Uncover - S16: “Kuper Island” E3: Sink or Swim

Episode Date: August 2, 2022

Survivor Belvie Brebber tells us about her five years at Kuper Island Residential School, a time filled with fear, cruelty and sexual violence. Belvie makes it out alive, but her younger brother Richard Thomas does not. She describes a terrible phone call that shattered her family forever, and why she never believed the school's story that her beloved brother died by suicide. For transcripts of this series, please visit: https://www.cbc.ca/radio/podcastnews/kuper-island-transcripts-listen-1.6622551

Hi there, I'm Gavin Crawford. I'm a writer, an actor, and a comedian. And for the last eight or nine years, I have been navigating life with my mother's increasing dementia. Has it been sad? Yeah. Has it been funny? Also, yeah. That's what my podcast series, Let's Not Be Kidding, is about. It's the true story of my life as a comedian, my mom, and dementia. Let's not be kidding. With me, Gavin Crawford.

Available now. This is a CBC Podcast. Before we start, this is a podcast about Canada's Indian residential schools. And it contains descriptions of sexual violence, suicide, and abuse. If you need support, you can find information about where to turn for help at cbc.ca slash keeperisland. When I first got there, sister calls us down to the end of the wharf, and she says, okay, anybody that doesn't know how to swim step up the year is

1958 belvey thomas is 11 years old she's standing on the tall wooden wharf in front of the cooper island indian residential school the ocean is dark the nun is fierce and belvey can't swim so i stood stepped up and she says okay all know, there's five or six of us. You'll either sink or swim. And that's it. Nobody's going to jump in after you. You'll sink or swim. So she started pushing us all into the water.

I sank. And I remember looking up at the wharf, you know, at the boards there, and I could see this, like almost, you know, like a light like that, like the sun. I could see it through the wood. I died. My cousin came after me and she brought me up and she started, you know, like pumping my back. Oh, your back. Yeah, and I started to throw up.

Water. Yeah. And she says, I'm not having any of this happen. She told the nun that. She almost died. She told the nun that. She almost died. So I was lucky she was brave enough to come and get me.

Because nobody else jumped in. When did that happen? The first year I was there. My God, the first year. Like. Yeah, when I think about it it it was a pretty bad year for me but then I started

to learn things you know like how to cope and everything like that how did you cope? just go with the flow go with the flow shut up

yeah do what you're told mind your own business yeah Mind your own business. Yeah. It was the dilemma facing every Indigenous kid sent to a residential school. Either drop to the bottom like a stone, or do whatever it takes to stay afloat. I'm Duncan McHugh, and this is Cuper Island. Episode 3, Sink or Swim.

So far, I've mostly heard about the horrific things that happened on the boys' side of the school. Tony and James told us about Richard Thomas, the boy who was found hanging in the school gym, and how unsettling his death was. But how did Richard's death affect his family? We tracked down his sister, Belvi. She went to the Cooper Island School, too. There's no way around it. This is going to be a tough conversation.

And so if you want to stop, you just tell me, okay? We'll take a break. Belvi was born in the late 1940s. She grew up with her parents living just outside Victoria. Those memories that I have of that time were, you know, my happy times. Okay.

You know, and I can remember jumping into bed with my mom and dad, you know, and just getting warm there. I can remember my dad bed with my mom and dad, and it's getting warm there. I can remember my dad giving me a whisker burn. You got a whisker burn when you were kissing him? No, he used to do that on purpose to me. Oh, he scraped? My dad did that too.

When she was four, Bellevvi was diagnosed with spinal tuberculosis. She spent five years in the Nanaimo Indian Hospital in a full body cast. I should say, what happened at the Indian hospitals, that's a whole other awful story. By the time Belvi returned home, the Thomas clan had multiplied. When I got home, there was like six or seven more kids. There was 17 of us in all. Well, that's a really big family. Yeah. Well, what happened to her? She spent a few years living at home, attending Indian Day School. Richard was younger than Belvey, and they were close. Oh, he was a fun, happy kid, you know, like he was just, he was like the life of the party.

