Hello. My name is Jessica Ruth. I am the widow of Constable Lee Ruth of the RCMP. Lee and I knew each other since we were children and were partners in life before he entered the RCMP at 23 years old. Lee's first posting was in 2006, and he medically retired in 2022.
During his career, Lee experienced people and incidents that would never leave the back of his mind, no matter how hard he tried.
In 2014-15, Lee started seeing a psychologist, followed by a psychiatrist. He was diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, depression and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Throughout his years of policing, there was a gradual change in my husband. He became hypervigilant, irritable, angry, sad and disconnected from his family. He pushed others away when he obviously wanted and needed connection. Lee was determined to get better. He received services from his doctor, three different psychologists at different points in time, a psychiatrist and various Veterans Affairs case managers and clinical care managers.
From 2014 to 2025, Lee was prescribed approximately 37 different types of medications to address his mental health concerns, with many of these having several dosage changes. Lee attended a seven-week residential treatment facility for trauma and attended ketamine treatment. After many years of fighting for his mental health with no positive results, he decided he could no longer fight.
On June 4 of this year, my husband died by suicide, leaving behind me, our children, his parents, his brother and countless others who loved him.
Today I will speak about two important issues: prevention and intervention, and access to resources.
I think it is important to discuss prevention of operational stress injury. Often, police officers, my husband included, work shifts alone. There were many times when backup was located an hour away, placing their lives in unnecessary danger and contributing to poor mental health. When members are off work due to health reasons, this often leaves the unit or the shift short on staff. This creates a workplace environment of animosity, and members are made to feel guilty for taking time for leave or to attend any family-related needs.
As far as I know, RCMP members do not need to attend regular counselling. A debriefing after a traumatic event is great, but from my observations, many do not know how the event has impacted them until later, when they are experiencing struggles.
Before we relocated to Iqaluit, both Lee and I were required to complete psychological assessments. There was no psychological testing required when we transferred out of the north. I believe that if a thorough psychological screening had been completed by an experienced psychologist, there would have been signs that his mental health was at risk.
As a note on access to resources, for veterans fortunate enough to have a case manager, most are not provided with the case manager's direct line but are expected to send an email or navigate phone menus. When someone has significant mental health concerns and legitimate questions about a service, not being able to make a simple phone call to their case manager can have negative impacts. Lee was eventually provided with the direct line to his last case manager.
After Lee medically discharged from the RCMP, we relocated back to western Newfoundland to be closer to family. This transition was not easy for him, and he began to decline even more in his mental health. Lee was very aware of his decline and was active in seeking treatment and resources, but the onus was on him to find these resources. On one occasion, Lee provided consent for me to speak with his case manager, and it was at this time that I learned the case manager's awareness of resources, groups and organizations was based on the information they had received from other veterans or conversations they had with co-workers. There was no list and no database of resources for different areas and locations. If there was a cost associated with accessing this resource, it was my husband's responsibility to have his family doctor or psychologist write a letter stating how this resource would benefit his mental health.
Often, my spouse would talk about sanctuary trauma, a type of psychological trauma that occurs when a person who has already experienced a stressful event is further harmed by the place or institution they expected to be supportive. After years of serving his country as a trusted member of the RCMP to uphold the law, he felt that his needs were often questioned and felt like he had to prove them to be true. The amount of complex paperwork and justification to get benefits approved, which he was entitled to, was very discouraging. This can impede a veteran from obtaining services.
Through CAF and RCMP members, Lee learned of VAC's clinical care managers, who assist clients with complex health needs in forming case plans to build supports and access programs and services. At first, VAC denied him this service, stating that he did not meet the need. Lee would say that though he was considered 100% disabled, he was not ill enough to receive this service.
After much advocating from his psychologist, Lee was reassessed and approved for a clinical care manager. He was reminded on a frequent basis that the services of a clinical care manager were only temporary and an inability to complete tasks could cease the service. Many things he could not follow through with, due to his mental health, and this made him feel more hopeless and caused him to fear that his services would be revoked.
