NATIVE BAND EVICTS 'CRACKHEADS'

Young Woman's Murder At All-Night Party Last Straw For Sli'ammon First Nation

On the hottest day of July on the Sli'ammon reserve north of Powell
River, 80 people marched to the rundown home where Emma Megan Wilson
- -- a tough 20-year-old with a pretty smile -- had been stabbed to
death at an all-night drug party.

It had been a horrific year for the 950-member Sli'ammon band, with
about 15 deaths, including drug- and alcohol-related tragedies. A
young addict had just been saved from hanging himself.

Crack, heroin, meth and ecstasy were tightening a noose on the
reserve, fueling violent all-night benders in notorious drug dens.

Kids as young as 10 were being groomed in the drug trade, biking
around the reserve peddling crack for older cousins, according to
band leaders. Worse still, the band feared child dealers were selling to peers.

Wilson's death was the last straw.

Sli'ammon justice worker Verna Francis says an addicted mom and her
toddlers were found partying with adults and several teens at the
death scene July 25, amid large quantities of drugs and booze.

Wilson was taken to hospital and pronounced dead, and 38-year-old
Wendy Anita Debruin was charged with second-degree murder.

Police said it's believed the two were involved in a running dispute,
and drugs may have played a role in the killing. Without mentioning
anyone specifically, Wilson had confided on a social networking site
that she was afraid of "crackheads on the rez."

On the morning of July 30 a group, including Chief Coun. Clint
Williams, RCMP Sgt. Cam Muir and Francis, a 55-year-old grandmother,
carried an extraordinary eviction notice to the murder scene, a
4000-block River Road home. It was to be the first stop on an
eviction tour of 12 "hot-spot" houses on the reserve.

A female family member approached the broken-windowed home with the
notice. "We know you are engaged in illegal drug activity," it said.
"We are giving you two options: seek treatment or leave Sli'ammon immediately."

The woman's elder brother stormed outside and began cursing. Francis
took over. "Don't you get it? These parties have been going on for
three years. Now a girl has died." The man replied he couldn't
control what younger relatives did in the house, and walked away
holding the eviction notice.

Francis and her group marched on in the heat, energized with
drumming, praying, dancing and singing. At the end of the march,
Francis told the group: "I'm taking this house." Hands shaking with
anger, she walked toward a tiny home. It was the residence of a
Sli'ammon woman and a non-native, a 50-something man.

His neighbour, a 66-year-old woman named Mabel Galligos, had recently
died, a prisoner in her own home. She had boarded up her windows and
refused to leave the house in fear she would be robbed or beaten by
"crackheads," her grandson Erik Blaney told The Province.

"Who are you to come into our community and poison our people?"
Francis muttered to herself as she hammered on the man's door.

No one answered. She shouted the order: "You are no longer welcome!
We have every intention of following with every legal means to rid
our community of drugs!"

A week after the march, just after returning from Wilson's funeral,
Williams spoke to The Province. Some residents targeted for eviction
had threatened defamation suits. Relatives were pitted against
relatives. Williams had posted eviction notes to an uncle and a
cousin in separate homes. "It was very uncomfortable, but I knew this
had to happen," he said. "The purpose is to unite our community."

Muir said the eviction march was not a vigilante action. "It was an
emotional and courageous thing to do," he said. "It's the first time
I've witnessed such a strong, deep community resolve."

Blaney said a near 90-per-cent unemployment rate on the reserve
provides fertile soil for a "terrible and rampant" drug culture.

He alleged that Wilson's alleged killer, Debruin, had held a degree
and a high-level job with the band before getting addicted to crack.

"Some of the best people in Sli'ammon are getting caught by cocaine.
They're losing their houses and families," he said.

Francis said that after the march targeted households are firing back
with verbal and legal threats. Under pressure from all sides, she
broke down and cried in her office. "It's like when you burst an
infection, you have an open wound," she said.

But Francis vowed to push through with evictions this week. She said
she's emulating the relentless courage of Doris Paul, a Squamish
Nation social worker who has counselled the Sli'ammon community on
fighting drugs. After Paul's 12-year-old daughter was found face down
in a snowbank in 2003, nearly dead following a drinking binge, she's
been on an urgent mission to save First Nations youth.

Paul plans to take her grassroots anti-drug movement to reserves
across B.C. Francis said she dreams of travelling with Paul.

Francis can take heart from the story of the non-native dealer that
Paul successfully banished. Last August, Paul partnered with West
Vancouver police and fire services to seize the man's trailer and
ceremonially burn it on the Capilano reserve near the north end of
the Lions Gate Bridge.

Paul said her cousin ran into the man on a Downtown Eastside street
recently. "They were sitting there in a circle doing their crack,"
Paul said. "He said: 'Hey, did you hear what happened to my trailer?
That f--kin' Doris Paul burnt it!'"

Will the Sli'ammon go to similar lengths to protect their kids?
"Definitely. We will use fire if necessary," Francis vowed.