I was thrown into a small cell with nothing but a wool blanket and a concrete bench. They refused to give me paper and pencil to write with. I had no books or reading material.
I was without my son and knew my son was worried, as he had never been apart from me, his entire life, longer than a few hours. I knew my son was being traumatized, was scared and was scared sick.
I paced back and forth in that cell, because I couldn't sleep. I literally did not sleep for almost the completion of 3 full days. I did not even lie down to rest for long.
I was so traumatized, all I could do, was worry in a state of shock and pray for my son.
I started to sing, because I had nothing else to do and had to keep my mind clear. So I sang, even when some told me to shut up. One guy kept saying shut up and then after I sang "Arms of An Angel" by Sarah McLaughlin, he kept asking me to sing that song, over and over.
A few RCMP guards wondered what I was there for. Some complimented my singing and voice. A few wanted me to be quiet.
I just did what I had to do. Finally, I got ahold of a Bible and I read the faith passage out loud, about the search for "a better country".
To this day, I do not know what country that is.
I didn't cry. At least I don't remember crying until maybe towards the end a little bit. Instead, for the first time in my life, I couldn't sleep.
It wasn't because I had a guilty conscience, or because I'd done something I regretted. I couldn't sleep because of the actions of others against me, which resulted in a severe concern for my son.
As I discovered, my son didn't sleep, nor did he eat. My son lost a dramatic amount of weight, and I later found out he was quiet and withdrawn during the day and then had nightmares and screaming fits at night, unable to sleep without his mother.
What I wish, for those involved, for every person who contributed to the misery of my son, is vengeance from the hand of God himself. I wish for these parents and individuals to go through what we went through, but go through it longer, and to never find relief.
I do not believe God is only a God of forgiveness anymore. I believe God is a god of Justice, and if there is a God, who saw everything that was done to me and my son, who watched those who stood by apathetically and others who exulted in our misery and grief, I pray that this God, who knows my heart and my attempts to be truthful and do the right thing, has ultimate and final revenge on every single person involved.
I pray that this is his will, and that it is done in my lifetime, and sooner than later. I have no pity for those who did this to my son.
I have no pity whatever.
My son's weight loss can be proven by simply comparing the doctor's notes in Canada, to the notes from my son's first doctor's appointment after being removed from me. He lost something like 7 pounds in one month, on his little frame of only one and half years of age.