s doing amazingly well, all things considered.

But Mooshy is 17, and his body is starting to wind itself down. He’s got congestive heart disease and the symptoms seem to be escalating, despite his medications. According to the studies I’ve read, he’s got somewhere between 6 and 18 months left to live. Symptom wise I’m going with 6 months…experience wise…18 🙂 One can hope, so long as he’s got a decent quality of life of course.

Time will tell. In the meantime won’t you indulge me in a series about The Bestest Boy?

10 years young.

We adopted Mooshum through SCARS only he wasn’t Mooshum quite yet, they were calling him Nooshum.

Nooshum came from a community in the eastern part of the province and lived the first ten years of his life roaming free, chasing away coyotes, unneutered and living his best life, ha ha. As he grew older, his muzzle wrote checks that his rump couldn’t cash and the other community dogs ganged up on him and life became not so safe for the old boy. Nooshum’s owner was really worried the other dogs would kill him the next time so when the Alberta Spay & Neuter Task Force (Now known as the Canadian Animal Task Force) came into the community, his guardians asked for Nooshum be rehomed to save his life. That beautiful, selfless act of love enabled us to become Nooshum’s jail retirement home.

So how did Nooshum become Mooshum? Well, being smarter and quicker than me, he told me so himself.

When we adopted him we were calling him by the name he came to us with but it was obvious right away that Nooshum meant nothing to him. I’d call him and and get zero response. I knew he wasn’t deaf (yet) because he sure heard the food bag well enough, but his name just wasn’t eliciting a response. Was I saying it wrong? Probably. I figured Nooshum was a Cree – Nehiyawak- word but for what? My internet searches turned up no answer but my brain wouldn’t let it go. I knew the Nehiyawak word for grandfather was *Mooshum…M and N kind of look the same if scribbled down, they’re also right next to each other on a computer keyboard. Maybe his name was Mooshum?…It would make sense. I called my 18 year old cat Grandfather as an honorific too…hmmm.

With that theory in mind, I picked my moment and put thought into action ” Mooshum!” I called out to him as he was sleeping at the end of the hall.


That dog’s head shot up like a rocket! He cocked it swiftly from side to side and jumped up on his feet, bouncing up and down on all four paws as if to say ” My name! My name! You know my name!” and that was the end of that! Who was I to argue with a reaction like that? He’s been Mooshum ever since and I think obviously he was Mooshum before. Once we had his real name, he really blossomed with us. Opening up, settling in and trusting us more and more from that point on. He had a lot to get used to and I think it was challenging for him in the beginning. He did adapt eventually but it took about six months, longer than any other dog I’ve ever adopted. You wouldn’t know it now. ❤

Coming soon : The Bestest Boy is also the Baddest Boy.

*Mooshum is incorrect but also not, according to this article I found HERE. Have a look if you’re into language and accuracy like I am ❤

Murder & Rape. My Father’s Crime.

Today’s the day. 😳

While it’s been four months and twelve days since I learned my father was a vicious murderer and rapist, it’s been sixty two years to the day, since he committed his crime.

At the time of The Knowing, my brain came up with a list of very important tasks to complete. This post is the first of those tasks:

Tell the story. Reveal all. Refuse to be a part of the cover up.

Its not my shame- I know this in my heart! – and yet I feel strongly compelled to do something. Anything, to take a nick out of the wrong. I cannot abide injustice. So. Let me tell you about my father’s crime.

In March of 1959, my father, born Richard Alexander Huculak -You can Google him – was hired on at a farm outside of Trail, BC. He was 25 years old at the time and drifting.

It’s easy for me to see why Mr. Andrew Townsend hired him. Young, strong and experienced he would have made a capable farmhand. He was a quiet person too, the kind of guy who settled into the background. I know from my own experiences that he presented as gentle. Trustworthy. A person who didn’t give much of themselves away yet seemed placid and decent. Not a threat. Mr. Townsend observed him much the same, according to one article.

In addition to running his farm, Mr. Townsend worked nights with a large employer in town. He left for work on the evening of July 29, 1959  leaving his family, wife Violet ( known as Evonne) and three children (two boys and a girl, Linda) at home. In addition to their own kids, the Townsends had a guest that evening. Another child, just a toddler at the time. The house must have felt lively with all those kids.

That same evening my dad, (known then as Dick ), headed into town with a friend and his wife for some drinks.

The party eventually returned to the friend’s house, with a case of beer and another case they purchased from a taxi driver. Later that evening the friend drove Dick- an entirely appropriate name all things considered- back to the Townsend farm.

