Canadian True Crime - 82 The Murder of Joe Rose

Episode Date: February 1, 2021

QUEBEC | In 1989, 23-year-old Joe Rose and a friend boarded a Montreal bus home in the early morning hours. What happened next would be described as a turning point for the LGBTQ+ rights movement in Quebec.Recommended resources for further reading:Prejudice to pride: The forgotten murder of Joe Rose, by Richard Burnett, special to the Montreal GazetteSex Garage raid a turning point in Montreal’s LGBT activism by Richard Burnett, special to the Montreal GazetteHIV basics from Catie.ca (Canada’s source for HIV and hepatitis C information)People living with HIV in Canada: infographic [PDF]Canadian True Crime donates monthly. This month’s donation has gone to:Interligne.co - offers 24/7 support to LGBTQ + people in both English and French, as well as their loved ones and staff in community, school, health and social services.2SLGBTQIA+ Youth hotline: text or phone [phone] - there are no taboo subjects :)Podcast recommendation:Framed - An Investigative StoryThanks for supporting my sponsors!See the special offer codes here Looking for ad-free episodes? Become a supporter!Access early episodes, without the ads plus bonus content and more on Patreon and Supercast. Learn moreCredits: Research and 2SLGBTQIA+ content advise: Eliot Newton / GenderbanditWriting: Kristi LeeAudio editing and production: We Talk of DreamsDisclaimer voiced by the host of TrueTheme Song: We Talk of DreamsSpecial thanks to Timecop 1983 for use of Gone and Memories (first two tracks used) from the albums Lovers Parts 1 and 2.Social medias:Facebook: facebook.com/CanadianTrueCrimeTwitter: @CanadianTCpodInstagram: @CanadianTrueCrimePodInstagram: @kristileehello All credits and information sources can be found on the page for this episode at canadiantruecrime.ca/episodes. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Canadian True Crime is a completely independent production, funded through advertising and direct donations. The podcast contains course language, adult themes, and content of a violent and disturbing nature. Listener discretion is advised. His name was Joe Rose. You may not recognize it because his public memory has largely faded away with a previous generation, but he was an important person in Quebec in the 80s, a person who inspired a fight for change. Joe Rose was born in 1965, and he knew who he was from a young age. He was gay and proud of it, and even as a teenager in high school, he never tried to hide it from anyone, a stance considered rare at the time, not to mention

potentially dangerous. This was the 1980s, a turbulent era for the gay community, as it was referred to back then, years before the more inclusive LGBTQ plus acronym became the preferred term. Across Canada, police were raiding gay bathhouses and issuing charges related to body houses or brothels, and while Canada would become one of the first countries to affirm same-sex marriage, when Joe Rose was a teenager, that milestone was still 20 years away. Even though Joe was friendly and likable, being openly gay came at a price, especially for a student in high school. But Joe Rose didn't care. He was going to live life on his terms. He was so open that he became a gay activist as a teenager, making a lot of friends in the

Montreal gay community and boldly advocating for their rights and treatment. But things were different at school. When Joe was 16, he was targeted in the locker room. A few teenage boys cornered him and one roughed him up against the wall and yelled slurs at him. Joe waited for the group to leave and then he got dressed. That was the last straw he had to stand up for himself because if he didn't, it would continue and likely get worse. So he gathered all his strength and confidence, waited for the bully after school and decided to teach him a lesson with his fists. Afterwards, as Joe walked off, he reclaimed the slur that was used against him, yelling back to the stunned bully, tell everybody a f*** it beat you up.

The next day, the news of what happened was all over school. The message was loud and clear and after that, he would say that people still bugged him about being gay, but not as much. In a later interview with the Montreal Gazette, Joe would say he'd been sexually active for quite some time and lived what he described as a double life. As a teenager, he worked from time to time as a street or outside sex worker. On occasion, he would have to fight with street kids and would find himself in dangerous situations with his johns, that is, the closeted men in Montreal who paid teenage boys for sex. When Joe was 17, he started to get sick. He had vague symptoms like a fever, exhaustion and fatigue.

He would recover from one illness and then get sick again. He lost weight and then new symptoms started to show up. Joe went to the doctor for a checkup and when the test results came back, he was given the news that he was HIV positive. HIV or human immunodeficiency virus attacks the cells that help the body fight infection, making it more vulnerable to sickness and disease. The virus spreads through contact with bodily fluids like blood or semen and most commonly by having unprotected sex or sharing intravenous needles with someone who has HIV, although there are other far less common ways it can spread like through blood transfusions. When Joe found out he was HIV positive in Montreal, it was 1983, early on in what would be

referred to as the AIDS crisis. People didn't know much about the virus or how it was transmitted. What was known was that the most commonly afflicted seemed to be gay men, leading the popular media at the time to call it gay cancer. And while the first cases of HIV were widely reported as starting in 1981, historical research has shown that the virus has been active since at least 1930. In the 60s, the birth control pill became the most popular contraceptive and people focused on preventing pregnancy alone. Condom use greatly decreased, which facilitated an increase in sexually transmitted infections and, some 15 years later, the spread of HIV. Today, although there is no cure for HIV, it can be managed and controlled with

antiretroviral medication, which aims to reduce the levels of HIV in the blood so low that those living with it can achieve what's called an undetectable viral load. What this means is that the level of HIV in the blood becomes so low that tests can't detect it and those who take their meds as prescribed and engage in ongoing medical care can fight off infection more effectively and look forward to longer, healthier lives. And according to the CDC, if they maintain an undetectable viral load, there is effectively no risk of transmitting HIV through sex. But back in the 1980s, a diagnosis of HIV was considered a highly stigmatized, automatic death sentence. So, Joe Rose was 17, outwardly gay and now HIV positive.