Always trying to help mom out, doing this and that for her. And, you know, when mom needed water, he was always the one that used to go right away because we used to have a well, we didn't have running water. And so he'd go and get the buckets and he'd go and get mom water for her washing clothes or cooking or he just helped mom he was close to your mom yeah

yeah he was really special like especially with my mom my mom could see him anywhere in a great big crowd she'll spot him especially with my mom. My mom could see him anywhere. In a great big crowd, she'll spot him.

You know how the marching bands on Victoria Day is? When they get to the end, there's kids all over the place. Well, one day we were down there, and we got caught up to mom, and mom says, where's Richard? Says, I don't know, he was behind us. And so she'd look in the crowd and says, there he is, there he is. Where, Richard? She says, I don't know. He was behind us. And so she'd look in the crowd and she says, there he is. There he is. Where? Where?

And she says, he's right there. Can't you guys see the halo around his head? And mom, no. It was like, I don't know. It was almost like he was an angel already. I can remember my dad saying this when they started putting us in residential school. He said to mom, he's, you know, like, we're just going to have to make more babies, you know, because they're taking them away from us. Oh.

Yeah. Then we got a letter for myself, and my sister and I, we were kind of always getting in trouble and stuff like that. So when we got the letter, she says, I'll bet you this is for myself. And my sister and I, we were kind of always getting in trouble and stuff like that. So when we got the letter, she says, I'll bet you this is for you. And I said, yeah, probably. And we opened it up and it was for me. So we took it and we burned it. Wow. Yeah. Two weeks later, my dad got a threatening letter saying that if you don't get her to school this week, my dad would go to jail. I wouldn't be able to go to school anywhere in BC.

They'd lose all the children and he'd have to pay a $500 fine. It wasn't an idle threat. Police were regularly sent to enforce an order if Indigenous parents refused to comply. If parents couldn't pay the fine, they faced jail time and losing all their kids. So, Belvie's parents packed her up for the unavoidable drive to the ferry. Part of her was looking forward to being reunited with her brothers and sisters. But then she started to get scared. You know, Mom, she told us not to run away

because, you know, like, you can't get out of there. You just can't. The Cooper Island School was surrounded by ocean, but that didn't stop kids from trying to get away from the place. Like Emile William, who escaped in 1907. He drowned and wasn't found until spring. By the 1940s and 50s, school officials were writing about an epidemic of runaways, and one case threatened to expose the depths of the problem.

In January 1959, Patricia and Beverly Joseph crept from the girls' dorm, down to the wharf, and stole a boat. The sisters' disappearance was discovered in the morning but police weren't informed until later that afternoon. Patricia's body washed ashore the next day.

Beverly was never found. The newspapers said the girls were attempting to go to a dance. An inquest was ordered. We uncovered letters written by the principal of Cooper Island worrying what impact the press and the inquest might have on the school's reputation. But the jury didn't ask why two girls would try to flee by boat in the night in the dead of winter.

They took 15 minutes to reach a conclusion. They ruled the deaths accidental. The two sisters were Belvey's cousins. So, on Belvey's first ferry crossing to Kupur... You know, it was raining, it was pouring, and they kept trying to get me inside, and I, no, no, I don't want to go in there because I figured if the boat tipped or anything, I would be stuck in there, stuck inside.

So I stayed outside all that time until we got to Kewpur, and I was just soaking wet when I got there. Wow. The nun that was in charge of us, she was telling us, you know, the rules and regulations and stuff like that. This other girl, she was living with her grandparents, so she only spoke the native language. The nun said, if you don't stop, you're going to be in trouble, big trouble. She wouldn't stop speaking in our native language. Big trouble.

