An X post by the White House recently featured no text just an image of a bald eagle, wings spread, staring off into the distance, while standing on the neck of a Canada Goose.

https://t.co/OYaldd4UhI pic.twitter.com/7jQXwWW26K

— The White House (@WhiteHouse) August 26, 2026

The photo seemed to tell an entire story of dominance and submission. But there was much more to it than that.

“This photo is from a documented 20-minute encounter on frozen Lake Ontario where a bald eagle attacked a Canada goose,” a reader-generated caption under the post soon read, using the correct name for the lake. “The goose fought back and survived after the eagle gave up and retreated.”

It’s true. The goose/eagle faceoff was captured a year and a half ago in Burlington, Ont., by photographer Mervyn Sequeira, who posted numerous pictures of the 20-minute battle to his Instagram account , and was interviewed by media about the event, which was covered by National Post .

“It was like boxers in a ring,” Sequeira said at the time , calling the matchup “very symbolic in the political context.”

“The eagle kept repeatedly attacking, and the goose was hissing and pecking as best it could, defending itself,” he said. “And there were times when it seemed hopeless for the goose … I thought it was over; however it was very, very impressive. The goose fought back and came out of that and survived the day.”

The eagle, meanwhile, flew away.

pic.twitter.com/DgDGBVNtuA

— Brock Lee 🇺🇦🌻🇨🇦🇪🇺🇺🇸 #NAFO (@blocklee77) August 26, 2026

Responses on social media included several images of a beaver gnawing down a wooden statue of the U.S. president. The official account for Build Canada, a federal agency launched last year to finance affordable housing, responded with another picture from the same series, showing the Canada goose raising its wing in an apparent attack.

https://t.co/OSqvChbxnJ pic.twitter.com/fuEuoig1US

— Build Canada (@buildcanada) August 27, 2026

This wasn’t the first time the Trump administration has evoked the symbol of America’s national bird, a status that was only made official under legislation signed in 2024 by president Joe Biden. The bird of prey had been an unofficial symbol since the 1700s, and was the name of the country’s first manned lunar lander in 1969.

In June Trump posted an apparently AI-generated image of a golden eagle adorning the White House, calling it “A Golden Gift to the White House for its 250th Birthday Year!” CNN reported that real photos of the White House did not show the bird, and that it had the wrong number of stars on its accompanying shield.

And in February, when the U.S. men’s hockey team beat Canada to take the gold medal at the Winter Olympics, the White House sent out the same eagle/goose image it used this week, over a year-old post from then-prime minister Justin Trudeau that said: “ You can’t take our country — and you can’t take our game.”

https://t.co/kOiCXdVMao pic.twitter.com/ZIiychKPoo

— The White House (@WhiteHouse) February 22, 2026

The image may not even be an unaltered photograph. Sequeira’s Instagram feed shows 16 photos of the battle, none of which exactly matches the one released by the White House.

View this post on Instagram

There are also similarities between the White House image and a series of photographs taken in 2021 by photographer Patrick Keefe in Prince Edward Island, though again not an exact match. That encounter also made the news , and once again the goose survived.

National Post has reached out to the White House for more information.

Birds neither know nor care what country they are from. But news stories from a decade ago point out that Nova Scotia was instrumental in reviving the fortunes of the bald eagle, which was on the U.S. endangered species list in the 1980s but has since bounced back.

Canada is home to 55% of the global bald eagle population! Roughly 110,000 of these majestic birds can be found across the country, but especially along the west coast. #Birders, drop your best Canadian bird photo! 🦅🍁 pic.twitter.com/oiEXgPrUwL

— Canada (@Canada) August 12, 2026

And this month the X account of Global Affairs Canada boasted that Canada is home to 55 per cent of the global bald eagle population. “Roughly 110,000 of these majestic birds can be found across the country, but especially along the west coast,” the agency posted, inviting birders to “drop your best Canadian bird photo!”

In other words, there’s a better than 50 per cent chance the bald eagle in the White House image was hatched in Canada.

Trump’s history with birds of prey took a personal turn in 2015, when a photo shoot for Time magazine in the Oval Office resulted in a bald eagle lunging at the president and causing him to shy away. Trump told Fox News at the time that the eagle didn’t scare him.

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U.S. President Donald Trump on Thursday signed an executive order in the Oval Office to rename Lake Ontario to “Lake America” immediately.

“That’s going to take place right now as I sign the order,” he said during a livestream from the White House on Thursday. He then signed the document before showing it to the cameras.

“And we filed all the necessary papers, documents, everything else,” he said. “We’ve notified all of the various people that we have to notify. So we’ve done everything that you have to do. And this is official effective immediately.”

He has also ordered the Department of the Interior to update maps and databases to rename the body of water, according to the Washington Times and other news outlets.

Lake Ontario, one of the five Great Lakes, is located between New York State and Ontario, Canada’s most populous province, home to about 16 million people.

“No message,” Trump said when asked what message he intended to send to Canada. He added that “Canada has been ripping us off for a long time on trade, very sadly,” and that “we defend Canada for nothing; they don’t pay us.”

He repeated a comment he made on social media after trade talks broke down on the weekend, that Canada “want to be treated like a state, and they’re not a state … and we just can’t do that any more.”

The move recalls Trump’s decision to rename the Gulf of Mexico as the Gulf of America in January 2025. Most other countries still use the old name.

He had been threatening the latest move for several days, writing on Truth Social on Tuesday: “The United States is giving serious consideration to changing the name of Lake Ontario to Lake America, as we don’t expect to do much business with Ontario any longer.”

According to the Center for Great Lakes Literacy , Lake Ontario’s name comes from the Iroquoian word “oniatarí:io,” and means “lake of shining waters.”

“America” is thought to be derived from the name of Amerigo Vespucci, a 16th-century Italian explorer of the New World.

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As the trade war between Canada and the U.S. continues to escalate, potash has emerged as a potential bargaining chip.

Ontario Premier Doug Ford said the resource is “one of the most powerful tools” Canada has in negotiations while speaking at a press conference in Vaughan on Wednesday, adding that the U.S. agricultural sector would be “dead overnight” if Canada were to cut it off. “Everyone in the world wants our potash,” he said.

National Post spoke to Akaash Maharaj, a senior fellow at the Munk School of Global Affairs & Public Policy, who confirmed that potash has become “indispensable” to the American agriculture sector, which is “currently dependent on Canadian exports.”

But the reality of whether Canada could restrict supply to the U.S. is complicated, and comes with consequences for both sides of the border.

What is potash?

