Pierre Larivière was placed with a foster family in Mont-Laurier (Mona and Méo Paradis). He attended St-Eugène secondary school without great success. He always stood at the bottom of his class.

It should be noted that a report from the municipal police in Mont-Laurier decribes him as violent. One night he showed up drunk to claim his pay at the bowling alley where the Paradis had arranged for him to be taken on. When the manager refused to pay him, Larivière went on a rampage, throwing full bottles of beer at the mirrors, windows and bowling lanes, thereby endangering the lives of the patrons.

Larivière was arrested on the spot and imprisoned. His case is still open, because the accused returned to the reserve before appearing in court. He can be arrested on the slightest infraction and convicted without further ado.

According to the RCMP, Larivière is a problem Indian. Sergeant Macdonald, who is in charge of the natives on the reserve, considers him a troublemaker who must be kept under watch, because he stirs up tensions between the whites and Indians. His presence on the reserve is undesirable. He is, according to Macdonald, just like his father.

I am stunned. I would never consider myself a violent person. All I want is to live in peace. I don’t call for revolt, just respect for one another. In Mont-Laurier, I just wanted to be paid for the work I had done.

But what really sticks in my mind is the last sentence, “just like his father.” What does that mean? What do my father and I have in common?

I turn over the pages one by one. I read everything. Mostly they are official letters:

- From the residential school, complaining that they were not paid because I am Métis.

- From Mona Paradis, claiming extra for my keep, saying that I have eaten up all her profit.

- My report cards, with the marks underlined in red.

- A police report from Mont-Laurier.

- A letter from the Ministry of Indian Affairs in Ottawa, addressed to the residential school, regarding a request for a report on my health and academic results.

Reading through all this reopens the wounds that I thought had closed. I go back in time. I see a long parade of closed, dark faces before me. My unhappy classmates. Mona and Méo at the dinner table arguing about the money for my keep. The thin, ghostly face of my only friend, Millette.

I clench my teeth when I think about the cruelties at the residential school — a world that was empty, with no soul or love or respect. It all makes me sad, but what matters is that I came out of it a stronger human being. Life stretches before me now, not behind me.

The other pile of papers is the file on my father. I’ve kept it for the end. I am afraid of what I will find there.