She wouldn't stop speaking in our native language. So she dragged her into the bathroom and I was wondering, what's going on? And so I asked my charge and she said, oh, she's getting her head dumped in the toilet bowl and flushed. And when she came out, her head was soaking wet. Then there was the food. Bowls of lumpy, raw, sour-tasting porridge. Belle was always hungry. There was this one time when we were getting one of the people from the government

coming in to check on us. And so here we got pork chops. We got two pork chops apiece. And everybody was served and everything, waiting for this person to come. And when they found out that he wasn't coming, we all had to put our pork chops back. Get out.

You had to put them back? Mm-hmm. She was learning to read the room and the subtle signals sent by other girls that there were dangerous people in places around the school. We were told to go to the laundry room and bring the towels down there and in front of the washing machine. And so I got told to do this and everybody was saying, I'll do it, I'll do it, don't let her do it.

And she says, well, she's got to learn. She's got to learn. So you get down there, she says. This is the nun. Yeah. I went down to the laundry room with all the towels, and I went to turn the light on. The light wouldn't turn on.

Oh, my God, now I've got to run in there or something. I've got to do something. I've got to get rid of the towel. So I opened up the door and I started running towards the laundry, the wash machine. And I heard this noise and I stopped and I looked. And I seen this person coming out from behind the dryer. And I kind of froze and then I started to run and I didn't even make it to the door. And I hit my head and I passed out. And when I came to, my pajamas were next to the door, but I was laying on top of the towels that I threw down.

Naked. You didn't have any clothes on? No. All I remember was when I started to walk, it felt like, you know how when girls are riding a bike and they just fall off and you end up on the bar? Oh, God, yeah. Yeah, that's the way I felt.

Belvi was 11 years old. It wasn't only me that was done. Every child that was, I think it was above 10 years old, got sent down there to bring the towels down to the laundry room. And this brother was raping them all. So it was a brother. And the next day, the nun comes to me and she says to me, she says, oh, here's some pills for your headache. And I thought, how does she know I've got a headache?

I never even complained about it or anything. How come she knows? So I took it. And she says, just ask for them whenever you need them. Belvie knows who did it An oblate brother who was never investigated or charged However, in its long history The school wasn't able to completely avoid police scrutiny So we got some documents from NCTR

And if you open the folder up The Truth and Reconciliation Commission recorded a 1939 police investigation into the Cooper Island School. It was sparked by a cluster of children running away. We wanted to see it ourselves, but it took months of archival requests. Yeah, it's a little hard to read. So it looks like it's definitely an RCMP report dated 1939. This is the team, me, Jodi and Martha, on a Zoom call the day we finally got our hands on it. Names are blacked out, so you'll hear us mention the redactions. Six boys had ran away from the school about 8pm

and had taken two canoes belonging to some Indians residing on the islands. two canoes belonging to some Indians residing on the islands. Familiar story, right? A constable for Chimaynas, B.C. tracked down the boys, who made it home safely. But then he did something unusual. Instead of rounding up the boys and marching them back to the school, as police typically did, he took statements from two of them and asked a simple question. Why'd you run away? Point number four is where it gets

really interesting. It says both state that they do not want to return to the school as the conditions are bad and another boy states that he is afraid of redacted, so talking about a father or a priest, as he has been trying unnatural acts with him, also other boys, and the parents of both boys do not wish to send them back to the school. The parents of all six refused to return their boys. In the course of our investigation, it was necessary to have the parents present when we were interviewing some of the children. The fathers in particular were extremely upset and threatened to remove their

children from the school. One father in particular was very angry. He intended to go to Cooper Island with his shotgun and shoot every priest in this school. And it says blank is not the best type of Indian. And I feel that had his boys been drowned, he would have carried out his threat. boy's been drowned, he would have carried out his threat. I mean, it's incredible. Here's a man, he says, if it's true that my boys had ended up drowning, trying to escape those priests at that school, I would have killed them all. And people would have joined him. And the police are there interviewing him saying, yeah, we believe him.