But he wasn't ashamed. It was what it was. One of the first people he chose to share the news with was his younger brother, Jeffrey. The two were extremely close and Jeffrey would tell the Gazette that he was proud of his brother's courage and openness in the face of the stigma attached to an HIV diagnosis. After high school, Joe attended Dawson College to study nursing. But just as important was his activism. He founded the Accetera Club, a safe space for LGBTQ plus students at the college, and he also wrote a gay rights column in the college newspaper. The former editor would tell the Gazette that being gay was a strong part of Joe's identity, and he wanted to make a statement and be accepted for who he was.

But the knowledge and research on HIV was in the early stages at the time. If the virus is undiagnosed, left untreated, or not treated early enough, it can develop into AIDS, which means the body's immune system has become so weak and damaged that it can no longer fight even the most treatable of infections. A bout of pneumonia, food poisoning, or even a fungal infection could be fatal for a person living with AIDS, and they're highly susceptible to illness and even cancer. This is exactly what happened to Joe Rose. Within a few years, HIV had progressed to AIDS, and treatment options were limited. There was only one unapproved drug that could be purchased on the black market. At a time when monthly rent for

a small apartment in Montreal averaged around $400, a month's supply of medication for HIV cost $120. Joe was a struggling student, but he scrounged the money together to pay for his meds when he could. But after a while, he was forced to make a decision. He wasn't eating properly, he was losing weight fast, and he was starting to look gaunt. His money could only go so far, so he had to make a choice, his medication or food. He made the difficult decision to take a break from the medication. Without those treatments, Joe battled infection after infection, as his weakened immune system struggled to fight back. He battled pneumonia frequently, he had cancer of the skin and intestines, as well as additional neurological problems.

While so much was still unknown when it came to AIDS, he did know that it weakened the body's immune system, and another thing that did the same was stress. So he figured that without the medication, his best chance of staying healthy was to keep his life as simple as possible, and a simple life meant no career plans, no studies and no exams. Joe had to drop out of college. There had also been discord at home. When Joe's parents had first learned that their son 17 years at the time was gay and had been diagnosed with HIV, they struggled to process the information. And because of the stigma attached, his aunts, uncles and cousins all cut ties with him. He was basically a pariah in his own family. Joe had always been headstrong,

and while it was a hard decision to make, he pulled away from his parents and wired a family for a while. His health and survival had to be a top priority, and the stress of the situation was too much. But he of course stayed in close contact with his younger brother, Jeffrey. They both shared a love of music and Jeffrey idolized his brother. He would tell the Gazette that Joe was his personal hero. Joe was on a disability allowance, but when he was feeling well enough, he worked part-time at a gay bar as a DJ. He refused to be labeled a victim. Although he strived to keep his life as simple and stress free as possible, he had no choice but to live fearlessly when it came to his activism. He was known for wearing

a t-shirt that had person living with AIDS written in large letters on the front. During the 1988 federal election, he stood up at an all-candidates meeting in his writing, demanding extra care for AIDS patients. His room was always scattered with gay rights pamphlets and posters, and he was working on plans to set up a local chapter of Act Up, the abbreviation for political activism group AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power. After a period of estrangement, Joe's parents reached back out to mend their relationship, and his father, Maurice, helped Joe furnish his apartment. Things were still a bit tense, but his parents were trying. At just 23 years old, Joe had progressed to the terminal phase

of AIDS and had to spend a lot of time living at the local AIDS hospice to get treatment. He was struggling with recurring pneumonia, he'd lost clumps of hair and had suffered severe weight loss of 50 pounds, weight he couldn't afford to lose. But he was always eager to spread his message. Photos of Joe from the time show a smiling but gaunt young man with prominent cheekbones and thinning blonde hair. The Montreal Gazette requested an interview with him in 1989 for a special they were putting together on the subject of teenage sexuality. Always honest and straightforward, Joe was quoted in one column about how young gays are often the targets of macho teenagers, and also in another column about living with AIDS. He told the Gazette

that he wanted to turn back the clock. Quote, I really envy kids today, they hear and talk about AIDS all the time, they're better off than I was. At the same time as Joe was speaking to the reporter, he was beginning a new treatment that he would get in five weekly injections. He was hopeful. Just a few weeks after his interview with the Gazette, Joe was out with a friend named Sylvain at a Montreal gay dance club called KOX. It was a Saturday night and Joe was feeling up to going out for a few hours of enjoyment. He asked his younger brother, 20 year old Jeffrey, to come out too. But Jeffrey was in a band that had a gig at another venue. The brothers said they would try to catch up later. But Jeffrey would never see his brother alive again. I'm Christy, an Australian

