"[When] I came to work, I fully expected the road to be blocked off, but there was nothing," said MacDonald. "We had to make a call whether we stayed open or closed, and what have you, so we did close the shop for a couple of days." 

Some people visiting the area said they were shocked by what happened. 

Julie Ross and her partner are in the province for the first time, biking the Island. A local store owner told them about the incident. 

"The gentleman working behind the counter mentioned it to us, and just said, 'You might want to be careful if you're biking up that way,' so that gave me a little bit of a start, I'm not going to lie," said Ross. "But it hasn't changed our plans at all."  

CBC News spoke with several people who didn't feel comfortable being interviewed on camera, out of fear for their safety. However, one senior who lives alone said this incident has stolen more from people in the community than money could ever replace. 

Police 'following up on tips'

RCMP, who issued an alert late Friday night warning people of an "active" and "dangerous" person in the area, said Monday that they're continuing to follow up on tips. 

Cpl. Gavin Moore said the RCMP Major Crimes Unit has been in the area for the entire weekend along with general duty officers. Ground Search and Rescue members and an RCMP police dog team are among those scouring the area, he said.

Julie Ross, who was on a bicycle tour of western P.E.I., heard about the beach attack on a stop at a local store.

"We are following up on tips and we've been able to rule out quite a number of the tips that come in," Moore said.

"We've been doing neighbourhood inquiries and speaking with residents. We've also gone through to local businesses seeking information, any video footage that may be available."

• Residents 'unnerved' as RCMP search for man accused of attacking woman with sword on P.E.I. beach

The attacker was described as being five feet 10 inches tall, wearing a dark surgical mask and possibly a green hoodie.

'It's traumatic for the community'

The motive is still unknown, as well as any link between the attacker and the victims.  

"We do ask that Islanders remain vigilant, keep their doors and windows locked, and keep an eye out for each other," Moore said.

'An incident like this is quite jarring. It's traumatic for the victims involved. It's traumatic for the community and the Island as a whole,' says Cpl. Gavin Moore of the RCMP.

"An incident like this is quite jarring. It's traumatic for the victims involved. It's traumatic for the community and the Island as a whole."

Police are asking anyone with information, no matter how insignificant it may seem, to contact them at 902-853-9300.

Rickety wheels slice through the undisturbed gravel of the race track in Prince Albert, Sask. A man in a cowboy hat declares that the first chariot race will start soon.

After donning helmets, vests and a need for adrenaline, the drivers guide their horses into position. A horn blares and the crowd cheers as hooves beat the ground, producing plumes of dust that hang in the air long after the horses rush past.

Darryl Burns calmly sits on a nearby aluminum bench, his eyes tracking every rotation of the wheels on his grandson's cart.

Burns has competed in races like this for 50 years. The competition, family, equestrian passion — they all provide him brief solace in this moment.

"It takes my mind off all the turmoil," says the 64-year-old.

One year after Canada's worst mass stabbing, Burns and other members of James Smith Cree Nation say addictions, violence, grief and trauma continue to pervade their community. 

But slowly, some are finding ways to feel safe again — for themselves and the next generation.

A morning of terror

On Sept. 4, 2022, 32-year-old Myles Sanderson unleashed uncontrollable violence on central Saskatchewan. Most of it happened in his own community of James Smith Cree Nation, which has some 3,400 members. About 1,900 of them live on reserve approximately 200 kilometres northeast of Saskatoon.

Early that morning, Sanderson and his brother, Damien Sanderson, were seen drinking excessively before breaking into a home in James Smith.

Sanderson attacked a man with scissors, but Damien broke it up. The brothers left, then got into a fight. 

Damien's body was found days later in a nearby bush.

The first 911 call came after the first attack at 5:40 a.m. Two RCMP officers arrived in the First Nation less than 40 minutes later.

Sanderson, however, was faster — swiftly moving from house to house, stabbing people in their own homes.

Eventually, he fled the First Nation in a stolen car and killed a man in the nearby village of Weldon, Sask.

• Leaders at James Smith Cree Nation voice concerns, hopes on anniversary of stabbings

• Myles Sanderson did all the killing in Sask. stabbing rampage, brother among victims: RCMP

Then, less than three hours after his first attack, Sanderson disappeared. He evaded police for days, and the ensuing manhunt captivated the world.

