Chapter 45: The Letter

Amidst the chaos and silence of my court battles and living life, I had another interesting experience. Several months before, my friend and I had been texting about dating, guys, and how awful the dating world was.

She mentioned how she’d been chatting recently with a guy she’d met online. “He’s a cop—you might know him.” When I asked his name, she told me his first name. No last name.

I knew I’d seen this individual on dating apps before, and I’d always swiped no. I told my friend, “I know who he is” and gave her his last name.

To be honest, I never thought it would go anywhere, so I left it alone. I just shared my own experience with her and explained why I didn’t like him. You may be wondering who this cop is, so I won’t keep you guessing. He’s the cop that had threatened to arrest me.

As time went on, they slowly developed a relationship. In the back of my mind, I thought maybe he wasn’t going anywhere. I wondered what does this mean for our friendship? The thing I value most about our friendship, is the ability to have difficult conversations.

One night, the two of us, went out with two of her friends. The topic of their relationship came up. One of her friends was putting pressure on her, asking why they weren’t exclusive yet. I didn’t want my friend to get hurt, but I was hoping she would go on to find someone better. For some reason, I just didn’t trust him and what was going on. My friend told the group how I didn’t like him, so then they wanted to know why not, which I openly shared.

My friend heard me raise some additional concerns about him, but then the conversation returned to the others’ pressure for her to become something official with this man, though their relationship was still in the early stages. She described something nice that he’d done for her, something she’d told others about before. I began to think, I hope my hate for him doesn’t impact her ability to tell me the good things that go on in whatever this relationship or friendship is.

The next time we are hung out, it was just the two of us. I told her how I was feeling and that I didn’t ever want her to feel like she couldn’t share the good things about their relationship with me, despite my feelings. We had a good conversation about that.

We discussed my experience and thoughts again as she and I got ready to go to a “women in business” event. I had been writing about this cop in my book at this time, so I was definitely heightened, emotionally, after just reliving some of that trauma through writing.

She said to me, “Maybe he was going through a rough time that day or something happened. She added, “He’s a really good guy.”

“Maybe so,” I said. “But I’ve also seen and heard some pretty horrific things in my career, and I have never behaved that way. It’s not an excuse. They should be able to turn it off and be present for the next call.” During that discussion, I felt it was better to agree to disagree, since we were each seeing different version of him. I said, “If he treats you well, that’s great, but I did not have a great experience with him. She replied, “I know.”

A few months later, this friend arranged a girl’s night out dinner for about ten of us. I didn’t know many other girls, but it was fun nonetheless. I got a new hairdresser out of the night, so that’s always a win. At the end of the night, I told my friend I had her stuff in my car and to come grab it. She said she would and that she was waiting for that guy to come pick her up, because she did not drive. My heart started to race. Shit. Really? We keep chatting until she received a message that he was there. She said to me, “He’s here,” and we both walk up to the front to leave. Not only was he there, he was physically in the building, coming inside to get her. I didn’t acknowledge him, just walked past him.

My friend followed me outside. “Chelsey, wait up.”

I was more triggered more than I’d realized. It was cold outside, so I want to get to my vehicle, but also, I didn’t want to be near him. At my vehicle, we chatted briefly, then she asked, “Would you ever have a conversation with him? He cares about you. He asks me how you’re doing. He even asked the other day.” I did wonder whether he actually did care or was just trying to get with my friend. I replied, “I’m not sure, but not right now. I am far too triggered by him, and now, he’s a bit too close for comfort.” I’d hoped he would remain “over there”: as a cop, someone I didn’t have to deal with in my personal life. But there he was, with my friend, and their relationship seemed to be getting stronger.

A week or later, I found I had been thinking about this conversation with her quite a bit. Then, I thought, What a cool opportunity for me to tell him how he impacted me that day when he showed up. The impact he had on Grace. And to encourage him to do differently next time. How you show up matters. It’s not often that cops get to hear our side of things. No matter how he responded, this was an opportunity for me to heal further on my own journey and to let go of my hate for him.

