My Journey with the Allison Inquiry by Myriam Bohémier, Lawyer, CHA Director

By Myriam Bohémier, Lawyer, CHA Director

On June 4, when I saw my friends Shawn and Teresa Buckley standing alongside Conservative Member of Parliament Dean Allison at a press conference announcing the Allison Inquiry, I was moved to tears. I felt deeply that this Inquiry was important and that it could help break the wall of silence. I saw it as a historic moment. 

I immediately offered my help to Teresa. I told her I would help in whatever way they needed me.

From that moment on, collaborating on the Allison Inquiry became an extraordinary adventure for me. I saw people working together toward the same goal. Shawn and Teresa placed their trust in me, giving me important responsibilities, including acting as a spokesperson in Quebec and speaking about the Inquiry in French-language media, participating in the August 13 press conference and presenting the French-speaking witnesses. Most importantly, they trusted me to do it while simply being myself.

Throughout the preparation and the hearings, I felt immense gratitude for being part of this adventure and for having the opportunity to contribute to it with my own colour. A big shout-out to Teresa, Shawn, Dean, Rebecca, and all the volunteers who made the Allison Inquiry possible. I saw firsthand the tremendous amount of work, dedication and heart that went into making these four days happen. Thank you for everything you gave to make sure these voices could finally be heard.

What I Saw

What affected me most deeply during the hearings was imagining the panic these witnesses must have felt when they suddenly began losing their bearings within their own bodies.

Imagine no longer being able to walk. No longer feeling part of your body. Feeling as though you are burning from the inside. Not knowing what is happening to you or whether you will ever be yourself again.

And then, in the midst of that panic, having your experience completely denied.

They were told that what they were experiencing was normal. That it was in their heads. Some were labelled “drug seekers.” Some told us that once their condition was identified as a vaccine injury, healthcare professionals no longer wanted to treat them.

They were left largely on their own, without adequate resources, navigating a bureaucratic maze that made obtaining compensation nearly impossible and facing a medical void.

I was also deeply moved by those who came to Ottawa alone. It takes tremendous courage to travel across the country while sick, particularly without anyone there to support you.

I think of Carrie’s husband, who was deeply distressed by all the consequences they have had to deal with since her injury.

And then there were the daughters.

I watched the young daughters of injured mothers such as Shannon, Toni and Stéphanie sit beside their mothers as they testified. I saw them listen to their mothers’ stories and cry.

Because their mothers’ stories are also their stories.

They were afraid of losing them. Perhaps they still are. Their youth was changed by what happened to their mothers.

I was equally touched by the mothers who accompanied their injured children. Noah’s mother sat beside her son, who was only 23 when he suffered several cardiac arrests. She must be strong for him while living with the fear that his heart could stop again.

I think of Diane, Jasmine Comeau’s mother, hearing her daughter say that she wanted to die. What could be more painful for a mother than hearing the child to whom she gave life suffer so profoundly that she wishes for death?

I think about Nicole Sedore’s children, who have already lost their fathers and may lose their mother at any time. She had to tell her oldest son that he would have to raise his brother when she is gone. She also said that she did not want to die before her parents.

Of course, every testimony affected me. But I also found myself thinking about all these collateral victims—the people whose suffering happens outside the spotlight.

I think of Dan, Nicole, James, Marilou, Crystal, Adam and others who lost a child, a mother, a brother, a sister or a husband.

Behind every person who is injured or dies, there are other lives that are forever changed.

What Did the Inquiry Accomplish?

Some people have asked me: “What will this Inquiry actually accomplish?”

My answer is simple:

The Allison Inquiry has already accomplished a great deal.

It allowed people who had felt ignored, dismissed or abandoned to finally speak and be heard. Their suffering was acknowledged. They were given a place to tell their stories with dignity. They could see that others had lived through similar experiences and that they were not alone. And now, their voices are all over social media.

That already matters.

But the Allison Inquiry is also another stone upon which we can continue to build.

It builds on the work accomplished by the National Citizens Inquiry and the Alberta COVID-19 Pandemic Data Review Task Force.

The work continues. This is a long journey.

I know that people are suffering. I know they are impatient for change to come.

But change comes through us. 

I Realized That I Am Hurt Too

The Allison Inquiry made me realize something else: I am hurt too.

I am hurt by all the stories people have shared with me since 2021 and by how little I felt able to do for them.

I am hurt by the feeling of powerlessness and by the guilt of not having enough heads, arms or time to answer everyone who needed help.

I am hurt by having watched courts order the vaccination of children whose parents I represented.

For years, the magnitude of everything that needed to be done has felt overwhelming.

But faced with that magnitude, I realize that it is time for healing for me too.

I did the best I could in the face of a colossal task.

And I continue to do so.

Now, something has changed.

The wind is turning.

And after everything I witnessed while helping to build this Inquiry, I know that I will not be alone in building upon the stone it has laid.

Not everything rests on me.

It never did.

Each of us can bring our own stone. Each of us can contribute in our own way, with our own abilities, our own voice and our own colour. This is the butterfly effect. We are more powerful than we think.

That is how we continue to build. What this Inquiry accomplishes next depends on what we do with it.