Potash is a group of minerals and chemicals that contain potassium. Its main form, after deep-earth mining and milling, is potassium chloride (KCl), almost all of which is used as a fertilizer to improve crop root strength, disease resistance, water retention and yield by protecting and restoring soil fertility. This makes it essential to global food security.

Small amounts are sometimes used in other products like detergents, soaps, water softeners, snow and ice melters, and pharmaceutical products.

How much potash does Canada export to the U.S.?

Canada is the world’s largest producer and exporter of potash, and the United States is the leading destination of its potash exports, with 53 per cent sent south of the border in 2024, according to Natural Resources Canada. The U.S. also gets a small amount of potash from domestic production and other countries, such as Israel and Russia.

Data from Trading Economics , which is based on the United Nations COMTRADE database on international trade, shows that Canada exported $3.84B worth of fertilizer to the U.S. in 2025 out of a total of $408.99B in exports. Israel exported a much smaller amount of fertilizer to the U.S., valued at $271.60M, in 2025.

Meanwhile, the U.S. produces 0.5 per cent of the world’s potash , and imports more than 80 per cent of the potash it uses .

What would happen if Canada cut off potash to the U.S.?

Maharaj tells National Post that if Canada were to place export tariffs on potash, or otherwise reduce exports, it could “starve out the American agricultural sector.”

He says it would be a particularly bad moment for the U.S.’s access to be restricted, because they have few other potash suppliers due to sanctions placed on Belarus and Russia in recent years.

Meanwhile, the war in Iran has meant that global competition for fertilizers and fertilizer products has skyrocketed at the very moment when the supply of potash from Russia and Belarus has been choked off.

If Canada were to cut off its potash supply, “it would provoke a crisis in the United States,” Maharaj says, adding to spiralling food costs.

However, he adds, it would also have a significant impact on potash producers in Canada, because most of our potash goes to the U.S.

And Trump may retaliate in ways that could cause significant harm to the Canadian economy, such as by increasing the level of tariffs that he has already named from 50 per cent to an even higher number, or applying new tariffs to additional products.

“I suspect that if we were to place export taxes on potash, Trump would impose tariffs across the board on absolutely everything,” Maharaj says. “It is a high stakes game of chicken.”

Will Canada cut off potash to the U.S.?

The federal government has not addressed the possibility of leveraging potash in the trade war, and Saskatchewan Premier Scott Moe has said the province will not support restricting U.S. access to potash and oil.

Speaking with reporters Wednesday in Prince Albert, he said: “What we as a province cannot, and will not, support is any kind of export tariff on our natural resources or any of our resources that are being exported to the U.S. or through the U.S.”

The premier added that restricting access to potash would be a “tremendous economic hit” to the province, risking Canadian job losses and causing farmers on both sides of the border to suffer as a result.

“I want to be clear. As a government of Saskatchewan, we are supportive of these very targeted countermeasures that are in place, but only when those tariffs are focused and targeted to have a minimal impact on Canadian industries and families,” Moe said.

Canada’s 10 active potash mines are located in Saskatchewan.

Some have called for export tariffs on SK exports like oil and potash.

Here’s why that doesn’t work. pic.twitter.com/O5aIvVuPF7

— Scott Moe (@PremierScottMoe) August 26, 2026

Canada has already dropped retaliatory tariffs on seafood , with a late-night statement posted to social media by the federal finance department stating that move was based on feedback “to protect against broader economic harms.”

Saint John—St. Croix Conservative MP John Williamson was quick to point out that it would be New Brunswick’s seafood processors that will be paying the tariffs on Maine imports. “We import U.S. seafood, mainly from Maine, to process it here and send it straight back to U.S. market for sale,” he said.

“The costs to New Brunswick companies just increased an astounding 25 per cent. These tariffs imposed by the Carney government will backfire on us and hurt jobs in New Brunswick with zero benefit to our local seafood harvesters.”

pic.twitter.com/r4CU6EfypT

— Finance Canada (@FinanceCanada) August 27, 2026

Meanwhile, Scott Moe came under fire for his comments from provincial NDP trade and export development critic Kim Breckner, who told news reporters on Wednesday that “it benefits nobody to stand up and publicly decry what we will and will not do.” She added: “He’s taken the bullets out of the gun.”

The disagreement comes after Carney reportedly asked Liberal MPs to avoid escalating tensions or provoking the Trump administration in public, according to Toronto Star . Anonymous sources told the outlet that Canada-U.S. Trade Minister Dominic LeBlanc asked MPs to be careful with what they say on social media, and to decline requests to talk trade on American networks like CNN.

What could the U.S.’s alternative fertilizer resource be?

Russia and Belarus are currently the only other major players in the potash market, according to Natural Resources Canada, but China, Israel and a handful of other nations are also small producers.

Canada leads the world in potash exports, shipping about 22.9 million tonnes in 2024, which accounts for over 39 per cent of global exports.

Ford suggested at the Wednesday press conference that the U.S. would have to look to Russia as an alternative source. “The president has a choice: either be fair to us, or deal with Russia,” he said. “Get your potash off Russia. See how well they treat you.”

Meanwhile, Moe said the U.S. would likely turn to nations such as Belarus for the resource.

Belarus is no longer supplying any potash to the U.S. and, while Russia can continue due to exemptions, “even at its greatest capacity, Russia could not make up for the potash that the United States would lose from Canada if we were to cut off our supply altogether,” Maharaj says.

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OTTAWA — Prime Minister Mark Carney said on Thursday that one of his MPs was the victim of a suspected arson, which he called a “cowardly act of violence and intimidation,” in a social media post .

Liberal MP Salma Zahid, the MP for Scarborough Centre-Don Valley East, said in a statement that an unidentified individual set fire to her car and another vehicle overnight.

“It is unacceptable. It is not who we are as Canadians,” wrote Carney. The prime minister said he was relieved that Zahid and her family weren’t harmed.

The MP and her family were at home during the incident and called 911 after her son noticed the fire.

Zahid said that both vehicles were destroyed but there was no damage to her residence and no one was harmed.

“My family and I are all safe,” wrote Zahid.

Zahid said that Toronto Fire Services “responded promptly to the call” and thanked first responders for their professionalism.

She added that the incident was being investigated as a potential arson.

“I don’t want to speculate on a possible motive. We will await the results of the investigation. But such attacks are unacceptable and will not deter me from my work serving Scarborough Centre-Don Valley East,” wrote Zahid.

More to come.

National Post
rmohamed@postmedia.com

Our website is the place for the latest breaking news, exclusive scoops, longreads and provocative commentary. Please bookmark nationalpost.com and sign up for our daily newsletter, Posted, here.