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the ground today. In the early hours of March 19, 1989, 23-year-old Joe Rose stepped out of the club with his friend Sylvain. Joe dressed as he pleased, which meant he always stood out. He was already tall and severely underweight, and this night he was wearing a black leather jacket and matching cap, and even though his hair was falling out, he had dyed it bright pink on top and shaved it on the sides. The two friends had a good night dancing, and it was time to catch the bus home. For Joe, this meant back to the City Run AIDS Hospice where he was staying and getting treatment. The bus pulled up and Joe and Sylvain got in and sat down. In the seats opposite them and around them were a group of teenagers taking the bus home after a night of clubbing

at a youth disco. They'd been thrown out of the club at around 3am, and some of them had reportedly robbed a convenience store before they all met back up and got on the bus. Some reports said there were at least 10 of them, and others said as many as 20, and this group of teenagers were watching as Joe and Sylvain got on the bus. Although a stereotype, Joe's close friend Gary would tell the Gazette that he looked gay, and that made him an obvious target. The group of teenagers started harassing Joe, taunting him with homophobic slurs. They pulled off his leather cap, which revealed his bright pink hair underneath. Joe wasn't in any condition to fight back, nor did he want to, so he and Sylvain changed their seats and moved closer to the front of the bus.

As they moved down the aisle, Joe tripped over the feet of one of the teenagers, a 15-year-old, who cruelly demanded an apology. Joe uttered, go to hell, as he kept moving. Another of the teenagers sneered, we'll get him when he gets off at Frontenac, which was the next and final stop on the bus's route that night. The bus driver didn't quite know what to do. She had been trained on the emergency systems put in place for this kind of situation on a bus, and it involved two stages. The first stage was to set the system on hold, which meant a warning signal was displayed outside the bus in the hope that a taxi or other passerby would call for help. The driver did this and then warned the youths to settle down, but she held back on the second step

of pulling the stop cords that would trigger an emergency call to the police. As the bus approached Frontenac, the final stop, the insults from the teenagers escalated to blows, and they repeatedly kicked and punched Joe and Sylvain. When the bus doors opened, the teens started filing out, but a few of them stayed behind. They were looking for trouble and had identified what they thought were easy targets. When the others realized what was happening and the doors to the bus were still open, they jumped back on, eager to participate. According to Sylvain, several of the youths pulled out knives and advanced on the pair, chanting slurs before starting another attack. Joe bore the brunt of it. He was kicked, struck on the head, and stabbed

repeatedly. Everything happened quickly, and the bus driver had been trying to intervene, but she was struck by one of the teenagers, so started frantically trying to alert police by pulling the emergency cords, something she likely realized she should have done sooner. She flagged a taxi that drove by and begged the driver for help in dealing with the situation, but in the meantime, one of the teenagers had returned to the bus through the back door and came at Joe with a knife, driving it deep into his chest. Joe rose collapsed in the aisle towards the front of the bus, and the group of teenagers filed off it again and fled. The Gazette reported that when the police arrived, Sylvain was trying to resuscitate him,

but it was no use. Joe rose never made it off the bus. He didn't stand a chance. He died at approximately 4.30 am on March 19, 1989. Joe was the main target of the attack. His friend Sylvain was taken to hospital, reportedly in shock, rambling excessively in the ambulance. Luckily, he managed to escape with only minor physical injuries. The bus driver was also struck during the attack, but her injuries were also only minor. As the police started their investigation, Joe's family were devastated to learn the news. They knew that Joe would soon die of AIDS-related complications and they were prepared for that, but there was no preparing for news of

his murder after a violent attack. His younger brother Jeffrey said that the first thing he did was go over to a friend's house and cry in his basement. He would say to the Gazette, my big brother was taken away and I don't know how you're supposed to heal when something like that happens in your life. The police questioned other passengers on the bus as well as bystanders at Frontenac Station, looking to identify the youths responsible for the attack. Two teenage girls, aged around 15, were on the bus and while one of them wasn't sitting in view of the attack, the other was and said she saw everything. She gave police a description of the ring leaders in the attack and the police tracked down and interrogated at least six teenagers.

This resulted in the arrest of two of them within hours. One of them was only 15 and would be charged with complicity after the fact, but because he was a minor, his name was immediately put under a publication ban. The other person arrested was 19. His name was Patrick Moyes and this was the first time he'd been arrested or even in trouble with the police. He was described by his father as a quiet young man who always slept at home and only went out late on Saturday nights. His lawyer would tell the Gazette that Patrick wasn't aware that someone had died and seemed unnerved about it, although there was nothing said about his side of the story. He would be charged with second degree murder. Now while one of those 15-year-old girls on the bus identified Patrick Moyes as one

of the main attackers with a knife, three days later she participated in an interview with a local radio station where she admitted she had lied to investigators. She told the radio station that the person responsible for the fatal stabbing was actually a quote, slightly built French-Canadian teenager. This was not a match for Patrick Moyes who was black with a medium athletic build. The reporting on this situation is extremely vague. The interview with the teenager is not available even as a detailed summary. It's not known why a 15-year-old went on radio to discuss a murder she had witnessed on a bus, but strange things happened in the 80s. The parents of Patrick Moyes were outraged and believed that once it was revealed the girl had

