Rose's Cantina

Sometimes, I am in awe of the women in my family. I think about the sacrifices made by my grandmothers and aunts, and the strength and grace of my cousins who often stare down adversity.  I come from a family of widows. My grandmother Ina Crown mourned her first husband who died during WWI. My mother Vera buried her own soldier husband, my father Russ, after he died as a result of PTSD at only 34. As a little girl, I watched the women close to me struggle, and cry when they thought I wasn't looking. I was always looking, and learning.  I still am.  Against all odds, they soldiered on. They were Steel Maples, standing tall against every storm.  In my own generation, I have marveled at the sacrifices made by my cousins to raise whole families on their own, and to deal with many mental and physical health challenges, and I am humbled watching Ashley's family endure the loss of their lovely girl whose only fault was picking the wrong guy. We've all been there. The Simpso...

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...

Ashley's search party  When Cindy McGean Simpson received the call that her daughter Ashley was missing in Salmon Arm, she immediately contacted the RCMP. It was days after Ashley had disappeared after an ill-fated drinking party at Margaret Falls involving Ashley, her boyfriend Derek, and a friend. The party, by many accounts, had turned into an alcohol-fuelled fight between Ashley and Derek. Ashley had already made the decision to leave Derek and travel back to her home in Niagara-on-the-Lake. She didn't know how she was going to make it back. She was still waiting on a cheque from unemployment, she had no money, and had only texting ability on her Smartphone. But she knew she had to leave. It was clear that the situation had gone south since the pair relocated to Salmon Arm from Pink Mountain in a truck that Derek had borrowed without telling his employer. So this was a last hurrah. After the fight, Derek told police, the pair went back to their trailer where he ...

Four years ago, Ashley Simpson and her boyfriend Derek Favell left their life in Pink Mountain, British Columbia and decided to make their home in Salmon Arm, the small community where Derek had grown up. Ashley had lived lots of places after growing up in St. Catharines, Ontario. Ashley loved the outdoors, fishing, hunting, and enjoyed following her dad, John, who divided his time as a cook in rugged Northern work camps, on ships that sailed through the Great Lakes, and at a posh resort in Huntsville, Ontario. Ashley was a happy child, who wasn't afraid of hard work. She loved children, and charmed everyone with her infectious laugh. It was in Pink Mountain where John last saw his beloved daughter. John had to get back to Ontario, but Ashley had met Derek and wanted to stay, so John reluctantly told her to stay safe and keep in touch. He kissed his daughter and wished her luck. Over the next few months, Ashley's mom and her sisters were in constant contact wi...

On April 26, 2016, my cousin Ashley Marie Simpson disappeared from her home in Salmon Arm, B.C. after having a fight with her boyfriend, Derek Favell. It's hard to believe it has been four years. Her body has never been found, and no one has been arrested in connection with her disappearance save -- I cannot believe I'm writing this -- a number of people who have tried to use her I.D. to get credit cards. I spoke with her mom and dad today, and they still have no clue what happened to her. Cindy and John both believe she is dead, but they have no body to bury. The police have no suspects. "We still have plans for a memorial," says John, wiping away tears. "I'm hoping to go to work and have the funds." He's also planning an annual barbecue and golf tournament hoping the COVID-19 virus will dissipate and people can once again congregate to honour Ashley. In the meantime, John and Cindy continue to work on the ships in the Great Lakes tryin...

John Simpson is one of the kindest, most caring, people I know. But he's just about at the end of his rope. It's been nearly three years come April since his daughter Ashley disappeared after having a fight with her boyfriend. His families still has no answers, or closure. There haven't been answers, either, for the families of the other women who have gone missing and are now presumed to be murdered in the area of Enderby/Salmon Arm.  It's cold comfort for the families that the justice system released Curtis Sagomeon, under a probation order, in December even though he was found guilty of three charges of uttering threats, intentionally discharging a firearm and terrorizing a woman near his farm, which is a short distance away from where Ashley and the other women disappeared. And it chills John to the bone that a body was found near Sagomeon's farm last year.  The RCMP have reassured the public that there is nothing new to see here, that these ...