On Sept. 7, RCMP spotted Sanderson in a stolen truck on a highway near Rosthern, Sask., about 130 kilometres southwest of James Smith. Officers chased him, forced his vehicle off the road into a ditch, and arrested him.

Shortly after, RCMP say Sanderson went into medical distress and died in police custody.

There would be no answers from the man who killed 11 people and hurt 17 others.

Eleven people were killed in the Sept. 4, 2022 stabbings. Most were from James Smith Cree Nation. One man was from Weldon, Sask. 

Finding the tools to heal

As an addictions worker in James Smith, Darryl Burns wants to see programs tailored to his community, which he says has never experienced something like this.

"We've never had someone stab 11 members of basically their own family. We need to do as many different things as we can," he says before pausing. 

"We may not heal them all, but if we have a good enough start, our people are going to be healing our people because we'll have all the tools."

Burns lost his sister, Lydia Gloria Burns — known as Gloria — in the attacks.

Gloria, a 61-year-old addictions counsellor, was part of a local first-responder team. A mother who'd been stabbed called her for help.

Lydia Gloria Burns gives a speech at her niece's wedding years ago. The 61-year-old, who was part of a first-responder team, died while attending a call for help during the stabbing attacks in James Smith Cree Nation. (Submitted by Darryl Burns)

The woman's adult son was already dead. One of her younger sons was hurt, along with another boy.

While Gloria was helping the woman, Sanderson returned and killed them both.

• Myles Sanderson was violent on James Smith Cree Nation days before stabbing massacre began: RCMP

• Brother describes 66-year-old veteran killed in Saskatchewan stabbings as 'always smiling'

One year after his sister's senseless death, Burns says he'd tell her, "We're trying to move on."

"I'd let her know how much impact she made on every one of our lives. All the brothers, the nephews and nieces. All the grandchildren. How big of a hole she left in our lives."

Complex trauma, complex grief

Health officials with James Smith Cree Nation say there are eight therapists assigned to work with the victims' families — two therapists were already on staff before the stabbings.

The community health clinic added six others after the attacks, using funding from the federal government.

"This is complex trauma at its finest, and it has all these intricacies," says Glenda Watson, a contracted therapist from Ahtahkakoop Cree Nation who has worked with James Smith families since the week of the stabbings.

Glenda Watson is one of eight therapists working with the families of victims in James Smith Cree Nation. She works across northern and central Saskatchewan and speaks at conferences like this one in Duck Lake, Sask.

She says the incident robbed survivors of any sense of safety. Many struggled to sleep, for example, because they were always on edge.

"If the body doesn't feel safe, how are they going to feel safe talking about it?" 

Watson says somatic therapy — paying attention to and addressing how the body expresses trauma — really helped.

"That's literally all they were trying to do was learn to function again."

The Saskatchewan Coroners Service promised mental health support during two inquests in the new year. An inquest into the events of Sept. 4 is scheduled for January in Melfort, Sask. An inquest into Sanderson's death in police custody was pushed to February or March.

• 'Picking up these pieces': Daughter of Sask. stabbing victims says healing journey will be long, complicated

• Survivors of James Smith Cree Nation stabbing rampage try to move past their 'never-ending pain'

Indigenous Services Canada (ISC) has spent $9.3 million to help James Smith after the attacks. That money has gone to therapists, funerals, renovations to damaged homes, new housing and social programs. It's separate from the $42.5 million the federal government has promised for long-term resources and a new wellness centre.

Michael Marion, James Smith's health director, says the community plans on using $3.2 million of the long-term funding for next year's programming, travelling to check out health centres at other First Nations, and holding open houses so residents can have their say.

"It takes time to come up with a good program," Marion says.

"We only get one chance at this. We have to make sure we do it right and get the community involved."

• Inquests into James Smith Cree Nation stabbing rampage tentatively scheduled for January 2024

• Federal funding for James Smith Cree Nation sparks hope for healing, change in wake of mass stabbings

Watson warns that healing will be a lifelong process.

"It's no different than residential school — we are still living with the complex trauma, complex grief stemming from that experience," she says.