lied, Patrick would automatically be released from custody. When he wasn't, they told the Gazette they were worried that he'd been framed. His participation in the attack would be revealed later. Early on, English-speaking media reported that Joe's murder was related to the growing problem of crimes committed by youths in the Montreal area. Joe's death was linked to three other stabbing events just the previous weekend, two of which occurred in or just outside other metro stations and all appeared to have been the work of quote, juvenile gangs. But the French media reported that the police believed that what happened to Joe was a one-off and not motivated at all by organised youth crime. Regardless of what the media presented, Joe's friends and the

local gay community were clear from the beginning that they believed the attack was motivated by homophobia. Joe stood out and that made him an obvious target and the community wasn't having it. Two days after Joe's murder, a feeling of anger was rapidly rising in Montreal's gay community, which led to what was described by La Presse as a spontaneous protest against homophobia, organised just hours before it started. Joe had many friends in both the gay and the HIV AIDS communities and due to their overlap, their grievances were closely aligned. It was the height of the AIDS crisis. There was crippling homophobia, people were dying, the government didn't seem to be taking it seriously and the murder of Joe Rose brought them

all together. Both communities experienced high levels of discrimination and oppression. When it came to HIV, there was a high level of inaccurate information about how it was transmitted. People with HIV were treated like outcasts. Many people believed that just being in the proximity of a person with the virus meant they were at risk of catching it. Some doctors refused to treat patients with it and others, including religious leaders, declared HIV infection to be the result of personal irresponsibility or moral fault and believed those with the virus deserved to catch it as a punishment for how they'd lived their lives. Members in both communities were fed up with being treated like societal pariahs and ironically, the relationship between stigma

and sickness was a vicious cycle. The people most vulnerable to HIV, like those in the gay community, sex workers, people who use drugs administered via needle and the indigenous population already faced stigma, prejudice and discrimination in their daily lives. This in turn forced them even more to the fringe of society, to poverty and from there it was harder to access healthcare, support and education. And if they suspected they'd contracted the virus, they were often too scared to get tested and have it confirmed. The end result was that HIV was spreading, the death toll was increasing and something had to be done. Asking nicely wasn't working. Around 200 people gathered at a well-known intersection

and planned to march over to the Frontenac metro station where Joe had been killed. Speakers stood on a cement column and shouted to the crowd. Multiple speeches were given about Joe Rose and how his death had affected the community. According to reporting by rights, one protester told the crowd that Joe wasn't murdered because of how he looked but because of the rampant homophobia in society. Quote, we forget that the discrimination we face is the kind that can cost us our lives. After the speeches were over, the organizers asked the large crowd what they should do next. The march had only been planned hours before it began, not enough time for a robust plan. One organizer pointed out that they didn't have a permit for

the protest, which meant that they couldn't legally march down the street but they decided there was safety in numbers and they went for it. The crowd marched down the main street chanting gay rights now. The police tried to stop the march with one car driving in front of the crowd in an attempt to block them. In response, the protesters shouted back at them, asking them who they were protecting and where they were the night that Joe Rose was murdered. When one police car was unsuccessful at dispersing the crowd, more than 10 others parked together in formation to block the road, with 15 officers using the threat of nightsticks to force the protesters onto the sidewalk. Undeterred, they continued on chanting, we remember Joe Rose,

we won't be silenced. The crowd finally reached the frontenac station where Joe was killed. There, they held a vigil. They placed candles at the spot where Joe had died and joined arms and sung together. The murder of Joe Rose was a turning point for Montreal's gay community. It fueled a rising anger and sparked a generation of activists to fight back. A funeral was held for Joe with over 80 of his closest friends and family in attendance. Because he thought he was going to die from AIDS-related complications, he had already made plans for a cremation. The family priest remembered Joe as a child and told a congregation that he used to run errands for his family at church.

Quote, he was a likable kid, someone who was very helpful. The priest added that as well as sharing in the sorrow of Joe's death, they also shared a certain anger towards a society that permitted an event like that to happen. Jeffrey Rose, Joe's younger brother, told the Gazette that when he first heard about Joe's death, he wanted to go out and get revenge, but he changed his mind. Quote, I can't feel like that because I wouldn't want anyone to feel the way I do right now, it's not right at all. But Joe's father, Maurice Rose, was angry, angry that his son didn't get to live his life on his own terms, angry about the emergency system on the bus and the way drivers were trained to use it,

and of course, angry that a bunch of teenagers targeted his son with prejudice because of the way he looked and dressed. As you'll remember, hours after Joe's death, two teenagers were arrested. The 15-year-old charged with complicity after the fact and 19-year-old Patrick Moyes, who was charged with second-degree murder. In the days after Joe's funeral, two more arrests were announced. It was reported that the radio interview with the 15-year-old witness didn't change much for Patrick Moyes, but it indirectly led the police to arrest two other suspects, both of them underage and under a publication ban. So, four teenagers were now in custody for the murder of 23-year-old Joe Rose. Three months later, the three under publication

ban attended youth court, but only one of them would be tried. The 15-year-old, who disposed of the knife that was used to kill Joe, was initially charged with complicity after the fact, but at trial the media reported that there were actually three charges, acting as an accessory after the fact, assault causing bodily harm, and obstruction of justice. The crown prosecutor used a floor plan of the bus to reconstruct the scene that night to show how the group of teenagers attacked Joe. This particular teenager on trial didn't actually stab Joe, but he did kick him as he lay collapsed on the bus. So, how did he get hold of the knife? The Gazette reported that immediately after the attack, one of the teens who stabbed Joe tried to give the knife he was holding to two others,