As July 29 rolled over into July 30, my dad raped Linda Townsend, 8 years old. (Its unknown whether he raped Evonne too, the coroner wasn’t able to find any evidence but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. ) Then, my father picked up a two lb. ball peen hammer and murdered Linda and her mum, Evonne with multiple blows to their heads, while the little neighbor child lay in a crib in the same fucking room.

My dad hid the hammer behind the bed frame of the bed where Linda lay in her mother’s outstretched arm, cleaned the blood off himself, changed clothes, broke into the kid’s piggy banks, went through Evonne’s purse, stealing her money and her car keys too.

He stole the family car, (stopping somewhere along the way to purchase two bottles of Aspirin) and drove across the Nelson toll bridge, before taking the Kootenay Lake ferry to Kootenay Bay. Eventually he abandoned the car in a patch of bushes and started hitchhiking towards Calgary, AB.

As this is all going on, the Townsend kids were waking up to start their day. Hungry and wondering where their mother was they headed for their parent’s bedroom. It was clear right away that something was wrong. The oldest boy-who was only around 5 years old- lifted the littlest child out of the crib and the three of them walked a fair ways to a gas station for help. They brought a neighbor back to the farmhouse and of course that person immediately called the police.

The man hunt for my father was on.

It was one of the biggest man hunts in the area’s history. (Not a point a pride, definitely an event you don’t expect to have attached to your father )

Eventually, Dick was spotted by police officers cruising the highways for him and arrested without incident. Unbeknownst to the officers at the time, immediately prior to his arrest, Dick had swallowed both bottles of the Aspirin he’d picked up earlier and promptly lost consciousness in the back of the patrol car. He was taken to the hospital in neighboring Nelson, where his stomach was pumped. Mr. Townsend, who had been notified by then, was called upon to identify my dad and was able to correctly do so. Once my dad was stable he was released and taken to Castlegar jail where he was held under heavy guard to await trial.

Ooof. 😢

The Townsend family, their friends and neighbors were left to live with the loss and trauma my father inflicted on them while he sat alive in jail, cooking up Act 2.

And what an act it was! I’m the first direct byproduct of that. Conceived and born while my dad was still under the care of the institution he was placed in.

I’m alive today because my father got away with murder. I’m alive today because my mother thought that particular man would be an appropriate and suitable spouse and parent.

Spoiler alert! He wasn’t. Nor was she for that matter, but they were absolutely perfect for each other.

Act Two to follow…

Part Two: I Never Seriously Saw That One Coming.

You can find Part One: HERE

Trigger Warning for mention of violence.

I don’t really know where to start. What I’m about to tell you is just so awful. I’ve had almost three weeks to live with  this information and while I’ve managed to keep the horror of it all down to a dull roar, the family secret I discovered is not something one gets used to.

My brain keeps shouting “NO!” at me and every time I reach into the knotted mess to find a thread, I find nothing but more knots.

I WANT to tell this story. This is one dark secret that needs to be brought into the light, so let me start with salad?

My last meal before the knowing was the most delicious salad. It was chock full of greens, beets, goat cheese and pumpkin seeds. It also had oranges, fresh and dried and the most delicious lemony dressing. It was fresh and cheery! The Hubs and I had baked up a couple of chicken breasts and this meal was the perfect ending to a pretty great day. I ate my salad curled up on my couch, enjoying the Springtime sun shining through my window. I basked in it’s gentle warmth and felt…damn good. Content with my lot.  I still had the taste of that salad on my tongue when I opened up my laptop, logged into my ancestry account and typed in my father’s name.

Now that I had his real name, I figured I’d finally get some information about that side of my family! I was excited! I still had to deal with why my parents changed our last name and why they lied about it but, my main focus had always been finding my Metis roots so the lying nonsense could wait.

Along with my father’s name I typed his birth date and birthplace, an obscure little hamlet in northern Alberta. Lots of possibilities came up and I checked each one out diligently coming up with a maybe in one person with the same last name, living in another hamlet near my father’s hometown. Could be a relative!

Nothing in birth records…nothing in death…oh! Maybe a marriage? I knew he’d been married before and the union had been annulled. I added the information to my file and continued on, coming upon a news clipping. I almost didn’t click the link because sometimes the news clippings are on another site that requires further payment. Maybe the secret played on my mind or maybe it was my intuition because I took a chance on that link and found full access to an old newspaper page!

Woot Woot! My lucky day.

I scrolled to the highlighted section and my heart thudded to a stop in my chest.

“Dangerous Escapee Recaptured” the headline stated.

My eyes alit on the five words highlighted so helpfully:

My father’s first name. My father’s middle name. My father’s last name. Murder. The obscure hamlet where my father was born.

I knew.

I felt it in my body as my stomach clenched.

The truth.

I jumped up and thrust my laptop at my Hubs whilst a long scream? moan? keening? of disgust escaped me.

