Although Cindy was neither a prostitute nor killed in the same manner, in both the “Willie” Pickton case and in Cindy’s case society failed the victims through a lack of proper support over a span of years. In the Pickton case, a long list of women disappeared from the streets of East Vancouver over a span of 20 years before much attention was brought to their plight. And in my sister’s case, Cindy endured seven years of torment and ineffective help prior to her death.

During court proceedings in 2007, the Pickton jury was told by a police officer that a key piece of evidence had been “extensively handled” by police without gloves, contaminating the exhibit. And out of all the exhibits collected, many were not sent to the lab while others were destroyed or returned to the owner. Yes, even in this case, as with Cindy, mistakes were made.

Perhaps the path of Cindy’s story and that of the Pickton story intersect. I am haunted by the memory of Cindy recounting a time in the late 1980’s when she administered nursing care to a prostitute voicing fear for her life. The only detail Cindy received (and recounted to me) was that someone was trying to kill the hooker who managed to escape.

Cindy identified with fear and understood how difficult sharing information was—especially when a case appeared as low priority to police. Cindy wrote:

I had to wall the feelings off or I wouldn’t have survived. I also understand why they find it so hard to talk about. You feel like no one will really understand but also you’re afraid of being overwhelmed by your own feelings to the point of where you feel trapped forever in the horror of it.

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My Friend
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The unsolved mystery of the death of Cindy James