The officer did his initial investigation, but then concluded more follow-up was needed. He wrote, quote, I'm convinced things are not as they should be, reconditions at the school. The officer and his sergeant started interviewing more children. They gathered over 50 statements. One day, just before Christmas, redacted, name, took me out in his boat. He told me to take my pants down in the boat as we were going to go to bed.

If I didn't, he told me he would throw me off the boat into the water. He got into bed beside me. He was trying to put his thing into me. He could not get it in, so he asked me to play with his thing. I had to do it because I could not get away from him. Then there were the stories of the laundry room. He showed us a white rubber thing. He told the girls not to tell the sisters what he was doing. This took place in the laundry, and he used to give the girls some money he gave me five cents he had one girl in the laundry in the dark he kissed her that's like so similar to what

happened to belvey in the laundry room so laundry room was a problem in 1939 like now we have police reports multiple children saying that the laundry room was where these guys were doing it. Clearly there's this, you know, there's stuff that's going on repeatedly for decades. The volume of statements here is staggering. This isn't just one or two kids who are kind of saying this. This is dozens of children. Indian Affairs officials attempted to have the officers labeled insubordinate, but after reading the children's statements they changed tack.

The priest who took the boy out in the boat was reassigned to another mission in a different province. Another suspect, a school employee, was also dismissed. Indian Affairs arranged for him to leave the province too. That prompted the local Catholic bishop to fire off furious letters to Ottawa. Bishop J.C. Cody wrote, Though quite cognizant of certain lamentable breaches of morality, I fail to see any advantage in ruining an institution

because of some individual's supposed or even real misdeeds. But with the suspects no longer in B.C., the case was closed. As far as the government and church were concerned, investigating and prosecuting wrongdoers took a back seat to protecting the school's reputation. Well, this cop, he's like, whoa, whoa, and doing a full-on investigation, and look what happened. Nothing.

So this is, this is like, this is nuts. It's very disturbing. So for Belvi, the abuse continued. One day she was told by an oblate that her brother was sick and wanted to tell her something. It was rare for the girls to go over to the boys' side of the school, but she followed him to the infirmary. That's where she encountered a second man, one of the priests. He put his hand on my mouth.

His hand was huge. And it wasn't only on my mouth, but it was also on my nose. was huge and it wasn't only on my mouth but it was also on my nose and I passed out there and I don't remember what happened and I didn't even know where I was you know like where am I so I got you know like I found my clothes my pajamas and so I went rushing down the hallway and I went to the bathroom and all this stuff started to come out and I thought you know like I thought I was really sick or something. Well what do you mean by stuff? Semen. I had to use a towel to wipe myself. And how long had you been at the school at that point? It was that same year. That was all in the first year?

Yeah. Oh, Belvie. Yeah. Belvie never told anyone at the school she'd been raped by two clergy. Not that it would have changed much. In the 85-year history of Cooper Island, only one staff member was charged with sexual assault. Glenn Dowdy, the oblate we told you about in the last episode. But it was clear there were many serial abusers at the school,

not just one bad apple, as you so often hear. And it wasn't only male employees. They had no time for us, you know, like, unless they were sexually abusing you. The nuns? Yeah, there was a nun that used to sexually abuse the girls. Belvie remembers being summoned to the nun's room one night. She waited outside and was talking to another girl who was also standing there. This girl told me to go back to bed and don't get out of bed anymore.

Just stay there. Don't listen to her. And she was assaulting girls. Because I remember girls coming out of her room with cigarettes and chocolates, you know, and pop. The sleepless nights and sexual terrorism inside Cooper Island seemed endless. But sink or swim, Belvey put her head down and endured for five years. She finally got to leave in 1962. But her brother Richard had to stay. In 2017, it felt like drugs were everywhere in the news.

So I started a podcast called On Drugs. We covered a lot of ground over two seasons, but there are still so many more stories to tell. I'm Jeff Turner, and I'm back with Season 3 of On Drugs. And this time, it's going to get personal. I don't know who Sober Jeff is. I don't even know if I like that guy. On Drugs is available now wherever you get your podcasts.

