On July 19, 2017, Sia Van Wyck woke up to the smell of bacon sizzling and pancakes on the stove. It was her first time visiting her paternal grandmother and step-grandfather at their old farmhouse in Clementsvale, two hours southwest of Halifax. Seven-year-old Sia, sunny and lithe, lay in a cradle with her pink teddy bear. She was 600 kilometers away from her mom, her five-year-old brother Nico, her orange tabby, Colonel, and golden retriever, Rudy, in Kennebunk, Me. The weather was perfect. It was one of those summer days that Nova Scotians crave all year: dry with a light breeze. A sky so blue that it seemed immune to the blanket of fog that always appeared off the coast. Sia’s grandmother and her husband lived in a sunny, white-gabled farmhouse, set back from the road among the rolling fields. Their neighbor across the street was Roland Potter, better known as Snooky. He was king of the countryside, hung with a red, spider-veined nose. He worked from the age of 15 cutting timber in the forest. Now he was retired, but raised beef and cut hay. He hired local men to work on the farm and had the expensive machinery that people needed to get through these parts: a half-ton truck, an excavator, a tractor, a hay cutter. With his dog Missy at his heels, Roland Potter walks his property in Clementsville, NS on Wednesday, July 20, 2022. DARREN CALABRES/The Globe and Mail That morning after breakfast, Sia and her dad, Erik Van Wyck, visited her grandparents’ nearby farm. Sia, an ardent animal lover who tried to pet bees and built slug habitats in her wooded backyard in Kennebunk, jumped up and down when she spotted the longhorn cows in the field. Undaunted, she entered the pasture, approaching the cows when she thought no one was looking. In the henhouse, perched, she climbed inside. “That’s it, ladies. Laugh with me!” she sang, clapping her hands and dancing as the chickens scampered for cover. Late in the afternoon she and her father headed to a nearby lake. As the afternoon light turned golden, Mr. Van Wyk kept checking the time on his phone. His mother, Morgan Van Wyck, who was cooking dinner for the family, had given him clear instructions: “Can you please come back a little before seven?” At that time, directly opposite, Mr. Potter sat outside his dark green bungalow having a drink with his wife, Vivian Potter. He had mowed a lower straw that afternoon and thought he was done for the day. But on a whim, he got up from the chair. “Wait 10 minutes and then put the hot dogs in,” she told Mrs. Potter. “It will only take me a little while to trim this part.” The piece was a small hayloft across the road, next to Sia’s grandparents. Mr Potter climbed into the cab of his red CX90 tractor and drove his dirt road towards Clementsvale Road, dipping to the side of the motorway past thick wild roses, to a pitch smaller than a football pitch. The field was thick with a three-foot tangle of timothy grass, purple thistle and clover. Lower the 600-pound hay cutter with six steel cutting blades. He had gone four turns of the field, Mr. Potter later told a private investigator, as Sia and her dad drove up the long gravel driveway to Sia’s grandmother’s house. “Can I take the cookie for a ride?” Sia asked. Sia takes Biscuit, her grandparents’ rescue dog, for a walk shortly before she was hit and fatally injured by a lawnmower in Clementsvale on July 19, 2017. Efi Heraklis/Handout “Yes,” her grandmother agreed. Biscuit, a yellow rescue dog, never strayed far from home. “Dinner is in a few minutes,” she told her granddaughter. Mr. Potter was on his sixth turn in the field when he spotted a girl running behind the tractor, he later told police. Douglas Rich, Sia’s step-grandfather, was watering the fruit trees in the yard when he saw Biscuit walking alone down the street. Mrs Van Wyck also noticed the dog and went outside to sweep the property. There was no sign of her granddaughter. The roar of Mr. Potter’s tractor drew Mrs. Van Wyck’s eyes to the grass beside the farmhouse. Sia must be in the hammock or in the fruit trees with her husband, she thought, and went back inside to dine. As Mr. Potter made his eighth lap of the grounds, he spotted a straw man with brown hair. It was the little girl lying in front with her tiny right leg cut off, blood pooling on the weary grass. “Why was he there? Why was he there? Why was he there?’ Mr. Potter screamed, jumping under the tractor. Mrs. Van Wyck heard his screams from the kitchen. He came out of the house and seeing the farmer jumping up and down in the field, he ran towards him. Mr. Potter told her to get her husband and call 911. “Why was she crouching there, why was she lying there?” Mr. Potter continued to scream, standing in the field, distraught, as others rushed to Sia’s aid. He climbed back into the cab of his tractor and drove home. “Turn off the burner. I don’t want dinner,” he told his wife. “I’m not eating,” he continued as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “I just killed a kid.” Sia’s injuries were extensive and she had lost a lot of blood. Her mother, Effie Heracles, rushed from Maine as Sia was airlifted to a hospital in Halifax. He arrived at noon the next day, running to Sia, kissing her and whispering in her ear, “Mom is here.” Later that day, Sia flatlined. Police ruled the death an accident that day. Bridgetown RCMP Sergeant Terry Miller told The Canadian Press the child was alone in the field being mowed and appeared to have hidden in the deep grass. There was no suspicious or criminal activity and the police were unlikely to press charges. The incident, Sgt. Miller added, it drives home how dangerous farming can be. He’s right: 13 children die on farms every year in Canada, according to the Canadian Agricultural Safety Association. In the United States, a child dies on a farm every three days, according to the National Ag Safety Database. But Sia’s mother was not satisfied with this answer. Desperate with grief and full of questions about how her daughter was killed, she filed an Access to Information request, which produced a thin, heavily redacted police report, including key details and media reports. It was like getting the middle finger in the mail, he said. Where were the transcripts of the interviews? Was there even an investigation? The field in Clementsvale, NS where Sia Van Wyck was hit by a farmer driving a tractor and mower. Hours after this drone photo was taken by the RCMP on July 20, 2017, Sia died in hospital.RCMP An RCMP officer talks to Roland Potter next to the tractor and lawnmower he was driving when he hit Sia Van Wyck.RCMP To obtain a copy of the full police report, Ms Heracles, on the advice of a lawyer, sued the Potters’ property insurers, and her husband’s mother and stepfather. A judge ordered the RCMP to release the full report. Reading all 94 pages and listening to the audio of the police interviews, Ms Heracles felt desperate. The interview with Mr. Potter had only lasted six minutes. And despite the fact that he had been drinking when police arrived, he was not given a Breathalyzer test. Concerned that the RCMP’s handling of the incident was inadequate, she and Mr. Van Wyck consulted a criminal lawyer who sought the expertise of Tom Martin, an independent investigator with 30 years of policing experience. The investigator uncovered details he says point to an “incompetent” and “negligent” investigation. “The police’s commitment to determining that this incident was an accident never wavered in any aspect of their investigation, despite evidence to the contrary, most of which was never sought or pursued by the police,” Mr Martin wrote. in his final report. . Some of the concerns the private investigator highlighted echo questions raised during the inquiry into the RCMP’s response to the 2020 mass shooting that began in Portapique, NS, about the quality of rural policing. Scholars have long pointed to the shortcomings of the RCMP’s centralized rural policing model, which provides law enforcement in 169 communities across Canada. Officers may lack local knowledge as a result of rotating positions, academics say, and therefore may not have the background needed to assess disputes and threats. Also, field officers may have little experience in recognizing and dealing with serious offences. “The general nature of rural policing and the lower volume of crime, particularly serious incidents, may mean that rural officers lack experience in managing major incidents or specialist offenses and may lack the leadership skills required,” wrote Anna Sukhami. criminologist at the University of Edinburgh Law School, in her report on rural policing commissioned by the Nova Scotia Mass Accident Commission. All of this leaves Sia’s parents hoping that the case will be reopened. “That foot found in the field may have been just words and a horrific description on a page to you,” Mr. Hercules wrote in a letter to the Nova Scotia District Attorney’s Office, “but to us these are kicking little feet. in the pool or running down the stairs in the morning. Those were the toes I kissed a thousand times.” RCMP Const. Jay Goulding photographed two holes in the ground soaked in blood where seven-year-old Sia Van Wyk was hit. Roland Potter said he didn’t realize he had hit the girl until he was circling the field and noticed she was bleeding on the tired grass.RCMP According to notes in the police report, RCMP Constable Jay Goulding arrived at the…
