For the second time in less than a month, I’m speaking to the father of a woman who was molested as a child by Gerry Deveau. Two different women, two different fathers.
There’s a bit of regret in this gentleman’s voice, I think, when he explains to me how the family “kind of overlooked it” when they found out about it. It was different back then. Part of you felt like you should do something, but then again, it wasn’t rape. It certainly wasn’t right, but it wasn’t rape, either.
“It’s not like today, where people aren’t hiding it,” he tells me. There’s no question that the woman feels guilty about not pursuing charges against him based on the incident, which she says occurred in the early 1980s when she was 14.
“I was sorry I didn’t say something years ago as it may have prevented her terrible experience,” she tells me via email.
She’s referring, of course, to the 10-yearold girl Gerry was recently convicted of molesting back in 2010.
Despite the fact that this woman’s case isn’t before the courts, I’ve nonetheless agreed to protect her identity. The woman’s allegations, needless to say, have not been proved in court.
She remembers the day it happened well. She was on her way home after another day of classes at Ecole NDA in Cheticamp. It was late spring, near the end of the school year. A summer of leisure was close. As she often did, she stopped at her grandparents’ place first before she went home. To say hi and perhaps snag a homemade chocolate chip or peanut butter cookie. Or three. She didn’t know her grandparents were out for groceries.
When she arrived, she found a 50ish Gerry Deveau and his helper working on the home’s stucco ceiling. Gerry immediately approached her.
“Oh this is my girl,” she remembers him saying, smothering her face with a totally unexpected, “ugly” kiss.
Shocked and frightened, she pushed him away and left immediately.
She remembers going home — her house was right next door — going to her room, and tossing her over-the-shoulder bookbag on the bed. When she went down her hallway into the kitchen, she was shocked to find Gerry Deveau standing there. They were the only two people in the house.
“He pushed me against the counter and cornered me by the stove and started licking my face,” she writes. He was grabbing and fondling, pressing his groin against her.
“I pushed and tried to knee him in the ‘crutch’ and got away from his grip, then I tripped on a kitchen chair and stumbled into the living room.”
He gave chase, following her around the coffee table. She jumped up on the couch and screamed bloody murder, warning that her dad was gonna get him. She hoped Gerry’s co-worker would come and see what the ruckus was. Or maybe he was used to this sort of thing. The assistant didn’t emerge.
Thankfully her screaming finally drove him away, and he left.
The woman’s sister tells me she remembers when her older sibling told her about the harrowing experience.
“I remember her being all freaked out about it,” she tells me over the phone. She also remembers that she didn’t tell their parents until later.
She was “too scared to tell Nanny and Poppy,” she remembers, because their grandparents were friends with him.
“They liked him, he was a friend of the family, a musician,” she says.
“The celebrity that he thinks he is,” their father scoffs, adding that he was never a friend of Gerry Deveau’s. He knew him though, of course.
“The big talented spoon-man. He couldn’t play a tune for the world, all he can play is the fuckin’ spoons.
“I can play the spoons. You probably can, too eh?” he asks.
He likely wasn’t expecting an answer, but I told him that yeah, I could probably figure ‘em out.
After his daughter finally got around to telling what happened — she might’ve been in high school by then — he remembers gritting his teeth any time he’d see the Spoon Man out and about. He still fantasizes about giving him a wallop every now and then.
“But what would that accomplish?” he muses.
He says that when his daughter finally told him, he made her promise that if anything like that ever happened again, she’d tell him immediately.
It was probably 10 years ago or so now, when she was home for a class reunion, that Gerry Deveau approached her again at the Doryman in Cheticamp.
“How’s my girl?” he said.
“I looked at him and said, ‘Really? Get the fuck out of my face, you pervert!’”
As her friends looked on — a bit dumbfounded, perhaps — she says she shared a little information about her creepy experience.
Her sister says there’s no way those who knew him — especially those females who were around him as kids — could have been very surprised to hear it.
“He was weird, just to be around him as a young girl. You could just feel it,” she says, adding that her sister warned her to stay the hell away from him, advice that she heeded.
Regarding the house arrest Gerry is serving due to his recent court case, the woman’s sister scoffs just like her dad did when I spoke to him.
“I put myself on house arrest when I wanna watch TV all day.”
Her father says stories about Gerry Deveau groping women — not children — have been swirling around the area for as long as he can remember. But since the story broke about the court case, he’s been hearing other stories involving Gerry Deveau and children. Everyone I speak to in the area has.
If anybody wants to talk to Frank Magazine about an encounter with Gerry Deveau, please call 1-888-335-5505. Discretion is assured.