Single dad still struggling after court victory

JOHN THOMPSON

It’s been five months since one of Iqaluit’s working poor believed his luck finally changed, after a judge ordered his estranged wife to make monthly payments to help him support their three children.

But the man says he still hasn’t received a penny, and while he waits for his family services worker to return from travel and pursue legal action on his behalf, he says he’s losing hope — and maybe his mind.

“I feel like I’m a danger to myself, the kids, because there’s no one that’s going to help me,” said the 39-year-old, who asked not to be named.

In his own words, he feels like he’s standing on an ice floe with a crack widening beneath his feet, and when he cries for help, instead of a rope being thrown, he’s hit with a brick.

Two years ago, his wife of 16 years left him for another man, who now supports her. In an agreement the two reached in August 2003, the woman agreed he would get formal custody of their three children. Instead of paying child support, she agreed to regularly babysit the children so he could keep his job.

But she didn’t keep her end of the bargain, causing frequent work disruptions for him. So on Oct. 14, Justice Earl Johnson ruled she should pay him $376 a month for child support, beginning in November.

That money never appeared, the father says. And as each month passes without child support, he finds himself deeper in debt.

He only earns $2,451 a month after deductions. That’s $331 short of what he and his children need to survive every month, according to financial statements he filed in court.

As well, he estimates he now owes close to $20,000 in debt racked up during the years he lived with his wife.

“I’m losing $300-$400 a month, so what’s the point of working?” he asks. “I’m just trapped in this rut, and I can’t get out of it.”

But if he quits, he won’t be eligible for employment insurance for several months. The way he sees it, he’d be better off as a cripple, an invalid or a drunk.

“For every guy working, there are five deadbeats going out to the bar at night who aren’t,” he said. “I want to contribute to society.”

He said he’s lost track of the different pills he’s tried taking to sleep at night. Just as he dozes off, he says he’s usually shaken awake by a son or daughter who’s still hungry.

Every other night he says he calls the crisis line. But while they’re paid to listen, he says he needs more than a reassuring voice at the end of the line: he needs an escape, and there’s none in sight.

Without a high-school diploma or driver’s license, he has little chance to move into a higher paying job. And with three kids to raise, he has little time off to improve his education.

In December, unable to cope, he gave up custody of his children to a foster family for about a month. But he says his children pleaded to let them return, so he did.

He’s been told that at the next round of legal proceedings, called a default hearing, the judge could simply lower the monthly amount the children’s mother owes, which he says would be pointless.

“You can’t take away from zero. She’s paying me nothing now… what’s the point?” he asked.

He said he’d be happy to see her in jail. But he says the big betrayal comes from social workers willing to help him once he cracks, but not before.

“Why don’t you come and help before I set my house on fire? Why do I need to wait for some disaster to happen?” he asks.