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Montreal

Families reveal pain of Atikamekw children's mysterious disappearances half a century ago

The hearings held this week into missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls on Quebec's North Shore dredged up painful memories that still haunt families in the northeastern part of the province.

Indigenous communities of Quebec's Upper Mauricie region grapple with loss

In the Indigenous communities of Quebec's Upper Mauricie region, including Obedjiwan, pictured here, there are few families that haven't been affected by the disappearance of a child. (Archives of the Atikamekw Nation Council)

The hearings held this weekinto missing and murderedIndigenous women and girls on Quebec's North Shore dredgedup painful memories that still haunt families in the northeastern part of the province.

In the 1960s and 1970s, Atikamekw children who needed medical care were sent to the hospital by float planewithout their parents.

But upon their release,some disappeared, placed with white families without their parents' consent. One of them was even declared deadwhen he was still very much alive.

In the Indigenous communities of Quebec's Upper Mauricieregion, there are fewfamilies that haven't been affected by the disappearance of a child.

Here are three of their stories, as told to Radio-Canada's investigative programEnqute.

The Petiquayfamily

Diane Petiquay, bottom left, was taken away from her family when she was six months old after being hospitalized with pneumonia. She was placed with a non-Indigenous family without her parents' consent, and only reconnected with her family as a teen. (Radio-Canada/Alphonse Mondello)

At the end of the 1960s, six-month-old Diane Petiquay was hospitalized in La Tuque, Que., with pneumonia.

Uponher release, instead of returning home to her parents, she was placed with a non-Indigenous family, without the consent of her parents.

"We found a document at social services," says Diane's sister, Jacinthe Petiquay.

"And the reason they gave was: parental abandonment."

Hermother, who speaks only Atikamekw, remembers signing the document, which was written in French.

"The local priest told her it was to allow her to get medical care," Petiquaysaid.

"But that's not the same thing at all."

When the mother went to the hospital, she was told her daughter no longer wanted to see her.

Diane Petiquaymanaged to make contact with her family when she was an adolescent.

She reconnected with her brothers and sisters, but it was difficultshe never learned to speak Atikamekw.

"There's something missing in me somewhere. Something missing that we will never be able to get back," Petiquaysaid.

The Awashishfamily

Suzanne Awashish, pictured with her daughter, remembers her brother Marcel being taken to a hospital in Amos, Que., as a child after breaking his arm. He disappeared for years. When Marcel was finally found, he only spoke English. (Alphonse Mondello/Radio-Canada)

In the Atikamekwcommunity ofObedjiwan, young Marcel Awashish broke his arm while playing on a metal bed.

He was sent to the hospital in Amos, Que.,then disappeared for years.

"How is it possible he was found in Montreal, when all he had was a broken arm?" said hissister, Suzanne Awashish.

"We hear he was already on an adoption list. It's a good thing we found him in time. If not, he would have been lost We would have never seen him again."

When Marcel was finally found, he only spoke English. He had lost his mother tongue, as well as his French, the second most common language among the Atikamekw.

The Echaquanfamily

The Echaquan family, pictured here, learned after an investigation by Radio-Canada's Enqute that their daughter Lauranna was buried in a field when she suddenly died after being hospitalized in Joliette, Que. (Submitted by Echaquan family)

Lauranna Echaquanwas sent to hospital in Joliette, Que., in 1973, when she was just a baby.

As she recovered, she was placed with a local family, while she waited for her parents to come and get her.

When she suddenly died, her parents made the 200 kilometrejourney by bush plane, hoping to bring her body home for burial.

They believe the body they were shown was not their child, and that the subsequent burialin Joliettehappened too quickly.

The family has trouble believing their girl is actually dead. Despite a death notice, Lauranna is still on the list of registered Indians, as if she were still alive.

Forty years later,Enqutevisitedthe cemetery in Joliette, where the child appeared to be buriedin a common grave for unclaimed bodies.

But a witness to the burial, a social worker who was there, later confirmed the parents' worst fears. Lauranna was buried beside the cemeteryin a field.

Not uncommon, expert says

At the time, there wasno youth protection or social services like there istoday. So who made the decisions to place children in care?

"I have never seen explicit directives," said Marie-Pierre Bousquet, director of Indigenous studies at the Universit de Montral.

"But this kind of case is quite common in these communities and probably in the majority ofIndigenous communities in Quebec."

Bousquet blames attitudes prevalent at the time.

"For a long time, Indigenous parents were viewed as primitive," she said, "as though they didn't know how to take care of their children."

Anne-DianeBliveau, a social worker who worked in the area,said doctors and priestshad a lot of power over the children's lives. But she saidthose people didn't necessarily understand the children's reality.

The Quebec Ministry of Aboriginal Affairs told Enqute it found no information regarding the placement of Atikamekw children dating from that era.

Translated from a report by Anne Panasuk of Radio-Canada's Enqute