Australia is the country most often named as best able to ride out a global catastrophe. Canada is on the other side of the ledger.

Florian Ulrich Jehn is the lead author of the first review to map which places on Earth would hold up best in a global catastrophe, published Aug. 23 in the journal Global Challenges .

The paper defines a global catastrophic risk as the death of a significant share of humanity, most commonly at least 10 per cent of the world’s population within months to years. It reviews 152 documents rather than modelling anything new.

The authors sorted those threats three ways with the first being sunlight reduction scenarios. That is the review’s term for anything that suddenly blocks out the sun, whether a nuclear war, a large volcanic eruption or an asteroid strike.

Another is infrastructure loss, usually a long blackout caused by a solar storm, a cyberattack or an electromagnetic pulse from a nuclear weapon detonated at high altitude. The third is a pandemic severe enough to cause mass casualties.

“In many nuclear winter scenarios agriculture ceases almost completely in Canada,” Jehn said in an email to National Post.

Canada is strong on biological threats and mediocre on infrastructure collapse, he wrote, and “probably near the worst among wealthy democracies for abrupt sunlight reduction scenarios.”

Australia is the only country directly named as resilient across all three categories in the research the authors reviewed. New Zealand and Japan were the only others with evidence in all three.

On nuclear winter, the review lists Canada among the countries identified as particularly at risk, along with the United States, Russia, China, Central Europe and Eastern Europe. High latitude regions in the Northern Hemisphere would take the most cooling, the paper said.

Jehn put it in terms of where the country starts. Canada is so far north that it begins from a lower base temperature, he wrote, and the temperature effects get stronger the further from the equator a place sits.

Canada does better on the second category. Geomagnetic storms do not hit everywhere equally, and the zones with the highest likelihood of damage take in Canada, Ireland, the United States, the United Kingdom, northern Germany, the Baltics, New Zealand, Tasmania, Russia and Scandinavia.

Canada is one of three countries the review named as having hardened its grid against those storms, along with the United States and Sweden. Past storms drove that investment, Jehn wrote. “I think other countries can likely learn from Canada how it worked on adapting to the threat of geomagnetic storms.”

He attached limits to the grid work. An electromagnetic pulse or a large cyberattack could still take out the grid, he wrote, and Canada trades enough that it would struggle if trade stopped. He is not familiar enough with Canadian industry to make a solid assessment, he wrote.

The third category is where Canada is named as capable. It is among the countries with the highest scores on the Global Health Security Index, a measure of a country’s ability to prevent, detect and respond to disease outbreaks.

“Canada only has one border to cover, it has a good health system and is a rich and stable democracy,” Jehn wrote.

The individual placements make the picture look worse than it is, he wrote. Most countries that came up in the research carry vulnerabilities across several of the risks, and “with the exception of being so far North, Canada is not a negative outlier in comparison with many other countries.”

Very few countries are less vulnerable, Jehn wrote, and the authors did not look at every country systematically. The review does not rank countries, and the paper said a ranking is not possible.

The authors flagged a limit in their own work. Australia and New Zealand come up often in resilience research, but much of it comes from a small group focused on those two countries, and other countries “might also have a relatively high resilience, but nobody has gotten around to studying them yet,” the paper said.

More research into Canada specifically would most likely pay off on infrastructure, Jehn wrote, which is also the least studied part of the field.

“A country cannot suddenly become an island or relocate to the Southern Hemisphere,” the paper said. Most of what determines resilience is how a society is built and how well it prepared, and the two factors the authors found both changeable by policy and free of trade-offs were governance quality and decentralization.

Democratic backsliding, rising inequality and concentrated supply chains are all moving the other way, the paper said. Prevention is always better than resilience, but some catastrophes cannot be prevented and, when they happen, “the difference between societies that have invested in the factors identified here and those that have not will be measured in lives.”

Research goes where researchers expect to find something new, Jehn wrote. “No amount of research will make Canada be a good place in a nuclear winter.”

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OTTAWA — Canada-U.S. Trade Minister Dominic LeBlanc said Thursday there is a possibility of reaching a “mutually beneficial” agreement with the U.S., after the country’s top trade negotiator said discoverability of French content on U.S. streaming platforms was never a “red line” for American negotiators.

“Canada welcomes that the U.S. is now withdrawing its positions on discoverability and labelling and is confirming that measures to promote French language and Canadian culture will not be subject to future U.S. trade actions,” he said, in a post on X Thursday morning .

“We look forward to further constructive U.S. clarifications on their other positions which would create the possibility of a mutually beneficial trade agreement that respects Canadian sovereignty,” he added.

In an interview with CBC News on Wednesday , United States Trade Representative Jamieson Greer said issues surrounding French language discoverability on U.S. streaming platforms was “the farthest thing from a red line” for the American side of negotiations.

A government source suggested that Greer was not entirely truthful in his interview.

LeBlanc said in a radio interview on Thursday that while Quebec labelling laws have been a trade irritant for the U.S. for years, it was rather the issue of discoverability of French content on large streaming platforms that was non-negotiable for the Canadian team.

Speaking on the Quebec radio show Lagacé le matin, LeBlanc said the last draft deal on Friday evening still contained demands from the U.S. to limit Canada’s capacity to force large streamers to promote Canadian cultural content, in particular French-language shows and music.

“We told them that, for us, that was non-negotiable. And it kept coming back in the text, including the final draft,” he said in French.

Trade talks between the U.S. and Canada for an interim agreement on tariffs collapsed late Friday evening, after Prime Minister Mark Carney paused negotiations.

In a press conference on Saturday, Carney cited efforts from the U.S. “to restrict our protections of our language, our culture, and in effect, our sovereignty” as one of the reasons why negotiations failed.

More specifically, the prime minister said American negotiators took issue with subsidies for Canadian culture and the French language, and labelling on Canadian products.

Quebec’s Bill 96 requires packaging on products sold in the province to be translated into French. The bill has been sited as a trade irritant in the USTR’s report on trade barriers.

The contradictions from both sides prompted reaction from Bloc Québécois Leader Yves-François Blanchet on Thursday.

Blanchet called it “interesting” in a post on X, noting that French protections may not have been as significant in negotiations as what Carney and LeBlanc had characterized.

Greer previously told CNBC on Monday that Carney’s claims that the U.S. was trying to curtail French protections was a “funny fake story.”

In that interview, Greer said Canada came back after a tentative deal was announced on Tuesday, wanting more than what the U.S. was prepared to give.