Every spring, the rivers run, the soil shifts, and the landscape changes. For most Canadians, it's just evidence of climate change. But for murder investigators in the Okanagan, for the drone pilots and ATV drivers, and particularly for the relatives of Ashley Simpson, it makes it harder to look for her last human remains. Three years ago, my cousin was a vibrant, 32-year-old nicknamed Gypsy for her meandering ways. She was up for any challenge: the catching of the biggest fish, snowboarding in a bikini on a dare. The dark haired beauty was fearless in all manner of things, especially in her love of her big family. Today, she remains just a memory, a snapshot in the eyes of the public who see her posters, and hole in the hearts of her mother and father who try desperately to hold out hope that she will be found. Her mother Cindy says the grandkids are always asking: have they found Aunt Ashley in the woods yet? What is she supposed to say to them? What is she supposed to ...

In the world of politics, there are dolphins and there are sharks. Tex Enemark was a dolphin. Not that Tex wasn't above wielding a sharp elbow now and then. Every dolphin learns that the ocean is full of other bad fish who would happily filet the likes of him for dinner. But he knew the secret of being a successful dolphin. He learned to swim with sharks. And he did so with aplomb. He used his affable nature to disarm. He cajoled. He wined. He dined. He laughed, and laughed and laughed. Because Tex had one rare piece in his DNA often even missing in dolphins. He was pure of heart. A golden child with hair to match, a big man with hard hands who enjoyed sinking ships in the waters around British Columbia, to attract marine life, and allow grown up boys like him to dive around looking at stuff like a character in a Stephen King novel, pretending to be in search of doubloons. I'm sure he was laughing through his pain at the comments when he first posted the...

In November, my cousin Ashley Simpson would have been 35 years old. If she wasn't working, she likely would have celebrated with her big messy family chowing down on a feast prepared by her pa, John Simpson, who would have thrown everything at the usual gang: a turkey, a roast beef or ribs, pots of potatoes and veggies, and lots of yummy desserts. Ashley might have tried some of the legal pot here in Ontario, or maybe brought her own, and washed down her meal with her favorite beverage, a fizzy and boozy Palm Bay. Likely she would have made some crack about showing the politicians how to do the whole pot thing. Then she'd giggle, and venture off to play with her gaggle of nieces and nephews, threading marshmallows, painting faces, and singing the kids' songs so many of us forgot so long ago. Everybody would be there. There's half a town of young people from Thorold and St. Catharines who call her parents mom and dad. Ashley and her sisters adopted a...

Like most women of a certain age, I live with ghosts. Ghosts of dear friends, ghosts of favorite pets, ghosts of dear departed family members. When I'm at the lake, I visit with them often. I see Finnigan catching a Kong in the lake, and Gordie taking his last swim. I see Jennette, too, in the chair next to me having a cocktail or a morning smoothie. It's here where I am most at peace, with the waves lapping or the thunder clapping. It's a place to think, to ruminate, to wonder what could have been. For the most part, the endings were sad but expected; there's no need or want to be angry. We each have so many heartbeats, so many tears in us. As humans, the only thing that keeps us sane is our ability to move on. But there is one ghost who lives with me who won't be put in the nice memory box, and that is the ghost of my cousin Ashley Simpson who disappeared in April two years ago in the wilds of Salmon Arm, British Columbia. Ashley left with barely a trac...

A message from John Simpson: The support and love we are getting from family, friends and strangers is very overwelming to say the least. We love that and will never forget the love. Our daughter Ashley has been missing for over 18 months; others have been missing much longer.  At first, there was concern over the missing, then it died down to a dribble. Now, after 18 months of anguish, we get dozens of calls from the media -- papers, radio, Internet -- all with more concern about how things are.  After numerous walks and interviews, searching and researching, barbecues and golf tournaments, over these 18 months, we haven't given up.  Why did the media give up? Why did the community leaders give up? Why did our government and our police force give up? Why didn't they see the missing as a national tragedy? Why did we, as a whole, leave our friends and neighbours out there, lost, to fend for themselves. Why did we give up looking, searching,...

Somewhere, in the killing field, the bones are coming alive. No amount of fire can destroy the DNA. Finally, our sisters will tell their tales, not using their voices, using their dry bones. There is no tree stump heavy enough, no hole deep enough, to keep them silent. Our sisters will finally tell their stories. Through their dry bones. Who will be listening?

