Justice for Aboriginals
The Anthany Dawson Story
"The Truth is Out There"
Toronto, Ontario
May 5th, 2001

"I went to the hospital chapel and made deals like never before. I prayed for Anthany to recover, to come back to us." ...Anthany Dawson's aunt Yvon speaking to a gathering in Toronto, May 4, 2001.

From the editor: Thanks to Ramona Kiyoshk who attended the gathering on behalf of Turtle Island Native Network and took notes and prepared this Exclusive report.

Ramona's Introduction
In journalism school, we were told that we were the last bastion of truth and honour. We were sent forth into the world with our degrees and diplomas, to tackle corruption and make the powerful and unjust accountable. We would bring dignity to the poor and oppressed. Those ideals may have existed once, before newspaper chains and job security, before men like Conrad Black could muzzle the truth, and before writers were for sale.

The police and the army, on the other hand, if you take a look at history, were put in place to serve and protect --- the privileged. Above scrutiny and often above the laws they enforce, police and soldiers perpetrate heinous and barbaric indignities and get away with it.

Who will tell the people if the courts protect the police and journalists are afraid of publishers? X-Files' Fox Muldar insists, "The truth is out there". And there is much truth out there waiting to be exposed. One of the pockets of integrity in a cesspool of organized lies is the International Socialists party. Educated, passionate and determined, this group works with victims of police brutality, among other issues.

At a weekend IS conference, Marxism 2001: From Anti-capitalism to Revolution, May 4 to May 6, more than fifty victims of state-sanctioned crimes formed an impressive speakers panel. On Friday, May 4, one of the speakers was Yvon Gesinhaus, spokesperson for the family, and aunt of Anthany Dawson, a young B.C. Native artist who is said to have died as a result of treatment by the police in August 1999. The case, rife with collusion, racism, obstruction of information, and lies, is still going through the courts.

Yvon, a petite and vulnerable looking dark-haired woman took the podium, but when she began to speak her voice was robust and compelling. Yvon Gesinhaus belongs to the small, tightly-knit family unit that included her sisters and their sons, Anthany being the eldest.

This is her story. . .
Anthany J. Dawson was born September 21, 1969. He was a beautiful baby, with light brown hair and brown eyes. He grew to become a talkative little boy. He would come running into the house, crying, "Auntie, I found a bird. He's not flying. Fix him". I said I would try. During the night the bird got well and flew away. What do you know?

When it was time to go to school, the family left their remote community and moved to Alert Bay In kindergarten, Anthany was a busy, outgoing and chatty little boy, and his teacher was full of tales about his exploits. He was a memorable child.

When it was time to go to grade eight, his mother Nancy moved to Victoria, B.C. rather than have Anthany go to a government boarding school. He played football, and in order to raise money for his uniforms, he sold raffle tickets. He sold the most and won a radio.

In the summer, he returned to Alert Bay and stayed with his grandparents. At age 12, he became very interested in Native art. His mother went to the Native carving school with him and learned carving too, making plaques, poles and finally jewelry.

Anthany's first art show and published interviews were at age 14. He carved many masks for our ceremonies and potlatches. He was also being groomed as the oldest son in our family to become the Hamatsa. (a cultural leader)

As a young man, he began to question racism. Why was he being picked on? Racist altercations led to his first encounters with the law. Through police reaction to these racist-instigated fights, Anthany began to see that something was wrong with the system.

When he was 24, he went to Round Lake Treatment Centre and began a journey of healing. Anthany Dawson believed that if all young people knew where they came from they would be okay, and know where they were going.

Anthany had returned to his home in Alert Bay. He became immersed totally in Native art and culture, and changed his name from Tony to Anthany. He developed an interest in his health, learning all he could about nutrition and fitness. His diet included boiled egg whites, multi-grain toast and whole grains. His cousins remember him as a 'health food nut'. He also became curious about his culture, and sought out the elders for their teachings. He learned the songs of his people.

About the time he underwent his Hamatsa initiation, Anthany began to envision how his people could use what they had to become self-sustaining. His vision included tourism and the revived interest of Europeans in First Nations culture. They could offer tours, cultural education and their art, which included the unique carvings of the Northwest Pacific peoples.

When he lived in Victoria, Anthany went home to visit often. One New Year's Eve was special. When Anthany came home, he spoke passionately of unity and the importance of family. He loved to debate these issues with his family. When it looked like he was losing an argument, he would tip his head, grab his hair and yell, "But, auntie...".