“I don’t know if it was political for them,” he said. “It certainly doesn’t make economic sense, but perhaps for political reasons, they have some byelections coming up.”

Carney’s Liberals are hoping to win a byelection on Aug. 31 in the riding of Chicoutimi–Le Fjord.

Quebecers will also be headed to the polls on Oct. 5, after Quebec Premier Christine Fréchette kicked off her campaign in Quebec City on Thursday.

More to come.

With files from Christopher Nardi

National Post

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While provincial and federal ministers this week revived pleas for the nation’s citizens to “buy Canadian” in the fallout of torpedoed Canada-U.S. trade talks, the country’s largest airline is offering business class passengers American bourbon.

As reported by Global News , a subsequently removed social media post Monday claimed Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey was being served to those seated in business class during an Air Canada flight out of Montreal.

Air Canada told National Post in a statement that, “As a global airline transporting international customers including to and from the U.S, Air Canada carries a range of onboard products that reflects our customer preferences.”

At least one Canadian wine is featured on every international flight, “and we’ve made a deliberate shift toward Canadian spirits and Canadian producers,” Air Canada said. “In addition to the range of Canadian products we proudly feature, we also carry some internationally recognized products that are particularly important to our global customer base, including U.S. bourbon, which is available in Business (Signature) Class only.”

Air Canada isn’t alone. In a statement to National Post, Air Transat said that, in addition to a growing selection of Canadian products, the airline’s onboard offerings “include some spirits made in the United States.”

“We continuously review our onboard offering based on several factors, including customer feedback and operational requirements,” a spokesperson said.

“When local products meet these criteria, we are proud to feature them onboard. Most recently, we added six Canadian and Quebec brands to our Bistro menus as part of our ongoing efforts to increase the presence of local products.”

In a statement to National Post, Porter Airlines said it “emphasizes partnering with high-quality Canadian brands whenever possible,” such as Jackson Triggs wine from Niagara and Alberta-based Tumbler & Rocks cocktails, but that no American alcohol is served on board.

Porter has flights to destinations in Canada, the U.S., Mexico, Costa Rica and the Caribbean.

Most provinces removed American liquor from government-run shelves last year in retaliation to the first batch of Trump-imposed tariffs on Canadian goods.

Prime Minister Mark Carney asked provinces to restock American alcohol when a trade agreement appeared near last week. But Ontario Premier Doug Ford has said he has no plans to instruct Liquor Control Board of Ontario outlets to do so anytime soon. While wholesale customers like grocery and convenience stores, bars and restaurants are no longer able to place orders for U.S. products, “it is at their discretion to sell existing inventory,” the LCBO notes on its website, explaining why the boycott is for “the good of Ontario. The good of Canada.”

Some online commentators said Air Canada’s decision to keep a stock of U.S. bourbon on board seems “a bit tone deaf ” given the escalating trade war. Why not buy into the boycott strategy, others asked.

Air Canada is under federal and not provincial jurisdiction, said Charles-Étienne Beaudry, a teaching professor of political science at the University of Ottawa and author of the independently published book, Radio Trump: How he won the first time.

“This private company does not buy its alcohol at the liquor store. It buys directly from global distributors like Diageo, moving the product via carriers directly into warehouses located on airport grounds,” and all under federal jurisdiction under the federal Customs Act, Beaudry said in an email.

“There is a ‘duty-free’ loophole in this: for international flights, Air Canada pays no taxes or tariffs on the alcohol in the airport warehouse,” Beaudry said. It only applies for in-Canada flights. “The situation is the same for Porter, WestJet, Flair, etc.”

It could be “commercially very costly” for Air Canada to boycott U.S. alcohol, he said.

On the other hand, the airline could choose to apply the boycott on flights inside Canada only, he said. “It would be showing some efforts to participate in the Canadian trade struggle.”

Alternatively, “the federal government can amend the Customs Act to ban U.S. alcohol in all air transportation.”

WestJet did not respond to a request for comment before deadline.

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With the 25th anniversary of 9/11 on the horizon, the CBC has circulated a memo to reporters and editors across all its news platforms reminding them not to refer to the attacks that claimed 3,000 lives and changed the modern world as “terrorist attacks.”

The missive from the broadcaster’s journalistic standards and practices office, a copy of which was obtained by National Post, includes a section of the “longstanding language guidance” on the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks carried out by the Islamic terrorist group al-Qaeda.

“Do not refer to the Sept. 11 attacks as terrorist attacks,” it reads about halfway through, with the first part bolded and the last two words linking back to the CBC’s internal language guide.

“The hijackings led to passenger jet crashes in Washington, D.C., Pennsylvania and Manhattan. The World Trade Center (WTC in second reference) was destroyed.”

The letter was first reported by the Toronto Sun. It is signed BB, who is identified by the Sun as Basem Boshra, senior director of journalistic standards and public trust at CBC News.

On the morning of the attacks, 19 al-Qaeda terrorists hijacked four commercial airliners in the continental United States.

Two of the aircraft were flown into the World Trade Center towers in Manhattan — both of which would collapse — another was slammed into the Pentagon and the fourth crashed in Pennsylvania after passengers fought back against the terrorists.

The attacks spurred the creation of the Department of Homeland Security domestically and led to a protracted war on terror in Afghanistan. Osama Bin Laden, who orchestrated the attacks, was found and killed by U.S. forces in Pakistan in 2011.

Rachel Thomas, Conservative MP for Lethbridge, Alta., called the leaked memo shameful and accused the broadcaster of redefining “terrorism in a way that downplays the atrocity” of the terrorist attacks.

“Refusing to call it an act of terrorism dishonours the victims, their families, the survivors, and the first responders who witnessed the horrors of that day,” she wrote on X .

“Trying to sanitize or rewrite that history is deeply offensive and does a disservice to everyone who was affected by the attacks.”

Kerry Kelly, a public affairs spokesperson for CBC, told National Post in an email that “it is wholly inaccurate to state our journalists have been urged to declare that this was not a terrorist act.”

Rather, she said the memo was a regular reminder about adhering to the CBC’s language guide for “the terms ‘terrorist’ and ‘terrorism.’

“CBC preferences use of these words with attribution to credible sources, a practice shared by many of the world’s top journalistic organizations,” Kelly wrote, pointing to an October 2023 blog by Brodie Fenlon, CBC News editor in chief and general manager.

He was writing in response to a similarly leaked memo to staff regarding the use of the same words in reporting about Hamas’s terrorist attacks on Israel that had occurred a week earlier.

Staff will use the terms, he said, but they will always be “attributed to government officials, authorities, experts and politicians.”

