I grew up in Calgary, Alberta, then moved to Edmonton to attend the University of Alberta. I intended to live in Edmonton for three years, but life had other plans. My B.A. in English Literature led to a job at the provincial museum, and although the work was rewarding, the paycheque was not. I went back to university and completed law school. I got married, had a child, and stayed in Edmonton for twenty-seven years.

I started out as a general lawyer, but soon my practice became concentrated in family law. In particularly stressful breakups, it was not uncommon for my client to disclose a history of battering. Applications for restraining orders were all too frequent. Family violence, whether against children, partners, or elders, is a crime that challenges our basic institutions – law enforcement, the criminal and civil courts, the legislature, corrections agencies, social services – to respond fairly and justly. Domestic violence has long been considered ‘just a women’s issue.’ Society has dismissed it as a ‘private matter,’ something that goes on in families and away from the scrutiny of outsiders. It has been ignored, glossed over, or condoned.

I volunteered at an Edmonton shelter for several years, telling women about their rights, responsibilities, and options, but I knew I had to reach more people than one or two at a time. For twelve years, I wrote a column about family law for a Canadian magazine called LawNow. This allowed me to tell the general public about the complex network of laws which govern our everyday lives, and to explain what the justice system can and cannot do. LawNow granted me a national audience, but I still felt there was work to be done. I wanted to reach young people before they ended up in shelters or on the other side of my desk. My editor encouraged me to write a novel, but work, volunteering, and family commitments always seemed to get in the way of writing. One day, Lady Luck stopped by. My husband, a teacher, was offered a job at an international boarding school. I left my practice and our family moved to Switzerland. For five years, we shared our lives with teens from over fifty countries. My students taught me about the ideas, values, and histories that made their cultural group unique. I was privileged to travel extensively throughout Europe, and into Russia, South-East Asia, Africa, and central America. I also had the luxury of time, and completed my first novel, The Second Trial.

The novel begins when thirteen year-old Danny McMillan learns that his father has been abusing his mother for many years. Watching in the courtroom as his father is sentenced for a vicious assault, Danny struggles with divided loyalties – to his mother on one side, and to his father whom he wants to forgive on the other. After one trial is over, another begins for Danny. The authorities convince Danny’s mother that the family must go into a victim protection program (NIVA – New Identities for Victims of Abuse). Danny is asked to leave everything behind – his home, his friends, and the love and support of his grandparents – even his name.

In The Second Trial, the portrait of the Canadian justice system, with its strengths and failings, is accurate. Alberta’s NIVA program has been taken over by the Canadian government and is now called Confidential Services for Victims of Abuse (CSVA). CSVA helps victims of domestic violence who are at risk of serious injury or death. When conventional safety measures have been exhausted, CSVA will relocate families and give them new identities. Other countries operate similar programs.
I moved back to Edmonton in 2008 and began writing non-fiction articles for Grass Roots Press, a Canadian publisher specializing in adult literacy and basic education books. I returned to law, and I am working as a senior staff lawyer with the Family Law Office of Legal Aid Alberta. I am delighted that my novel has been short-listed for the 2011 Ontario Library Association’s White Pine Award. Please visit me online at my website at www.rosemarieboll.com.