Canadian True Crime - 93 The Chapais Fire Tragedy

Episode Date: June 15, 2021

Back September 1 | Thanks for your support!QUEBEC | New Year’s Eve, 1979. The rural mining town of Chapais was preparing to bring in 1980 in style with a fundraiser for 300 people. But just after midnight, the careless actions of one guest caused a fire that would leave the community forever changed.Residential Schools resources & support:Podcast: Residential Schools by Historica Canadahosted by Shaneen Robinson-DesjarlaisEpisode: ”Holding Space for Grief” Canadaland Episode #312 hosted by Ryan McMahon and Anna McKenzieArticle: “7 Ways to support Indigenous people grieving in wake of the news of the 215 children” by Anna McKenzieArticle: Where to donate to support survivors of residential schools in MacleansSupport: Residential school survivors who need support can call the National Indian Residential School Crisis Line at 1-866-925-4419.Mental Health Resources:In Canada And Mental Health Research Canada https://www.mhrc.ca/national-polling-covidIn United StatesIn AustraliaIn United KingdomCredits: Research & Writing: Kristi LeeAudio editing and production: We Talk of Dreams Disclaimer voiced by the host of TrueTheme Song: We Talk of Dreams'Thanks for supporting our sponsors!See the special offer codes here Don't like the ads?Access early episodes without the ads plus bonus content and more on Patreon and Supercast. Learn more 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.

Hi everyone. Well, it's gone by really fast, I know, but this is the last episode of the season before the podcast goes on a scheduled summer break from publishing. The next case after this will be released on September 1st, but in the meantime, stay tuned for the annual case updates and feedback episodes over July and August. Quite a few of the cases from the last 10 months have provoked strong reactions and valid feedback, and I'll be responding to that too as part of the case updates episode. It has been a crazy time, but thank you so much for listening and thanks also for your support and your generous reviews and ratings. It really helps the show continue to grow and improve. Now, before we get to the episode, I wanted to acknowledge some

important news that broke out at the end of May here in Canada about residential schools, which have been mentioned a few times in this podcast. The schools were established by the Canadian government in the 1800s as part of their colonization effort to gain control over the Indigenous people. They forcibly removed First Nations, Métis and Inuit children from their families and sent them for reeducation in these residential schools, which were run by religious organizations. The goal was to break their link to their Indigenous culture and identity and replace it with Western culture. Over 150,000 children were taken from their families, and severe cases of physical, emotional and sexual abuse are well documented among the overwhelming majority of

children. Many families never saw or heard from their children again, and it's been estimated that over 6,000 children died while in residential schools, but there's no way to know for sure. But just a few weeks ago, shocking proof was uncovered. A mass grave containing the remains of 215 children was discovered buried on the grounds of one of the residential schools in British Columbia. Some were as young as three years old. When the news broke, many were shocked and heartbroken, but we shouldn't have been, because the remains of a further 104 children have been discovered in another mass grave at a completely different residential school in Manitoba. So in the last two weeks, the remains of 315 Indigenous children have been found buried

on two different school grounds, and there'll likely be more. And it would be reassuring to believe that this is part of that dark colonial period of Canadian history that's behind us now, but this just isn't true. Residential schools were active for more than 160 years, and in fact, the last of them was still operating in 1996, which means there are survivors that are around the same age as me among the 80,000 still alive today. My sincere condolences go out to them all, their families and communities and anyone else who has been personally affected by both this news and, of course, the traumatic legacy of the residential schools system. If you're looking for ways to support Indigenous people in the wake of this news,

we have donated to the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society, just one of several organisations assisting residential school survivors and their families. For more information on this and other ways you can help, see the show notes and the Canadian True Crime website. If you want to learn more about residential schools, we do have plans to cover it as a standalone episode one day once the dust has cleared. But for now, I highly recommend the podcast called Residential Schools, which is a three-part series produced by Historica Canada and hosted by award-winning Indigenous journalist, Jeanine Robinson Dejales. It's intimate and personal and you'll hear harrowing personal stories from First Nations, Métis and Inuit

survivors themselves. So that's Residential Schools. But I also wanted to recommend a recent episode of Canada Land, titled Holding Space for Grief, where Ryan McMahon, the host of Thunder Bay and Anna McKenzie, Child Welfare Reporter for Indigenous, share their very honest and raw thoughts about the recent discovery as Indigenous people themselves. Again, check the show notes and the website to see links to everything I've spoken about and more. And with that, it's on with the show. 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. Chape is a French-speaking community