who both held their hands up and refused to take it. The third time was the charm. He tried to give it to the 15-year-old now on trial, who maintained he didn't realize what was happening and found himself holding a knife that was entirely covered in blood. According to witnesses, he said, shit man, he stuck it in all the way. This was likely the knife that caused the fatal wound in Joe's chest. According to the defense, when the youth realized what had happened, he tried to give the knife back to its owner, who refused to take it back. So, he ran off over to a snowbank and disposed of it there. It was reportedly chewed up by a snow plow. The judge acquitted the teenager of the charge of acting as an accessory after the fact, saying he wasn't trying to hide the knife

to protect his friends. He was doing it because his fingerprints were on the knife and he wanted to protect himself. For that, he was convicted of obstruction of justice and also for assault causing bodily harm for kicking Joe after he had collapsed. He was sentenced to six months detention in a youth facility. Joe's father, Maurice Rose, was outraged at the sentence, quote, at least after six months, this kid can go home to his family. My son can't go home. After the trial, the Gazette published a letter to the editor in July 1989 from Foe Niammi, who would go on to become the commissioner with the Quebec Human Rights Commission. He wrote that neither the prosecution nor the defense addressed homophobia as a motivation

in the crime. They were so focused on the technical elements like which youth it was that was responsible for the fatal stabbing and what each of their roles were. He said that the possibility that anti-gay bias contributed to Joe's death seemed irrelevant to the court, quote, the killing of Joe Rose was treated no differently than the many other stabbings and killings in our city each year. Foe Niammi went on to say that by not acknowledging the real reason for the attack, the legal system has made the life of every member of the gay community suddenly more vulnerable to mindless violence, quote, while being gay is not yet a totally acceptable lifestyle to many, no one has the right to hurt and kill a person because of sexual

orientation. As for the other two teenagers yet to have their cases heard at youth court, they would both take a plea deal. A 14-year-old had originally been charged with complicity after the fact, but pleaded guilty to assault. He was sentenced to 11 months in a youth detention facility. He stormed from the courtroom screaming and guards had to restrain him. The last of the three teenagers under publication ban was the other 15-year-old, the main assailant, the one responsible for fatally stabbing Joe in the chest. He had originally been charged with first-degree murder, but took a plea deal and pleaded guilty to manslaughter. He was sentenced to three years in a youth detention centre. Joe's father, Maurice Rose,

was grieving heavily for the loss of his son and was outraged at not only this sentence, but all three of the youth sentences which ranged from three months to three years. He felt that none of the teenagers responsible for his son's death received sentences that were proportional to the murder. He told the Gazette that the Young Offenders Act gave more protection to young crime suspects than it did to victims. Quote, The police department busted their ass for nothing in my son's case. The act had only been in place for five years at the time. It had replaced the juvenile delinquents act, which was deemed to be too harsh on young offenders, but it didn't take long before the Young Offenders Act was receiving the opposite complaint,

including from Maurice Rose, who said it was too lenient on youths who committed violent crimes like murder. He said young offenders knew no matter what crime they committed, they would never get more than three years in detention, and that didn't deter them from offending. Quote, They know they can get away with murder, and they do. He decided to channel his anger and grief towards getting the act changed, starting with a petition. The Gazette called it a one-man crusade. There was only one more trial to go. Patrick Moyes, the 19-year-old charged with second-degree murder was the only one whose identity wasn't protected under publication ban. He would be tried in

adult court at a later date. Behind the criminal justice aspect of the murder of Joe Rose, his story had continued to pick up steam. One of his friends in the gay community was journalist David Shannon, who wrote a gay column for the Montreal Mirror and also hosted a radio show called The Homo Show. He reported on the story early on, and other journalists started asking him for comment in their own stories, and before long, David Shannon unintentionally became the main driver of the Joe Rose story. With David's help, the groundswell of activism in the gay and HIV AIDS communities continued, and the story snowballed and went about as viral as a local

new story could go in 1989. Years later, Michael Hendricks, half of the first same-sex couple to legally marry in Quebec, would say to the Gazette that before Joe Rose's murder, the Montreal community was a little naive about the dangers of homophobia. The real action ramped up three months after his murder, when AIDS activists made the bold decision to occupy the opening session at the Fifth International AIDS Conference, which happened to be in Montreal that year. According to the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power, or ACT UP, up until that day, the conference was an elite members-only event that cost $500 to register, and it was mainly attended by scientists and doctors, with presentations that

tended to reduce people living with HIV AIDS to just statistics and data. But a bus carrying the New York chapter of ACT UP rolled into Montreal for the conference. They were joined by two Canadian organizations, AIDS Action Now and Quebec group Reaction CEDA, forming a group of around 300 protesters. They wanted to show the conference attendees what actual people living with HIV looked like, that they were not just data and statistics, and that there were real issues that were being ignored by the conference. The group took over the stage and delayed the start of the conference by approximately one hour, keeping Prime Minister Brian Mulroney waiting backstage. They held up a giant sign that slammed Mulroney and his government's lack