“But CBC News does not itself designate specific groups as terrorists, or specific acts as terrorism, regardless of the region or the events, because these words are so loaded with meaning, politics and emotion that they can end up being impediments to our journalism,” Fenlon said, noting the policy has existed for decades and many news outlets employ their own.

The post included a portion of the language guide, which urges employees to “exercise extreme caution before using the words terrorist or terrorism” because they can be “highly contested” in some instances and potentially raise questions about the CBC’s “consistency and impartiality” in covering other attacks.

“Terrorism generally implies attacks against unarmed civilians for political, religious or some other ideological reason,” the guidance reads. “But it’s a highly controversial term that can leave journalists taking sides in a conflict.”

Fielding a complaint about coverage of Israel’s war against Hamas, CBC Ombudsman Maxime Bertrand called the policy a “necessary safeguard” but added that “it doesn’t guarantee ethical clarity or eliminate the potential for unconscious bias.”

“In practice, sensitivity to language and power relations demands constant vigilance and nuanced reflection. Essentially, journalists cannot be too careful,” he wrote in March.

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Our website is the place for the latest breaking news, exclusive scoops, longreads and provocative commentary. Please bookmark nationalpost.com and sign up for our daily newsletter, Posted, here.

Alberta Premier Danielle Smith rejected the idea of using the province’s oil exports as leverage in the U.S. trade war, saying that such a move would “devastate the Canadian economy” and inflate energy prices for consumers across Canada.

The premier was responding to growing calls — including from Alberta NDP Leader Naheed Nenshi and former Alberta premier Jason Kenney — to consider using Canada’s energy exports to retaliate against U.S. President Donald Trump’s latest round of tariffs. But such a move, Smith said, would prompt the U.S. to slap fresh levies on everything from crude oil to natural gas to diesel, crippling eastern provinces like Ontario and Quebec that rely on the U.S. for much of their energy supply.

“I cannot think of a more disastrous policy decision than cutting off or taxing Alberta’s oil to the United States,” Smith said in prepared remarks on Wednesday.

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Her warnings come as the U.S. trade spat has escalated sharply in recent days, with Prime Minister Mark Carney suggesting Canada is “at war” with its largest trading partner after the Trump administration placed punishing 50 per cent tariffs on $28 billion worth of goods. Smith, for her part, has long favoured what she calls a more measured approach to the U.S. that avoids ensnaring energy exports.

On Wednesday, Smith said she would prefer “de-escalating and doubling down on diplomacy” rather than adding new tariffs onto U.S. products.

“We need to be wise, patient, careful and deliberate to overcome the economic attacks our country is facing,” she said. “So, rather than making threats and promises we know we cannot keep, Canada should focus on what we can control and do.”

The Canadian and U.S. energy sectors are deeply integrated, with more than 80 per cent of Canada’s oil exports going to U.S. markets. Among the biggest buyers are oil refineries on the U.S. Gulf Coast, whose facilities are calibrated to accept Alberta’s heavy-grade crude, and who have for years enjoyed cheap Canadian supplies.

At the same time, a lack of east-west pipline connectivity in Canada has meant that eastern provinces are heavily reliant on the U.S. for crude and refined energy products. Energy products have thus far remained off the table in the Canada-U.S. trade tiff, largely because steep tariffs on Canadian oil would no doubt cause a politically damaging spike in U.S. gas prices for Trump.

Nenshi has not called on Alberta to curtail oil supplies to the U.S. but recently said in media interviews that Smith was “incredibly foolish” to attempt to take energy off the table in Canada’s retaliation plan. Kenney has similarly argued that Canada risked “limiting its options” by effectively eliminating a major bargaining chip.

Smith on Wednesday reiterated that Trump’s latest trade salvo against Canada has badly wounded relations between the two countries, saying there is “no excuse for their behaviour.”

“Make no mistake, the United States has betrayed a special trust between friends and allies,” Smith said. “We were there for them during 9/11, Afghanistan, and fought alongside them as we led the charge at Juno Beach on D-Day. We have fought their fires and welcomed them with open arms. We have built one of the most successful integrated economies on Earth, and defended it through NORAD and NATO together.”

While placing tariffs on oil exports would hurt the biggest producers of Alberta, Saskatchewan and Newfoundland, the move is particularly sensitive in Alberta, where voters are preparing to vote in an independence referendum this October.

Much of the resentment in the province is based on the perception among many Albertans that their oil and gas sector has been unfairly treated by Ottawa over the years, and federal negotiators’ use of their key export in the trade war would likely be seen as yet another attack.

National Post

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My brother told me I had great legs.

What incenses me more than the fact he said it, is the fact that I thought it was appropriate commentary, a fair evaluation of my physical attributes. I was 22 years old, he was 28. The thought never dawned on me that eldest brothers shouldn’t think of their sisters in that way.

How did I know Steve and I were different? And I don’t mean different in the typical sense, like how all people are different some way or another. I mean fundamentally different — our values, our ethics, our morals, all the true substances of what makes people who they are. There were countless ways our differences clashed over the years, usually in dramatic fashion.

In university, I was captivated by the study of psychology. Specifically, the hidden workings of the mind and the tangled motivations behind society’s outcasts and broken souls. There was something thrilling about chasing the “why” of human behaviour, like solving a puzzle no one else could see.

In 2002, criminal psychology and profiling were only just emerging, not yet the cultural obsession they’d become. Now, every tipsy undergrad on a Friday night fancies themselves a true-crime armchair detective.

To get my degree, I took courses in my final year that taught me the basics of criminal profiling. I couldn’t get enough. I sought out books to read outside of the curriculum. I watched movies about criminal behaviour. I was bitten by the crime-solving bug.

It stood to reason, then, that policing was a good fit. I expected that it would throw me into a world where my job would be to study and understand criminals. So I applied, navigated the interviews, and found myself face-to-face with a veteran at the police service. He had a presence that reminded me of Gene Hackman in his prime — magnetic, masculine, alluring, with a gaze that seemed to peel back one’s thoughts.

His voice, rough from what I imagined were nights of bourbon and cigars, carried a quiet authority. He moved with a swagger that made me slow my own steps to match his, hyperaware that any haste might betray my nerves.

When we stood to end the meeting, I discreetly wiped my sweaty palm on my pants, hoping he wouldn’t notice. His handshake was firm, his skin calloused, like he spent weekends swinging a hammer. Then, in a move that closed the professional distance between us, he cupped my elbow, pulled me close and whispered in my ear.

“You smell so f–king good.”

Releasing me with a wink, he raised his voice for the benefit of anyone nearby.