“What!? What?!” he demanded, most startled by the noise I was making and my sudden pacing and hand wringing.

Bless his sweet heart to be so concerned about me instead of my OBVIOUS REQUEST TO READ WHAT I COULDN’T SPEAK ALOUD.

“Read it!!” I managed to force out between my clenched teeth.

“Oh!” I heard him say next. Then again with solemn understanding “Ooooh”

He continued on with the details and this is what I heard ” Mental hospital escapee. Implicated in double murder eight years ago. Extremely dangerous. Not guilty by reason of insanity. A mother. Her child. Beaten to death in their beds. “

Looks like I solved the name change mystery!

Disgust and outrage hit me first. Then realization after realization flooded in. ” I left my children with him!” My husband would later chuckle kindly at me about this and tell me ” YOU were left with him!” I went through every emotion and went off, in every direction. Words and feelings pouring out of me until thankfully, blissfully, the shock gently took over and I became numb.

I messaged both my kids and right away my daughter started researching. My Hubs did too and within minutes, MINUTES, they found me some more information. Including all my father’s court documents. Right there on the front page of The Google.

My man, my wonderful man found the final proof that evening: Court papers with my father’s real last name (mine too!) and the new one. The name I grew up under. Ooof.

There was one last surprise left for me to discover and this is the one that absolutely broke me. I had been emotional and teary yes, but this new fact had me sobbing and spitting with rage…

My father had raped the little girl too.

Well. You Don’t Need A DNA Test Surprise…

to destroy your peace of mind!

Buckle up. I’m about to tell you a little story called ” I Never Seriously Saw This One Coming” in two parts.

PART ONE A: The Backstory.

Once upon a time, there was a woman named ELLLE ( It’s Meeeeee) who’d grown up with two toxic people.

I am totes adorbs.

The toxicity and abuse was a mixture of every day “soft” cruelty and major traumatic events. There was an under current of fear, unease and general ick in the day to day and Ellle made a promise to herself to detach herself from her parents as soon as she could. Ellle had a beautiful Baby in her late teens and thought to herself ” Aha! This is my ticket away from these awful people!”

Beautiful Boy,

But Ellle’s mother fell in love with the Boy, and turned on the charm. It was a LOVE BOMBING and because Ellle was so young and needed support, because she’d grown up in such a fucked up environment ,she thought maybe she’d just imagined the years of abuse and trauma. She’d just discovered that parenting was really hard and she’d already made mistakes. She’d want to be forgiven for her mistakes so she forgave her parents for their mistakes and life was pretty good. Ellle’s mother was busy being enamored with the BABY and Ellle’s father having grown old and seemingly feeble, lived his life in a chair, filing metal things and plotting his own escape.

Things were good for a number of years until the new on the Baby wore off. Soon, Ellle’s mother was back to her old tricks but this time, with the help of a wise friend, Ellle saw these tricks for what they were. She started to set boundaries and when a boundary was crossed, Ellle went No Contact and lost her entire family in the fall out. Ellle’s mother was reeeeally good at playing the victim and play it she did! She retaliated by stalking Ellle, trying to cause trouble with the school district and sending her letters through a LAWYER, threatening to sue her for visits with her grandchildren.

Ellle held firm and eventually the woman who birthed her gave up and left her alone.

It’s been about 17 years and Ellle regrets nothing. It was the right choice ❤

Part One B: The FIRST Big Surprise

Alright. You remember that I was waiting for some papers from the government? They came!

My dad’s death certificate arrived first, which pleased me greatly! Now I can obtain his birth documents and catch a lead toward the rest of my ancestors. I’ve searched and searched with the names my parents gave me but haven’t been able to come up with a damn thing, so I was thinking I heard wrong. Maybe.

Days later the photocopy of my birth registration arrived. This is the official, registered photocopy of the form my parent filled out when I was born.

I was expecting to see one of four names: 1. The last name I grew up under. (The one I suspected was borrowed from my mother’s family.) 2. Sutherland. The name both my parents told me was my dad’s step father’s name that he’d taken as a child. 3. Sinclair. My dad’s mother’s maiden name. 4. Gauthier. My dad’s biological father’s last name.

Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Can you guess what name was on my birth registration?


I was born under an entirely different last name.


It’s a name so out of left field, that when I saw it, I shrieked. I’ve neeeeeever heard it! It was never mentioned in my household and it was NEVER brought up when I asked my parents about our people. Never. Ever. Ever.

I was stunned. And then I got curious. So I went searching with these question in mind:

Who the hell am I? What else is a lie?! Why lie in the first place? What are they hiding?

Well. I found out. Oh my, did I ever find out!

And you will too, in Part Two, coming up shortly.