Thirty years after his son was kidnapped, sexually assaulted and murdered by a known sex offender, Jim Stephenson continues to ensure Christopher didn’t die in vain.
Christopher was kidnapped at knife-point in a Brampton mall when he was 11 years old. Joseph Fredericks confessed to police that he had kidnapped Christopher on June 17, 1988, and, after hours of abuse, killed the boy and left his body in a field.
Christopher’s parents, Jim and Anna, received the news two days later that his body had been located.
This past Sunday, Jim Stephenson noted, was the 29th Father’s Day since his son’s tragic and untimely death.
“It’s been an extremely difficult time, but it’s been made endurable by the support of the close family, the close family of friends,” Stephenson said.
Among those the family now considers good friends are police officers and other members of law enforcement with whom the Stephensons worked closely in the wake of Christopher’s death. Many were in attendance Tuesday at OPP General Headquarters, where a ceremony was held to mark the grim anniversary.
But the event, while emotional, focused less on the crimes that had been committed against Christopher and more on the legacy the young boy left. It was a crime that pushed the Stephensons to advocate for victims, for better legislation to protect children. It was a long and draining process that eventually led to the creation of Christopher’s Law (the Ontario Sex Offender Registry), which came into effect in 2001. An inquest that happened after Fredericks was killed by a fellow inmate in Kingston Penitentiary in 1992 resulted in a number of recommendations, including the establishment of the sex offender registry.
Stephenson saw the need for a national registry, too, and while one was announced by the federal government, “it was woefully inferior,” he said.
The government was going to start the registry without a database, opting to populate it with future offenders instead of those already known to authorities.
While Stephenson feels improvements are still needed, “it has progressed a long way,” he said.
“We’re confident that these challenges will be overcome.”
During Tuesday’s ceremony, a tree and a plaque in Christopher’s memory were unveiled. The maple tree was a fitting choice, Stephenson said. A slide show in the auditorium prior to the unveiling of the plaque included one of the family’s favourite photos — Christopher playing in a pile of fallen maple leaves in a park.
Officers who worked with the Stephensons on Christopher’s case, including homicide detectives, some of whom are now retired, wiped away tears as the photos of a happy boy with his happy family were shown on the screen.
Christopher was “a wonderful young man who has impacted all of us here,” said OPP Insp. Charles Young, who was involved with the sex offender registry during its research, development and implementation stages.
“Thirty years later, Christopher continues to inspire us to improve the safety” of children, he said.
Retired Peel Regional Police inspector Len Favreau also spoke about reciprocal respect between the Stephensons and the police who worked the case.
“Many of these families have left a lasting legacy on me, none more so than the Stephensons,” he said.
Ron Bain, retired deputy chief with Peel police, remembers “every bit of that investigation.”
He recalled the day he went to the funeral home, where he saw Christopher’s uncles.
“You could just see the effect it had and was going to have,” Bain said, adding he told them they and the police would “get through this together.”
Also in attendance Tuesday was Christopher’s sister, Amanda Stephenson-McGregor, who was eight years old when her big brother was murdered.
“She has been our strength, our rock and our guidepost,” her dad said.
After the plaque ceremony, Stephenson-McGregor stood in front of Christopher’s tree and read a poem he wrote a couple of months before his death.
One night in April 1988, the siblings were getting ready for bed when Christopher advised his mother he had a homework assignment that was due the next day. A poem, he told her, seeking inspiration.
“Look around you,” Anna Stephenson told her son.
The result was The Fire:
Warm and Cozie,
Glow of Light,
Warmth and Heat
Throughout the Night.
Family Talk,
Crackling, Pop,
Staring at the Mantle Piece
With the Shiny White Geese.
But as the Fire Goes Out
I Have No Doubt
Of the Warmth and Love
Throughout Our House.
“The final lines of that poem drove us to accept what had happened and do something about it,” Jim Stephenson said.
Three decades on, he isn’t prepared to give up the fight, to extinguish the fire.
“It helps with the grieving process,” he said of continuing to be an advocate. “Pure and simple.”
