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Fighting the Good Fight: Sheldon Kennedy's Committed to Helping Sexual Abuse Victims

Former NHLer Sheldon Kennedy was a victim of sexual abuse. The documentary Swift Current details the impact its had on his life, and how Kennedy has used his platform to help other victims.
Photo courtesy GAT

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports Canada.

Sheldon Kennedy publicly disclosed in 1996 his story of sexual abuse at the hands of minor hockey coach Graham James. He raised money by rollerblading across Canada, and later wrote a book about his life. But the story doesn't end there.

In both Kennedy's book, 2006's Why I Didn't Say Anything, and the 2015 documentary Swift Current, it's not until around halfway through when he gets the abuse off his chest. The rest of the story is seemingly just as painful, though his healing had started. That's the story Swift Current aims to tell.

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"When people disclose for the first time, they think the work is over," Kennedy told VICE Sports ahead of Swift Current's world premiere in Toronto on Nov. 6. "People become more vulnerable afterward."

The time between 1996 and 2006—when optimistic stories were written about Kennedy's decision to speak out against his abuse—were dark years for the Manitoba native. Only after he told people about Graham James did he hit rock bottom. Now he's the lead director at the Sheldon Kennedy Child Advocacy Centre, helping others not only feel comfortable disclosing, but dealing with everything that comes afterward.

"The film shows why we can't just treat the outer layer of the onion," says Kennedy, now 46. "We always want to fix somebody so they stop drinking or cutting themselves or get out of their depression.

"We never ask the question, 'What happened to you?'"

Kennedy was, for years, a victim of James, who was convicted in 1997 and in 2012 for offences against former NHLers, including Theoren Fleury—winner of a Stanley Cup and Olympic Gold. James was a minor hockey star as a coach in Swift Current, Saskatchewan, and parts of Western Canada in the 1980s. He helped the careers of many who would make it to the NHL, but along the way used his position of power to involve himself in the lives of his players against their consent.

James pleaded guilty in June of this year to another instance of abuse against a former hockey player and will serve another two years in jail.

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Though pedophilia is not found just in the hockey arena, it was the structure and culture of hockey in Canada that allowed abuse like Kennedy's to take place and to prevent a child like him from coming forward to tell his story.

Organized hockey in Canada gets its fair share of criticism in the film from Kennedy—for the complicity of the sport's community and the win-at-all-costs attitude of the leagues. But this is not just a hockey problem, says the former junior hockey star who had his love of the game stolen from him.

"This isn't about beating up hockey," says Kennedy. "There is no organization serving youth in the world that we know of that has educated or put more emphasis on training their people to understand these issues than Hockey Canada."

Swift Current's director Joshua Rofe similarly holds hockey both in high regard and in contempt for its discretions. It's a dilemma that many hockey fans grapple with: loving a game that both holds the community together and illuminates its darkest avenues.

"Hockey is my favourite thing on planet Earth," says Rofe. "The players who are willing to step up and talk about things, those are our leaders and that's who we need to follow."

Rofe wanted to tell Kennedy's story again, but with the intention of making clear that his and Canada's struggle isn't yet resolved.

"Child abuse defined me," says Kennedy. "It's defined where my life has gone and where I am today, there's no question."

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In the film, and previously in his book, Kennedy tells the harrowing story of the first time James abused him. James had invited Kennedy to stay with him out of town for a week while the highly-connected coach dazzled him with the prospects of moving up in junior hockey. Placed on a cot at night next to James' bed, Kennedy heard him moving around the pitch-black room and felt as James began to touch his feet. When Kennedy resisted, he heard James move toward the closet.

Suddenly, the lights came on and James was lying on his bed, holding a shotgun.

