The Dark Must Come to Light
It had been years since anyone had heard from Roxanne. She used to live across the hall from me in Ottawa. It was comforting to have my baby sister nearby, even if there were times when our lifestyle and choices differed greatly. At least someone would be there for Rox when she needed help and the baby sister had needed help many times in the past. When she was two she had been removed from my mother, falsely, and placed in a foster home. The natural son of the foster parents, a club-footed teen, had no girlfriends; girls his age laughed at him. I feel for a kid like that, but what he did to my sister was unforgivable. The system that had taken her from a good mother and placed her in that home is a sick one indeed.
The club-footed boy was raging with hormones, yet the only girl he could ever get close to was my two year old baby sister. He took her. In the middle of the night, he crept into her room and molested her. She was in a vulnerable position, needed the love of her family, of the father she never knew, needed her father to protect her, but no one, not even the deformed boy’s parent cared about her safety; their precious son with the mangled feet were their only concern. They did nothing as he began to rape my little sister on a regular basis.
He raped her with regularity until she was the age of five. Then finally my mother won the custody of Roxanne and got her from the home. But it was too late for the little girl. She was now very much a mess. She never got the help she needed and my mother could not win against the state run home, so little Roxanne grew up thinking her only use in life was to please men sexually; her only use was to be used by men.
Now that she was grown up, there was not much anyone could do to help her. She had tried to live a good life, but an Eastern man raped her again when she was fifteen and got her pregnant. She married him and raised their daughter. She was a good mother to her little girl, a very good mother. She swore to protect her daughter from anyone who would harm her.
Then one day the man who had taken her from her own, the father of her child, took their daughter back the east where he stayed for six years. It was the last straw that sent Roxanne crashing over the edge. Her world soon became full of drugs as she tried in vain to forget about the heartbreak she felt at the loss of the one thing she loved, her little daughter. Her husband never came back and Roxanne had no way to bring her daughter home. The government would not, could not do anything about it. Roxanne felt so doomed, tortured at the thought of what might have happened to darling daughter, her inability to be a good mother. Roxanne longed to see and hold her daughter again. Finally drugs helped to ease the pain and prostitution soon followed as a way to pay for her new habit.
Rox chose to live on the west coast, in a neighbourhood called the ‘Downtown Eastside’ (DTES), where no one in the family wanted to visit, let alone live. The DTES is a neighbourhood of Vancouver. It was a bad place to live, the most notorious, dangerous and poverty stricken neighbourhood in the whole country. The most dangerous people in that area however, were from somewhere else and came only to prey on the poor. Naturally, everyone in the family was worried about Roxanne, she had dropped out of sight and no one had heard from her in years. Mom had tried to report her as missing, but police said Rox was around, but wished no communication with the family.
We had all tried to help her and wanted very much to see her straighten out and change her lifestyle. We wanted her to clean up and get off drugs, somehow turn her life around. We knew how hard it was for her to except that her daughter had been ripped from her arms and we hoped someday she would come back to us. We were all worried that someday we’d get a phone call from police telling us she had been found dead. So on this day when the phone rang and I heard her voice, it was with great relief that she was still alive.
“Roxanne, where have you been? Everyone has been so worried about you”, I told her.
“I know. Mom worries about me and I have avoided calling her”, she answered.
“Why? Is that why you told the police you wished to have no contact with the family?”, I scolded.
“God, the cops, I am not surprised they said that, but I never told them I didn’t wish to communicate with the family and they have never told me anyone was looking for me. I AM sorry. I didn’t know they had done that to Mom. I worry Mom, but don’t mean to. Sometimes I feel it worries her more to hear from me than if I just didn’t call”, she replied. “But I never told police that I didn’t want to speak to you guys; I just figured you didn’t want to hear from me”
“Well we do want to hear from you. We want to help if we can. Where have you been?”, I asked.
“Oh I have been around”, she said with a laugh. “You know me. It’s hard for me to live the kind of life you would like for me to live”, Roxy said.
“Yeah, but you haven’t called anyway”, I chided.
“I wonder if it was Dave who told her that. He’s the only cop I ever said anything like that to. What I said is I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me; he invented the rest. I’ll call her and straighten things out”, she said.
“Who’s Dave?”, I asked.
“He’s a cop who is a John of the girls. We were on a date and I told him I knew how much it worried Mom to hear about my troubles. He never said she called looking for me. I would have called her if he had. But I never said I didn’t want to talk with her, just that I knew it worried her to hear from me; I don’t lead the kind of life she would like for me to lead”, she told me.
“A cop uses your services? Boy that’s rich”, I said.
“Yeah I don’t trust that guy. He pretends to be a friends of the girls, but we’ve got his number, literally”, Roxy said.
“I heard you had gone straight and was a born again Christian. Any truth to that?”, I asked, hoping she had.
“Well I did clean up my act. Met a guy who took me in and took me to church”, she answered.
“How did that work out?”, I asked.