of action when it came to HIV AIDS. In fact, some scientists were starting to come to that conclusion themselves. According to the Canadian Medical Association Journal, in the plenary session of that same conference, scientist David Suzuki told attendees, as a scientist I am ashamed of the Canadian government's lack of serious, coherent response to AIDS. People with HIV AIDS weren't being taken seriously. The options for medical treatment were limited and expensive, and the government was not helping the community. One of the original founders of AIDS Action Now, Tim McCaskill, would tell Extra.com that, quote, the majority of gay men who were infected had the stereotypical gay occupations, the waiters, the actors, the artists, the students. None had medical

plans. He said that people faced a desperate situation and were forced to quit their jobs, live in poverty, and go on welfare to access any medical benefits they could. Quote, they could barely afford to feed and clothe themselves or keep an apartment, just like Joe Rose. And AIDS was killing Canadians at an escalating pace, and while there seemed to be a lot of talking about it, very little was actually being done about it. In 1989, La Pres reported on what various countries had spent on supporting those living with HIV AIDS. France had spent $1 million, Germany had spent $5 million, but by comparison, the Canadian government had earmarked just $350,000. A later report published in 1997 called

The Creva Report confirmed that the Canadian government did not act quickly enough in the early phase of the HIV epidemic. This activist occupation at the 1989 International AIDS Conference was a powerful movement and an accelerant in the activism for both the HIV AIDS and gay communities in Montreal. According to reporting by Extra.com, after that, conference organisers realised they needed to take people living with AIDS into account in their programming and ensure the conference provided a safe space for activists. And there was more. From there, the group published an international Bill of Rights for People Living with AIDS, called the Montreal Manifesto, which aimed to ensure that the humanity of people with HIV

and AIDS was acknowledged and preserved. They weren't just data, they were humans, and something that seemed like basic common sense just wasn't happening, that is, the active involvement of affected communities in decisions made that could impact them. After the conference, more community support groups started to pop up, including the Montreal chapter of an advocacy group called Queer Nation, which they named to Queer Nation Rose, as an homage to Joe Rose, but also because Rose is the French word for pink. It was Queer Nation, who was credited with taking back the word queer, a word that had previously been used as an insult. And the group were also known for coining the slogan,

we're here, we're queer, get used to it. The community of people living with HIV in Montreal finished the work that Joe Rose had started and initiated the local chapter of ACT UP, with the goal to increase communication between the different HIV AIDS groups in Montreal, so they all worked more efficiently together. ACT UP Montreal's first major act was to commemorate Joe Rose on the first anniversary of his death in March 1990. More than 40 protesters staged what they called a die-in at the complex Desjardins, a shopping, business and hotel complex in Montreal. Protesters drew chalk outlines of their bodies and lay in them pretending to be dead. A tangible presentation of the damage HIV was doing to Canadians and the need for urgent action.

Four months after that, an event happened that would be remembered as Montreal's Stonewall, in reference to the spontaneous demonstrations by members of the gay community in New York City, in response to a police raid that happened at the Stonewall Inn in 1969. Here's what happened in Montreal 21 years later. Early one morning in July 1990, around 400 people were at a warehouse party at a building called Sex Garage. The party was called the Sex Garage Loft Party, and it was an event where everyone in the traditionally segregated LGBTQ plus community could congregate together in Montreal, whether they spoke English or French, no matter their gender or sexual orientation. But because police often raided these kinds of parties, the organizer had spotters out. At around

3am, they saw about 40 police officers rounding the corner, intending to shut the party down. But they did much more than that. They raided the place with nightstick weapons, forcing party goers out of the club and into the street, reportedly shouting homophobic slurs and making lewd gestures with their nightsticks as they went. They may have been able to get away with something like this before that, but in 1990, the year after Joe Rosa's murder, the gay community was amped up and not going to put up with it. They fought back, chanting slogans like gay rights now. Photographer Linda Dawn Hammond was there taking pictures, and would tell CBC that when police realised the crowd wasn't going to go without a fight, officers retreated, huddled together in

consultation, and then took off their name tags so none of them could be individually identified. Everyone knew what this meant. They were about to do something they didn't want to be recognised for. The 40 officers got into battalion formation and used their nightsticks to beat and herd party goers down the street. People were beaten with nightsticks and many were injured. Nine of the party goers were arrested and charged with offences, ranging from mischief to assaulting a police officer. The community was outraged at how they'd been treated and demanded a meeting with the police chief, a meeting that he failed to show up for. So they decided to take it higher. Hundreds of protesters locked arms and occupied a major intersection, demanding to meet with the

mayor of Montreal. By this time, the media were invested in coverage of the situation and described it as a violent clash between the police and the gay community. On the front cover of the Montreal Gazette, a picture was published that showed a protestor being dragged off by her hair by a police officer. Nearly 50 activists were arrested that day. They reported being beaten inside jail cells. The protesters were charged with a variety of criminal charges, like disturbing the peace, refusing to circulate and obstructing a police officer. These charges were dropped in exchange for plea bargains and two police officers were later disciplined by the force. The sex garage loft party raid, with the police's violence, further ignited a desire