“Welcome to the police service, my dear. We’re happy to have you.”

This was the kind of world that allowed my brother Steve to shine; where men were born with worth and women had to earn it. Driving home in my beat-up silver Honda, with its manual windows and no air conditioning, this is it, I thought. Real life, here I come.

I burst through the door of my parents’ house, where I still lived, practically vibrating with excitement, waving my job contract like a victory flag. Steve was there, sharing beers with our dad at the kitchen table. He looked up, one eyebrow raised, and gave me that classic Steve once-over, eyeing me from head to toe. I had become accustomed to this appraisal; it was always how he greeted me, like a hunter eyeing up his prey, weighing how best to slay me.

It wasn’t until more than a decade later that I came to know this was uncommon. All eldest brothers didn’t look at their sisters with such contempt and disgust. Just mine did.

“You’re gonna be a cop? Really? A pig? You sure about that?” he said, pausing for effect. “You’ve got great legs. You could be a great secretary,” taking a swig from his beer.

You’ve got great legs. Four words. It took only seconds for those four tiny words to have an immeasurable impact, to sear themselves into my psyche, forever lodged there.

According to Steve, I would never excel at anything. I would never keep pace with a man. A man like Steve. Or so he wanted me to believe. I laughed it off, too proud to let him see how much his chauvinistic trope stung.

I can’t recall if Dad said anything. Truthfully, I’m not sure whether he was even there to hear that comment. But it didn’t matter, because Steve said s–t like that all the time. It was 2002. The patriarchy reigned supreme.

How ironic then, when I was a detective and Steve was pulled over by one of my policing colleagues after running a red light when he left the strip club in Guelph.

“I know you guys,” he said, as my colleague approached the driver’s side window.

“Excuse me?” was the officer’s response.

“Yeah. My sister, Julie Meier, she works with you.”

By this time, I was deliberately estranged from my eldest brother. Our relationship had long been strained and was ripe for an abrupt ending. That came in December 2014, after an extravagant Christmas party held at his home attended by family, friends and business associates. The night started out as a party, but ended with me having no doubt the relationship must end.

Not being aware of the estrangement between my brother and I, my colleague let him off with a warning. My colleague relayed the story to me the next day. He was confused about the fact that I was annoyed. It was a courtesy of the policing family — if possible, family members of fellow cops wouldn’t get tickets. An unwritten perk of the job, I suppose, except it was usually reserved for family members who weren’t estranged.

Steve leveraged his biological connection to me to escape accountability for running a red light. Funny how the man who shamed my choice of career was unapologetically grateful in that instance that his sister was a “pig.” After all, having a cop in the family would surely help to divert attention from his fraudulent activities. I’m convinced he was already scamming people even back then, because let’s face it, one of Ontario’s biggest alleged Ponzi schemers wasn’t born overnight.

It just took until 2023 for the world to find out that my brother’s name, Stephen Heimbecker, would be synonymous with greed and manipulation, and that he would be accused of swindling well in excess of $100 million from people.

Steve was bankrupt?

It was November 2023 when I learned that my eldest brother was a suspected fraudster. I didn’t learn it all at once, it came to me piecemeal. I think piecemeal was the only way that I could have absorbed it, given the sheer magnitude of his alleged Ponzi scheme involving his mortgage broker business.

Steve and his former business, Nestig Inc., are currently named in more than a dozen civil court cases in Ontario, accused of fraudulently using investors’ funds. He has been found to have committed fraud in one of those cases , and orders have been made against him in seven of the civil suits. The other cases have not been tested in court.

Charges have not been laid in a criminal investigation by the Waterloo Regional Police, but police spokesman Const. Brad Hickey confirmed the investigation is ongoing.

I believe my parents are fairly typical of two 80-year-olds. Our lives are interwoven due to our shared proximity and the many family meals, birthday celebrations and my kids’ sports games that we share together.

But beyond these conveniences lies a deeper rhythm from the ease with which I can check on them. Now into their “golden years,” a sense of responsibility weighs gently but insistently on me. It’s a duty I embrace gladly, stopping over unannounced more often and lingering longer than planned. I am offered endless cups of coffee or tea when I arrive, a small ritual of connection.

One visit, in late November 2023, felt like any other. I stepped through the unlocked double doors, framed by matching urns of holly and cedar, and found them nestled close in the kitchen, focused on a pot simmering on the stove. Dad, peering over his reading glasses, nodded a quiet greeting when I made my presence known.

Growing up, our fridge had always been a tactile map of our lives, at its centre a hanging paper wall calendar, its little squares filled with appointments scribbled in handwriting. The current view of their fridge was the same, so familiar to me from my memories,

Among the usual clutter, a small, tattered newspaper clipping caught my eye, nestled between the calendar and a brochure for an author signing. I had to read it twice, the words blurring at first as my mind struggled to grasp their meaning. A boxy advertisement, three-inches square, the bolded letters screamed their message: Legal Notice – in the matter of the bankruptcy of Stephen Lee Heimbecker. My eldest brother, my parents’ first-born child.

Steve was bankrupt? A man who used private jets on a whim to escape to luxurious sunny destinations, and who gifted his wife jewelry worth more than my house? A man who had a vacation home in a gated Florida community, and a farm used to train the racehorses he owned ? How was this real? My brother was publicly admitting defeat, for all to see.

I had long been suspicious that a man who ran a mortgage broker business could plausibly afford such an ostentatious lifestyle. I assumed that his interests in horse racing may have supplemented his income, though I was still skeptical, believing that gambling rarely earned anyone such consistent opulence. The math never made sense to me.

A tremor stirred deep within me, a sensation that bubbled up and grew as I glanced at Dad. His blank stare met my own, waiting for my response. And then, it burst forth, a raw, uncontrollable laughter. My brother, the one who bragged about making more money in a month than I did in a whole year? The one who poked fun at my clothing when I didn’t wear $500 jeans? He was bankrupt?

My parents gaped at me, unsure how to respond to my outburst of laughter. “Don’t you get it?” I asked.

“Get what?” Mom asked, looking at Dad.

“I knew it would eventually blow up in his face. Something wasn’t right with him for years,” I said.

The validation that tiny scrap of ripped-out newsprint brought me was unexpected. I didn’t know how his kingdom would fall, but I guessed that at some point, it would. He couldn’t keep up with the charade forever, all these people thinking he was such a “great guy.” It was only a matter of time before they saw what I had known for years — that he was a liar and a cheat.

“Does Brad know?” I asked, remembering an agreement I had made with my other brother, the middle child between Steve and me.

