“When you cannot see where you are going, when you do not know your final destination, every hour is its own eternity.” —Tess Gerritsen, Playing with Fire.
In A Perfect World, people will love one another, be kind and welcome differences, share the bounties of the earth.
But we are not perfect and this flaw in our nature is the root cause of conflict and war. A few will have everything —power, status and wealth—be it acquired or inherited. Still they are not satisfied. Their lust for eternal glory outweighs the welfare of others. Come what may, they plow through with their ambition regardless of the lives and properties it destroys.
In the odds of survival, one must stand to fight. That’s the only way to counter- attack the bullying and manipulation. It won’t end it but it stays off defeat and humiliation.
I was thirty-six years old, single and living comfortably in the city of Kharkiv in Ukraine when Putin sent his so-called “special forces” on February 24, 2022 for the real reason of integrating the region to its glorious past of being part of Russia. Since then, my life turned upside down. Death could occur anytime.
After a year of the war, I found work as a housemaid. The pay was meagre but enough to keep me alive. One day, the employment agency told me of an opening for a live-in housekeeper in Canada. I accepted for the chance of a quieter life, far, far away from the ravages of war.
My employers live in one of the richest neighbourhoods in the city of Toronto. They are in their sixties and their children are all grown up and have their own families. The son and his family make Whistler in British Columbia as their happy home; while the daughter and her family reside in the coastal area of Halifax, Nova Scotia. I have not seen them since I started my employment.
There are two other people employed as live-in workers. The driver’s name is Nbaki Mutombo. He is from the Democratic Republic of Congo. And the cook’s name is Luna Garcia from Cuba. All of us were plucked out of our miserable conditions in our respective countries. Both Nbaki and Luna were hired two years ago. I’ve been here six months to replace Juana Francisco who decided to retire in her home country, the Philippines. We all have our own rooms but eat together in silence and unconnected.
Our employers love their lavish and well-catered parties. They invite their friends once a month, all in their formal attires of tuxedos and gowns. This is the first time in my life to see tasteful opulence and high living in one place. It breaks my heart sometimes the unfairness of it all. But I know there’s nothing much I can do. I have to make the most of my opportunity here. That’s what I set my mind of doing until…
In the summer night of May 14, 2024, I killed my male employer.
It’s been over a year since I was arrested and charged for manslaughter. I also spend all of my time in jail because I can’t afford to pay the bail amount of fifty-thousand dollars. I am defended by a legal-aid lawyer.
The trial started on June 9, 2025, and for three days the prosecutor had presented the evidence proving my guilt. I have no other defense than to tell my side of the story. Tomorrow, I’ll be testifying on my behalf. Wish me luck.
—What happened on the night of May 14, 2024?
—It was almost eleven in the evening. I was preparing to go to bed. I was all alone in the house because Nbaki was visiting his friends and Luna went out for a date, and they had not come home. Suddenly, my bedroom door was opened wide and Mr. Rogers burst inside. He was drunk and yanked me down forcefully in my bed. He pinned me down and stripped me of my bedtime clothes. While raping me, he was calling me a whore over and over and slapping my face, left, right, left, right, until he had enough. He was about to come and felt his body relaxing. I took the opportunity to slam his left ribs with my right knee. He writhed in pain. I pushed him immediately with my two hands. He fell hard and hit his head in the chest drawer. A gush of blood flowed heavily on the floor. I turned pale, afraid that my action had a bad consequence. I might have said, no, no, no several times.
—Did you call 911?
—Yes, but before I made the call, I checked for his pulse. I felt a very slight vibration. Then the dispatcher told me to put pressure on the wound.
—What time did the emergency responders arrive?
—It was close to midnight but I was not sure. I was completely numbed, shocked and confused at that moment. A police officer approached me and asked questions. Later, two detectives asked me more questions. Then I was placed in a police car and transported to the police station. More interrogations followed. I fully co-operated and repeated the same details as I am testifying today. At mid-morning, I was placed in a cell until my arraignment in the afternoon. As I didn’t have the money to pay for a lawyer, you came to my rescue, sir. I was denied bail and have been in jail for over a year now.
—Did you do any sexual enticement that made Mr. Rogers to rape you that night?
—Mr. Rogers has a beautiful wife, attractive lady friends and lots of money to buy sex from high-class prostitutes. Though I’m not bad-looking, my lowly-status will render me beneath his taste. Besides, Mr. Rogers was too busy all the time. He basically ignored me when he was home.
—Did you intend to kill him?
—Of course not. All I was trying to do was to stop him from violating me further. He was still strong even in his drunken state. I swear to God it was an accident.
—Did it occur to you at the moment he was violating you to seek revenge?
—There was no point in time did I have evil thought against Mr. Rogers. I was emotionally wrecked, unable to think clearly. I just defended myself instinctively.
—Are you guilty of manslaughter?
—I don’t know what that means. I am not a criminal. I’d rather be harmed than harm people. It’s not on me to commit crimes in any worst circumstances I’m in. I was just defending myself and in that action I caused the death of a person accidently. There was no malice on my part whatsoever. So to answer your question, Counselor, I am not guilty to the charge brought against me.
—No further questions, your Honour.
After a day of deliberation, the jury found me not guilty for reasons of self-defence and accidental death. I was elated at first with the verdict. I avoided years of jail time. I was free to move on and renew my suspended life.
But when you are downtrodden, bad luck continues to haunt your existence. I can’t find work. No one wants to hire me. My case brought unwanted publicity that prospective employers would rather avoid. I am still being punished although I was cleared of a crime. It seems like Canada has given up on me. I applied for permanent visa but it is mired in bureaucratic red tape. My working visa will soon expire. I am not looking forward to going back to Ukraine. The war still rages on. Nobody wants peace. Nobody wants to capitulate. Every side has a face to save in spite of the mounting death tolls. There is only one way to end the war and that is total victory.
In a moment of clear conscience, before the tragic event occurred, I remember trying hard to draw Mr. Rogers’s attention. When Mr. Rogers was at home alone, I wore a mini-skirt while vacuuming or wiping off the dust; or intentionally coming out of my room just wearing bathrobe with hair wet and showing enough boobs and legs while Mr. Rogers was in the living room and making phone calls.
Finally Mr. Rogers got the hint and went to my room quietly one night. He was such a great lover and tended to my sexual needs and desires with such an expertise that I never experienced before.
We had more sex after and I always exploded in ecstasy. Then I realized I had to get more out of this escapade. Mr. Rogers was free-loading on sex at my expense and he should start paying me something at least. So I concocted a plan of claiming pregnancy and he should provide money for me and our future baby. He was laughing hard with my story. He said I was no better than the street prostitutes he had sex with every Friday night before he came home. At least, he said, they were more honest than me. Then he shut down my claim of being pregnant because he had a vasectomy right after his second child was born. He became different the next time we made love. He was rougher and when he thrust his hard-hitting anatomy inside me, it was fast and furious and full of anger. I felt extremely debased and humiliated. I hated him as much as Putin.
22 October 2025