Devastated mom felt son wasn’t coming home
Agatha Eaglechief says she knew something was wrong a few minutes after midnight on Tuesday, when she woke up and went to check on her 22-year-old son, who had left hours earlier after a shouted phone call with someone and a hasty goodbye.
Austin Eaglechief wasn’t in his bed.
Then a friend told her that, shortly after 9 p.m., a man had died in a high-speed collision, ending a chase that began when the stolen truck he was driving rammed a police cruiser, leading one of the officers to fire two shots.
“Right away I phoned to the cop shop and claimed that my son didn’t make it home for curfew,” Eaglechief said. “I was worried. So I smudged. I smudged the whole house. That was, like, 12:45 a.m. … I felt that my son’s not going to come home.”
Around 90 minutes later, Saskatoon police officers arrived at her home to confirm that Austin Gerome Gilbert Eaglechief was dead, his body found behind the wheel of the black truck’s wreckage at the intersection of Circle Drive and Airport Drive.
Sitting on the steps of her Confederation Park home less than 24 hours later, Eaglechief described her son as an intelligent man who liked to read but suffered from depression and anxiety, and could not escape the relentless cycle of gangs, drugs, and crime.
It was a rhythm that made her family members familiar faces at the courthouse. Now, she blames his death on a system that punishes young people trying to turn their lives around with breach charges and a lack of support for young families, she said.
“My son had an unfair life,” she said, brushing away tears and glancing at a framed photo of Austin and one of his cousins, relaxing in lawn chairs under the summer sun in happier times.
She also blames the Saskatoon police officer who fired two rounds at the stolen truck, she said. Shooting a pistol in a residential neighbourhood was not only dangerous, it likely triggered his anxiety, causing him to flee at speeds approaching 150 km/h, she added.
“Why did they shoot in a small area like that, in the neighbourhood? Unacceptable.”
Eaglechief raised her six children on the Mosquito First Nation, about 100 kilometres west of Saskatoon, before moving to the city about 12 years ago. She hoped finishing school would make it easier for the family, but city life made it harder for Austin, who was constantly receiving mysterious messages and running off into the night, she said.
She speculated that his activities were likely payment for the cocaine he couldn’t quit using. He described it as “experiencing life,” she said.
Eaglechief last saw her son at 8 p.m. Monday. He was running down the street while she called after him, urging him not to ignore his court-ordered 10 p.m. curfew.
But that isn’t what she wanted to say to Austin, who received disability benefits and was about to secure his first apartment but ultimately fell back into the orbit of the gangs.
“I’m sorry for how I raised you, where I moved you to … I love you.”