There will be a gathering today at the Salmon River Store near Silver Creek, B.C. to protest the rising and alarming level of violence against women in the area. Protesters will meet at 11 a.m. with their drums, voices and fists to rage against the fact that six women have disappeared in their community in less than two years. “Calling all hand drums, women and men," reads a Facebook posting. "Let's be there to call on continuing support against violence against women." The protest comes during an horrific week in which more than 30 RCMP officers descended on the community to collect evidence at a farm near where my cousin Ashley Simpson disappeared along with the other women. For three days, the police scoured the farm and outbuildings as part of "an ongoing investigation" linked to recent charges against a person who threatened a sex worker with a weapon. The investigation led police to human remains at the site.  It may be weeks, o...

This week, the RCMP descended upon a property in Silver Creek, B.C. not far from the area where my cousin Ashley Simpson and two other area women went missing in 2016. Word of the search spread like wildfire, as the RCMP set up a staging area in a local community hall. The cops were hard to miss with their backhoes and poles, as they combed every inch of the Salmon River Road property. Back in Niagara-on-the-Lake, the Simpson family heard about the search through the grapevine, and my cousin Cindy reached out to the RCMP. Other family members for Deanna Wertz and Caitlin Potts contacted the police as well. Nothing to see here, they were told. The search was completely unrelated to the disappearance of their loved ones. A man was arrested and charged with: disguising his face with the intent to commit an offence, intentionally discharging a firearm while reckless, uttering threats, careless use or storage of a firearm, possessing a weapon for dangerous purposes and pos...

On Saturday, Ashley Simpson's spirit was felt across the country as her family, friends and supporters participated in walks in tribute to the missing and murdered women of Canada. In B.C., her father, John Simpson, joined the families of Caitlin Potts and Deanna Wertz who also disappeared last year from Enderby and Salmon Arm. The walk, organized by Jody Leon, is meant to remember the murdered and missing indigenous women who have been the target of so much violence and neglect. Across the country, in St. Catharines, Ontario, there was a walk in Ashley's memory. Students and staff from Brock University joined in the walk. Ashley's cousin, Sarah McGean, Administrative Coordinator and Academic Advisor at Brock's Tecumseh Centre for Aboriginal Research and Education walked in her honor. Ashley's aunt, Julie Major also organized a walk in Marathon, Ontario. The walks were a success. There was only one low point. Tha...

Here's the latest update, courtesy of Global, B.C. on John's efforts to find Ashley. http://globalnews.ca/news/3453886/we-still-hope-father-of-missing-ashley-simpson-mounts-new-search-in-north-okanagan/

Salmon Arm peeps! Take note. A plea from John. https://www.facebook.com/100009723931925/videos/457428574591270

As winter turns to spring, and the frozen ground begins to thaw, all thoughts turn to you, Ashley. It's been nearly a year now since you disappeared. You seemed so happy on that day. Margaret Falls holds many secrets. She has begun to whisper your name.

I just received this selfie taken by Michael Sarrazin who accompanied Ashley Simpson to Margaret Falls. It was taken on April 27th , the day she disappeared, and was given to the RCMP by Mike. According to the last people who saw Ashley, she disappeared shortly after returning from this trip. Thanks Mike. Thanks also to True Crimes and Mysteries , and Rebecca Duke who has done a followup interview with Mike. And a final note, if you want to learn more about Ashley's case, and the timeline, you can visit this site.  Thanks to Shane for all his good work.

This is the second in a series of guest blogs. Whitney Dumas is one of Ashley's best friends. I met Amanda Simpson (Ashley's youngest sister) in Grade 2 or 3 when I transferred to St. Nicholas Elementary School in the middle of the school year. Amanda was one of the first people to come up to me. She told me she was new, too. We were instant friends and were surprised to find out we lived close to each other. Amanda and Ashley's parents invited me into their family with open arms and I spent just about every day with them. My parents own their own business, Subs Plus. Like any owners of an independent business, they were always working. So I spent a lot of time over at the Simpson house. Ashley and Amanda had one of the most amazing bonds I have ever seen. No matter how mad they were at each other, at the end of the day, they always had each other's backs. Ashley would help us with all our problems. She was our go-to-person for everything. She was extr...