I asked Belvi what Cooper Island was like for her brother Richard. His first few years there, he wanted to be a priest. And all of a sudden, you know, like he comes home and tells Mom that. And Mom, really? And he says, yeah, I want to be a priest, Mom. And Mom says, wow, son, that's a big obligation, you know. And he says, yeah, I know, I want to be a priest, though. I was surprised when he came out with that, though.

Why were you surprised? I guess, you know, like we just never ever thought of that. And maybe it's because none of our people were really anything big. And this was big. I mean, you know, to become a priest. And he was talking about it. I don't know, our people never... Dreamed?

They never went to universities or anything. And, you know, here my brother was talking about this. So he had aspirations. Yeah. Richard's optimism began to fade as his time at Cooper Island wore on. I begin to get hints of why when Belvey shows me one of the only photos of Richard the family has. Here's Richard. That's Richard there?

Yeah. It's a very unusual picture. A small black and white photo stamped July 1964. Richard is smiling, holding a small mandolin. He's standing on that wooden wharf, the Cooper Island School looming in the background. His classmates are mingling with one another, wearing blue jeans, t-shirts and sneakers. But Richard is wearing a nun's outfit. Black habit and all.

But Richard is wearing a nun's outfit, black habit and all. Why is he wearing a nun outfit? We couldn't even touch them. The habits? Yeah, we couldn't touch them. We weren't allowed to touch them. Like, even though we did all the laundry and everything, they did their own outfit. I think they were really trying to embarrass him, put him down and stuff like that.

So who would be trying to embarrass him? The brothers. The brothers, by dressing him up as a nun. All the students are smiling, including Richard. You could look at the photo and see fun, but all Belvi sees is pain. The other weird thing is that he seems to be smiling. Well, he's making a joke about the whole thing. That's what he did. You can't make fun of me, I'll show you.

You know, like, I know what he was like. And that's something he would do if somebody's trying to make him like a guy being in a nun's outfit. I imagine back in the 60s, that would have been very embarrassing. Mm-hmm. Yeah. But for him to turn it around on them. So he's throwing it back in very embarrassing. Mm-hmm. Yeah. But for him to turn it around on them? So he's throwing it back in their face. Mm-hmm.

And the guys all knew that they were treating him really badly. Right. You know, a lot of guys knew. It's mystifying and sad and infuriating to see Richard this way.

I've developed an impression of him from what I've heard. Kind, funny, gentle, a boy with dreams. But then we've seen changes in him. He got quiet, really quiet. And Mom would ask us if we knew what was wrong with him, and we'd say no. But something was happening to him over in Cooper. Two years later, it was finally Richard's turn to graduate. Just days before the ceremony, he phoned home.

The last time I spoke to him, you know, like he was talking to mom and he asked mom if he, if she had all his things ready because he was graduating from Cooper Island. His suit, his shoes, his tie and everything. And mom says, yeah, we got all that. He heard me and then he asked if he could talk to me. And Mom said, yeah. And she gave me the phone. And he says, are you going to come? And I says, yeah, well, I'll ask Mom first. And so I asked Mom, and Mom says, sure, why not? So I said, yeah, I'm coming.

And he says, oh, great. It would be nice to see you. And so we were just talking. And then all of a sudden he says, you know what, sis, I can't wait to get out of this hellhole. And I says, Richard, you can't be talking like that about a place like that. When I get out of here, I'm going to tell everything. And next thing you know, he was saying, I got to go, got to, and then the phone hung up. And that was the last time we heard from him.

Belvey knew staff could listen in on students' phone conversations, and often did. Her worries intensified when Richard didn't call back. Two nights later, the phone started ringing off the hook. But it wasn't Richard. It was a priest. My mom and dad were out for the evening, and they started phoning just about every hour, asking to speak to mom and dad, and told them, well, she's not home yet.

