MARC COCHLIN, CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER, ALERT
Human trafficking is one of the most devastating crimes in our communities: it takes on many forms and can shatter lives in different ways. It isn’t one dimensional; it can appear as a one-on-one relationship rooted in domestic exploitation, or it can form through organized groups who come together with a common purpose: to exploit for profit. The nature of exploitation can be non-sexual, such as forced labour, but most often, it’s sexual exploitation.
One of the most common methods we see is the “Romeo approach.” A trafficker identifies someone as being vulnerable. It could be a teen who feels invisible, someone with low self-esteem, or an individual who has trouble at home and often runs away. These “Romeos” identify their victim’s vulnerability and then behaves so the victim believes they’re in love. At first it feels like trust, attention and promises. Then, without warning – it flips. A love bomb turns into a debt bomb: “I got you here, you owe me now.” The boyfriend, the spouse, the person they thought cared for them becomes their trafficker.
The trafficker works to convince the victim that they are the only person who can help them, and that without them, they could not survive. Disobedience or doubt is punished. It’s not always about physical force, it’s psychological warfare, creating fear and dependence that’s hard to escape. Drugs and alcohol are often introduced, building another layer of control. If the victim wants another hit, they’re told they must “do their job,” and then victims begin to “owe” for the drugs too.
Recruitment doesn’t happen in dark places, it happens where teens often spend their time: schools, malls and food courts. Traffickers want to see their victims in person so they can pick out the most vulnerable: it’s the wolf hunting where the sheep gather. It can happen to anyone, even kids from the best homes and the most loving parents. Life can go sideways from one wrong interaction at the wrong time.
Increasingly, we are seeing more female recruiters. Young women are more likely to trust another female, but this too turns ugly. Many of these recruiters are former victims themselves, promoted to become what’s called the ‘bottom girl.’ To reduce the number of dates they have to do, they’re told to go out and recruit others, and it becomes a cycle; a pyramid of exploitation.
We see children exploited online as young as eight to ten years old, though teens remain the most in demand. Group homes are frequent targets, as traffickers know vulnerability already exists there. Organized crime plays a role too, where victims are treated as commodities. Unlike drugs or guns, humans can be sold again and again, ten to twenty times a night. And when international cartels are involved, the threats are deadly. Victims are told they will be killed if they talk, and those threats are real.
Fear is one of the greatest barriers we face in our quest to support those experiencing trafficking. How do you ask someone to trust you when everyone has betrayed their trust? Even the court process can retraumatize victims, forcing them to relive what they’ve endured. If we truly want to support survivors, the process needs to be more centered on the survivor.
This is why our work must be collaborative, as law enforcement cannot do this alone. ALERT works hand-in-hand with the RCMP, municipal police, the Alberta Centre to End Trafficking in Persons, Indigenous policing partners, and other NGOs in this support space. We’ve created a unique approach where safety network coordinators and civilian experts work alongside investigators. When a victim is rescued, the coordinator immediately connects them with survivor support. While police gather evidence such as search warrants, production orders and reports, the coordinator tends to the survivor’s immediate needs.
It’s long-term work, and survivors may not accept help on the first night contact is made. Sometimes they need time before they can reach for the hand that’s being offered to them, but we have to keep that hand extended.
That’s what success looks like: not just the hurrah of a successful arrest, but the recognition, respect and support when a victim becomes a survivor.
