Escaping human trafficking can feel more dangerous than staying

WARNING: This story contains graphic content related to violence and abuse, and may be disturbing to some readers. If you or someone you know may be a victim of human trafficking, you can call the Canadian Human Trafficking Hotline: 1-833-900-1010

“People always say, why doesn’t she leave?” said Caroline Pugh-Roberts, a human trafficking survivor. “They need to stop saying that and start saying, why does he do that? Why doesn’t he stop?”

After being trafficked for eight years along the Highway 401 corridor, Pugh-Roberts now works in the Salvation Army’s human trafficking unit. She told CityNews about the first time she said she wanted to leave her trafficker.

“That’s when I got my toes broken,” she recalled.

Like many survivors, Pugh-Roberts says she was trapped by fear and violence. Last spring, she took CityNews’s investigative team to a roadside motel, one of several, where she says she was bought and sold. Parked in its deserted lot, she explained how she felt when she was inside.

“I would sit in this filthy shower, naked on the floor, hunched over, water pouring on me with a knife in my hand, trying to find the courage to kill myself,” she said.

It took several attempts for Pugh-Roberts to escape. By the time she made it out, she was covered in permanent reminders from her trafficker and johns. Cigarette burns litter her arms and thighs, she has broken bones that didn’t heal properly, and parts of her body were amputated following a failed escape attempt.

“My whole life was him,” she said. “Doing what he said, struggling to survive.”

She now spends her days and nights trying to help other people who are being trafficked.

“I lost so many of these women to suicide because you become that hopeless,” she explained. “You’ve lost contact with your family, you have no identification. You’ve come to believe that he – the trafficker – is the only reason you’re alive.”

“Sexually exploited women might be under the complete control of their trafficker in the form of money, shelter and food,” explained Jennifer Dunn, the Executive Director of the London Abused Women’s Centre. “On the other hand, many women may choose not to report because of the safety concerns as a result of the trafficker not being charged,” she added.

Only one-third of Canada’s 510 police-reported incidents of human trafficking in 2019 resulted in charges. Odds are, the trafficker could quickly be back on the street – going after his victim, or their family.

The threats, Pugh-Roberts says, can be worse than the violence. “He knows where her little brother goes to school, how to find her little sister, where her parents live. He’s told her he’ll hurt them.” Pugh-Roberts knows this well.

For Pugh-Roberts, the trafficker was her boyfriend. He fit the pattern of what’s known as a Romeo pimp, a man who grooms their victim by acting like their partner and provider. 

Another survivor, Morgan Sowerbutts, says she was trafficked by a duo, out of a basement apartment on a quiet residential street. Standing on the road, looking across the asphalt at the home’s ground-level window, she remembered the men with whom she was forced to have sex.

“Typically, the most violent johns that I’ve ever dealt with were lawyers, doctors, police,” she said. “All people that although they have positions of power in their professions, are not allowed to exert them to the extent that they want to, and they’re paying to take it out on you.”

While she wanted to leave, she was fearful.

“It would not have gone over well,” she says. “I was very much afraid […] like what retaliation am I going to face?” The implied violence was enough to keep her in check, for a while.

“Its invisible handcuffs. These women are trapped by invisible handcuffs,” Pugh-Roberts explained. “The girls don’t go to the police because they’re too scared to. These are bad, bad people.”

When police officers are also customers

Eventually, Sowerbutts did go to police, and the man and woman she alleged were her traffickers were charged. Unfortunately, her encounters with her johns didn’t end there.

“I did have one officer come out to my house that I actually recognized as a john and he actually used my working name,” she says. “I froze. I was nauseous.”

“Now any time I see a cop out driving around or I pass by them, I second guess. And I wonder.”

Advocates and survivors say such distrust is a major obstacle for victims trying to escape.

The head of London Police Services’ human trafficking unit acknowledges that sometimes officers are on the wrong side of the law.

“That has happened in the past with many jurisdictions,” he says. “Unfortunately, it happens. I can only speak for our service. We have a very strong position that anyone who is caught- they’re charged. Zero tolerance.”

The officer, whose identity CityNews has agreed not to reveal, as he works in undercover operations, acknowledged the toll such situations would have on victims’ trust of police.

“I have not spoken to a sex trade worker about that and what the impact is, I can only imagine,” he said.

No money, no family

When survivors do escape, most have nothing, said Pugh-Roberts. It’s like being lost without a map, and without help, many victims are unable to leave the road they’re on.

“Ninety-nine percent of the women, once they’re out, they have nothing to show for it, except maybe an addiction and less teeth, and PTSD,” she says.

Like Pugh-Roberts, many leave with just the clothes on their back, no identification, no family mementos, no bank balance and sometimes, a debt to pay.

Richard Dunwoody, the executive director of Project Recover, has worked with hundreds of trafficking survivors to help fix their credit and give them a chance at a future.

“I tend to see one of two things: either credit card accounts created without [the victim’s] knowledge, or their traffickers seize their existing credit facilities,” the retired banker explains, meaning the trafficker has taken over their personal accounts.

From there, the trafficker can open all sorts of accounts in the victims’ names including mobile phones.

“I’ve seen some victims with thirteen or even fifteen mobile accounts,” he said.

He says the trafficker uses the fraudulent credit cards to place adult entertainment ads, book hotels, train tickets, car rentals and other things the trafficker uses to ensure the victim can earn money.

“I’ve even seen car loans in victims’ names,” Dunwoody explained. He says many of the outstanding balances he’s seen are in the $15,000 to $20,000 range.

Dunwoody digs into victims’ credit histories, learning how and where the cards were used, to paint a detailed picture of the criminal activities for creditors. With work and co-operation from the credit companies, he said he can generally clean up a survivor’s credit and help set them on a solid financial course.

“These are fraudulent charges, affecting their credit,” he said. “These women should not have to pay them.”

The Ontario government provides a free legal service for survivors of human trafficking, including confidential advice, helping complete a restraining order application and representing the applicant in court, among other services. You can access these services by calling the Canadian Human Trafficking Hotline: 1-833-900-1010