in rural Northern Quebec, more than 700 kilometres north of Montreal. Named after Thomas Chape, a French-Canadian author, historian, journalist, and politician, Chape was established in the 1950s, specifically to service the nearby Opomisca copper mine. This story takes place at the end of 1979, more than 20 years later. By that time, the mining community was thriving with 3,500 residents, with the copper mine being its largest employer. Residents were content and the community generally functioned well. In early December, the Falconbridge Mining Company of Toronto, which was the company that operated the mine, was throwing a huge Christmas holiday party for all its employees. The party was going to be held at the Opomisca Community Centre, the local social and activity hub

for Chape that was gifted to the community by Falconbridge. It was a multi-purpose building that could host around 300 people for social or sporting events, like holiday parties. It was the lead-up to 1980, and the company's organising committee was going all out. Through the front door of the centre, guests entered a foyer area with washrooms, coat check, and furnace room. From there, they walked through to the main recreation hall, which had a 20-foot high ceiling, a stage at the back, and a bar to serve drinks. The organising committee got to work, placing a generous number of Christmas trees and decorations around the hall. One was a large statement piece, a decorative fur bow arch made of cut branches that stretched

across more than 10 feet. This decorative arch was placed in a central position in the centre that guests had to pass under to get from the foyer to the main hall. A nice, welcoming touch for festive celebrations. After the holiday party, Falconbridge was asked if they would keep the decorations up until just after the New Year. See, the local Lions Club was organising a big New Year's Eve fundraiser, and not only were they impressed with the decorations, but they thought they might be able to reuse them and save some money, which would mean more to donate to disadvantaged children. The only thing that worried organisers was that decorative arch made of cut branches that divided the foyer from the hall. There were still a few weeks to go

until New Year's at that point, and by that time, the branches could dry out and become a fire risk. The organisers decided to circumvent that risk by getting a council employee to spray them regularly with water. And by all reports, the employee was fairly diligent at first, but when they took vacation time between the Christmas and New Year period, the task was not delegated to anyone else. I'm Christy, an Australian who's called Canada home for more than a decade, and this is my passion project. Join me to hear about some of the most thought-provoking and often heart-breaking true crime cases in Canada. Using court documents and news archives, I take you through each story from beginning to end with a look at the way the media covered the crime and the impact it had on

the community. This is Canadian True Crime. It was December 31st, 1979, and the Lions Club welcomed guests to the Open Miska Community Centre. They had sold out 300 tickets at five bucks a pop. A fundraiser deemed a success before it even began. The crowd number peaked at midnight with a packed hall of people dancing to disco music pumped through loudspeakers. After that, people started to come and go from different gatherings, as was the tradition in Chape. By 1am, there were around 120 people left in the hall. One of them was 21-year-old Florent Contain, an unemployed labourer who'd been drinking with a group of people under that

festive arch made of pine branches. Florent, a known prankster, had drunk several beers and had smoked a little hash, and that night he was feeling impulsive. He wanted to entertain people. He flicked his lighter and held it up to a branch, with a plan to snuff it out with his fingers and get some laughs from the relieved observers. The first time, nothing happened, so he flicked the lighter again and held it up to a different branch, an extremely dry one. To his surprise, the decorative arch ignited immediately, startling the group. They reactively tossed what was left of their beers at it, but that made no difference. Within seconds, the flames were creeping along the arch, and then the entire thing was alight. A flaming, 10-foot-high arch inside a building,

with more than 100 people, the majority of whom had been drinking. The crowd did not see the fire at first, but several reported they heard noises that they thought may have been fireworks or a movie projector, and they kept on dancing. One of them was 29-year-old Nochmon Trudal, who was president of the Chape Lions Club, the group that organized the fundraiser. He had just started his shift helping behind the bar and was watching his wife Isabel dancing, when suddenly he heard someone yell, Uff, fire. There was a fire hose enclosed in glass just behind the front entrance, but no one remembered about it. Several people were quick to grab nearby fire extinguishers and shoot them at the flames, though, which were now leaping toward the 20-foot

ceiling in the hall, which was lined with combustible tiles. As they aimed the extinguishers at the archway, another man ripped off his coat and used it to try and smother the flames. By now, the music had stopped, and so had the dancing. But instead of heading for the nearest exit, as you might expect, the majority of the crowd stood and watched. It was a New Year's Eve party. Most people had been drinking. It was freezing cold outside, and their coats were in the coat check. They didn't perceive enough of a threat to leave straight away, and for a few seconds at least, it seemed like these bystander efforts to contain the fire might be a success. The flaming arch effectively separated the building into two, about 100 people in the hall,