After a pregnant pause she said, “You know me, not long. I just can’t get the hang of religions. They are more your thing than mine. When people want to save my soul, I know they want me to live by their set of rules and I don’t really want to be like them. They treat you like they are so much better than you. It’s so hypercritical. The churches are locked an empty places when there are poor, homeless people sleeping on their steps… in the cold rain. That says something about religion. No I don’t need an exclusive club to save my soul. I am saved“.
I heard her voice break a bit. She wasn’t the type to get emotional. I hadn’t seen her cry since she was small. “Roxanne what is bothering you? I know you well enough. Tell me what is wrong.”
“Ah you wouldn’t believe me if I did, the truth is so strange”, she replied.
“Try me. How many times have you shocked me in the past?”, I answered firmly. She knew I had been trough some pretty tough stuff with her, near rapes, bikers, her ex-husband who beat her, the man she shot when he tried to attack her, the three bikers who gang-banged her in Grandmere back east. What more could she tell me that would shock me worse than she already had?
The was a moment of silence before she began. “Do you remember the little old lady in Syracuse who lived down the street from us on Kirkpatrick? Remember the little old lady I used to go visit, I’d go to the store for her?”
“Yeah I remember there was a little old couple you used to visit. What brings her to mind now?”, I asked.
“Do you remember her name? It’s an unusual name and I had never met anyone with that name before until I met my best friend” she answered.
“Yes now I remember. You really got on well with that old lady. You use to go there after school and sit with her, go to the store for her, she really treated you well. I remember her well“, I replied.
“Well there’s this place outside of Vancouver. It’s a huge piece of land owned by two brothers and, I think, their sister. They have a pig farm there. On the land there are a lot of buildings. One of the buildings the brothers have turned into a party club for bikers, cops and politicians. They call it “Piggy’s Palace”, she told me as she began her story.
“What about it?” I asked, knowing I was heading down a path I didn’t want to know about.
“I’ve been out there a couple of times. The brothers get girls from the DTES to go there and entertain the men, mostly bikers and cops, but a few local politicians party there as well. I was out there a couple of times and recognized some of the cops who party there. The girls were there not only to entertain the men, but also to help make movies…” she got out before I interrupted.
“Porn movies?”, I ventured.
“Some of them are porn, but what they do is have the women pretend to be killed on video. They pay the women well, give them drugs and treat them well. But I noticed that after the girls had been out there twice doing the porno and ‘pretend death’ scenes, the third time they went out, they didn’t come back. I warned my friend not to go back out there. She had gone out with me twice before, but they are so generous with the drugs and money and the girls are treated so well the first two times that she thought I was being paranoid. She went out there a third time on her birthday and she never came back. The men make snuff movies out there, among other things…” she continued before I cut her off.
“Excuse me, Roxanne, what is a snuff movie?”, I asked.
“That’s a movie in which the ‘stars’ are actually killed on video…”, she answered before I interrupted her again.
“Roxanne are you serious?” I said in utter disbelief, “You mean, they actually kill the women and film it?” I stopped for a moment to absorb the impact of what my baby sister had just told me, then surmised, “If they were making that sort of movie, then it would be evidence. You go tell the police”, I demanded.
“It wouldn’t do any good to go to the cops; like I said, they already know. They already know all about it”, she said calmly. “I was out there twice before. The good old boys treated me real nice the two times I was there, me and my friend, but then the next time I was hard up for some down…”, she got out before I interrupted her again.
“What is down?”, I naively asked.
“Heroin. At the time I was living at this hotel near the cop shop. That’s where a lot of the women lived. There was a women named Linda who lived there with us. She works with the brothers who own the pig farm. She watched and when a woman, who had been out to the pig farm twice before, was hard up for a drug, she’d call Willy”, she continued. “One day I was hard up for some down and she came knocking at my door, telling me ‘Willy was there for me’. I knew what that meant. He came in waving the heroin in my face. If I wanted it I had to follow him. We went behind the hotel and after he got me in his white van, he made me strip…” she said before I again interrupted her.
“Why did you go with him? Oh my God Rox, please come home. It really isn’t as bad as you make it seem. I love you and can watch over you here like I always have. Please come home”, I pleaded.
“I was so sick, Sis that I needed that hit of heroin and thought I could sweet-talk him out of it, but that’s not what happened. He stripped my clothes off then shackled me, wrists and ankles, to the floor of the van in the alleyway behind the hotel, then took off. I knew where I was headed, to star in a snuff movie. I looked around and saw that the van was really clean, so I threatened to have a shit in the van if he didn’t let me up for a poop. I knew he didn’t want me to shit in the van, because there might be blood in my poop, so he stopped in an alleyway behind a shelter in the DTES. He put a wire pig noose around my neck..” she said before I interrupted her again.
“What is a pig noose Roxy?”, I asked feeling very afraid for my baby sister.
