Samantha’s Law
Bio: Family-Centred Care Practice Advocate, Founder of SAMANTHA'S LAW
About
Samantha’s Law
Bio: Family-Centred Care Practice Advocate, Founder of SAMANTHA'S LAW
Family-Centred Care Practice 
To whom it may concern,
I realize what I’ve written is somewhat lengthy… but if you read it in it’s entirety, you will understand why I’m contacting you.
My name is Ricki Bertrand and I believe I am afflicted with a viral/genetic disorder that runs in my family, known as “ciHHV-6 Syndrome”, which can be passed to others when the virus is active.
I believe that I passed this infection to my former girlfriend, Karen Prairie-Point, who later passed away.
Finally, I believe that because I asked Karen’s doctor if it were possible that we shared an infection that was missed by all, this caused a lack of further investigation into my health, as it would implicate possible liability concerning Karen’s passing.
Please read all that follows, as I hope it will help you understand the exact nature of my concerns of medical neglect.
I was born in 1966 at the “Deep River Improvement District” of Deep River, Ontario. Shortly after, my family moved around before trying to settle in North Bay, Ontario. Being that the earliest memories I have start in North Bay, I will go from there.
I am the second youngest of six Indigenous children, four boys and two older sisters to my parents Joseph Albert Jean Bertrand and Claire Bernadette Miller.
I also have half-siblings, as we do not share the same father. This is the case with my younger half-sister, Tracy.
For you to understand how bad it was for us would mean I would have to explore memories that I would rather not remember.
As painful as the prospect seems, I’ve come to a point in my life where I know I must, in order to have the truth known. It is here where I should describe the conditions of the life I had with my family.
My parents, being alcoholics in the extreme form, are difficult for me to talk about…not just because of the pain associated… also the embarrassment. When I think of my family, the first thing to come to mind is how abnormal we were.
Whereas other families function as a unit, ours was the opposite. The cycle was a pretty repetitive one. My parents would drink when they had money, then they would sell what they had to buy more.
I can honestly say that in all my life, I’ve never seen a worse house. We had little…and what we did have was often of no use. The living conditions were horrible. I remember animal waste strewn about the house from all the cats we had as if it were normal.
When my mother drank, she would leave to escape my father. She would often abandon us to go where, I can only guess. She was a quiet woman who had a quiet demeanour. I also remember knowing how sad she was. I believe she loved my dad…and also feared him.
I witnessed her attempt suicide by threatening to jump off our roof. Now I understand this was more likely a cry for help or maybe attention, but to a 5 year old boy at the time, I remember crying so hard at all the confusion and screaming. It truly was horrible.
Also, I remember having to ask people to go into the Belmont Hotel in North Bay to ask for my parents to come home because we were hungry. Sometimes they would…but mostly they wouldn’t.
It was truly a sad childhood that I had…
Having been separated from my family, I don’t keep in touch with my siblings… but when I had heard my dad had passed, my younger sister Tracy told me I was his favourite.
That is difficult for me to believe as I remember much drunken rage and physical abuse that was directed at me most of all.
I was beaten by him if I was around…so I learned not to be seen. Though this slowed the abuse…it didn’t stop it.
Whenever my father made or received some money, my parents would abandon us. This is documented in everything I’ve collected.
My father was known for taking the money from Social Assistance money to go to Toronto so he could drink, attend strip clubs, and obtain the services of prostitutes in the Toronto downtown core.
I can actually remember hearing him brag about it. He would often go with my half-brother, Gary, my brother, Randy… and my step-brother at the time, Pat, who I witnessed physically assaulting my sister Janice, and her two children, Chad and Charles.
As for my mother, I’ve heard from my brother Dan that she was unfaithful as well…and the result was my younger half-sister, Tracy.
I once walked in on my brother Randy as he was sexually abusing Tracy. When I immediately told my father, I was beaten for mentioning it.
My brother Randy in his own way was worse than my father. He would take great delight in beating me as well.
