Bridget Moran - Judgement at Stoney Creek

JUDGEMENT AT STONEY CREEK

BRIDGET MORAN

JUDGEMENT AT STONEY CREEK
Copyright 1990 Bridget Moran
Preface to new edition 1998 Bridget Moran

THIRD PRINTING: 1998

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any part by any means without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may use brief excerpts in a review.

Originally published by Tillacum Library, an imprint of Arsenal Pulp Press.

ARSENAL PULP PRESS
#101-211 East Georgia St.
Vancouver, BC
Canada V6A 1Z6
arsenalpulp.com

The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts for its publishing program, and the support of the Book Publishing Industry Development Program, and the B.C. Arts Council.

Typeset by the Vancouver Desktop Publishing Centre
Cover photo courtesy of the Vancouver Public Library (#33579)
Printed and bound in Canada

CANADIAN CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION DATA
Moran, Bridget, 1923
Judgement at Stoney Creek

ISBN 1-55152-053-2
ISBN 978-1-55152-036-0
EISBN 978-1-55152-334-7

1. Thomas, Coreen. 2. Redekop, RichardTrials, litigation, etc. 3. Trials (Negligence, Criminal)British ColumbiaVanderhoof. 4. Discrimination in criminal justice administrationBritish Columbia. I. Title.
KE229.R44M67 1998 345.7110508997 C98-910076-6
KF224.R44M67 1998

I wish to express my thanks to the people of Stoney Creek, especially the Thomas family.

I also wish to express my gratitude to Harry Rankin, to the Canada Council, to Randy Fred, Brian Lam, and Linda Field of Arsenal Pulp Press/Tillacum Library, and last but not least, to my agent who is also my daughter, Roseanne Moran.

ON SEPTEMBER 24, 1997the twenty-first anniversary of the inquest into the death of Coreen ThomasI made one of my frequent visits to Stoney Creek Reserve, nine miles south of Vanderhoof. As I followed Highway 16 through the town, turned left at the sign pointing to the reserve, and ascended the steep hill approaching 6th Street, I rememberedas I always do at that intersectionthe tragic death of Coreen and her unborn baby. And I suddenly realized that if Coreen had not been hit by a car driven by Richard Redekop in the early hours of July 2, 1976, she would now be forty-two years old, and the baby boy who died with her would be twenty-one.

As I continued the drive to Stoney Creek, I recalled the media stories, the letters to the editor, the numerous reporters, and the grief and anger that followed Coreens death. For me, those tumultuous months will always be associated with her name, her brief life. The people of Stoney Creek remember her too; they have not forgotten the struggle, led by Coreens aunt Sophie Thomas, to force an inquest into her death. For them, it was an unsettling and confusing time. Unused to the harsh glare of publicity, they found themselves awash in a flood of newspaper headlines: INDIANS HARASSED ON ROAD; RACISM AND BRUTALITY RAMPANT; VANDERHOOF CORONER WITHDRAWS FROM INQUEST; WITNESS ACCUSES CONSTABLE OF FORCING HER TO LIE; CONSTABLE DENIES MAKING GIRL LIE; RICHARD REDEKOP NEGLIGENT; and finally, in June 1977, REDEKOP ACQUITTED OF ROAD DEATH.

Charges of racism ran like an ugly fault line through those months. Twenty-one years later, I am routinely asked: What about racism now? Does Two Solitudes still describe the relationship between Vanderhoof and Stoney Creek? The Native students who attend school in Vanderhoof, the Natives who apply for jobs in stores or other places of business in the town, the Carrier elders who spend moneya good deal of moneyin its mall and then are told to keep moving when they stop for a chatthese people from Stoney Creek would answer, yes, racism is still a fact of life for them.

Perhaps the most bitter fact of all for band members is that the towns racism is expressed in blatant economic terms: despite the hundreds of thousands of dollars Stoney Creek Natives spend each month in Vanderhoofs places of business, these same shops and outlets almost never employ Aboriginals.

If this economic racism and social separation existed only in Vanderhoof, if the months of nation-wide publicity exposing the two solitudes at the time of Coreen Thomas death had resulted in a more tolerant and accepting Canada, the people of Stoney Creek would feel there had been some recompense for their struggle with the justice system. Sad to say, this is not the case. Stoney Creek is merely a microcosm reflecting a Canada where Aboriginals still live with the reality of racism, and one of its most vicious first fruits, unemployment.

But Natives have proven that despite all odds, they are survivors. They have learned, usually the hard way, that in Canada they must depend on themselves, especially in the field of employment. If the wider community will not hire them, they will create work in their own territory. Nowhere is this more true than in Stoney Creek. Thanks to the monumental efforts of the band, especially the elders, twelve men from the reserve now work in the bush for Neduchen (Our Wood) managing a tree license, and seventy-five men and women are employed in Dezti Wood, a joint venture involving three reserves to process value-added wood. Elders will say that it took twenty years of struggle with the Department of Indian Affairs to get these economic projects in place, but at least, they say, we have them now.

Some things have changed for the betterNatives can now enter restaurants, bars, and hotels, and the hospital no longer has its Indian wingbut in less obvious ways, the separation of Natives and non-Natives is still a fact of life in the Nechako Valley. Despite the reality of this separation, however, Stoney Creek is no longer the impoverished reserve it was in 1976. At the time of Coreens death it was one of the poorest reservations in British Columbiaits statistics for unemployment, inadequate housing and living conditions, violence, and alcohol abuse were among the highest in the province. There were no sewage or water systems. Incidents of tuberculosis were increasing. The gravel road running through the reserve to Kenny Dam enveloped the reserve in a cloud of dust for much of the year, and was the subject of more than one biting comment from lawyer Harry Rankin, acting for the Indian Homemakers Association during the inquest.

Twenty-one years later, the population is growing; there is much new housing; streetlights and water and sewage systems are in place. Thanks to a blockade set up by the band, the road through the reserve is now paved. The Elder Society is strong and actively involved in cultural, spiritual, and economic reserve life. An Elders project, the Potlatch House, is much in demand as a conference centre, and since it was completed in the 1980s, has hosted a number of Carrier assemblies, potlatches, feasts, and special events. Stoney Creek village now has a hostel for single men, a learning centre for upgrading education, a large multiplex built by the band, and a new church. A health clinic and school are also in the building stage.

Like other reservations in Canada, substance abuse, violence, and pockets of poverty and unemployment still plague the band, but despite the reality of these social ills, Stoney Creek today is a far cry from the desolate community of two decades ago.

SO MANY OF THE PEOPLE who became familiar to reporters during the months leading up to Rick Redekops trial have passed away: Coroner Eric Turner, Coroner Glen MacDonald, Coreens mother Matilda, the husbands of Elders Mary John and Sophie Thomas, Mary Johns daughter Helen and her husband Don, Dr. Charles Stephen, that flamboyant witness Cecil Raphael, and tearful Faye Haugen, to name just a few.