A few days later, I texted my friend. “Hey, I’ve been giving it some thought as to whether I wanted to talk to [him] or not, and I decided I would like to write him a letter. What are your thoughts?” She agreed, saying he would like that. So, I wrote him a seven-page letter, which I have added below, though I have changed his name.

John Doe,

I never thought I would get the opportunity to directly share how our last interaction impacted me. Not only me, but my daughter, too. When I was asked if I would ever have a conversation with you, my first response was, “No,” because I wasn’t ready. Moments later, I realized that, in time, I would. As I sat and reflected, I thought the best way for me to do this was to write, as I am much better with written expression, especially when there is so much emotion attached to this whole experience.

I want to be clear in that I am aware you are not responsible for the broken systems we work in, and I don’t place the blame solely on you. You had an opportunity to show up differently on December 23, 2020, though, and you didn’t.

I have been dealing with police and the justice system for almost a decade, because of domestic violence. When you arrived at my house shortly after 9:00 p.m. that night, initially I felt a sense of relief. Knowing it was you and having worked with you in the downtown core during my time at CMHA. I also felt safe and that, finally, maybe someone would hear my concerns. These thoughts and feelings of safety immediately disappeared once you stood in my door way and said, “This is the fifth time we have responded. You know I could arrest you for this.” For not forcing my daughter to go to her dad’s. I told you what was going on, why she didn’t want to go. Not only did you make that comment to me, you said it in front of my daughter, who has forever worried since then that I may go to jail and that you had the power to put me there, for protecting my daughter.

I explained to you the abuse that had occurred and why Grace didn’t feel safe, that I understood I was technically breaching my parenting order, but it was for good reason and in the best interest of my child. I pointed to her as she stood at the top of the stairs, listening and observing, to go and talk to her, and ask her why she didn’t want to go to her dad’s. You looked up at her momentarily but didn’t seem eager or interested in what either of us had to say.

You continued to stand in my doorway with an authoritative stance as I asked you how many more women and children need to die by DV before you actually took it seriously. Those words came out because I was frustrated and scared, but deep down, I was terrified that anything I said that you didn’t like would have me hauled away in the back of the cop car. You carried an attitude like this was the last place you wanted to be that night. It’s an image and a conversation that I will never forget, as it’s a permanent memory and shaped a strong opinion of you and our police service.

I went on to tell you the history and involvement with the school counselor, and how Johnny tried to take Grace from school, which prompted more police contact. I also told you that I was tired of telling my story over and over again only for nothing to be done, as was my daughter. It really hurt when it was you treating me the same way, given that we had a working relationship and I respected you.

You asked me what I hoped for in the future, which seemed to completely derail the trajectory of the conversation, and to this day, I don’t understand the intent behind that question. I didn’t think you actually cared to know, but fearful of what may happen if I didn’t answer, I answered. I told you that I wanted Johnny to get the help that he needed, so he could engage in a healthy way. I wanted them to have a relationship, but not at the expense of her (Grace’s) safety and mental health.

Timmy [name changed of this officer] had responded to a call previously, and I was thankful for that because he cared. When I showed him my court order and explained how Grace said she didn’t feel safe, he said that was enough, and he would not make her go. I was present when he asked Grace why she did not want to go, and she told him that her dad abused her. When I told you this, you told me that Timmy put in his notes that Grace did not disclose why she didn’t want to go.

This felt like another hit to me—another effort for you to cover up or not want to do the work required with DV cases. And it reassured me that even when you think you know someone and trust the police to do their jobs and document accordingly, with honesty and integrity—you can’t. We are supposed to call the police when we feel in danger, and trust we will be protected. I don’t feel that way. I do not trust that I can call or that anything will be done. Some have proven me wrong, but I still hold a lot of mistrust for police as a whole (recognizing a few good ones exist).

You then asked me if I wanted this to be investigated. Which should have been your call. Not mine. Why would I get a choice? You followed that question with, “If you do, you’ll have to go down to the station.”