“It’s a wire noose they use to hold pigs with before they slit their throats, to keep them from running away”, she answered before continuing matter of factly. “He put the noose around my neck then let me out of the van into the alleyway to take a shit. I was still naked at the time. But when I stooped down to poop, I grabbed hold of the wire behind my neck and yanked it out of Willy’s hands, then took off running. I got away and tried to tell Dave about what had happened, but he just told me I was tweaking. I didn’t think he would really help. He knew all about the pig farm anyway; he is a John of the girls, so I was hoping he really cared, but he is just a pig after all.”
“Oh my God! do you mean to say the cops are in on what goes on out at that pig farm?”, I said with my blood pressure rising and my knees starting to weak with fear for my sister.
“Oh yeah, they know all about the place. There have been some government officials of all sorts out there. They help distribute the movies and make a shitload of money on them”, she said. “I bet they even sell organs on the black market too. Just imagine, someone somewhere has the liver of a drug addict…. oooo! The patient probably died.”
“Well get a hold of one of those movies and take it to the press”, I naively demanded.
“The films are not sold here. Asia is the biggest market for snuff films… and organs”, she informed me.
“So what about your friend? Did she go out there?” I asked.
She didn’t answer right away, gaining her composure. I could tell it was hard for her to talk about. “I told her not to go back out there. I warned her that the girls didn’t come back the third time they went out, but the boys treated us so nice the first two times, gave us money, all the drugs we wanted, they really treated us like queens. It is disarming. It is so tempting to believe it is a good trick”, she told me.
“A what?”, I asked.
“A trick, when you go with a John. You know when a guy hires a woman, he is called a trick”, she informed me. I was so naive about the kind of life she led. “Anyway I guess she never thought they would hurt her. It was her birthday and they invited her to come party with them. She was in the mood to party so she went. That was the last I ever saw of her. I was hoping they wouldn’t do anything to her, but… well it didn’t work out that way. She never came back.”
“God Roxy, you have got to get out of there. That place sounds perfectly evil. Come back to Ottawa. Stay here with me. I have a big place. You can get a decent job. Please get out of there”, I begged her.
“Oh heavens Sis. You are so sweet, but there is no way I could live in Ottawa anymore. I couldn’t hold a regular job. I never could. You know that. Thank you. You have really been a good sister and I love you, but there is no way I could live in Ottawa anymore”, she said. Then she changed the subject. “Sis, do you know where Uncle Bubba is?”
“God no, I haven’t seen him since I left San Francisco. Why do you want to know about him?”, I asked. “What ever you do, don’t go to him for help.”
“No I remember what you told me about him. No it’s just that I saw him out at the pig farm when I was out there. He is friends with the brothers that own the place and with the bikers and apparently he is friends with the cops, too”, Roxy said .
“Oh Lord, you mean they never caught him? Roxy you must be very careful of him. He is a very dangerous man. He’s Illuminati. He’d think nothing of killing you… even you. I’m not surprised he would be involved with those men”, I said. “Mimi and I both believe he is the Zodiac Killer. Stay far away from him. Never let him have your hands. Never get near enough for him to grab your hands. He is very strong and dangerous. He’ll use your wrists to haul you around and you can’t get away.”
“I remember what you said about him when you came here in 1970. No I would never get near him. I am afraid of him, too. I believe you and believe me I won’t go near him”, she answered.
“Roxy if you won’t come here, then at least get out of Vancouver. Get out of the DTES”, I urged.
“Yeah, you’re right. I know someone I could go stay with. He lives in Castlegate. You’d live like a queen!”, she said.
“Be careful Roxy. I don’t know why you have avoided us, but believe me we do love you and want you to stay safe. I do not want to get a phone call from anyone else about you. You call me if ever you need any help. Please promise me you will. Call me on a regular basis, collect if you have too, but stay in touch. You know I am here for you”, I reassured her.
“I know and i am sorry I have taken so long to call. Please don’t tell Mom about what I told you. It would worry her too much. She can’t handle this kind of stuff anymore”, she pleaded.
“No I don’t want to worry her either, but you call her. Go visit her at least for an hour. Call her because she is worried about you”, I begged.
“Okay I will call her, but don’t tell her any of this”, Roxy implored.
“No I won’t. I am so glad you called me. It is very disturbing news. I am afraid for you, so I want to hear from you more often”, I asked.
“I will. Sis I love you for being there. You have always been good to me”, she said.
“I love you too. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you. I don’t have much money, but I will help in whatever way I can”, I reassured her.
“Well, there may be something you can do in the future, but we’ll talk about that then.”
“Roxy, you call me collect if you have to, anytime, day or night, if you need help. I love you Baby Sister. You take care. I’ll tell Mom we spoke and can she expect a call from you soon? She’d love to hear from you”, I said hoping she would make that call.
“Don’t worry, I will Sis. I promise to call Mom, maybe next week. You’re a real treasure Sis; I love you.” there was a moment of silence that I knew when it ended it may be the last time we’d talk. “Well I gotta go. Bye Sis.”
We both said together. “I love you”, and then she was gone.
Terri Williams © 2007-2057
