Rose's Cantina

On the afternoon of April 27, 2016, Ashley, her boyfriend and a friend went up to Margaret Falls which was a popular spot for tourists and residents of Salmon Arm, British Columbia.  This photo was taken that afternoon.  She was never seen again. The night before, Ashley shared a post on Facebook. "If someone can fall asleep knowing you're crying, knowing you're hurting or didn't get home safe, they don't care for you." And then. "It's time to move on." Please share the hashtag: #JusticeforAshley Somebody knows something. There is a $10,000 reward for information about what happened to her. Please someone come forward. Don't be afraid. We can protect you.

Two days before Ashley went missing, she posted a meme on her Facebook.   This meme.  She knew something was wrong. She signalled it to her friends and family.  She was in a bad relationship, and she sent out a few texts to friends and family. Ashley was getting out. As I said, two days later, she was missing.  Days later, the men who were with her on the last day of her life decided to tell her mother. Days. There were three of them who went up to Margaret Falls that day. Only two have lived to tell the tale -- the boys who took her up there, who drank with her, who talked with her, and yes, who fought with her, are all still walking around with zippers on their faces.  They say they have no idea what happened to her, that she had somehow got up in the morning and left with nothing, no money, no car, nothing except a pink suitcase which has never been found.  She was going home, they speculated. Yeah, right. Home was across the country, five provi

I didn't like high school, and couldn't wait to get out. Fortunately, my friends made the teenage years  bearable. Like me, my friends were Square Pegs, kids that didn't really fit the mold. We congregated in a little room off the library under the tutelage of Dennis Tuff who ran the audio-visual program. For those with a creative bent, there wasn't a lot that my high school offered. It was a trade school, mainly populated by boys who dreamed of long careers at General Motors, and girls who carried switch blades -- at least that was the rumour about town. West Park had a terrific shop program, a swimming pool, and a world class rowing program. But there was no band, no school letters, or theatre program. There was only the A-V club. We were a rag-tag bunch. The boys were rough around the edges, hair too long, nails slightly broken; they were either funky smelling or over-perfumed. I'd like to think the girls were a higher caste. We were a little snooty and

Over the past four years, I've taken an amazing virtual journey to hell and back with my cousins John and Cindy. It started with a Facebook post from John's sister, Julie Major. Her niece, Ashley, had disappeared from her home in Salmon Arm, British Columbia.  I didn't know I had a cousin named Ashley. I didn't even know I had a cousin named John. Over these past few years, I've gotten to know them very well; they allowed me into the inner sanctum of their family and their pain. They gave me the privilege of telling Ashley's story warts and all. The journey has been horrendous at times. It's difficult watching people you care about sit with a pain that never leaves them, to see them leaning toward the phone waiting for police calls, to worry that John would get into a fight with a boyfriend that didn't call the police for a week after Ashley left him. It was always something. John qualified for EI under a relatively obscure provision that