It’s a night I’ve had dozens of times — a night out with friends, in an area of the city where I’ve typically felt safe.Around midnight on the occasional Friday, my roommate and I will pile into an Uber and make our way down to Crews and Tangos, flanked by our significant others and a rotating group of friends. The majority of us are LGBTQ, and we are all deeply connected to the Village.There will be dancing, there will be tequila shots. There will be pizza, which we will consume drunkenly at 4 a.m. on a friend’s front porch. Someone, undoubtedly, will drink too much and spend the next day curled up on the couch in our living room, nursing a hangover.Though I live in Midtown, trips into the Village are frequent — my group of friends heads down every summer for Pride, and often spends afternoons walking the Church St. strip. We share pints at O’Grady’s or The Church Mouse. For Halloween we go to the street festival, wandering for blocks to take in drag queens and lavish costuming.I have passed the intersection where Tess Richey went missing more times than I can count. I have never met her, but it’s easy enough to see myself as her — I’m just a year older, and we frequent the same bars. Walking up Church St. the other day, I see her growing memorial.It gives me chills.On Friday Toronto Police Chief Mark Saunders announced that there would be an internal review of how the force handles missing persons reports in the wake of four high-profile cases in the city’s Church and Wellesley neighbourhood this year.Saunders made the announcement at a news conference that included updates on the homicide of Richey, the death of Alloura Wells, and the disappearances of Andrew Kinsman and Selim Esen.Richey’s disappearance was only the latest ripple of fear through the community, where at least eight have vanished this year. Calls for her safe return home were widely shared, and from my vantage point ...
|