Here is another part of my story that is so difficult for me to talk about… and this is the first time I’ve ever talked about this.
Aside from beating me… Randy would also sexually abuse me.
To say he was sick is an understatement. Once he took me by Greyhound to Toronto… and then abandoned me there.
The C.A.S. in Toronto as well as the Toronto Police will verify this. After I was returned home, Randy was gone. He had been sent away into a group home somewhere and I didn’t see him for years.
While all of the sexual abuse occurred at home, my own father did nothing about it. When I found out what my father had done to my eldest sister, Janice, I understood why. On this topic, I’m going to stop here for the moment.
For me to convey to you the nature of my father, I can say this, often he would find amusement in throwing my sister’s guinea pigs to our dog, King, who was eventually removed from over home.
My father would watch our dog kill my older sister’s pets… laughing as he did so. I was always afraid of my dad.
I know little of my father. It wasn’t until two years ago that I was made aware of his real name, as everyone in North Bay knew my father as Jack Bertrand. What I do know is my father, his two brothers and his sister were all in a residential school outside of Stonecliffe, Ontario.
None of them ever spoke of their time in residential school, as it was a very painful time for all of them. What I will say is all of them became severely affected by alcoholism.
In 1969, my father sexually abused my eldest sister, Janice, when she was 13 years of age. This was just after she had been returned to my parent’s care by the Children’s Aid Society of Nippissing-Parry Sound District Located in North Bay, Ontario.
The CAS was supposed protect Janice, who was a Crown Ward briefly during that time. When they failed to do so, my sister Janice suffered greatly. To this day, she still does.
When she was 13 years old, Janice became pregnant with our father’s child. She was sent to Toronto to stay at my uncles, where she gave birth to a baby girl she named Tammy.
Janice returned to North Bay and I remember seeing her try to get my father to hold their baby, who she named Tammy… but he resisted at first. He then held Tammy briefly before giving her back to Janice.
After that, Tammy was quickly taken from North Bay, and was taken to a town up north that was governed by a different CAS office, where she was quickly given up for adoption under strange circumstances.
Despite all the efforts of the North Bay and New Liskeard CAS offices to attempt to hide this scandal, Tammy and I have found each other after 51 years after the only time I saw her. She suffers from medical issues that are very similar to mine.
After the incest occurred, my father’s drinking increased, and soon after, he made a documented suicide attempt. This because the Children’s Aid of North Bay was now aware of Janice’s new baby, and the fear of being charged publicly for his crime.
The CAS records, most of which I have in my possession, mention my sister leaving to stay with relatives in Toronto… but there’s no mention of the incest my sister suffered.
Nor was there any verification of Tammy’s existence whatsoever. But there is mention in my file that Janice was made a Crown Ward around the time she suffered the sexual abuse.
I know there are adoption papers that show proof of Tammy, because Tammy and I have finally found each other after 51 long years. We both know she is my long lost sister.
I also know the very two CAS office’s that orchestrated the clean up of this scandal, and how they almost got away with hiding everything.
This whole story I’m sharing with all of you is common knowledge amongst my family… and they hide it due to the extreme and obvious embarrassment that we all feel.
My half-sister Tracy works diligently to make sure none of my family members talk to me, due to what I’ve written.
But sometimes you have to share with everyone something so horrible, so that it never happens again.
I remember I was approximately 5 years old when I first became acquainted with the Children’s Aid Society. I need to make it known that precise dates that far back are unclear… but the experiences are not.
You never forget being apprehended from your family, not understanding why and what is happening, being placed with strangers and knowing only the utter fear of having your whole world turned upside down.
This is common for many Native children.
For me to be very specific would require a novel… not a letter. To be honest, I have yet to see a made for TV movie that comes close to how bad it was for our family.
After a couple of failed foster home placements, my brother Dan and I were placed in the care of of an English family, who were living in Powassan, Ontario, at the time. I believe the year it was August 1977 and I was 11 years old.
I would have to say I really liked this family when I first met them. They did have a daughter, named Maria who made no effort to conceal her contempt of me, however.
