In the spring of the worldwide pandemic, Ashley Simpson is 36-years-old. She has settled down in her home town of St. Catharines working with her parents as a cook, server and bottle washer. Four years ago, she decided to give up her vagabond ways. She learned her lesson when she was living in Salmon Arm, British Columbia and left a combustible relationship. Ashley and Derek were like oil and water, and both brought out each other's worst impulses.
Sometimes, she says, she misses the life, but she's now content taking the odd trip to Jamaica or the Dominican Republic. Next year, if the pandemic lifts, she's hoping for a trip to a fishing camp with her family. She's been saving for that.
When she's not working the ships that lumber through the Welland Canal, she spends a lot of time with her sisters, Tara, Amy and Amanda. She's not in a relationship right now; she's dating but hasn't found the right guy. She's hoping for that, but her mom Cindy reminds her that if she just leaves it alone, Mr. Right will one day pop into her life.
After a series of terrible relationships, Ashley's not sure about that, but she's happy to look on the sunny side.
Life is pretty good. She's reminded of the mental health mantra: if your life sucks right now, wait a day, or a month. Everything gets better, that's what everyone says.
What I just wrote is a fantasy, of course, a game that families of missing girls often play.
I'll never walk her down the aisle, a dad will say. I'll never see her have a family of her own, a mom will say.
Those hopes and dreams have been shattered.
There are no daily phone calls, only pictures hanging on the wall and cherished messages saved on the computer which are played over and over.
Ashley didn't make it home from Salmon Arm to a "life gets better" place. She was murdered in cold blood by a man who senselessly took away her future in one horrible violent act.
The family doesn't know how she died. The RCMP believe she was murdered but no one has been charged.
What they do know is that she was the victim of violence, one of the unlucky women who couldn't reach a phone and called 911, or run to the neighbour's house.
So, she will always be 32, the age she died four years ago Monday, her memory frozen in time like an ancient insect in amber. She will never see her nieces, nephews and grand-nephews grow up, never find Mr. Right, never realize her own hopes and dreams.
On April 27, 2016, Ashley Marie Simpson joined the infamous club of The Stolen Sisterhood whose members died at the hands of enraged, entitled, and twisted men who believe that women are their property and can be discarded with the trash.
She is not alone. According to the Canadian Women's Foundation, every six days, a woman is killed by a domestic partner.
And half of all women in Canada have experienced at least one incident of physical or sexual violence since the age of 16.
Last week, Canadians watched in horror as a domestic abuse case went horribly, and dramatically, sideways. A man attempted to harm his ex-partner, and when she escaped, he went on a rampage killing 23 people including RCMP Constable Heidi Stevenson who tried to stop him.
The Nova Scotia event was a case of domestic violence on steroids, but it is not uncommon. Who can forget the man in the Ottawa valley who, in 2015, shot and killed three former partners at point blank range?
And now, thanks to the pandemic, women are trapped inside with no escape plan.
Domestic abuse cases are up by 36 percent in France, 40 percent in Brazil, and 25 percent in the UK.
In Vancouver, calls to domestic violence shelters have tripled. In York, near Toronto, those same calls are up 22 percent. That's just the tip of the iceberg.
On the fourth year anniversary of Ashley's disappearance, I worry about the many other Ashleys out there who are trapped behind doors. My hope is their neighbours, and family are keeping watch.
But that, I am certain, is another misguided fantasy.
Comments
Post a Comment