and around 20 people in the foyer. The foyer people were the first to realize they should evacuate and rush to the front door. But fire conditions are highly volatile, and when the doors burst open, a draft of fresh cold air rushed in through the foyer, effectively turning the burning arch into a roaring blowtorch that sprayed fire into the main hall. Within seconds, the combustible ceiling tiles ignited, and the fire traveled rapidly across the ceiling, jolting the stunned partygoers into harsh reality. The walls also had a highly combustible finish and soon ignited, and flames traveled via paper streamers and flammable decorations hung from the ceiling and around the room. Before long, the crowd were hit by flaming debris falling

from the ceiling, and all light in the room was blocked by the thick smoke that had started to develop in the ceiling and spread down. After that, the center turned into a literal death trap of darkness, with the only light coming from the flames themselves. With the front exit inaccessible, the panicked crowd knew they had to get out through the two exits at the back of the building. As they split and ran towards the east and west exit doors, the fire continued to develop rapidly over their heads, and they felt their hair and clothing begin to burn off under the immense heat. At first, all that could be heard under the roar of the fire were the loudest yells, cries and screams, as people escaped one by one from that exit on the west wall.

60 people managed to get out in just a minute, including Florent Contain, the 21-year-old who'd set the fire as a joke. This group were the lucky ones. Inside the hall, the other 40 people had run to the east wall exit, but the conditions there were different. There had been a ventilation exhaust fan operating just above the door, but in the fiery conditions, it turned into a whirling trap of darkness, sucking in that thick smoke and the products of combustion and dumping it all right into the exit area, making it impossible for people to escape. And by now, with heavy smoke and carbon monoxide saturating the area, those people crowded at that exit, desperate to get out, began to lose consciousness.

There was no need to call the fire department. Several local volunteer firefighters were at the party and the fire station was only 500 feet away from the hall. By the time they ran over, got the one truck they had and hooked it up to the water, they were doubtful about whether it was going to be enough to combat the fire, but they had to keep trying. Outside the hall, the 80 or so who had managed to escape gathered in the snow. Several of them had no idea how they'd actually made it out because they were so groggy from the carbon monoxide, and they had no choice but to witness the flaming building, now with thick black smoke pouring out of the open doors and broken windows. It was a sight they would never forget.

One of the survivors was the mayor of Chape, Cheryl Palarin. According to McLean's, once he made it out of the building, he rolled in the snow to put out the fire in his hair and clothes, and then he saw his wife standing there barefoot in a state of shock. He suddenly realized his own hands were badly burned, so he made the snap decision to take his wife home, put some quick bandages on his hands, and then went straight back to the site to help. He reportedly refused to be treated for his own burns until all others had been tended to. Dozens were injured, some severely. Such was the extent of the burns that some people escaped with no hair or clothes left, and they were unrecognizable to friends and family at first. Tragically, several of them

were burned so badly that they died of their injuries outside in the snow. Within minutes, the fire had completely consumed the center, with estimates of temperatures of around a thousand degrees Celsius. A devastating realization hit the crowd outside. With the combination of heat, fire, smoke, and the carbon monoxide, there would be no more survivors. And it wasn't long before the story started to come out about what had gone on inside the hall. There were tales of those who were separated from their loved ones, tales of heroes who went back to help others out of the building and hadn't made it back. Like 21-year-old Daniel Coteau, a mine worker who got outside but realized his girlfriend wasn't with him. According to the Montreal Gazette, he ran back

inside to find her and never emerged. The injured started being transported to the tiny local hospital to have their injuries assessed. It was there that Nochman Trudell, the president of the Chappelle Lions Club who'd been behind the bar when the fire broke out, learned that not only had he lost his wife Isabel that night, but he also lost his two sisters, one sister-in-law, and a close friend. Another woman was separated from her husband that night, and after not being able to find him, she hopelessly headed to the hospital to help take care of burned victims until there was news. After spending time tending to one person suffering severe injuries, she suddenly saw something familiar. It was a medallion she'd given to her

husband for Christmas, crushed into his chest. The man she'd been working on for 15 minutes was her own husband and she didn't even realize. 32-year-old Ray Oude was the man who took off his coat to smother the flames when the fire first broke out on the arch. He would survive, but with extensive burn injuries. The rest of the morning hours were spent trying to get the fire under control or wait for it to burn itself out. By dawn, all that remained of the community centre was a heap of smoking rubble on a concrete pad, and more than 40 people were still unaccounted for. For hours, police and firefighters sifted through the ruins, knowing that all they would be finding would be bodies. One of the first remains identified belonged to the man known as the biggest guy in

