How to Seduce a Child
by Daniel J Towsey
First thing you do is get a job in a position of trust over children working for the Ottawa,Canada Childrens Aid Services.
This happened to me at about the age of ten years old. 
After ten years of very serious abuses I suffered first at the hands of my military father, then the Catholic Childrens Aid Society of Montreal, then back to my father for more.
First I will give you a bit of my background so you will understand my state of mind and the situation that led to my being in the care of this Ottawa social worker.
I hope that in writing this and making it public it may help others who have suffered child abuse and then experienced the cover ups by people working as public servants, especially the supervisors.
I also especially hope that others who have been abused will follow my lead and write about it. Then publish it so others can read it…
I understand that few will be able to do this. As the resulting psychological traumas usually leave the victims ruined for life. As such they usually can never come to terms or achieve peaceful understanding of the abuses.
I suffered many absolutely horrible abuses during my childhood. I am not at this time, going to write about these. They would actually do more harm than good to my readers.
But as a result I have had difficulties all my life.
I just want to include one statement of Gratitude for the one and only individual that made all the difference in my life and made it possible for me to save myself.
It’s amazing what a little kindness can do.
One day when I was about six. I got to visit my Grand Mother Towsey at her home for the day. It was the first time in my life that I had ever been in a place that was peaceful and safe.
My Grand Mother understood that something was very wrong. For I was absolutely scared of everyone. I never spoke. I never looked at anyone. I always stayed by myself. I had been abused so much by my vicious father that I had become completely introverted.
Will my Grand Mother tried to show me kindness. But just like an abused and broken down dog. I would always cower down and not trust any kindness.
She decided to just say these so important words to me…
She said “My sweet darling innocent child. I hope these words will help you.
From all bad and terrible experiences you may have in your life. There is always something good to learn from them. Take apart your bad experiences and look for things in them that you can learn to make yourself wiser and kinder,”
The rest of that day I spent in a tiny high fenced closed off mud ground back yard and dug a hole in the ground and threw barbels in it. I was the most loneliest child in the world. In my whole childhood I never once played with other children. I never laughed. I could not and did not know how to share my emotions. I was completely emotionally destroyed.
I never got back to my Grand Mothers house. I missed her so much.
My life’s journey returned me to the horrors of The Catholic Children’s Aid Society of Montreal.
Now skipping many years later. As a result of many very serious abuses and injuries I suffered at the Catholic Children’s Aid Society.
The last one was absolutely horrible. There is no time to include it here. I will write that chapter another day.
“Justice has never been done”
So as a result the CCA decided to rejoin me with my three other brothers and mother together in Ottawa with my violent and abusive father.
They offered my father a beautiful brand new townhouse in the new village of Bayshore.
He gladly accepted. This was done to get me out of Montreal Quebec. So that no one would find out what had been done to me.
I have discovered since that all my records of my childhood while I was a ward of the children’s Aid in Montreal were destroyed.
The cover up was final.
“Justice has never been done”
So this brings us to my sexual abuse by my social worker.
You see while I was in Ottawa I could not attend school. I was so psychologically scared that I could not function around anyone.
I’ll give you a small example. When I first arrived in Ottawa I was put in a french school. I could not function. The more people tried to reach me the more I would run away.
I used to sit rolled up in a ball resting against the wall in the school yard will the children played.
I could not even look at or speak to them.
Some kind kids tried to befriend me. But I could not. I did not know how to deal with any emotions of any kind.
But many other children just attacked me for being different.
The abuses so far in my life had been so devastating.
I just could not function.
So I just choose to never return to school.
I was then transferred to an english school. On my first day of school. I could not speak or understand a word of English.
Obviously the teacher was not aware I did not speak English. She was giving instructions to the class. I was not responding. So she like my father screamed at me. She screamed “Daniel”. That I understood but as my normal reaction I ran under a table and and was terrified of her.
I ran away from that school and never returned.
Instead I went to the townhouses were I lived and borrowed bicycles from the bicycle rooms. All the different townhouse clusters had them.
So I had thousands of bikes to choose from. In those days no one locked their bikes.
I rode everywhere. I went on adventures exploring abandoned properties, junk yards, I spent days watching construction workers.
The construction workers were always so kind to me. They never chased me away. And I actually trusted them and spoke to them sometimes.
I always just asked questions. And they always gladly answered. I learned allot from them.
I also went to Ottawa’s Parliament Buildings. I spent allot of time there. In those days there was no security. I explored everywhere. I actually went in to members chambers, sat in the beautiful chairs and had conversations with the kindest people I had ever met in my life.
(My how things have changed)
Then I would return the bike I borrowed and then I returned to the lions den.
So the authorities wanted me in school. They new I was introverted and dysfunctional.
So one day this man shows up and I am told that I have to go spend time with him.
He was actually a very handsome man with a kind and sweet looking face. Others would say he had a trusting face. But I never ever trusted anyone, I just could not after my life’s experiences.