"There's a photograph we use in the film, and it's Sheldon back at home in Elkhorn, Manitoba, where he's from," says Rofe. "It's after his first time in Winnipeg being abused by James—he was 13 years old. If you see pictures of him prior to the abuse, of which we use a couple, and then you use that image, you can see that this young boy—his soul has been ripped out, and it's so clearly in his eyes. Of course hindsight's 20-20. When something tragic has happened, we can seemingly see it in their eyes but before that, someone could look at that picture and have no idea."

A young Sheldon Kennedy. —Screengrab via Swift Current trailer.

"Sheldon's mother remembers that he came back from that trip with James and he was a little extra quiet," continues Rofe. "She was going to ask him what was wrong—he was just not acting like himself. But instead of asking, she was busy preparing dinner and so that moment got away from her and she's still haunted by that today."

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At times, hockey instills in its players an entertainer's or politician's persona. Secrets are kept for the good of the team. Players look one way on the ice, sound different off it. Is hockey then a breeding ground for predators and cover-ups?

"It's not just a hockey story, it's a societal issue," says Kennedy. "So many films focus on the system that didn't protect and the perpetrator that hurt the kid, but we really wanted to focus on the impact of this type of crime.

"Most people are surprised that a Jared Fogle (Subway spokesperson) or Jerry Sandusky (Penn State University) or a Graham James could do this," says Kennedy. "But to me, it's not—it makes a lot of sense. Positions of power are where these people gravitate."

Swift Current also tells the story of two students who disclosed their history of abuse to Kennedy when he appeared for a speaking engagement at their Ontario school before filming began. They used the footage and paired Kennedy's story with that of Graham Jolicouer and Mikki Decker.

Neither were involved with competitive minor hockey, yet the film shows how Kennedy is working to counsel young Canadians.

"I wrote (Why I Didn't Say Anything) a year into sobriety and I felt we had to get out of simply telling the story and (instead) show people a hopeful and solution-focused way out," says Kennedy. "The film shows the struggle and commitment and length of time it takes to get your life back."

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Rofe and Kennedy drove through Swift Current to shoot parts of the film and the director said it produced one of the most revealing moments about the former junior hockey star.

Kennedy understands the platform he has as a former NHLer to help make change for sexual abuse victims. —Photo courtesy GAT

"The first interview I did with Sheldon, he was stiff," says Rofe. "He had his guard up. He was so used to speaking publicly about these things—there's a sort of autopilot that he can go into. We went for food after another interview and he had no appetite, he just went to a really dark place. It was wild to see.

"When we were in Swift Current with Sheldon we checked into this roadside motel. Sheldon was really on edge. He pointed to a food diner across the road and said, 'Joe Sakic got food poisoning there.' For me, as a hockey geek, is a great little tidbit of information and he points to another place, an apartment complex, and says, 'That's where Graham lived.' Man, it was in that moment that he was so far removed from being a child that was abused and he had come so far in his life and accomplished so much—he looked like he was still in pain."

In the film, Kennedy is shown driving through the town explaining that it's "not a big deal" to revisit the place where the abuse happened. When the camera lingers on his face for an extra beat, it's clear Kennedy still carries a great weight.

Like the complicated nature of the issue of sexual abuse and children, like the mixed feelings around the culture of hockey and whether it's a valuable place for young people, or the realization that disclosure is the first part of a painful process, Kennedy appears neither fully healed nor entirely satisfied with his mission.

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"Terrible things happened in my life because of the game of hockey," says Kennedy. "I had the love of the game stolen from me by Graham James. But the reality is, hockey gave me the platform to do the work that I'm doing today and I'm more involved in the game of hockey than I've ever been."

Rofe, 32, uses The National's "Sorrow" and Future Islands' "A Song For Our Grandfathers" as musical bookends to Swift Current. The latter was, for the director, what best represented Kennedy in the complicated place he remains.

"(A Song For Our Grandfathers) just felt so hopeful, as if someone came through something—that they'd been to hell and back and were left with optimism," says Rofe. "Just getting to know Sheldon, that's him. He's been in a room with a bag of cocaine and a shotgun, convinced that people are after him—and now he's got the Order of Canada."