They're not home. I was 17, so I was looking after the kids, hey, and I don't know when they'll be home. And so I pulled back around 11.30, we got home. I told mom that the priest from Cooper Allen was phoning all the time I wonder what the heck's going on and I don't know so we got the phone call and I said and I says mom it's for you and She asked what was going on, and then the phone dropped. She started to cry.

So I picked up the phone. I asked him what was going on, and he said, Your brother's gone. He died. He committed suicide. No, I didn't believe that. So your mother must have been in shock. Oh. We couldn't do anything for her. Just cried.

Just cried. It hurt us to hear her cry like that. We couldn't even eat. All we could hear her saying is, my baby. He's not only my brother, he was my best friend too. Here in Belvie's living room, her partner Ken moves in. He crouches beside her, holding her hand as she sobs. Man, that's a long time ago. 17 then.

It hurts to even think about my mom crying like that. It hurts to even think that my brother died. Being told that he committed suicide, that just was not like him. Yeah, you said you didn't believe that. Why? I don't know. It's a sense. It feels kind of like a sense, I don't know. It wouldn't have been like him. It would not have been like him to do that. Grief overwhelmed Belvey's family in the days after Richard's death.

Then they were called to the coroner's office. He says to Mom, you should look into this, he says. It doesn't seem right. You should look into this, he says. It doesn't seem right. You should look into this, he says. I mean, in us knowing that who could say anything bad about a priest or a brother or whatever. We've been threatened all those years. If you say anything against them, you know, like we'd burn forever in hell. At Richard's funeral a few days later, Belvey's mother pressed one of the oblates for answers about how her son had died. She was behind him and she says, can you just stop and talk to me

so that I can find out more about my son. And he turned around. He says, you've heard all you're going to hear. And mom says, well, just tell me. Tell me what happened. And he turned around and started yelling at her. My mom just about collapsed. My sister and I had to hold her up. I ask about the story I heard that the priests told students

Richard was upset because his parents were separating. You know, that was one of the things that they said Richard heard, and that's why he did this. And, you know, I was 36 when my mom passed away. They were still together. They were still together. They were never divorcing. So they didn't separate? No.

And they didn't divorce? No. In the days and weeks that followed, a story began circulating in the village that Richard was killed. It's a story survivors have speculated about ever since. Can you actually get his death certificate? Or you guys? Richards? Richards?

Yeah, well, we're working, we're trying to dig up all kinds of documents. I actually found somebody that got his death certificate. And in the death certificate certificate says strangled. I don't know too much about being strangled and being hung. And what went through your head when you... When I heard that? I practically know that he was strangled. I know he didn't do it. I know he didn't do that to himself.

You said really firmly that you think he was murdered. Mm-hmm. Why would that happen, or what do you think? Because of what he said. He was going to tell everything. When he got out of there, he was going to tell everything. On the next episode of Cuper Island, Belvie takes us searching for answers and meets someone

who has a horrific recollection of Richard's last day. When he hung himself, we were all around him, and they told us not to move. And we're all looking up like this at him, and those are the bad memories I have. And we do more than find Richard's death certificate. Turns out there was a police investigation and an autopsy. Attached here to police find the photographs

mentioned in the previous report. So yeah, there are two photographs in this report. Oh my goodness. They're very difficult to look at. Cuper Island is produced by Martha Troian and Jody Martinson and hosted by me, Duncan McHugh. Our senior producer is Jeff Turner. Our coordinating producer is Roshni Nair. Our mixers are Michael Catano and Lee Rosevear. Arif Noorani is the director of CBC Podcasts. Theme music by Zibiwan.

Art by Elliot Whitehill. Haichka Jimigwetch to Belvi Breber and Ken George. If you need support, you can access emotional and crisis referral services by calling the 24-hour National Indian Residential School Crisis Line, 1-866-925-4419. Or for more resources on Canada's Indian residential schools,

go to our website, cbc.ca slash cupereisland. Thanks to everyone for your ratings and reviews. It helps people find our podcast, and we've been passing on your messages of support to survivors. Miigwech bzinda yik. Thanks for listening.