Because he lived hours out of town, Brad and I agreed to keep each other in the loop about things happening in the family. Any flow of information about Steve and his family had stopped completely after Steve had cut our mom and dad from his life almost a year prior, and I had lost all contact with Steve many years before, vowing to never speak with him again. Brad agreed to keep us abreast of anything newsworthy. He still maintained an active relationship with Steve and his family, visiting during holidays and talking occasionally over the phone.

“We’re not sure. We didn’t mention it to him,” my mother replied.

“Didn’t mention it? Don’t you think that’s somewhat significant?” I asked, incredulous.

“Well, I guess we don’t really know what to think. They’re both adults, though. I’m sure they can sort it out themselves. If Steve wants Brad to know, he will tell him.”

Nodding, I said, “I’m definitely calling Brad.”

“We’ll leave it to you to decide,” Mom said abruptly. She was letting me know that the conversation was over.

I left shortly after. Sitting in my car in their driveway, I dialed Brad’s number.

“I know we agreed to keep each other in the loop on big things …” I started.

“Oh, no. What’s happened? Are Mom and Dad OK?”

“Yes, yes, sorry, everyone’s fine. I didn’t want to alarm you. I am calling to let you know that there was a notice in the newspaper here about Steve. He’s claiming bankruptcy. I don’t know any of the details, it just announced a date and time for a meeting, but the public is allowed. Dad is going to request to attend, maybe get some details about what’s happened.”

“Oh, yeah, that. I already knew that. Steve told me that was happening. He’s been having some financial difficulties recently, I guess.”

My stomach dropped, and his words replayed in my mind. I was certain I misunderstood him, so I asked him to repeat himself.

“You knew?”

“Yeah, he told me he had to claim bankruptcy. Is everything OK? You sound upset.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Keep an open path of communication, remember? That’s what we agreed when it came to family stuff.”

“In fairness, I didn’t tell you because you’ve told me before that you didn’t care to hear about Steve and his family. That you didn’t want me to talk about it.”

A quiet pause filled the air between us.

“Do you know any other details?”

“I guess he has a meeting soon, he told me. I guess we’ll find out more then, right?”

Total claims would climb to nearly $150 million

By late 2023, I had become adept at navigating online meetings and video conferences, a skill honed during the COVID-19 pandemic. But my parents weren’t so comfortable with the technology. They occasionally ventured online, but had never witnessed a bankruptcy hearing, let alone one conducted virtually.

As I entered their home that day, I felt the weight of their eldest son’s impending public bankruptcy announcement hanging heavily between them, filling the room with silent anxiety and making them apprehensive about logging in correctly.

We gathered in their rustic home office, a cosy space bathed in sunlight streaming through the large window beside the broad oak desk nestled in the corner. The desk was cluttered with scraps of paper scrawled with websites and passwords, crossed out and rewritten repeatedly, a testament to my parents’ forgetfulness and their relentless effort to create new passwords.

I was eager to watch the video conference unfold. Mom pulled up a kitchen chair for me beside Dad, who settled into their faux-leather rolling desk chair directly in front of the screen, positioning himself so his face would be visible if needed. Mom chose the plush chaise in the corner, but she couldn’t stay still. She stood, paced in and out of the room, then sat again like a Jack-in-the-box, wringing her hands in restless tension.

Right on time, I clicked the link provided by the bankruptcy trustee. The camera’s birds-eye view from its high perch in a corner took a moment to focus before revealing a dark wood boardroom table dominating the centre of the room. Black office chairs with armrests crowded around it, some seats hidden from view. Something felt off. I wondered if we’d clicked the wrong link, because every seat was taken. People stood along the windows, stacked two deep in one corner, with more still entering.

As I leaned forward, I recognized the daughter of my mom’s best friend, grown since the last time I’d seen her as a 20-something, our families having shared Christmases and vacations together. Some attendees wore pristine business attire, others sported hoodies and track pants. As it turned out, many people in that room were not strangers to my family: friends, relatives, social acquaintances and community members.

Then Steve entered. He looked the same as I remembered him. Tall, wearing a button-down shirt, carrying a satchel over his shoulder. He had glasses on, perched below the bridge of his nose, making him appear older than my memory of him. The room fell silent as he slid into the last empty chair, reserved just for him, next to the bankruptcy trustee leading the meeting.

My stomach sank. We had the right link. We were in the right meeting. The room was full. In that instant, I knew Steve’s bankruptcy claim was much more involved than I imagined.

The trustee’s voice sliced through the stillness, calm and professional, announcing that the meeting was to begin, and explained the rules in basic terms. Steve’s assets would be sold, the profits divided up between the claimants named in the agenda.

The agenda was a document each attendee had received beforehand, a ledger detailing Steve’s tangled web of assets and debts. My dad had handed me this very document just as I’d logged us into the meeting. As I flipped through its pages now, my eyes locked on the list of creditors, a seemingly endless roll of names, each one claiming that Steve owed them money.

Collectively, the sum detailed in this creditor package was approximately $108 million. This included secured and unsecured claims, as well as “contingent claims,” reflecting the claims filed against him in civil courts as of the date of the meeting.

The voice of the trustee through the desktop speakers warned that more claims were yet to be formally submitted, promising that the total debt would climb higher, but to what amount was yet unknown as their office was still fielding calls from would-be claimants.

We would later learn, through a second bankruptcy meeting and other civil actions filed in Ontario courts, that the total claims against him would climb to nearly $150 million .

Steve sat silently beside the trustee, absorbing the weight of the room’s collective shock. Then, breaking the heavy silence, a man unknown to me cleared his throat and raised a hand, pulling a thick leather dossier from the floor. Steve acknowledged him by his first name; obviously, they knew each other. The man flipped through the pages until he found a creased corner and asked bluntly, “Do you have an alcohol addiction, Steve?” No preamble, no softening, just a sharp, raw question.

Steve’s reply was clipped and evasive. “I can’t answer that.” The next question, about having a gambling addiction, met the same deflection. One after another, Steve dodged each query, revealing nothing. Frustrated, the man slammed the dossier down and demanded bitterly, “Where’s the money, Steve?”

My frustration was also mounting. Who was this man speaking? Did he have a formal role in this process? What were the rules of engagement? I felt time slow as the room plunged back into a suffocating silence. I found out later that he was a local businessman, who claims he was owed about $1.6 million by my brother.

Then, a woman who had been silently leaning against the window spoke up, her voice trembling but fierce. “Can you please explain what’s going on here? I only found out about this meeting yesterday from a friend who’s also a victim of Steve’s. We don’t understand this process. We don’t have lawyers. We can’t afford one. Steve, you took everything from us,” she claimed.

