Indian Posse NO MORE

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This article was published 29/08/2010 (5502 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

SASKATOON — Brad Peequaquat survived horrendous childhood abuse and, later, life inside Canada’s most notorious native street gang.

Then he got out. He fell in love and became a father.

But now the 29-year-old is fighting for his life after being diagnosed with a rare cancer — a situation his family says may have been prevented if prison officials had let him get the surgery he needed.

"The doctor came by this morning," Peequaquat said from his hospital bed in Saskatoon, his wife, Joanne Linklater, standing by his side.

"He told me if the cancer’s back, there’s not much more they can do for me."

With a bleak prognosis, and a hope his message will somehow help others, Peequaquat has decided to tell his story.

The tale of this young man’s life could start many places, but one scene, 20 years ago, stands out.

A nine-year-old Brad Peequaquat and two of his brothers were standing in the living room of their home on Saskatchewan’s Yellow Quill First Nation, each brandishing one of their father’s loaded hunting rifles.

All their guns were pointed at the front door as they waited for their father to come home.

"One day, we had gotten so sick of what he’d been doing to us. We decided we were gonna kill him," recalls Peequaquat.

He, his eight siblings and his mother had been subjected to almost daily beatings from his father.

His mother and relatives told Peequaquat that when he was a baby, his father continuously said he had "Chinese eyes" and wasn’t his son. One cold winter evening, Peequaquat’s father took him out of his crib. With only a thin moss bag for protection, the baby was thrown into a snowbank and left to die. His mother heard the commotion and retrieved Peequaquat, infuriating her husband.

"Dad put a gun to her head, then moved it only a few inches away and fired a few rounds," Peequaquat said.

As the boys stood in the living room, preparing to kill their father, they heard the family truck and knew he would soon open the front door.

"We all started talking about, ‘What if we missed?’ " Peequaquat said.

"So we got scared, put the guns away, and waited for our beating. But for once, he was happy."

The happiness was short-lived. The abuse escalated and their mother fled with the children. The father stalked them as they sought refuge around Saskatchewan and Alberta.

With little education and no positive role models, the Peequaquat kids committed hundreds of break-ins and graduated to auto theft.

The Peequaquat boys, including Brad and his brother, Sherman, would focus their spree on small-town liquor stores and bars.

Their exploits caught the eye of the Indian Posse in Manitoba. Formed by teenagers such as Daniel Wolfe, who was murdered in Prince Albert’s Saskatchewan Penitentiary last January, the Indian Posse became Canada’s most notorious aboriginal street gang.

A Winnipeg-based "boss" went to Saskatoon and met with the Peequaquats, inviting them to lead the formation of a Saskatchewan chapter. He promised higher profits, power and protection, and membership in the Indian Posse "family."

"They seemed to be young guys just like us. I just thought it’d be fun. We all joined," Peequaquat said.

Peequaquat and two of his brothers were named to the Indian Posse’s eight-member Saskatchewan council. Other members included one of the Manitoba bosses and "higher-ups" recently released from prison. Major decisions, such as whether to attack members of emerging rival gangs such as the Mixed Bloods or Native Syndicate, would be discussed by the council.

"The violence escalated, the stabbings and everything," said Sherman Peequaquat, who was in charge of administering the intra-gang discipline or "D-boards."

Overseeing the general business of the Indian Posse were the bosses, most of whom were serving life sentences in Saskatchewan and Manitoba prisons.

After a couple of years, the gang had grown to more than 60 full members, with many others at various stages of inclusion. Peequaquat and his brothers began to question their future and were also getting sick of their lives of violence and prison.

"They promised us this fast, easy life, but it wasn’t," he said. "They were living off of us, and we were getting sick of everything.

At one point, Peequaquat began to talk to Rev. Andre Poilievre, a Roman Catholic priest who worked with inmates and gang members.

"We used to just laugh at him, I didn’t give a s . But my brothers said I should get to know him," Peequaquat said.

Poilievre suggested ways for the siblings to leave the gang life. They started to listen. Following two years of relapses, Peequaquat and his brothers left the Indian Posse for good.

"I honestly thought they were gonna kill me," he said.

Perhaps because they had risen high enough and gained so much "respect" among the "bosses," the Peequaquats were allowed to leave unharmed.

Poilievre, who was recently invested into the Order of Canada for his work, said Peequaquat and his brothers are some of the most remarkable young men he has ever known.

"They were all gangsters when I met them," Poilievre said. "This young man did everything largely on his own. He changed his life around."

In 2004, Peequaquat met Linklater, the single mother of a two-year-old boy. They fell in love. Peequaquat now had a son.

"He doesn’t have the life I had," Peequaquat said. "I don’t want him to. He’s actually a kid."

In early 2007, Peequaquat noticed bleeding at the end of his penis. He was referred to Saskatoon urologist Dr. Peter Barrett. Barrett planned to remove the growth with surgery scheduled for April 26, 2007.

However, Peequaquat soon ran afoul with the law, caught drinking by police. Because of his previous crimes and strict conditions, he was sentenced to one month in the Saskatoon Correctional Centre. Prison officials were informed in writing and several times verbally of Peequaquat’s pending surgery, he said.

Prison guards routinely escort inmates to medical appointments and are not permitted to deny medical care for any reason.

Peequaquat said he constantly reminded the guards about the surgery, but April 26 came and went. Peequaquat remained inside his cell.

Peequaquat was released in May. The growth on his penis became larger and changed colour. He went back to see Barrett for the circumcision.

"It was much worse when we saw him the next time," Barrett said.

Peequaquat was told he had penile cancer. He was rushed into emergency surgery and half of his penis was removed. A checkup a couple of months later revealed more cancer in his penis. The other half was immediately removed.

Three more surgeries followed in his groin and abdomen requiring vein transplants and skin grafts.

Peequaquat said he was glad the cancer had been taken out. He concentrated on being a good father and enrolled in classes to obtain his high school diploma.

But several months ago, after two years of cancer-free test results, tumours reappeared.

More surgery followed. This month, from his hospital bed, Peequaquat was told he likely won’t be eligible for more surgery as the arteries and other vital body parts are too weak to survive the procedure.

When Barrett, a former president of the Canadian Medical Association, was asked if the April 2007 delay was responsible for the resulting spread of Peequaquat’s cancer, his weakened arteries and other deterioration, he said:

"It looked quite removable at the time when he initially presented. Then, of course, there was the big delay until we actually got to him and things were much worse. So one assumes that things, if we’d dealt with them earlier, might have been better. You can’t say that for sure, but it’s a possibility."

Peequaquat has tried for three months to obtain the prison documents which he believe prove officials were aware of his scheduled circumcision.

A corrections communications official said ministry officials could not discuss the case and would say only that the policy is to never deny an inmate medical care.

Peequaquat said he’s still trying to be a good role model for his family.

"Joanne’s my strength. I’ve been pretty sad for most of my life, but I wouldn’t have made it through this without her," Peequaquat said. "I just wish I could’ve changed earlier."

— Postmedia News