They had already provided a home to another foster child named Vince of the region who had much to say about both Maria and her mom, whom he despised.
My Foster Father, Peter Sheppard was working for U.O.P. Forest Products at the time and my foster mother, Denise Wilson of Victoria, British Columbia, was running an art store in Powassan called ‘Artisans’.
Their daughter, Maria, had finally moved after completing high school. I was so relieved she was gone as she would bully me whenever she felt like it.
In the CAS report made regarding my Foster family, there is mention of Maria’s behaviour and how it could pose a problem. I even have my Foster Parent’s personal application they made to the Children’s Aid Society.
Maria was horrible to me, even striking me once. When she finally moved to Toronto, I finally found myself able to thrive in the company of my foster parents, specifically Peter, whom I admired… and loved as a father.
After approximately two years of being in their care, Dan and I were sent back home to my father in North Bay, Ontario.
Though my mother was gone, my father still had difficulties with alcohol and lack of employment. He would beat me on an almost regular basis…and yet I would remain defiant. I would often be brought home by the police for delinquent behaviour.
Eventually, at the approximate age of 13, I had run away from home after being beaten again from my father.
When my foster father Peter found me living on the streets at 14 years of age, he convinced me to come back home to my former foster home with him.
My brother Danny was visiting them for the weekend and decided he wanted to come back to the care of our Foster home as well.
While I thrived under their care, Dan did not. After being around our family, he couldn’t make the adjustment. A short time later, Dan returned home. I told the judge at family court I didn’t want to go home, and asked if I could stay with my Foster Family.
After asking the Courts not to send me back home, I was made a Crown Ward of the Children’s Aid Society. It was shortly after this time that my foster father was starting his own business called ‘Veneertech’, which understandably did begin to require much of his time.
He would travel for days sometimes, visiting other companies to do business I assume. I won’t go into details here…but that is when eight months of sexual seduction and abuse began at the hands of his wife, Denise.
At first the sexual abuse was through seduction but when I started to resist, it changed to painful abuse sometimes where sometimes uttered threats veiled as lovers talk just after she took my virginity.
She threatened to kill me if I told anyone, but because I thought we were in love, I kept our secret.
I will be honest, when it began, I enjoyed the sexual experiences we shared. I was in a very bizarre and sexual relationship suddenly… and because I mostly enjoyed it, I kept our secret.
It was later where I learned not to say anything, through fear of embarrassment and being blamed for destroying a family.
Please remember, I thought we were in love. So I protected our secret…
It was around that time that my grades began to drop. When I was in grade 9 at Almaguin Highlands Secondary School, I was transferred to West Ferris Secondary in North Bay for bringing my foster father’s marijuana to school.
In retrospect, I’m pretty sure that my foster father knew something was wrong.
Apparently, some of their inner circle of friends were already gossiping about the rumours regarding my foster mother and me.
At the end of my stay with Peter and Denise, I called the C.A.S. myself and asked to be moved. I was 15 years old.
They placed me with my sister Jean for one week and then after that I was placed with friends of my Foster Family.
Shortly after, I was placed in care with a French family with whom I couldn’t communicate.
After uttering inappropriate words to the other foster children, I was moved to a foster home in North Bay which was known for taking difficult children.
I saw my foster mother once after that. She told me she had confessed to her husband, Peter, exactly what she had done to me… gave me twenty dollars, and said she was sorry. Then she told me to leave.
It wasn’t long before I returned to criminal behaviour and was truant from school again. I ran away to Toronto from the group home I was in when I was 16.
I knew my life was coming apart. I was angry, afraid and I felt cheated. I ran away from the group home I was in again and was shortly arrested for ‘break and enter’.
I was sentenced to one year of probation, in which I had to reside at the House of Concord outside London, Ontario.
On my 17th birthday, I received a card from the C.A.S. in which I also received a summons to appear in court because the C.A.S. had made an application to terminate my wardship.
They also included 10 dollars… the total amount of my worth to them, apparently.