"This is not something that has an easy answer or an easy resolve. We are a people dealing with a lot."

Barriers to help

But Justine Head says her brother didn't get any help from the band after surviving the stabbings.

"He doesn't trust anybody anymore," she says.

Keenan Head was treated in hospital for 20 stab wounds and a punctured lung. When he was released, his sister says he stayed in a hotel. Since then, he's been homeless.

Health officials with James Smith say they worked with nearby community partners in the aftermath to check on survivors in other cities, but Head says no one visited her brother.

Justine Head describes how she wants help for her brother, Keenan Head, who was injured in the stabbings, but survived. 

"They should have gone out to see him instead of expecting him to come to them," she says. "To go see what he really needed and wanted."

Like Sanderson, Head says her brother lives with addictions and has a criminal record — he's been convicted of assault in the past.

Briefly this summer, Head was on the run and considered "armed and dangerous" by police. James Smith Cree Nation was locked down until Head was arrested.

• James Smith Cree Nation grappling with what to do with public donations after 2022 attacks

• Parole records reveal Saskatchewan suspect's violent history

Head says her brother was ostracized after the attacks because of his past, creating a barrier between him and the help he needs. 

"When the tragedy happened, he wanted to change his ways. He so badly wanted to change his ways, but yet there are still people looking down on him," she says.

"Why can't they see a person trying to change?"

Ceremonies, counselling and sobriety

During a humid July afternoon in Duck Lake, Sask., it's hard to tell what's rumbling in the air — the drums or the thunder.

Hundreds of people are in a field watching a Horse Dance — a traditional Plains Cree ceremony. Four horses and their riders gallop around a teepee. 

Brian (Buggy) Burns is a lead holder — taking the reins as the animals pause.

"I feel relieved," he says after the ceremony ends. "Like the stress is gone, the grieving is gone a little bit."

Brian (Buggy) Burns says traditional ceremonies, counselling and sobriety have helped him be there for his sons after they lost their mom and oldest brother. 

Buggy was away at a rodeo when Sanderson snuck into his home on Sept. 4 and attacked his wife, Bonnie Goodvoice Burns, his adult son, Gregory (Jonesy) Burns, as well as two boys, one of whom is another of Buggy's sons.

Bonnie was the one who called Gloria for help. They died together. Gregory was also killed, but the boys survived.

• Mass Saskatchewan stabbing shows gap in system allowing suspect with arrest warrant to be at large

• Experts, family say many questions remain unanswered in James Smith Cree Nation tragedy

Buggy says ceremony — and frequent counselling — helps him be there for his family. He also quit drinking this summer after a bleeding ulcer put him in the hospital and gave him a scare.

"I didn't want to leave my boys. They've already lost so much. I put the bottle away ever since," he says. 

"It's emotionally tough, but you know, you gotta battle through."

A shift in the community

As painful as the last year has been, Darryl Burns says he's seen a shift in James Smith Cree Nation as younger people embrace their identities and histories with ceremony.

"We've had hundreds of years of oppression. If we can start making our children proud of themselves, that's going to be huge for our future," he says.

"So, no matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how hard the task is, we have to keep going."

• James Smith Cree Nation holds first powwow since mass stabbing

As he watches his grandson fly down the track, Parker, Darryl's two-year-old granddaughter, waddles up to him.

He picks her up and points to where his family's chariot cuts through the gravel path.

"Look at Nathan gaining! Look!" A smile spreads across his face.

Though Nathan crosses the finish line last, Darryl's smile doesn't fade. He envelopes Parker's tiny hands in his and claps them together.

"Yay!" he coos at the toddler, her pigtails bouncing as the two clap their hands as one.

The out-of-control wildfire threatening Hay River, N.W.T., is encroaching even further on the community after what fire officials are calling an "extremely challenging" day of firefighting Saturday.

But crews successfully kept the fire back from structures for a second day as high winds continued.

The wildfire is now half a kilometre west of Hay River's industrial area, and half a kilometre from West Point First Nation along the West Channel. It is still one kilometre west of the airport. 

It also burned within 100 metres of Highway 2, but air tankers kept it from reaching the highway.