When Lee's clinical care manager planned to be on extended leave during this past summer, he requested the services of another clinical care manager until her return. He was told that now he was too ill for another clinical care manager and that he should consider a local home care worker. I cannot express enough the harmful impact this had on Lee. He felt like people were giving up on his healing and his recovery. At a time when he was the most ill, VAC wanted to switch him from an educated professional with a master's degree who specialized in mental health to a generalized home care worker. Though Lee had a psychiatrist, a psychologist, a VAC case manager and a clinical care manager, they mostly worked in silos, until he became very sick. Then they began to have some care team meetings.
On two different occasions he attended the local hospital. On the first visit, we waited for eight hours to speak to a psychiatrist, who told us that there were no beds available, and because he had a psychiatrist already, there was not much more they could do for him there. The second time we visited, my husband spoke privately to an attending physician and was voluntarily admitted to the psychiatric unit. At 3 a.m., he checked himself out. He explained that they would not provide him with his prescribed sleeping medication and offered no alternative. Lee approached his psychiatrist and suggested admission to another hospital in the province. His psychiatrist advised that there was nothing they could do in the hospital that she was not already doing for him as an outpatient. It was at this point he vowed to never again attend a hospital looking for mental health support, because what would be the point?
At times when I feared for my husband's safety and suggested that we attend the hospital or call an ambulance, he told me that he would not be going and would threaten to kill himself before they would have time to arrive. I expressed this concern to members of his team. The ongoing response I received was that they were not an emergency service and that if I feared for his safety, I had to call emergency services. This was an unbearable cycle of pain and uncertainty that we lived in as a family.
Lee still searched for further service providers and services that might help him, and consulted with different members of his care team. One time he was advised that he would be overserviced. Once again, he was discouraged. He might have been overserviced in VAC's opinion; however, from my position as a widow whose husband took his own life, he was not receiving the appropriate services or care.
The impact PTSD has had on a family unit is significant, and it was suggested that I receive counselling covered by VAC as well. The only way this could be approved was if my husband's psychologist were to state a case for how treating my mental health would help his mental health. Once again, the onus was on Lee to communicate and arrange treatment, adding more for us to navigate.
Families should be given mental health benefits in their own right, not dependent on the veteran. This would give the family the skills to deal with complex PTSD, increasing their ability to support their veteran. In cases like ours, where the worst outcome became reality, it is vital that mental health treatment be in our own right and that we are able to maintain our existing therapeutic relationships. I had to engage with the Office of the Veterans Ombudsman to continue care with my existing therapist after Lee died. We were given six months. Having to fight for continued benefits is already weighing on me.
Since I lost the love of my life and my children lost their dad, we are getting through each day one moment at a time. I assure you that this is going to be a lifelong journey of healing and recovery from the trauma that I have experienced. I will live the rest of my life wondering what could I have done differently that would have saved my husband.
Our children are young and have so much to process with not only the death of their father but also the years of living with a parent who had PTSD. This process will not be a short one. Children need years. They need time to build relationships with counsellors, to open up about their feelings and thoughts. Kids are not often able to connect their feelings with their grief. This is a vital time to help them learn and practise positive coping skills to safeguard their own mental health.
After sharing my experience of losing our mental health benefits with a group of RCMP spouses across the country, one started a petition and connected me with a CAF spouse whose husband had died while deployed. The goal of petition e-6654 is for families and survivors to obtain mental health benefits in their own right for conditions related to service. Together they have created a Facebook group dedicated to advocating for families and survivors to obtain mental health treatment benefits in their own right. When the petition closed, it had 5,420 signatures from across Canada.
Anyone who knew my husband, Lee, knows that he would be the first person to stand up and fight for what is right. He had an ability to connect with so many people on a personal level. He liked the realness in people and wanted to “pump their tires.” This was a term he used for making people feel good about themselves.
Before Lee became unwell, he was a happy person who loved life, his family and his friends. Lee loved our children more than life itself. I believe that he made the ultimate sacrifice in fear of what the impact of prolonged exposure of his complex PTSD would have had on our children and me. Lee had more courage and resilience than anyone I have ever known.
Now that he is no longer able to fight, I feel that it is my journey now to help advocate for better mental health services for the veteran community in the memory of my husband. I am hoping that Lee's legacy will be improved mental health services for RCMP and CAF members and that families and survivors obtain mental health treatment benefits in their own right for conditions related to service.
Thank you for listening to my story.