Never ending nightmare

Heather Walters escaped domestic violence, only to come face-to-face with an unforgiving justice system

It was the dead of night. With one of her five-year-old twins on her shoulders and the other clinging to her chest, watching her back, Heather Walters left her home. She had to hurry. The twins’ dad had a gun.

She was betting on making it to her friend’s house down the road. She had only ever driven there, and didn’t realize how far it was on foot. Exhausted, scared, she tried her luck at a neighbour’s door. They let her use their phone to call her friend, who came to pick up Walters and her children.

This was 15 years ago. Today, it’s evident in Walters’ face that the ordeal still haunts her. And given that it hasn’t quite ended, it’s no surprise.

We spoke to a counseloor from Alternatives for Women, an organization that helps women escape situations of domestic violence. The counsellor did not want to be named, for fear it would interfere with her future interactions with lawyers while assisting clients at the centre. In contrast, Walters insisted on using her real name for this story.

“I remember her coming in here and her two kids, the twins—we were in a different office, and when you walked into the kitchen there was a table there—and her little boy, he hid under that table for months,” says the counsellor. “He would not come from underneath that table; he was terrified because of what he’d seen.”

Walters’ harrowing escape should have been the end of a nightmare of domestic violence, which had scarred her emotionally and physically and had alienated her from almost all her friends and family. She had done what she was supposed to do for the safety of her children. She had left. Now she had to put her faith in the system.

What followed was a different sort of nightmare. One that left her mentally, physically and financially wrecked. Walters was as the height of a successful career—owning a construction business, a home and a subdivision in Bloomfield. She had always managed her finances well.

Today she lives in a rented house and survives on income from Ontario Works and a child tax benefit that will end when her son finishes school. Her assets are gone.

The man who started this, the man who spent years abusing her, lives in a new home with his new girlfriend.

“The judicial system failed me big time. And most of the public, they just don’t realize how to deal with situations like that. You’ve already been abused, so you get into a system where you just keep getting abused by the system,” says Walters. “When I look back, it’s all about the money. When I first sat down at my lawyer’s office, she said, ‘no dough, no go.’ In other words, show me the money.”

Because of her home and business, as well as the abuse, Walters needed a lawyer who could manage criminal, family and corporate law at once. This precluded her from using legal aid. She was forced to hire a lawyer who could manage her complex case.

“There are lawyers out there that refuse to take legal aid certificates. Which puts barriers up in place for women leaving abusive relationships, especially if there’s a home or other properties.

“The lawyers that accept those kinds of cases, those lawyers want to have an interest in the sale of the home, the sale of the farm, the sale of the vehicles, the sale of the equipment,” says the counsellor. “So that puts a division between two different kinds of lawyers.”

Walters’ lawyer took all her assets into a trust. This was so that they could be liquidated, and the balance divided. But as criminal, corporate and family court dates stretched on for years, some money was used to pay her legal bills, while equipment from her business disappeared in the hands of her abuser.

Walters alleges that despite restraining orders and court injunctions, her abuser stole valuable equipment from the business that was meant to be held by the court, and sold it for cash. On paper, it was still money she had. When she tried to find out why nothing was being done about the missing equipment, Walters received no answer.

“He ended up with all the equipment, and the house got sold, and I don’t remember her getting five cents from the sale of that house. But I know what her lawyer’s bill cost her,” says the counsellor. “The half of what she would’ve gotten for the house, I’m guessing [it] went to her lawyer.”

When Walters’ abuser was released from prison, her lawyer advised her to move out of her Christian Road home, to protect herself and her children from him.

“We found a place up on the heights in Picton. They hadn’t even opened any places yet, they were just starting to rent out [the old hospital]. So we found this place. And it’s cold. And I had a beautiful home, you know? Nobody ever thought about what’s going on in your mind or in your kids’ minds, they just thought about the money.”

“I did the right thing by leaving, coming forward with all this stuff. You’re supposed to be rewarded, not [have] everything taken away.”

Walters did get some help, mostly from Alternatives. They helped her find emergency housing, helped her connect with programs she needed to ensure she could keep her children fed and a roof over their heads. But, she says, the system has certainly failed her.

“The women at Alternatives understand more, because they see [victims] every day. But then you can walk over the street to OW (Ontario Works), and they don’t look at why you’re there. They just look at, ‘you’re here, and we don’t want to give you money.’ There’s no empathy.”

Still, for Walters, nothing seems to have been solved. Although she works for Alternatives for Women now, doing whatever odd jobs she can, at age 60, she doesn’t have any money or plans for the future, and living on disability income is proving a barrier to finding housing.

“She was worse off having something, because not only she lost her home, but she lost everything else. She lost everything. She had nothing in the end but her two kids,” says the counsellor. “Where, if she had nothing in the beginning to lose, she wouldn’t have lost, she would have gained her right to live free of violence. But in that case where there was money involved and she had a job, she lost everything. Because of him.”

Today, Walters does her best to help women who come to Alternatives, offering peer support and writing about her experience in the organization’s newsletter. It’s too late for her to recover what she lost over the past 15 years. But she hopes that by telling her story, steps might be taken to prevent other women from experiencing the same thing

On December 6, the 25th anniversary of the 14 women who were murdered at L’Ecole Polytechnique in Montreal, Alternatives for Women will be hosting a candlelight vigil and general meeting at St. Andrews Church in Picton.