In an update late Saturday night, N.W.T. Fire said the fire grew to the east, pushed past Birch Creek and into Wood Buffalo National Park. 

The fire agency said Sunday is expected to bring four to eight millimetres of rain and favourable north winds, which would push the fire back on itself.

At last count, this wildfire has burned about 462,749 hectares of land — a little over 4,627 square kilometres. There are more than 220 people on the team fighting it, with 12 helicopters, 23 pieces of heavy equipment and at least 10 air tankers.

Fort Smith fire grows toward Thebacha

Meanwhile, fire crews working on the wildfire south of Fort Smith faced some extreme fire behaviour in areas Saturday as well, with high winds and clear skies.

Parks Canada said in a Saturday night update that the fire is now roughly half a kilometre from Thebacha, northwest of Fort Smith, and reached the Salt River in some places. It forced crews to fall back into safety zones after they ran sprinklers in the area.

They planned to have crews patrol the Thebacha road looking for spot fires throughout the night, in case the wind carried embers closer to the area.

Crews also had to pull back along Hay Camp Road south of Fort Fitzgerald as fire activity made the area unsafe in the afternoon and took down a lot of trees. In that area, the fire was mostly heading east toward the Slave River, Parks Canada said.

A helicopter flies through smoky skies over a flare-up on the wildfire threatening the Fort Smith area. (Fort Smith Protective Services/Facebook)

The update said there had been no reports of the fire breaching containment lines south of Fort Fitzgerald.

Two firefighters sustained minor injuries as a result of a treefall incident at the Hay River fire on Aug. 26, Mike Westwick, N.W.T. Fire information officer, said in an email. He added that both people received treatment and are doing well. 

He said the incident involving "contact with a propeller" occurred on Aug. 15. Westwick did not respond to questions asking for more details on the incident but said that individual is recovering.

"All of this underlines the hazards involved in wildfire operations," Westwick said.  

He said the incidents are being investigated by internal safety personnel as well as the Worker's Safety and Compensation Commission. 

"We will take the lessons of these investigations to learn, coach, and do everything we can to help prevent incidents in the future," Westwick said. "Safety is paramount in our work, and take any incident that occurs extremely seriously."

He said N.W.T. Fire would not be identifying the individuals in the interest of their privacy. 

Damaged airtanker

"They were actively trying to assault the police officers. I think the fact that we have multiple people injured, some with some fairly serious injuries, I think the whole incident is troubling. On top of that, this impacted the entire city because we had to pull resources from other areas," said O'Brien. 

The Calgary Police Service said it considers this to be a serious event and has dedicated resources to keep the peace. 

"This is not a protest. This is a violent conflict between two groups with opposing views," O'Brien said.

EMS spokesperson Adam Loria said in an emailed statement that paramedics attended an incident in northeast Calgary with the Calgary Police Service at approximately 5:30 p.m. Saturday, and 11 individuals with non-life threatening injuries were taken to various hospitals.

Michael Teclemariam, host of the Eritrean Radio Show on CJSW 90.9 FM in Calgary, noted that this isn't the first time a clash like this has happened in Canada. 

Last month there was violence at an Eritrean festival in Edmonton, and a similar clash in Toronto. At those events, protesters from the Eritrean diaspora opposed events that billed themselves as celebrations of Eritrean culture.

"I am actually disappointed for the Eritreans because they're both brothers in a way, so it's not a good thing to have violence," Teclemariam said. 

He said a point of contention is over festivals — some in the community say the festivals are connected to the Eritrean government, distributing propaganda and raising money for the state.

CBC previously reported that some view demonstrations as a chance to raise their voice in opposition to a repressive regime when those in their home country cannot.

Teclemariam said others see the festivals, which have been going on for a long time, as a way to celebrate and demonstrate free speech. 

Daniel Egubat, public affairs officer with Eritrean Canadian Community Association of Calgary, wrote in an emailed statement to CBC that the organization would like to sit down with the City of Calgary and other government officials to come up with plans to avoid such events. 

"We call all Eritrean society in Calgary to focus on what matters [to] them in their day-to-day life and also be able to use the power of logic," he wrote. 

"This should not take place in our peaceful city and also elsewhere." 

