To be honest, I haven’t known where to begin with my Father pieces. He is such a mystery. And I’m afraid he will remain as such. So please bear with me as I attempt to put a few pieces together at a time. What started me on this journey about 5 years ago was the fact that I knew more about my Dad’s death than his life. One of the first sentences I wrote was “I hate the bullet”. The bullet represents not only the literal bullet but all of the negative of my Dad’s story. I wanted to find the positive. I was taught to believe and do believe that there is a reason for everything. And that means everything. I struggled with that. What was the reason and the positive in my Dad’s murder? Were these concepts even possible? Murder and positive. Murder and reason. Aren’t these paradoxes? I was determined to find out. So I spent my year of maternity leave with my son finding out. I didn’t expect to have everything figured out but at least get a start. I made incredible progress in that first year of discovery. I felt by the end of the year that I had found a few positive reasons. He did not die in vain.
On June 12th 1976 my Dad 32 year old Allan Pearce was shot in a home invasion on his parent’s farm outside Moosomin, Saskatchewan. My Grandma was also raped. My parents had a house on the property. My sister was 20 months old and my Mom was 3 days from due with me. That is the short version. I am working on the long version but believe me when I say that it is complicated and painful. I have heard versions and told the story since I was 12 years old but putting it down in writing as accurately and respectfully as possible is completely different; especially when you weren’t there.
My Dad gave his life trying to protect his family. I have no doubt of that. There is evidence that more people would have died if things had not happened exactly as they did. For me, I find this incredible. I am so proud and honored to be able to say that my Dad gave his life for ours. But it is also the reason I wish I could have known him. That is the pain that doesn’t leave; the constant back and forth.
The man who pulled the trigger and raped my Grandma was arrested within a few hours and received a life sentence. He has spent the last few years working to rehabilitate. He has become a Christian, and for all the judgments out there on this subject, please reserve them for God and trust that we have received enough information on the subject to believe that he is telling the truth. He is now in a halfway house with a job.
The accomplice to the crime also received a life sentence. Even though he did want to be there, did not pull the trigger or commit the rape he received almost the same sentence as the man who did. We understand the legality of the situation and now as we look back we also wonder if prison saved his life. Where would he be if he had been on the outside? He is now working full time in a half way house as a counselor; completely rehabilitated and a Christian.
For my Dad, a man of God and strong faith, the fact that these two men are now on a path to God would have been reason enough to give his life. It is reason enough to say that he did not die in vain. But the other side is that all these men had to do was ask for help and my Dad would have done anything for them. No one had to die that day.
I have found the positive and the reason, or as much as my human mind can comprehend, so the bullet has less power over my life. And if I can find the reason for my Dad’s murder everything else seems a whole lot easier. I’m thankful for what my Dad did I just wish he wouldn’t have had to do it.