Chape. 23-year-old Pierre Cropolle was a former high school footballer, a big guy known for his jokes and booming laugh. When he saw the fire, he picked up his girlfriend and carried her outside to safety. But he didn't stop there, he went straight back into the burning inferno and soon emerged with a second person. Although visibly struggling with the conditions, he went back in a third time. His girlfriend never saw him come out again, and because of his large stature, his body was instantly recognised in the rubble. The gazette hailed him as a hero. Another body was found near the bar, who would be identified as 50-year-old Roddy Blay. He was helping out at the bar that night, and when the fire broke out, the father of four ran to his

wife Lynn, dragged her behind, smashed the glass window and then helped her to safety in the snow. The last Lynn saw of her husband, he was headed back into the hall to help others escape. He never made it back. He too was hailed by the gazette as a hero. But even with these horrors, there was no preparation for what the search team would find near the east exit. This is where the ventilation exhaust fan was violently dumping smoke and fire into the exit doorway as a crowd of people tried to escape. As the carbon monoxide intensified, they started to pass out one by one. Eventually, the crowd fell right where they stood, and that's exactly how they were found. A pile of charred remains. Those who witnessed the four-foot-high pile of 40 bodies would say they would never be

the same again. Those images would be scorched into their memory. It wasn't until noon of New Year's Day that authorities were able to start removing all of the bodies from the wreckage, and then the investigation into what caused the tragedy would begin. News travels fast in a small community, and many people had witnessed 21-year-old Florent Contain holding his lighter up to the dry arch. The police picked him up at his family home within hours, arrested him, and detained him in a local jail pending charges. His family were reportedly shocked. He was one of five children from what was considered a good family who lived only a block away from the centre. But later reports would reveal that Florent Contain had

struggles. He didn't do well at school, argued with his teachers, and was involved with drugs. He ended up being expelled at age 14, and in the time before the fire, he'd been charged with two counts of petty theft. He would later be assessed to be socially immature, impulsive, and because he often struggled to make connections, he would rely on pranks to make friends. Despite this history, in the days after the fire, his mother told the Gazette that her son would never do a thing like what he'd been accused of. She insisted that he always thought before he acted. Do you have a passion project that you're ready to take to the next level? Square Space makes it easy for anyone to create an engaging web presence, grow a brand, and sell

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slash ctc with offer code CTC and get your passion project off the ground today. The shock and grief of the tragedy crippled the community immediately. Most normal activity in Shapay ceased for the next few days. Everyone in town had a direct connection to someone who had died in the fire, whether they be a friend, relative, coworker, or neighbour. Some families lost multiple members, and around 50 children lost a parent, with more than 10 losing them both. These orphan children were placed in other homes, whether they be with relatives or other families in town. There were dozens of people that had been injured, ranging from respiration issues to severe burn injuries that would take months, if not years, to heal properly. Their scars would

be a permanent reminder of the tragedy. Nine of them were unable to work again. Falconbridge Mining Company sent its 600 miners home for the week. Local shops and the movie theatre closed. The community rallied behind the families of those who had lost their lives, and those involved with the cleanup and search effort. Volunteers worked around the clock, offering childcare, mass catering, housing, and transportation for any families who needed it. Committees were sent up to fundraise for victims and survivors, and do anything else they could to ease the pain on the community. The Mayor, Gerald Pellerin, with his burns finally properly bandaged, was instrumental in making sure all the tasks were properly delegated.

Over the next few days, as more remains were identified, their names were broadcast over local radio. Whenever there was a new announcement, everyone would stop and listen in silence, as the latest list of names was read out, wondering if it might include someone they knew. On January 6th, 1980, more than 2,000 residents packed the local hockey arena to attend a Mass Funeral. Another 4,000 people wanted to observe the service but couldn't get into the arena, so it was broadcast on local cable and radio. A large 50-person choir performed hymns, as mourners witnessed the largest group of flower-decked coffins they would likely ever see, sectioned off into different family groups. A sobering reminder of the great loss of life.

