Hi, my name is John Nicholas. The first thing I want to say is I’m sorry this is so long, but I wanted to include as much as I could. It took everything I had left to even ask for this help.

My son was never supposed to be born. His mother and grandmother both did not want to have a baby. I knew, in a way, it wasn’t a good idea because of the state of our lives at the time. But I also knew that the way I was living, I wasn’t going anywhere and probably wasn’t going to be here much longer.

My father committed suicide when I was a child. My godfather stepped in and took his place in my life until he was murdered at his girlfriend’s house by another man. The night before that, I was out with family at a bar. I drank too much and asked for the keys so I could sleep in the car while they stayed out. The next morning, I woke up in the driveway where my father had taken his last breath.

From that point on, I gave up on life. I didn’t care what I did or who it affected. Alcoholism is cold and lonely, but that’s how I met my son’s mother. She understood me and why I was the way I was.

Five years later, I found out we were having a baby. I took it as a sign, a second chance at life. His mother didn’t see it the same way, and her mother said she wasn’t mature enough to have a child. I told her that if she ended my baby’s life before he even had a chance, she should consider me dead too. I promised I would be there day and night, and I managed to convince her to keep the baby. And as I promised I did everything from the pampers too waken up all hours of the night to feed change and play with him.

When my son was born, I knew we needed better income. I went to trade school and completed a 30-day course that got me certified. Before the course was even finished, I was hired and flown out to Edmonton and Fort McMurray for shutdown work. Everything was going well. I sent money home for a new place, furniture, appliances, and living expenses.

Then one night, I got a call from CPS. They said they were taking my son into custody because his mother had been driving impaired, screaming at people, and almost hitting two cars. I told them not to take my son, that someone was already on the way to get him, and that I would care for him when I returned. My boss immediately bought me a plane ticket home.

When I got home, the house was there, but everything inside was gone. What was left looked like it came from the Salvation Army. His mother was running around with another man. None of that mattered to me. I was home with my son.

For two years, we lived in a house 25 minutes from the nearest town. I didn’t even have a license. To get it back, I had to pay $18,762 in fines, which I did with the money that was supposed to help us live comfortably. Raising a baby without a license, vehicle, or reliable help was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I relied on taxis and friends. CPS ordered that his mother was not allowed at the house.

After two years, I won full custody of my son. I finally got my license back and bought a vehicle. During that time, I made a huge mistake. I lent my vehicle to my son’s mother, hoping she would help close the CPS file. Instead, she showed up at my house, caused a scene, and violated CPS orders. CPS then took my son into custody for two months, saying I needed to prove I could handle the situation better.

While in custody, my son was left unsupervised in a bathtub and was burned on his private areas. Instead of taking him to the hospital, they brought him to an access visit with me. He was so happy to see me that he hid the pain until I changed him. No matter the proof, CPS was never held accountable.

Eventually, we moved into our own home. Things improved. My mother gave me her house, and a close friend helped me with a reliable vehicle. I entered another relationship with someone who had two kids. At first it worked. My son had cousins to play with, and we were a family.

Over time, things changed. I caught her being abusive toward my son on a hidden camera. When I confronted her, I asked her to leave. She refused and tried to make me leave my own home. She grabbed my son to prevent him from leaving after he had already told me what was happening. I forced our way out and told my son to run while I caught up. I left my phone behind in the chaos.

She went to my aunt’s house and made up a story about me abusing her and her kids. She called the police. When police stopped me, I was arrested immediately without being allowed to explain. She was treated as the victim and escorted back to my house, where she took my phone, the camera footage, and my belongings.

My charges were later dropped. Her story kept changing. Mine and my son’s never did. The footage was deleted after she admitted she had my phone.

CPS became involved again. Everyone treated me like I was guilty. My boss and his girlfriend offered to care for my son temporarily. I worked roofing and lived in a camper. That arrangement fell apart when my ex started sleeping with my boss. Lies were told about me, and CPS approved my son being moved further away.

I did everything CPS asked. Parenting courses, relapse prevention, mental health support. None of it mattered.

One night, my son called me crying, terrified. He was being left alone with a man who drank and yelled at him. I reported it. CPS did nothing. I called for a police wellness check. Only then did they believe me.

My son was finally moved back near me and with family. Now I have overnights and two full days a week.

I lost my job on the crab boat because my life was falling apart. During one of my trips, my son’s mother stole him from placement and used him as a distraction while shoplifting. I found out while already sailing. The stress nearly got me hurt at work.

I’ve lost vehicles, income, stability, and years of my life fighting to protect my son. Despite everything, he still smiles. He’s still a kid.

Any help at all would help us rebuild what we lost and move forward. I’ve redone his bedroom, his floor, paint, and posters. He lost everything he owned while in care, including Christmas gifts.

Thank you to anyone who took the time to read this. I’m forever grateful for any help you can spare.