I felt like you were trying to pass the buck, so you could get the fuck out of dodge. Little did you know, I’d had a terrible experience with an officer at the front, when I’d made attempts to file a complaint at the “complaint” desk with a uniformed officer. I asked you if the station was open at this time, to which you responded, “It should be.” Again, making me feel like you didn’t care. You didn’t want to do your job. It was solidified when our conversation continued.

You asked me if Johnny could be charged with anything under the criminal code. That’s your job to determine that. I asked you why all of the officers who had responded, not one of you had asked to hear the recording I have of Johnny physically dragging Grace out of my vehicle, as she was screaming for her life, grasping at anything to prevent her from being taken, screaming she can’t breathe.

You asked if I still had the video, I told you I did. I told you neighbors had come out that night, asking if we were okay. You asked me to send you the video, which I did. You told me that you would be in touch with me the following day after 6:00 p.m., as you were on nights. As you left, you said, “Great, I’ll have to write a book about this.”

I want you to consider that statement and how it made me feel. You may not know what it feels like to be a victim and fight a system this way, but imagine for a moment being in my shoes, feeling as though you aren’t believed. That at every turn your situation is minimized, and in the scariest moments of your life  and your child’s, nobody, especially those who are supposed to protect you, don’t. You are left to fight on your own. I later looked up the police standards in Alberta and learned that neither you nor any other responding officer followed any of that protocol.

Let’s go back to our situation. You said I would hear from you the following day/night and that you would send my information and the video to the family violence unit. I never heard from you again. Meanwhile, I was left to fear for my safety. It was disheartening to say the least, to feel like it really didn’t matter to you.

You may have thought things got better from that point on, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. It continued to get worse, which is a story for another time.

The RCMP had to get after LPS. And over two years after the incident, Johnny finally got charged with assault with a weapon on Grace. This is truly unacceptable, and it came after fierce advocacy on my end and the RCMP. I was finally connected with the family violence unit, which made these things possible, and I am forever grateful for Wes Yasinski and his compassion. He was finally someone I felt heard me and understood the severity. It shouldn’t have taken this much fighting to get here though. There was an NCO (No Contact Order) put into place (November 2022-November 2023). There is so much more to this story, too.

EPOs followed. Johnny has held Grace hostage and become aggressive, among other things. All of this comes with more in-depth stories for another time.

I have been failed by systems for many years. But I continue to show up and fight, because I have to. I have done a lot of work on myself, but I will admit, you triggered me. You came too close for comfort, being with my friend. I didn’t think this would happen or you would ever end up in my inner circle for me to have to deal with or recognize, but here we are.

So, as we enter this next chapter, I’ve come to this conclusion. I don’t want my friend to have to hide or feel like she cannot share the good things between you, because of my thoughts and feelings toward you. I want her to be happy and treated well. I think it would be a tremendous healing opportunity for us to engage in a dialogue, after you have read this and digested where I am coming from. I want you to know that I am not coming from a place of hate but rather mistrust and hesitancy, as there is still a lot of emotion tied to this and, in the bigger picture, because my fight isn’t over yet.

With that being said, I welcome a conversation for us to come to a common understanding and see what we can build from there.

I will close with this final thought.

I don’t know what you were going through the night you responded, but I want you to know that how you show up for people, on and off duty, matters and leaves lasting impressions (good or bad). You have to be able to put your biases and belief systems aside and be present for that person and their circumstances.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I look forward to future conversations.

Chelsey

It took a couple of weeks for my friend to give him the letter, but eventually, it made its way to him. She said he was interested in a conversation, however I have yet to hear anything. I have come to the conclusion that writing this letter and knowing he received it are all the healing I need.

If I were that officer and I received a letter from someone who felt they were treated poorly by me, I would have taken every opportunity to find a way to have a conversation with that person. This was a clear indication he didn’t care about me. He only cared about getting with my friend.

This was a courageous step on my part, and a huge step in letting go.