The Montreal Gazette sent over their now-legendary photographer, Ted Church, to cover the memorial service. Church was best known for the photos he took of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's bed in for peace at Montreal's Queen Elizabeth Hotel in 1969. In his photos from the Mass Funeral for Chape, showed the sheer enormity of the service and the organisation that was needed for all those coffins and the memorial. One key photograph showed then-premiere of Quebec, René Lavec, sitting next to Chape-mère Charold Pellerin, who was waving the white balls of gauze that were his bandaged hands. The premiere offered an outpouring of support for the community, speaking of the great loss of life suffered. He acknowledged that while financial assistance

was coming, there was little that could be done to compensate anyone, especially the children that had lost parents that night. He pointed out that the fact that it happened during the holiday season made it even more tragic. The majority of those who lost their lives that day were buried in a common grave. The town's tiny local cemetery had become a construction site of sorts, with a large industrial-sized hole dug to accommodate 31 coffins. The others were buried in family plots in the same cemetery or at other locations. The community was praised for having gone through a large period of unsurpassed suffering without giving in to anger. This comment was likely hinting a growing sentiment towards Florent Contain.

After the dust started to clear and people had no choice but to return to their lives, they're new normal. The enormous strain on the community soon started to surface. When mass tragedies happen, it's human nature to want to find someone to blame, and this was no different. Of course, it was easy to direct it at 21-year-old Florent Contain, the so-called unemployed party animal. Before long, there were concerns that the hatred directed towards him would result in a lynch mob, so he was transferred to another facility out of Chape for his own safety. The community was divided, though. On one hand, he was seen as a troublemaker who went too far and needed to be punished for the loss of life he'd

caused. But others were more empathetic, pointing out the fact that he could have easily been anyone's son or brother playing a prank with a lighter that day. He didn't mean any harm, he'd just made a mistake. And it was also pointed out that his family had fled Chape soon after the fire to escape the community's wrath. It wasn't their fault, but they were suffering terribly. But Chape would soon learn about other factors that were key contributors to the blaze beyond just the man who lit it. Two weeks after the fire, there was an inquest. The coroner concluded that 41 people died of smoke inhalation inside the building, four more died of their burn injuries outside, and others were still being treated in hospital

at the time. And the most critically injured had been airlifted to Quebec City. In the end, a total of 48 people would lose their lives either in the fire or afterwards of their injuries. Floran Contan testified at the inquiry about his involvement, which was backed up by witnesses who saw it too. He said he didn't mean to start a fire, he was just trying to make it look like he was lighting the branches as a joke. According to the Gazette, as he spoke, his mother started to weep loudly. One witness testified that they saw him saying, it's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault, once he realized what he'd done. None of the four witnesses said they were angry with him. The Falconbridge Mining Company owned the Open Miska Community Centre, and the inquest

found that the building was up to safety code. Even though that hose behind glass at the entrance had been forgotten that night, its presence actually exceeded the code for that particular building. But even with these measures in place, there were other factors that made it near impossible to avert the tragedy. The first thing was the delay in spotting the fire. It was estimated that around 90 seconds went by where a few people were trying to put out that flaming arch with fire extinguishers. And during this time, the main crowd either continued dancing or stood and watched. 60 people had managed to escape from the east exit in as many seconds, so that 90 second delay in realizing what was happening would have cost precious lives.

But it was determined that Falconbridge Mining had also recently renovated the building, and the Renault's included the boarding over of 10 large windows for some reason, which blocked their potential emergency use as additional exit and ventilation points. These renovations also included combustible interior finishes, like the finish on the walls and the ceiling tiles. And that exhaust fan over the emergency exit hadn't been positioned properly. The fire report concluded that along with those flammable Christmas decorations, these were the primary factors that contributed to the rapid development of the fire. But Falconbridge pointed their finger at the local Lions Club for deciding to leave the

untreated arch there instead of taking it down. Others were angry at municipal officials, and other party-goers were also blamed for making the wrong decisions in the emergency. Regardless, only one individual was deemed to be at fault. A decision was made to charge him with criminal negligence and one token count of manslaughter in the death of one of the attendees, 17-year-old Robin Desjardins. Community shared trauma, or collective trauma, is the psychological reaction to a traumatic event shared by any group of people. It includes both the immediate effects and the lasting repercussions. Not surprisingly, Chape struggled to pick itself up after the fire.

