There’s a chill in the air. And it’s not the kind that comes from a bitter northern wind—it’s colder than that. It seeps in under the skin, settles in the bones. It’s the creeping realization that something has gone terribly wrong in this country. And no one’s answering for it.
Justin Trudeau walks through the halls of power with that same boyish grin, the same rehearsed charm, as if nothing ever happened. As if the past decade didn’t leave this country bruised, broke, and bleeding. As if he can simply turn out the lights, slip out the back door, and vanish into some lucrative post-leadership gig while the rest of us are left to pick up the shattered pieces.
But the ghosts are stirring.
Trudeau still needs to pay for what he’s done to Canada.
It’s not about vengeance. It’s about reckoning. About holding to account the decisions that gutted our economy, eroded free speech, inflated away our savings, and pitted neighbour against neighbour in a grim ideological war. The country we once knew—the proud, strong, free nation that stood with quiet dignity—is barely recognizable under the weight of what’s been done in its name.
Look around. Families are barely scraping by while the elite grow fatter on government contracts and foreign deals. Small towns are hollowing out, businesses shuttered, hope abandoned. And through it all, Trudeau posed for cameras, painted pretty words over ugly truths, and told us it was all for our own good.
But people are waking up.
The darkness isn’t just around us—it’s inside the institutions we once trusted. The media, the banks, the government itself. All of them turned a blind eye as the country unraveled. And Trudeau? He was the ringmaster of the whole twisted circus. Yet now, as whispers of his exit grow louder, there’s a sickening suggestion that he might just leave without facing consequences. Like a magician disappearing in a puff of smoke.
No. Not this time.
There’s a reckoning coming, whether the establishment likes it or not. You can feel it in the tension of every town hall, the quiet fury in kitchen table conversations, the smoldering resolve in everyday Canadians. This isn’t a partisan cry. It’s something deeper. Something darker. A national wound that won’t heal until the truth is dragged into the light and those responsible are forced to answer for what they’ve done.
Trudeau doesn’t get to vanish into the sunset with a legacy whitewashed by friendly headlines and puff-piece biographies. History won’t forget. And neither will we.
He may think the storm has passed.
But in reality?
It’s just beginning.
Trudeau doesn’t get to vanish into the sunset with a legacy whitewashed by friendly headlines and puff-piece biographies. History won’t forget. And neither will we.