John Douglas Calberry—Doug to everyone who knew him—was a kind, unassuming man whose life was defined by struggles he didn’t deserve. He lived through an endless chain of suffering that could have been prevented if the world around him had cared enough to intervene. Despite everything he endured, he remained gentle and kindhearted, a quiet presence in the lives of those who loved him.
Doug’s story began in Peterborough, Ontario, where he lived with his brother and father. His dad, though strict, was a loving man who did what he could to protect his boys. Their mother, however, was deeply abusive, likely suffering from an untreated postpartum mental illness that turned her into a threat rather than a caregiver. Recognizing the danger, Doug’s father took the boys away from her, a move that might have saved their lives at the time.
But tragedy followed closely. Doug’s father was incarcerated for a petty crime, and Doug and his brother were placed into foster care. It was here that Doug’s life took a devastating turn. The foster family he was sent to was cruel and abusive, subjecting him to humiliation and stripping him of any sense of safety. This experience left Doug with a psychiatric condition so severe it altered his body’s natural functions. Out of fear and shame, he began suppressing his need to use the bathroom—a reaction to the trauma of his foster environment. Over time, this became an involuntary physical response, leading to chronic bowel obstructions, immense pain, and long-term health complications that would plague him for the rest of his life.
As an adult, Doug found himself in Ottawa, battling addiction, homelessness, and mental illness. The systemic failures of the shelter system and healthcare left him vulnerable, exposed, and repeatedly let down. Living in shelters meant enduring constant theft, humiliation, and even physical abuse. He lost everything he had—including the last photograph of his father, a small piece of comfort that meant the world to him.
Doug was also repeatedly targeted by police. On more than one occasion, officers bullied and harassed him for no reason. Once, when Doug called 911 seeking medical help for a bowel-related emergency, the officers who responded assaulted him instead. Experiences like these left him terrified of the very systems meant to protect and support him.
Years of trauma and neglect compounded Doug’s struggles, pushing his anxiety into paranoia and his paranoia into delusions. His schizophrenia, untreated for far too long, became severe. He was incarcerated several times—not for harming anyone, but because the justice system is ill-equipped to handle mental health crises. Upon release, there was no safety net waiting for him. No mental health care. No housing. No path forward.
Through all of this, Doug had one constant: my mother, Wesley. They met in rehab and became inseparable. She was his best friend, his rock, and the only person who stood by him through everything. With her support, Doug started to rebuild his life. He secured an apartment through the CMHA and began receiving monthly mental health injections, which helped stabilize his schizophrenia. For the first time in decades, Doug began to feel a sense of peace. Though we always told him he was loved and a meaningful member of our family, now, he started understanding how to be loved. And he really started to feel better than he had ever before in his whole life. He finally after years trusted, and felt like he belonged. He was a part of our family, and his kindness and his presence and his sense of humour brought joy to all of us.
But systemic discrimination doesn’t ever loosen its grip. Doug avoided hospitals whenever he could because every experience he had there was dehumanizing. He was dismissed, laughed at, or outright ignored by medical professionals who saw him as nothing more than a stereotype. Even when he was in agonizing pain, he, along with so many people facing this discrimination in our society, avoided seeking care. For fear of subjecting himself to the humiliation that simply wasn’t worth it.
In the final weeks of his life, Doug endured excruciating pain. My mom finally convinced him to call for an ambulance, and when paramedics arrived, they were alarmed by the severity of his condition. At the hospital, however, the same systemic failures repeated themselves. Despite his obvious suffering, and the urgency of the paramedics, Doug waited six more hours to see a doctor. After briefly seeing a doctor and being hooked up to an IV, he was told it would be some time before the doctor could return. Doug was allowed to step outside for a cigarette.
He never made it back inside. On his way back through the hospital doors, Doug collapsed. His heart stopped. Although they were able to restart it, he had been without oxygen for too long. His brother traveled from Peterborough to make the heartbreaking decision to remove Doug from life support. He was only in his late 40s.
Doug’s death wasn’t inevitable. It was preventable. It happened because a broken system ignored him at every turn—because healthcare providers, law enforcement, and shelters saw a “homeless addict” instead of a man worthy of dignity and care. Because he was not the kind of guy who would speak up often, especially since when he did increase his urgency or volume he would often be met with a dirty look, a jail cell or just plain disregarded.
Doug wasn’t just a victim of systemic failure; he was my mom’s best friend and a part of our family. He was gentle, kind, and funny in his quiet way. He deserved more than the life he was given, and he deserved better than the death he endured. His absence leaves an aching void in our lives, but his story stands as a testament to what happens when society chooses to turn away from its most vulnerable.
Doug deserved so much more than this world gave him. And we deserve a system that doesn’t let people like Doug fall through every crack—and because of it, this time, he isn’t coming back.
R.I.P.
Johnny Douglas Calberry
We miss you so much, all of us do. And we hope that you know how much we all loved you. Each one of us feels your absence every day. This should not have happened. You didn’t deserve any of the suffering you endured in your life. We love you and we miss you and will always be your real family—Wesley, Liam, Sarah, Sawyer, and Shane.
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