So I reluctantly went with him. I really did not want to talk with him, and I never looked looked at him directly.
So a new experience started in my life. I got to go to many very beautiful and large museums of every kind scattered all around Ottawa.
I always had one problem though. I could never walk far because of the broken leg I got when I was about two. When my father threw me down two stories of straight stairs. Then hid me in a closet while my broken leg healed. I never got medical attention and my leg never healed right. I have walked with difficulty and pain all my life.
So when I was at the museums with the worker he always found it odd that I did not go far and for long in the museums. If I could walk better I would of loved to explore everything in the museums.
He did not get mad, for he was a pro and had ulterior motives to be kind. He was a child predator.
The worker did not know why I did not stay and I always wanted to sit then leave. Plus the more I walked or stood the more irritable I got because of the pain. Which at the time I did not understand this.
This is why I loved bicycling around so much.
I am now inserting a chapter that I wrote in my “Snowball Effect” book that I wrote in Jan 2002
This social worker was given an assignment to spend as much time as he wanted with me. The purpose was to help me to trust someone. In hopes that I would come out of my introversion. He would drive me to huge museums (Ottawa has many) during times when they were relatively empty of people. He would drive me to isolated places such as provincial parks. He would always make sexual advances towards me. I kept trying to stay away from him. He used to masturbate, and ejaculate in the car sitting beside me. He would always try to gain my trust.
Until one day, when we were in the Laurentians of Quebec. It was a beautiful very hot summer day. We were driving around in the lowlands of never ending straw fields. I was sitting there distracted by the beauty that I had never seen before. I turned to look at him while we were parked. He was doing a lot of moving around. To my horror. He had stripped off naked. He reached out to grab me. I got so scared. I jumped out of the car and ran and ran. Down the gravel dusty road. He could not come after me right away because he had to get dressed. I jumped into a field of tall grass. I stayed down low. I did not know what to do. I could not see a house anywhere. He could not find me. I could hear his car racing for miles. He drove past me many times. It was such a beautiful natural quite spot. The contrast between the beauty of the place and the horror of my situation was ……….mind boggling. It was around noontime when we got there. The sun was in the middle of the sky. When it started getting dark. I realized I had to make a decision that I did not want to make. I had no way out of there. I was so scared. I had no choice but to stand and let him see me. He raced over. To my amazement, he appeared just as terrified and scared as I was .He was pleading yelling asking, for me to trust him. He said he wont do anything to me. I finally agreed to get back in his car. I stayed there crunched against my door. Terrified………………for the long ride home. I do not know what the worker said to my father. But then, I now entered into another nightmare, of the never-ending child abuse from my father. My father would of beat me to death, if it was not for my mother stopping him. He then put another beating on my mother.
This went to court. When I entered court. I was completely unprepared. My father took me for a ride in his car. Which he never did. He never spoke to me. He never told me where or what was going on. He brought me to the court without ever telling me where I was or anything else. When I was on the stand. I was completely bewildered. I did not even know what a court was or what was going on. I had a guy (his Lawyer) walk up to me and he was screaming. I was scared and I clamed up. I could not speak. Which was my permanent state of mind at all times, anyway. The social worker then burst out laughing uncontrollably when he realized I would not talk. Justice was never done.
So it amazes me that no one from children’s Aid ever investigated. I was never interviewed by anyone.
This is because I had a very impressive, handsome, six foot five and very intelligent father. That could always manipulate anyone with his very loud and strong voice.
My military father was so evil. He absolutely never cared about me. Not once in his miserable life did he ever say one kind word to me.EVER!
I guess the military taught him to be the man he is.
One sunny day I was told I had to go outside and see that social worker again.
I was so horrified…
I did not ever want to see him again, but looking into my fathers scary vicious eyes. I had no choice.
I went out. And for the first time I took a really good look at this guys face. So I would never forget what this child molester or pervert’s face looks like…
He was so unbelievable. He looked like nothing had ever happened and that he had never done anything wrong. How he could look at me and talk to me that way completely baffles me. He must of though that I was like all the other children he abused.
He really believed that he could psychologically control me like he obviously had allot of other volenrable children before me.
So when he realized he could not. He got so vicious and wanted to hurt me more. He knew I would never go anywhere with him ever again.
So he asked me to go get the collection of post cards he bought for me at the museums we went to.
So I went in and got them. I brought them to him. He ripped them out of my hand and ripped them all. Threw them on the ground in the parking lot.
I looked at him and gave him the look that I absolutely did not care that he ripped them..
He left a free man with no conscience to go seduce another defenseless child.
With the full protection of the courts and the Ottawa Children’s Aid Society.
And then the ‘Snowball Effect’ of my life continued.
For no one except for my grand mother had ever really cared about me…
“Justice has never been done”
Links to more of my writings
January 22nd 2008