Her words were an affirmation that I wasn’t the only person confused about the process, unknowing about the rules. Her voice gained strength as she stood, facing him directly. “You promised us. You said we’d get our money back, with interest … Did you forget about us, Steve?”

Steve’s response was disturbingly casual. “Don’t worry, I’ll get your money back.” I couldn’t tell if he believed these words, but I surely did not.

Tears streamed down her face as she pressed on. “Steve! We lost everything. We lost our house. We’re in a shelter with our kids. We have to tell them there won’t be a Christmas at home this year. What the hell is wrong with you?” Her sobs shattered the room. She collapsed to her knees, her husband holding her tightly.

I pressed the volume button on the keyboard, certain I had misheard what she said, but the volume was already set to maximum. How had she lost her home? What kind of deal did they make with Steve?

I was desperate for details. I took a deep breath to pause the checklist of questions springing to my mind. I was not the detective assigned to this case, I was not in control, I was just like the rest of the group, learning these details in the moment as they were shared.

Across from Steve, an elderly man leaned forward, his voice dripping with scorn. “Do you even care?” He shared his own story: Once Steve’s loyal IT technician, he said he was now unemployed and had lost all his investments. Despite Steve’s shutdown and bankruptcy claims, the gentleman said he had used his own money to keep Steve’s cloud account alive, safeguarding every file, every email, every digital trace.

His final words hit me like a punch. “I was supposed to retire next year. Forty-five years of work, all my savings. You told me to trust you, Steve. I gave you everything. Now I have nothing. The only thing I can think of … is to kill myself.”

A tear slid down my cheek. How did it come to this? I felt like I was falling, overwhelmed by the flood of information, struggling to piece it all together. Then, a man wearing a baseball hat cut through the tension. “Where is the money, Steve?”

My mother’s ears perked up. She jumped from her chair, her eyes narrowing at the screen. “That’s my nephew,” she whispered. Before she turned to leave, I heard under her breath: “This is too much, I can’t watch.”

I looked to my father. His brow furrowed deeply; he shook his head in disbelief, mouth agape with words he couldn’t find. I grasped his hand, fragile and bony in mine, and promised to help him understand once the meeting ended. I don’t know why I said that, because I didn’t understand what was happening either.

I felt outside myself in that moment, sitting next to my dad, staring into the void of a computer screen, learning for the first time tiny breadcrumbs of the secrets Steve had been harbouring for years.

While I had my suspicions about his wealth, I never contemplated that it was something so sinister.

The other brother

Inside the dark, icy cocoon of my car, parked in my parents’ driveway, tears stung my eyes. Unlike in the company of my parents during the videoconference, I sat alone, free from the need to hold back, free from the pressure to sort out facts from feelings.

My mind replayed the hours that had led to this moment, each memory dragging slowly, like thick mud oozing. How had I not known? How had all those people not known?

Then, like a sucker punch stealing the air from my lungs, heat surged through me. I sat upright, burning from chest to neck, flames crawling across my cheeks that only moments ago had felt chilled by the cold.

My other brother, Brad, said that he already knew. He said Steve told him of his “financial difficulties recently.”

He knew this and was still associating with Steve? Fury and rage exploded inside me. I grabbed my phone from my jacket pocket, shaking as I tried to dial Brad’s number. Tears streaming down my face, I was fuelled now by my blazing anger.

I told myself it wasn’t a good idea to call right now. Pull yourself together, I urged silently. This was just an investigation, another case like any other. I shoved the phone back into my jacket pocket, grabbed my key from the mat and slammed it into the ignition. The drive home blurred into a haze; I don’t remember a thing.

I kicked off my shoes the moment I stepped into the laundry room, slamming the door so hard the wall shook. My husband stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, eager for the latest scoop on Steve’s downfall.

“What happened?” he asked. When he saw the tears staining my cheeks, he pulled me into a warm embrace, wrapping me tightly in his arms. “Are you OK?” he asked. “Talk to me.”

“Give me a minute, I’ll tell you everything. I just need to talk to Brad first.”

I stepped into my home office and shut the door behind me. I chose not to turn on the light, preferring the darkness. The soft glow from my phone lit up the screen as I began punching in the numbers. Just before entering the last digit, I stopped. I didn’t want to talk to him. Anger churned inside me, making any conversation pointless and unproductive. “Keep it together,” I whispered aloud.

I fired off a text to Brad instead. My fingers flew over the screen, pouring out several paragraphs, filled with raw disdain. I told him that I was disgusted he had known all along and had brushed it off as just a minor financial hiccup, when in reality it was a monstrous tsunami of alleged fraud. I made it clear that under these circumstances, I refused to continue any relationship with him or Steve.

As I hit Send, nausea swept through me like a sudden storm. I never imagined the day would close knowing one brother was accused of ruining lives, taking homes and life savings to fuel his own greed, and another brother would protect him.

A message popped up suddenly, dinging over and over, signalling multiple texts. Brad claimed ignorance, insisting he was just as shocked and disgusted as I was. Steve downplayed his financial troubles to him, admitting only that he owed a few people some money, nothing more complicated.

Then came the last text, the briefest one, and it hit me like a weight, stealing my breath.

“I’m also one of his victims. He owes me a lot of money I only now realize I might never get back.”

Steve was accused of taking money from our own brother.

Julie Meier retired from the Guelph Police Service as a sergeant in 2020 after 18 years, where, as a detective, she investigated sexual assault, homicides and other major crimes. She is now a licenced private investigator and an aspiring author, who has written a memoir about her life with her brother. She encourages victims of fraud to report them to Canada’s fraud reporting website.

EDITORS NOTE: National Post reached out to Stephen Heimbecker for comment on the allegations in this first-person story. This is his statement:

I acknowledge that I have made mistakes in the past, and I am genuinely sorry for the things I did wrong and for the people who were affected by my actions. I take responsibility for my mistakes and deeply regret the consequences they caused.

Over time, I have done a great deal of reflection and have made significant changes in my life. My faith in Jesus Christ has become an important part of that process, and I am committed to living my life differently and moving forward in a positive and honest way.

That said, some of the information contained in your inquiry is not accurate or does not reflect the circumstances as I understand them. Because there is ongoing civil litigation relating to these matters, I do not believe it would be appropriate for me to comment on the specific allegations or underlying facts at this time.

I respect your right to report on matters of public interest, and I appreciate the opportunity to provide this response.

Main image: Julie Meier at her home near Waterloo, Ont. Photo by Peter Power/Postmedia News