I don’t know if you can understand the kind of impact this had on my life. I felt abandoned, angry, depressed and even suicidal.
Because I had chosen the C.A.S., I was estranged from my family. I knew at that point, I had no one.
Not understanding my rights and also because I was incarcerated, the hearing proceeded without me, and my wardship was terminated.
While incarcerated during the 1980’s at the Ontario Correctional Institute, I was a part of a study of the effect of Neurobiofeedback on repeat offenders.
I met with Dr. Douglas Quirk and was treated by him. It was my second time sentenced to the custody of O.C.I., but not my second time in jail.
By then, due to my committing repeated break and enters, I was well acquainted with being in jail.
As I mentioned earlier, the psychiatric staff at O.C.I. tried to help me break this pattern. Their names are Dr. Brian Harris, Dr Harriet D’Mello, Dr. Pat Sutkar…and of course, Dr. Douglas Quirk.
After lengthy testing, I was treated for displaying signs of a chronic anxiety disorder, with severe antisocial tendencies. Dr. Quirk stated that my intelligence was in the 95th percentile… and before I go any further, let me state that I don’t say this with pride.
My reason is to help you understand who I am and why my life turned out the way it has. In the meeting we had that day, Dr. Quirk also drew a picture of three ‘stick people’, two large one side…. one small on the other…. and a drawing of a bottle in between.
He asked me what this meant to me… l remember thinking for a moment and then I remember saying that the bottle was bigger than the child, meaning to me the wine was more important.
In retrospect, I believe I was in error and what Dr. Quirk meant by the drawing was that the presence of alcohol interfered with my fetal development.
He prescribed months of Biofeedback, repeated one to one sessions as well as peer review sessions.
To make a very long story much shorter, I will say that I spent most of the following 4 years in and out of custody. This pattern started to end after I received medical treatment while in custody at the Ontario Correctional Institute.
It was after this that I went to jail once more in 1991 and have not returned since.
What I can say about my family is this… all my brothers, sisters and I suffer from the same symptoms on varying levels.
So do our children.
My nephew through one sister is autistic and my nephew through my other sister was being medicated for A.D.H.D.. Many of them, including my own son, Jamieson, have obvious physical birth defects.
If you knew the total spectrum of disorders that everyone in my family are being treated for, my father’s history of herpes and shingles infection, and added with the high likelihood of fetal alcohol exposure, I’m sure the pattern would be apparent to you.
What I can say about my life is this. It is very difficult for me because I have never received the medical help I need… and at best, I have only been able to maintain intermittent medical care through clinics, which is far from what I require.
I have a history of depression because of the continuous isolation and have attempted suicide once. I can’t hold down a job because I can’t relate with people. I can’t even maintain eye contact. I have had counselling but I’ve moved around from town to town, so that never really amounted to anything.
Because of being overly sensitive, I don’t know how to relate with people. I’m often considered odd…even when I try to fit in. Also, it is very difficult to maintain clear thought, yet my long term memory is uncanny.
Often, I rant on the same topic. I am adept in computers and like numbers. I require routine. I also find it very difficult to tolerate changes to my routine.
Frequently my symptoms lead to depression and isolation. Needless to say, the picture paints itself.
Having been raised in the care of the Children’s Aid Society… I have no normal relationships in my family, especially since I shared our family’s story on social media. They hate me for what I’ve shared about our family’s secrets.
Also, I don’t socialize. I can honestly say I now only have one person in my life that I can call friend.
I can’t maintain normal relationships. In all honesty, I wouldn’t know how. But after being rotated through both the foster care and correctional systems, I never had any steady medical or psychiatric care.
Also, after being in and out of jail for 11 years, I believe I was lost in the medical shuffle.
My life has been hell… pure and simple. The effect I’ve had on people has also been hell for some I’m sure. I’ve made many mistakes in life for which I’m so sorry. My life is not one of inspiration and success but rather of failure, isolation and poverty.