Not only was the grief sometimes debilitating, but the blame sentiment continued to run high. People were on edge and every topic of conversation had the potential to spark division. Cracks started to appear in lifetime friendships. Families started threatening to leave town for good to get away from it all. And sadly, in 1980, the knowledge about mental health and the effects of shared trauma wasn't mainstream, particularly in rural Northern Quebec. There were no social workers sent to help families who lost loved ones, and no additional psychological support for survivors or first responders. In the absence of these services we recognise as necessary today, the obvious solution, the age-old solution to dealing with trauma back then, was to sweep it

under the rug. Acknowledge it happened, but then move on from it. Push it down. Before long, the attitude caught on, and a new social order was woven into the fabric of the town. The unspoken agreement was they had to move forward. No one wanted to be reminded of what happened, so just don't talk about it. Falconbridge Mining encouraged this approach at work, with miners being afraid to bring it up for fear of losing their jobs. Even the City Council meeting minutes from the time made no mention of the fire or anything related to it. Everything was buried. The press later reported that the word fire was effectively removed from the community's vocabulary. The children of Chape were kept busy with a constant

stream of activities designed to keep their minds off what had happened. The general consensus was that distraction was key. If they weren't permitted the time to stop and think, they would probably just move on. The problem was, this never works, and what added to their distress was the sudden increase in school fire drills, which reportedly included fake smoke for effect. There was also no support provided for teachers, either for their own grief or in how to deal with the emotions of their students. Even churches were on board with the new rule. Clergy preached about the rejection of anger and hatred, and pushed messages of strength and resilience moving forward. But the problem was, many people did want to talk about it.

Survivors and first responders wanted to acknowledge and validate the horror of what they'd seen and heard that night. Those who'd lost loved ones wanted to deal with their grief by talking about what happened, but it ended up becoming a taboo topic. A code of silence, something only whispered about in the comfort of your own home. And as we know, when trauma is repressed, it doesn't just go away. And this is exactly what happened in Chape. Florent Contain originally pleaded guilty to his charges of manslaughter and criminal negligence. But in a shocked decision, he changed his mind after the trial had started and pleaded guilty. His sentencing hearing was held in May of 1981, 18 months after the tragedy.

He told the judge that he was just playing with fire, exactly the same as someone who might light a napkin. He said if he had known what was going to happen, the repercussions of his actions, he never would have done it. His probation officer described him as a quiet, introverted, and non-aggressive man who posed no ongoing danger to society. He asked the judge to pass a lenient sentence, arguing that a long sentence could transform him into a hardened criminal. The judge sentenced Florent Contain to eight years in prison. While some in the town were satisfied, many others were not. A Quebec Human Rights League committee started a petition to have the sentence reduced, arguing that there was no criminal intent in Contain's actions,

and a prison term wouldn't do any good for either him or society. In the end, the petition attracted signatures from more than 4,500 people from Chape and around the province of Quebec. Florent Contain's lawyer lodged an appeal, and the Quebec Court of Appeal cut his sentence to two years less one day. The decision stated that while what he did was foolish and thoughtless, it normally would not have had such serious consequences, and there were also several other factors at play that had contributed to the tragedy. Once he was released from prison, he reportedly left Quebec for good. By this point, the Quebec government had paid more than $3 million to fire victims and their families, a figure that would continue to rise.

The first few years after the tragedy would be described as a period of collective depression. For many, the holiday season was never the same, and some swore never to celebrate again. The community couldn't even bear to talk about what to build in place of the Open Miska Community Centre. The plot would sit empty for 10 years, because some residents didn't want to do anything that would draw attention to the site. They felt things would be better forgotten. The full extent of the shared community trauma in Chape might not have been known if it weren't for Therese Villeneuve, a social worker in Montreal who specialised in burn victims at the time. She'd thought a lot about Chape over the years and wanted to study the psychological impact of

the fire on the residents as her thesis for her master's in social work. Therese began work on her project in 1999, 20 years after the fire. Obviously, a large part of her doctoral project would be field research, interviewing survivors, getting their personal accounts, and finding out how they had fared over the years. But she didn't realise the silent code that Chape had instituted, and she also didn't realise that the people of Chape were also upset at the media who hounded them at first, looking for a story. But they quickly realised that Therese was not there for the same reasons. She was not a reporter, she was a social worker, especially trained professional to help people get through challenges in their lives safely,

someone who was experienced in dealing with mental health issues. She was understanding, empathetic, and most of all patient. She had to be. They had buried their horror and grief more than two decades earlier, and uncovering it again was not going to be easy. In fact, she learned that some people were triggered just from the initial interview requests even before they talked. She would write that residents had almost literally fossilised their memories and their grief, and uncovering it would be a process. But Therese was ready, she wasn't just there to get their stories for her research, she wanted to help them as part of it. At first, a few people started to open up and then the floodgates opened.