In early August 1999 he called me, saying he was hitchhiking to Victoria for his cousin Vincent's seventh birthday. He had carved a mask and was carrying the mask as he traveled. His visit to his family in Victoria would last several days, many spent cruising around in his rebuilt 1972 black Challenger.

It was on August 11, 1999 about 6 p.m. that Anthany's mother called to say that something was wrong.

A doctor called her from the hospital telling her that Anthany was there and that he might not make it through the night. The doctor asked if Anthany had a history of drug abuse. She told him that since 1994, when Anthany went to Round Lake he had been drug and alcohol free. The police who brought him in and had him hand-cuffed to the bed, wanted to know if there was anyone who might want to harm Anthany.

As I drove along the highway at night from Alert Bay to the hospital in Victoria, a ghostly white animal appeared in front of the car. I tried to avoid it and drive around it, but it stayed in front of me. As my eyes adjusted, I realized that is was a white buffalo, running in front of me, leading me. I knew that my spirit guide should be a deer or a moose, that buffalo did not live in coastal B.C. (She would later understand the sign and its significance, when she would assume the warrior role and lead the fight for justice for her nephew Anthany.)

I arrived at the hospital at 2 a.m. to find Anthany on a life support system. His body was covered with bruises and welts, across the length of his torso, arms, and legs. Even his elbows and toes were bruised. His pretty white teeth were embedded with dirt and gravel. I helped the nurse list the bruises and wounds. I told my sisters that when he awoke he would tell us what happened. I sat and talked to him and I told him stories about the buffalo on the road. I told him parables of our people. I talked about politics. He was scheduled for a CAT scan at 6 a.m.

The life support machines whirred mechanically, impersonally, with intermittent alarms going off. When I asked them what the alarms were they said it was his pupils exploding from the pressure inside his head. At that point I went to the hospital chapel and made deals like never before. I prayed for Anthany to recover, to come back to us.

As the night turned to morning, I realized that it was not going to get better. The doctor told us Anthany was brain-dead. He brought medical students in to show them what a patient with blown pupils looked like. I went back to the chapel for more bargaining. I offered my own life if Anthany would be given back.

Anthany's father and my uncle arrived at the hospital. I tried to pick the dirt and gravel from his teeth so he would look good for visitors. The doctor told us again that he was brain-dead and that we could turn off the machines, slowly or quickly. It was our choice.

My sister said, "Let me lie down with him."

She lay down and held him. "Son, we have to turn off the machines", she whispered. My uncle cried out.

At 3 a.m. they started to turn down the life support machines. I willed the machine to keep working. I willed Anthany's still-brain to send a signal to his strong, young heart to keep beating.

My sister looked at me and told me to lie beside him. I did, holding the life support the way I used to hold his milk bottle to his mouth. I watched his heart struggle to pump. At 4.15 a.m. Anthany's heart took its last beat. That was August 13, 1999. We lost. There are no words for the anguish one feels for a lost child.

Anthany's paternal aunts began taking pictures of his body. Outraged, I left the room. At 7 p.m. I wheeled Anthany's body to the morgue. I recalled the times I used to push his baby carriage along the paths in Alert Bay and that gave me the strength to push the stretcher. We were refused permission to do a smudge inside the hospital and had to do it in the parking lot beside a big truck noisely unloading hospital groceries.

On Saturday afternoon, Nancy, my sister was immobile with grief. When friends came over, I told them what I knew.

Note from the Editor.

Justice for Aboriginal Peoples is on the minds of many across this country. Around the same time Yvon Gesinghaus was in Ontario sharing her story, Matthew Coon Come was in Saskatchewan where he called for a national inquiry into how the justice system treats Aboriginals across Canada. The Assembly of First Nations national chief was speaking to the Federation of Saskatchewan Indian Nations.

Coon Come wants an independent inquiry and suggested Amnesty Internional as a possible lead agency. The AFN leader said First Nations people across Canada are concerned about the treatment Aboriginal people receive from the police.

Coon Come heard from FSIN leaders who point to their toll-free complaint line for people to bring forward their experiences with police. It was set up last year in response to the shocking allegations of police misconduct against aboriginal people.

FSIN vice-chief Lawrence Joseph revealed the hotline received 1,000 calls. He said First Nations are demanding an investigation- "to get all the information regarding those people who have been accused of killing our people".