I have lived on the streets, slept in apartment stairwells and laundry rooms, stayed in missions and eaten in soup lines.
I’ve seen many holidays and birthdays go by uncelebrated and alone.
And when I wasn’t homeless, except for my experience at O.C.I., I was sent to correctional institutions where I was further victimized for being different.
I’m still paying the price for many things that were out of my control… and it’s truly unfortunate to have to have dealt with all of this for so long.
Currently, I am 55 years old… but I still very much feel like that abused kid. I still carry all the pain and anger associated with this. It has never gone away for me.
After going over my Children’s Aid records, summaries of my medical files, my parents history with severe alcoholism, the social class of my family, the behavioural problems that run through most of my family members in varying degrees, a list of most prevalent genetic and medical disorders amongst First Nations people, and the very course of difficulties I’ve endured in my life, I am fairly certain my medical issues fit the demographics of my family and myself.
After my repeated requests for a complete physical and STI testing for an infection that might have contributed to my friend’s death were ignored, I’m now a former patient at the Cancer Assessment Clinic, The Ottawa Heart Institute… and Wabano’s Health Centre.
With all my health issues, I don’t even have a family doctor anymore, except the services I’m forced to pay for to receive some of the treatment I require.
As a resident of Ontario that has OHIP, I find this unacceptable.
I’ve been to see the Genetics Clinic at C.H.E.O. in Ottawa for genetic consultation and testing but because there is no diagnostic test for Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, all they could do was rule out some of the other possible disorders, which all came back negative.
By process of elimination though, I feel this supports my concern for brain injury due to prenatal exposure to alcohol and congenital viral infection.
But that isn’t all the medical conditions I suffer from as I have overlapping issues… and infections.
Being recognized by the Fetal Alcohol Resource Centre of Ottawa for possibly being afflicted with a mild form F.A.S.D., the diagnosis of HSV-1 infection as well as possible Herpes Zoster Virus infection (Shingles), and my knowledge that I’ve been afflicted with ciHHV-6 all my life saddens me. I think of all the people I must have infected.
I can confirm two previous girlfriend’s are deceased due to heart issues… and I feel so very responsible for this, though I was never diagnosed nor did I know I was sick with a contagious condition.
I often think of what life could have been like had I received the proper help I so desperately needed… and I’m left feeling cheated.
It is my hope that someone’s potential involvement might bring an end this situation I’m in… which regards my health, it’s subsequent mishandling… and how this probably led to the passing of my former girlfriend, Karen Prairie-Point from Cornwall, Ontario.
I miss her deeply.
The story I need to tell is long and complicated. It involves what I believe to be medical negligence that began after the steroid therapy prescribed to by my endocrinologist, and not properly managed by the doctors involved.
This aggravated my underlying medical condition, causing potentially life threatening symptoms as a result.
The reason for this is if I’m diagnosed for what I’m about to explain, then this was the cause of my friend’s passing.
It also means Dr. Kayvan Amjadi from the Cancer Ages Assessment Centre at The Ottawa Hospital, did not diagnose or treat her in time.
Nor did The Ottawa Heart Institute, who tried to care for her heart but without an accurate diagnosis, and shortly after installing a pacemaker, Karen passed away.
Here we are… fifteen months after Karen passed. Dr. Amjadi became my Pulmonologist because I ended up becoming his patient at the Cancer Ages Assessment Centre, as well as a patient at The Ottawa Heart Institute… just as Karen was.
My symptoms are very similar to what Karen’s were… and might explain why we had the same doctors in the end.
But because I asked Dr. Amjadi, Silvia Zanon of The Ottawa Hospital, Nancy Shore of The Ottawa Heart Institute, and Joanne Soucie of the Wabano Indigenous Health Centre, if they missed an infection(s) that both Karen and me shared, I believe it became a liability issue for them.
Due to current social issues involving medical discrimination in Canada that has been directed at the Indigenous population, I also wonder if my race is the reason for the lack of care I’ve received. I truly hope not, as the feeling I’m left with is indescribable and hurts me to my core.