More and more people started contacting her after they heard through the grapevine what she was doing. As Therese spoke with more residents of Chape, she discovered just how pervasive the code of silence was. How the community had decided collectively that the only way to move forward was to leave it behind, bury their feelings like secrets that must never surface again. And now, the full extent of their trauma was about to be laid bare. Obviously, mental health issues became a problem, but less was known back then. For example, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, wasn't an official diagnosis when the fire happened, although it became one soon after. Those who were at the event that night,

the survivors and the first responders who had to witness such horrors were susceptible to the crippling symptoms of PTSD, including flashbacks to that night and severe anxiety attacks. Many residents developed phobias related to fire, regardless of whether they'd suffered burn injuries or not. For many, just the smell of smoke caused painful flashbacks that came with physical symptoms like chest pains and heart palpitations. And this wasn't just among those who experienced burn injuries, it was everyone, even if they didn't attend the event that night. The stories had been so vivid that even the flick of a lighter triggered instant anxiety.

Appliances deemed to be any kind of fire risk were eyed suspiciously and compulsively checked on. But even checking and increasing the number of smoke detectors didn't alleviate the fears. Some even had problems with barbecuing and using propane tanks. Others developed claustrophobia, where they couldn't bear to be in enclosed spaces like movie theatres, crowded bars or events. There was over-vigilance about finding and being close to the emergency exits. Others became agoraphobic, where they were afraid to leave their own homes, whether it be from fear of danger, the tension in the community or just general depression. And psychological pain manifests itself with physical symptoms.

After the tragedy, there was an influx of ongoing health issues like digestive discomfort, skin issues, increased infections and hypertension. Some residents' hair turned white, others who'd been healthy suddenly had heart attacks and there was an increase in cancer, back pain, ulcers and arthritis. And with talk discouraged, the residents of Chape turned to substance abuse to help dull their pain and sadness, push down their emotions and stop ruminating about every little what-if that happened that night, even if just for a little bit. They either started drinking heavily or increased their drinking. Drug use, particularly cocaine, as well as an overuse of prescription drugs became widespread in town, with people who'd never

previously used drugs taking it up or others now increasing use or mixing with various addictive substances. And this new substance addiction issue wasn't tied to any particular demographic, gender or age group. It was widespread across the community. The damage in those first few years was immense, but for Therese Villeneuve, looking back after more than 20 years, she could see it was so much more than that. Even with the most immediate and comprehensive of mental health treatments, a community would be lucky to escape a tragedy like this with only minimal lasting impact. But for the residents of Chape, the lack of treatment combined with the encouragement of secrecy meant that the lasting impact was likely not only worse,

but exponentially worse. Many had been unable to move on at all and went into depressive states where they continued to self-medicate for decades. Some were still on the antidepressants they started after the tragedy. They couldn't bring themselves to wean off. Others weren't able to sleep and had to rely on prescription medication just to get through the day. There was also a prominent sentiment of survivor's guilt, where residents felt guilty for living when others didn't. Some obsessed over why their lives were spared at the expense of someone else. People without children would wonder why they survived when so many children had been orphaned. And others felt guilt of a different kind. For example, one woman reported she felt guilty that

it was her idea to go to the fundraiser that night. She paid for her boyfriend's ticket, but she lived and he didn't. A father recounted being there with his wife and daughter that night, but his wife was on crutches so when the fire broke out he helped her to the door first. His daughter was dancing and when he returned to get her, she wasn't there. He blamed himself. Survivors guilt can also fuel a feeling of invincibility and people become self-destructive, taking risks that they wouldn't normally take and having careless accidents. Therese heard about a survivor who had lost two loved ones in the fire and after that he lost all interest in everything. He took up dangerous sports to get himself to feel something and

ended up dying in a motorbike accident. There was also an increase in suicidal thoughts. Therese heard about one man who'd been left with severe burns and didn't get the mental health support that he needed and died by suicide a few years later. There was a teenage boy who'd lost both parents in the blaze and was fostered out to live with relatives afterwards. When he turned 18, he received his inheritance, bought a car and then died in a car accident not long after. There was also generational trauma with the children who had lost parents or siblings. Therese heard about one family who lost their mother in the fire and her 15-year-old son naturally stepped in to take her place, taking over all her domestic chores. By age 18, he was

