Vigil to mark 20 years since Timmins woman disappeared

Pamela Holopainen was brave and outspoken. She loved to laugh and was always willing to help. 

She's a sister, a daughter, and the mother of two sons.

She was just 22 years old when she was last seen leaving a house party in Timmins two decades ago on Dec. 14, 2003. 

This week a vigil is being held to mark the sombre anniversary of her disappearance.

It starts at 3 p.m. on Dec. 14 at the intersection of Vipond and Moneta Road in Timmins. There will be a walk to the Timmins Native Friendship Centre where there will be drumming and singing, speakers, food and items to raise awareness about Holopainen's case and other missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls across Canada. 

Work on the vigil and to keep Holopainen's name alive is being driven by her sister, Vanessa Brousseau. 

Brousseau has long been a vocal advocate for her sister.

When Holopainen first went missing, Brousseau worked alongside their mom — Holly Kowtook, who died four years after her daughter's disappearance. Through sharing her story more recently, Brousseau has garnered a social media following as the Resilient Inuk. On TikTok, she has more than 147,000 followers, and she's closing in on 75,000 followers on Instagram. 

Even though it's hard, especially without her mom, Brousseau knew she had to mark the 20th anniversary. 

"Never did I think that it would be this long that she would be missing. I remember the first couple of years, thinking we're gonna find her soon. I'm never going to be like those people on unsolved mysteries and ... 20, 25 years waiting," she said. 

"But the reality is that I probably will never have closure. But that's why I've made it my life mission to do what I do by advocating. This is something that even if they found my sister tomorrow, I would still be advocating for missing and murdered Indigenous women because it's something that's still happening today and it's, it's who I am."

'My heart dropped'

Both sisters were born in Hamilton. 

As a teenager, their mom was sent to Timmins from Moose Factory to avoid being sent to a residential school. When she got pregnant with Brousseau, she moved down south so that people didn't know she was pregnant. 

There are two years between Holopainen and Brousseau. When they were two and four years old, respectively, they moved to Timmins and grew up in South Porcupine.

Holopainen went to Bertha Shaw, Golden Avenue and Roland Michener Secondary School.

Brousseau wants people to know how giving and kind her sister was. 

Always willing to help, she had a sense of humour and loved to laugh.

"She was also very brave. Braver than me. She wasn't afraid of anything ... she was just very outspoken and kind," she said. 

After Brousseau had separated from her husband, she didn't have any gifts for her kids. They were little, but Brousseau wanted them to have a Christmas.

"My sister came when she knew that ... and brought me everything for my kids. So my kids had Christmas because of her. It's things like that, that she did that for many people. It wasn't just my kids, she was always willing to help and, you know, always spread kindness to others. But she also had a fierce side to her."

On Dec. 13, 2003, Holopainen went to a house party in the south end of Timmins. It was after midnight when she left and the last time she was seen was in the early hours of Dec. 14. 

Brousseau and her sister were close, talking twice a day.

Not knowing anything was wrong yet, Brousseau went to her sister's house on Dec. 15, 2003, to bring gifts from their grandmother. She went back on Dec. 16 and again on Dec. 17. No one was home.

"There was no footsteps. The plants were in the window. The stroller was in the porch, like there was nothing — like nobody was there, not any of them. So I didn't think anything," recalled Brousseau. 

In 2002, cell phones weren't as easily accessible. Holopainen didn't own one and Brousseau assumed that she had gone to Sudbury, where her partner's family lived.

Then came Christmas day. Brousseau didn't hear from her sister. 

"I'll never forget how mad I was at her. I always replay it in my head and think: you know, how, how did I not know sooner? Honestly, I was mad at her — how does she not call me on Christmas like that?"

On Boxing Day, Brousseau called Holopainen's landlord and asked if they'd seen her or the kids. They hadn't. 

At the Bingo hall on New Year's Eve, it became clear that Holopainen wasn't out of town for the holidays. 

Brousseau and her mom bumped into the sister of Holopainen's partner. She asked if they'd heard about Holopainen leaving her partner.

"And right then and there, my heart dropped," said Brousseau. 

They went to Timmins Police to report her missing. 

The police, she said, told them that Holopainen was probably out drinking and would be back in a couple of days.

"By the time they took anything seriously ... all the evidence is gone. My sister would have fought for life," she said.

The case was transferred to the OPP, who did some searches and it was eventually given back to the Timmins Police. 

The last time that Brousseau met with OPP and Timmins Police about the case was in 2017.

After being missing for seven years, Brousseau could have had her sister declared dead. She hasn't done it and doesn't plan to, even though she doesn't believe Holopainen is alive. 

"Honestly, it's not even about her anymore. It's about preventing other Indigenous women from going missing or being murdered by sharing her story."

Holopainen's disappearance has been life-changing for Brousseau in many ways. 

Through losing her sister, she found a side of herself that she didn't know existed.

She went from being a shy person who didn't speak up to making presentations to schools and universities.

"I'm grateful. Because for so long, I didn't have a voice no matter how hard I felt like I was yelling and trying to say something. Nobody was listening. And now people listen. And it's truly ... what keeps me going is having that support system."

With years of pain and a lot of work to raise awareness, there's one thing that Brousseau knows.

"If it was me, my sister would have (done) the same thing. You know, and I know that," she said.

The Vigil 

The starting point for Pamela Holopainen's vigil is on the route she would have taken to walk to her home in Schumacher from the house party in 2003. 

It's the same intersection where there's a push to honorarily rename it for Bernadette Sutherland, a Fort Albany woman whose body was found in the bushes in the area back in 1989. 

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The vigil is open to everybody. 

"Anybody who can make it, they're more than welcome to come. You don't have to be Indigenous, you just have to care," said Brousseau.

She's hoping for at least a couple of hundred people to attend. 

"I wish there would be more I honestly, I wish there were thousands ... thousands of people who care."

The reality is, she said, that people may not want to go because it's a sombre event or they may be hesitant because it's at the friendship centre, which people don't have to be Indigenous to go to.

"I think especially right now, it's so important for reconciliation, it's important for allies to come and show their support. And, you know, you don't even have to talk to me just just come. Just be there."