I’m also having difficulty understanding why I have yet to receive a full physical medical examination… despite all my symptoms.
My last complete physical was at 12 years of age while I was a Crown Ward of the Children’s Aid Society. That was 1978 in North Bay, Ontario.
Being Indigenous, a survivor of repeated familial sexual abuse,… and after enduring more sexual abuse by my foster mother while in the care of the Children’s Aid Society of Ontario, I feel like damaged goods.
I also feel abandoned by the medical community who I thought was bound by an oath to use their knowledge to provide medical assistance whenever they can.
That oath does not appear to apply to me, though.
To be honest, most of my life has been filled with neglect, racism and abuse.
It’s been hell for me.
Because of my life and my family’s background, I feel I fit the demographics for someone who should be aggressively assessed for STI and viral infections… especially the herpes types.
It is my specific belief that I’m afflicted with ciHHV-6 which runs in my family on my father’s side.
The name of this disorder is Chromosomally Integrated HHV-6, a variant of the known herpes viruses that binds to the host’s DNA and can be passed to offspring. It is also known for causing the symptoms I endure.
There is a specific genetic test to prove this. It is called a “ddPCR Test for ciHHV-6”, which is used for diagnosis as regular PCR is known for inaccurate negative results.
There is also treatment for this condition in the form of ganciclovir, foscarnet and cidofovir.
I’ve been receiving valacyclovir, which is known to help treat HHV-6 infection, as well as HSV and VZV. My symptoms are improving at 3,000mg daily after 30 days at this dose.
This is why I feel I require a proper diagnosis is necessary so I can acquire the specific treatment available, as my health has been grossly affected by the use of steroids, severe stress… and basic medical neglect.
As I’ve said, I have a long story to tell somebody… and I want whomever reads this to understand that I blame Karen’s doctors… and my doctors, for what I believe was her preventable death.
Please read everything I’ve prepared, as I feel it will show you much of what has transpired and why I feel so betrayed by those involved.
It’s my hope, that after reading this, if you feel what I’m saying is possible, then I would greatly appreciate any assistance or suggestions you can provide.
Also, I just want you to know I have much documentation and records that I feel supports all I’m implying. Please believe me when I say I fully understand the seriousness of the implications I’ve made.
Also, please understand that nobody is sent to all these medical departments and specialists without reason or for just a psychiatric condition such as hypochondria or parasitosis, and yet I still have not been completely physically assessed.
I believe this is due to possibly of Karen’s doctors and the Hospitals that employ them being held liable for lack of a proper investigation, diagnosis and treatment, which then contributed to her death.
Keeping that in mind, why have I yet to be investigated fully for infections such as STI’s based on my familial and personal background? Why have I yet to obtain a complete physical examination?
It is these two questions that cause me the greatest concern.
I ask you to speak with any medical specialist regarding what I’ve shared below… and enquire if what I’m telling you is medically accurate or possible, as I honestly would appreciate it greatly if a medical professional would investigate my concerns.
Please help me… as I’m being actively ‘stonewalled’ by my search for answers.
As I keep getting turned away or ignored by the medical professionals and the clinics involved, I feel alone with all of this… but that in no way means that I’m giving up.
Quite the contrary, actually.
As for my substandard educational level and the symptoms I’m experiencing, I’ve gone about as far as I can in learning all of this on my own.
This is why I’ve sent this to every one of you, as conditions such as mine is your specialty. Thank you all for your time and consideration. Feel free to contact me at your convenience.
Sincerely,
Ricki Bertrand
Heart-breaking. I’m sorry.
The monstrosities vulnerable persons are subjected to, generational trauma, targeting, inequality and lack of accountability are mind-boggling.
I wish I had answers how to achieve better judicial response and change. If I did, my own child might be alive, or, at least the persons responsible would be stopped from harming anyone else. As one officer said to me, “Canada is a legal System, not a Judicial one.”
Thank you for sharing. Perhaps your voice will help others. I hope you find healing and peace.
#NoMoreSilence