crushed under the weight of responsibility and ended up experiencing homelessness and drug addiction issues. Another teenager was just 12 when she lost her siblings in the fire. By age 16, she was a regular cocaine user and at age 17, she desperately reached out for help. Lifetime friendships crumbled, the social fabric of the town was torn and some people moved away, eager to escape that painful period altogether. The stories continued to come and within three years, Therese had conducted in-depth interviews with more than 75 survivors of the tragedy. But one person she never spoke to was Florent Contain. She said she wanted to focus on the survivors. She wrote that she wasn't overly impressed with what he had to say, particularly

the way he insisted it was just a prank and seemed reluctant to claim responsibility for the part he had played. She also pointed to the fact that he had been kicked out of school at age 14, despite legally being required to attend until 16. She questioned what he was doing for those two years he should have been in school and questioned how the school system and possibly the community may have failed him. Entertainment magazine Last Samhain interviewed Florent Contain to mark the 25th anniversary of the fire. He said that he was his own harshest critic, but at the same time, he said he tries to live one day at a time, trying to remember that what happened was an accident that could have happened to anyone. That same year, 2005, Therese Villeneuve

finished her doctoral thesis on the psychological effects of shared trauma and scheduled a launch event to present her findings to Chape publicly and transparently. Her focus was always on healing, so locals were encouraged to talk about what happened and ask her questions about her research and findings. Almost 15 years later, she decided to adapt her findings into a book, so it could be directed to a wider French-speaking audience. She aimed to release it in 2020 to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the tragedy, but knowing what a trigger the holiday season was for the people of Chape, she waited until the spring. Currently, the book is only available in French, and the translated title is The Real Faces of Chape, 40 Years Ago. A March 2020 article

by Scott Sutherland for the National Fire Protection Association Journal praised Therese for her empathy and deep understanding of the subject matter, and described the book as, quote, a rare glimpse into the long arc of a traumatic event and its impact on a vulnerable community. The tragedy at the Opomisca Community Centre that night led to major changes to law on safety in public buildings, and two treatment centres were established for serious burns in Quebec. And today, a peaceful memorial stands on the site where the centre once stood, a long, elevated walkway with 48 white stones to represent those who lost their lives, and a commemorative monument to represent the community that struggled with the permanent

scars they would carry. Today, knowledge about mental health is more widespread, and we've seen the effects of community-shared trauma at several levels, as the COVID-19 pandemic continues to play out globally. In Canada, we're experiencing our highest ever levels of depression and anxiety, with increased feelings of despair, hopelessness, and suicidal thoughts. In May, the latest study by Mental Health Research Canada reported that 30% of Canadians said their mental health is having an impact on their ability to function, with the greatest impact on social and family life. 30% said their productivity has decreased, and 8% reported they were missing school or work because of mental health.

Many people are experiencing extreme hardship, rural cranky, friendships have cracked under pressure, marriages have broken down, groups are divided, people have turned into recluses, and the third wave happening over the Canadian winter exacerbated the whole thing. And when it comes to coping methods, the data shows that we're doing much the same as the people of Chape. There have been significant increases in substance use, particularly alcohol, prescription drugs, and cannabis. This is, and always has been, one of the ways humans cope when they're pushed beyond their limits. But on the positive side, the study also found that over two-thirds of Canadians indicated a high level of resiliency, particularly with spring here, and the number

of people accessing mental health services is increasing. Simply going outside continues to be the most positive thing that we can do to support our mental health. But this whole thing will have lasting effects on us moving forward, and we're not at the finish line yet. If you don't feel right and you need help or support, you're never alone, but certainly not now. I've included a list of mental health resources in the show notes for Canada and several other countries. You don't need to overwhelm yourself, but it's so important to take care of yourself and each other. I wish each and every one of you the best over the coming months. Before I go, don't forget to check the show notes for everything I've mentioned today,

including mental health resources, residential school podcast recommendations, and ways that you can support Indigenous people. This episode of Canadian True Crime was researched and written by me. An audio production was by We Talk of Dreams, who also composed the theme song. The host of True voiced the disclaimer. Check the website at CanadianTrueCrime.ca for full credits, sources, and other information about the podcast. I'll be back September the 1st with the next season of Canadian True Crime. See you then.