A business model that relied on dealers

When OxyContin (oxy) was first released in 1996, it was marketed as a wonder drug: a powerful, non-addictive painkiller. Its manufacturer, Purdue Pharma, and the distributors began an aggressive campaign to sell the drug. 

Doctors and pharmacies were pushed hard to prescribe and dispense OxyContin for any pain — from major surgery to a sprained ankle. In the film, Papantonio describes  the main message as ''Hey, we've got this wonderful new narcotic that's not addictive." 

But as prescriptions increased, more people became hooked. "You're addicted to OxyContin within a two-week time," said Alex Dimattio, a former drug dealer who started selling in 1999.

And as more patients became addicted, the illegal market for oxy grew. In The Oxy Kingpins, Dimattio and another former dealer who goes by "Doug" explain how easy it was to get more pills. 

Dealers would take groups of people — strangers, family members, anyone available — to pain clinics and doctor's offices, where a physician would write each person a prescription regardless of their complaint. The dealers then loaded the group into a van and took them to a pharmacy, where the prescriptions would be filled. 

"It was crazy. One doctor writing [prescriptions] for 500 [or] 600 pills," Doug recalled. "I mean, enough to kill 10 terminally ill cancer patients — giving it to somebody with a twisted ankle." 

Pushing pills and ignoring the obvious

The U.S. Controlled Substances Act requires distributors to monitor how much medication is delivered to retailers. But Carol Moore, an investigator working on the lawsuit, discovered that those checks and balances were ignored as the demand for oxy skyrocketed.

The three largest American drug distributors — McKesson, AmerisourceBergen and Cardinal Health — shipped as much of the drug as pharmacies asked for, making billions of dollars in sales.

Reading from an email thread between two employees, Moore revealed the level of awareness among drug company staff: "'Just got a release today. You will receive 1,200 bottles on Thursday morning.'" And she continued with the reply: "'Keep 'em comin'! Flyin' out of here. It is like people are addicted to these things or something. Oh, wait, people are.'"

Records show that millions of pills were supplied to small towns whose populations couldn't possibly absorb the volume. And distributors seemed to know exactly what was going on. 

"They knew that there were people in the field that were illegal distributors," said Papantonio. "When you deliver 12 million pills to a town of 500 people, the criminal is going to get his hands on some of it. You can't run from the fact that you know that.…

"The people who were making the drugs, they understood that this was a cash cow for them. The manufacturers, the distributors, the big-store pharmacies — they're all part of it." 

The wrong people were punished

Hundreds of thousands of people have died since the beginning of the opioid epidemic. Families have been torn apart. 

The opioid crisis, the film finds, is an epidemic of design: one driven by profit chasing. And Papantonio's lawsuit is an attempt to hold the distributors and manufacturer responsible. 

"McKesson: $194 billion in revenues is what they had last year — $194 billion," Papantonio said. "But they don't want to pay their share now to rehab all of these people that they have intentionally addicted. And I say 'intentionally' because I truly mean it."

In July, Papantonio's legal team and collaborating law firms secured a $26-billion settlement with the Big 3 drug distributors and manufacturer Johnson & Johnson, with the caveat that the money will pay for treatment and education programs in affected communities. 

In recent years, greater awareness and a push to stop overprescribing OxyContin has not decreased the demand for opioids. Instead, a market for illicit opioids like fentanyl has emerged in North America, leading to a spike in overdose deaths. 

As The Oxy Kingpins reveals, thousands of street criminals, including drug dealers and users, have been imprisoned, along with hundreds of doctors and pharmacists.

"Everybody that touched that drug after they finished making it went to jail. But [the distributors] get their money," said Dimattio, the former dealer. "These guys do the same thing I was doing, but they don't call themselves drug dealers. So they don't get the jail time and they don't get everything taken away from them."

In fact, for their roles in the crisis, the pharmaceutical executives were compensated — handsomely. The CEOs of the top 3 distributors made hundreds of millions during their tenure amid the unfolding crisis. 

"I mean, at the end of the day, you got to give it to [John H.] Hammergren," Dimattio said of the former CEO of McKesson, the largest distributor of pharmaceuticals in the U.S. "I mean, the guy won.… 700 and something million dollars. I've met some gangsters, and that guy's a f--king gangster."