to fight in the gay and HIV AIDS communities. Organisers of the next ACT UP meeting were surprised when hundreds of people showed up to have a serious conversation about the problem. Meanwhile, the trial date had arrived for the last teenager to be tried in the murder of Joe Rose, 19-year-old Patrick Moyes, who is charged with second-degree murder. As you'll remember, the 15-year-old witness first identified Patrick as the main knife-wielding attacker. But in an interview with a radio station, she said she lied. It was actually the 15-year-old who would go on to receive the three-year sentence. As for Patrick Moyes, he still participated in the attack. The evidence showed that he slammed Joe on the head with a pallet gun

and slashed at his clothing with a knife, but wasn't able to penetrate the leather jacket Joe was wearing. As his trial was due to begin, Patrick took a plea deal and pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter. At sentencing, the judge told the court that people have a right to feel safe on the transit system, and Joe Rose presented himself exactly as he wanted to, including he had every right to wear, but the teenagers started by laughing at him and finished by killing him, unnecessarily and without any justification. The attack on Joe Rose was described as barbaric and even more reprehensible because Joe was clearly frail and in no condition to defend himself. Patrick Moyes was sentenced to seven years in

prison. He served his entire sentence and was released in 1997. Three years later, he was involved in another violent crime when he drove the getaway vehicle in a gang-related murder in Montreal. Both Moyes and another man were convicted of first-degree murder and two counts of attempted murder. Patrick Moyes is still in prison today and will be eligible for parole in 2027. Patrick sentencing was almost a year after Joe Rose's murder and by that time, Maurice Rose, Joe's father, was very active in the media, channeling his grief into a fight for justice for his son. Maurice was a truck driver originally from Kate Bretton in Nova Scotia, who regularly drove an 18-wheeler in Canada and to the US. He found himself with what he described

as too much time to think during his hours out on the highway. He would come to the conclusion that vengeance wouldn't bring Joe back, nor would it prevent other teens from committing similar crimes. And also, there was no use demanding stiffer sentences for youths who commit violent crimes if they don't get the help they need to stay away from crime in the future. He told the Gazette that people sometimes got his intent wrong and thought he was out to hurt the kids. Quote, I want them to get help. I want it mandatory that they have to get help. The way things are now, the court can suggest that they get help, but no one can force them to do it. And if they're a repeat offender, it doesn't matter. They can be arrested 14 times and they'll

still be right back on the street. He had already gathered 20,000 signatures on his petition, as well as asking for bigger penalties for youths convicted of violent acts. It also demanded mandatory psychiatric treatment for them when courts order it, instead of giving them the option to refuse. The petition also asked for the names of youths convicted of murder, sex crimes, or other violent assaults be made public, instead of protected under a publication ban, and for those offenders to be tried in adult court instead of youth court. The year after Joe's death, his parents sued the Montreal Urban Community Transit Corp for negligence causing the death of their son. The suit also alleged the Transit Commission was

responsible because accepting a rider's fare came with the responsibility to transport all riders to safety. The judge in the case wrote that the attack was foreseeable from the beginning and found the driver of the bus to be at fault for not activating the bus safety system and calling the police earlier. It was also found that the alarm system was misunderstood by the Transit Union, who saw it as essentially a tool to protect drivers, not the actual passengers on the bus. Joe's parents were eventually awarded around $25,000 in damages, a fraction of the 452,000 they sued for. But Maurice Rose told the Gazette that he didn't do it for the money. Quote, Money isn't going to bring my son back, but I wanted to make sure Joey didn't die in vain.

He said he planned to use some of the money to buy a monument for his son's grave and donate the rest to ACT UP. March of 1991 was the two-year anniversary of the murder of Joe Rose. His murder had ignited a fire to fight for equality, a fight that would continue across the country, leading to the legalization of same-sex marriage in all Canadian provinces by 2005. But the LGBTQ plus community still experiences homophobia, discrimination and hate crimes. The fight also continues on the HIV AIDS front. The activism led to changes in patient care, the treatments available and their accessibility, and increased government support to help pay for medication. According to katie.ca, an estimated

63,000 Canadians are living with HIV today. But there are still stigma and misconceptions about how HIV is transmitted and what it means to live with the virus today. People still believe that it can be passed by shaking hands, hugs and kisses, coughs and sneezes, or in swimming pools, toilet seats or water fountains. None of this is true. In 2018, CTV reported that one in five people in Quebec still believe that just being near someone with HIV puts them at risk of infection. The truth is, the most dangerous thing about HIV AIDS is the stigma. As for Joe Rose, a week-long memorial was organized by Queer Nation Rose, the Montreal organization founded in his name, where candles were lit in homes and gay-owned businesses in Montreal. One of the organizers

told the Gazette that the candles symbolized hope for a world without anti-gay violence, while the flame symbolized burning anger for the ignorance that cost Joe his life. Joe's family joined them for a candlelight vigil in front of the Frontenac metro station where he died. Joe's father told the Gazette that Joe would be remembered for what he did for the community. Quote, he tried to show people something of what it meant to be gay. He tried to bring the gay community out of the darkness, and if he were alive, he'd be doing the same thing today. Joe's father continued his crusade for harsher penalties for youths who committed violent crimes. By 1994, he had gathered more than 1.5 million signatures and had been to Ottawa to protest

on Parliament Hill. He would say that government officials probably wished he would sit down and listen, but he was from Cape Breton and they just don't do that there. Quote, before Joe died, I was an average Canadian citizen. This threw a monkey wrench into my future and the future of my family. Maurice Rose eventually lost his truck driver job. He attributed it to the grief of losing his son and the public attention he received afterwards. The maximum penalty for young offenders was three years, no matter the crime. It was eventually increased to 10 years. And then, in 2003, the Young Offenders Act was completely scrapped and replaced by the Youth Criminal Justice Act. The new act moved away from a focus on deterring young people from offending

and towards a new philosophy of addressing the circumstances behind their offending behaviour, ensuring their subject to meaningful consequences and rehabilitating and reintegrating them back into society. The new act still has its critics. In 2014, it was the 25th anniversary of the murder of Joe Rose. A long-form article was written about him to commemorate the anniversary and published in the Gazette. Prominent Montreal activist Roger Leclerc was quoted in the piece saying that while there were more murders of gay men after Joe Rose, he became a symbol because he was killed just for looking gay. Quote, there was a sense of miserableism in the gay community back then, and we used Joe as a symbol

to reclaim our rights and give rise to a new militancy in the community. Joe's death was heralded as the beginning of an era that saw many changes in Montreal's LGBTQ plus and HIV AIDS communities. But sadly, Joe Rose himself has been mostly forgotten. In the 21st anniversary article, the author-journalist Richard Burnett wrote that in 2012 he visited Dawson Colleges et cetera club, which was proudly founded by Joe Rose. He asked the club members if they knew who Joe Rose was. None of them knew. They were so moved by hearing Joe's story that they arranged to erect a plaque at the college in his memory. It says, in honour of Joe Rose, founder of the et cetera club, seeking a better world may he never be forgotten. Thanks for listening and special thanks to one of my

favourite electronic musicians, Synthwave producer Time Cop 1983, for giving me permission to use two of his dreamy and nostalgic tracks in this episode. Gone and Memories, you heard them as the first two tracks in the episode and then again throughout. There was a lot to unpack in this story with so many different themes to tie in and even though it's sad, it's not hard to see why Joe Rose's memory was lost in all of it. This episode relied heavily on reporting from The Gazette, La Presse and Extra.com. And a huge thank you to Elliot Newton who suggested this story, researched it extensively and translated the French media reporting. Elliot is a 2S LGBTQIA plus safe space and diversity consultant based in Ottawa.

You can find them at genderbandit.com. Canadian True Crime donates regularly to Canadian charitable organisations that help victims and survivors of injustice. This month we have donated to Interlina, an organisation based in Montreal who offers 24x7 support to LGBTQ plus people in both English and French, as well as their loved ones and staff in community, school, health and special services. You can learn more at i-n-t-e-r-l-i-g-n-e.co. Today's podcast recommendation is Framed, an investigative story. Season 2 has just been released and explores a mass shooting in 1991 when nine victims were arranged in a circle and executed in a Buddhist temple in Arizona. The Framed team, which includes Aaron from the Generation

Y, spent two years combing through every piece of evidence, every misstep and every alibi to try and figure out what exactly happened and maybe more importantly, why. This season has been described as perfectly put together and mapped out, so be sure to subscribe to Framed, an investigative story from Wondery. Stay tuned for a promo after the theme song. Canadian True Crime is a completely independent production funded through advertising and the generosity of supporters on Patreon and Supercast. Thank you to everyone who has told a friend or left a positive review wherever you listen to podcasts. It really helps the show. If you don't like the ads, you can get early access to ad-free versions of every episode for

just a couple of dollars a month. There's also a few bonus episodes, as well as a monthly debrief episode where I take you behind the scenes. Visit canadiantruecrime.ca slash support to learn more. Thanks to the host of True for voicing the disclaimer and also to We Talk of Dreams who compose the theme song. I'll be back soon with another Canadian True Crime story. See you then. On the morning of Saturday, August 10, 1991, nine victims were found lying face down in a circle in Wad Kunaram, a Buddhist temple located in the rural town of Waddell, Arizona. Each victim sustained at least one gunshot wound to the back of the head. Twenty-one shots were fired in total. The gunmen didn't miss once. By the time the bodies were discovered, they were cold to the touch.

The shooters had long since fled the scene, leaving as it seemed, without a trace. A major crime's task force was formed that was comprised of 66 law enforcement officers from federal, state, and local levels. Before the investigation concluded, 1,300 leads were pursued, which generated over 100,000 pages of reports. This was the largest case file in the state's history. The frame team has read every news article, every published book, we've watched every documentary, and we've scoured the internet for every archive blog post. Having gone through it all, we can tell you that there's a lot of misinformation floating around out there about this case. We know this because we have also obtained, and reviewed, the entire case file.

We have the original police reports, the lab reports, crime scene photos, and transcripts detailing not only what was said in the courtroom, but the interrogation rooms as well. Amongst the hundreds of thousands of pages of raw information we have gathered, there may be an answer to a question first posed 28 years ago. What exactly happened in the Wad Kuna Ram Temple on a warm summer night in 1991? Frame Season 2 comes out on January 6th on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, Spotify, or wherever you're listening right now.