OP-ED: Alberta’s lax abortion regime enables human traffickers

Richard Durr writes, "A system meant to “free” women is now being used to enslave girls. And what may have begun as a tragic blind spot is becoming something far darker."

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Author: Richard Durr

She was thirteen when she was first sold.

She’d never heard of Red Deer. She didn’t know where they were going—only that they’d been driving for three days from Montreal. She stopped counting after the second night. She knew the rules: keep quiet. Do what you’re told. Smile when—if—the door opens.

The men who trafficked her didn’t worry. Alberta was good business. The routes were predictable. The profits were higher. And in places like Red Deer, no one was watching.

Then she missed her period.

She didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to.

The minder noticed. He always did. That was his job: watch the girls, track the bleeding, report anything that might interrupt business.

The man in charge didn’t yell. He didn’t hit her. He just picked up the phone.

There was a process for this. A quiet solution.

No doctor’s visit. No age check—not that it would have mattered. Just two pills, mailed discreetly to the door of a short-term rental in southeast Calgary. One to stop the pregnancy. One to flush it out. Reproductive freedom—streamlined for traffickers.

She swallowed them both. He made sure of it.

First, the one to stop the pregnancy. The second, 24 hours later, to destroy the evidence.

She bled through the night on a stained mattress, alone. No nurse. No follow-up. No one to ask who did this to her.

And the next morning, she was back to work…

This isn’t fiction. It isn’t hypothetical. It’s the hidden reality behind Project Endgame—Alberta’s largest human trafficking bust.

Police say the traffickers operated across three provinces for over a decade. The victims were “coerced, transported, and exploited.”
But what they don’t say is what allowed that exploitation to continue, year after year, in the shadows: Alberta’s permissive, on-demand abortion regime.

Because in Alberta, a girl of any age can obtain a chemical abortion with no ID, no in-person medical exam, no parental notification, and no questions asked. She doesn’t even need to take a pregnancy test. She doesn’t even need to make the call herself. Another woman—an older girl, or the trafficker’s assistant—can do it for her. No proof of pregnancy required. All it takes is a phone call and a mailing address. Or the trafficker standing over her, watching, listening. He never needs to leave the room. He never needs to lose control.

Surely this was never what the champions of “choice” intended. But when safeguards are stripped away in pursuit of absolute autonomy, the result isn’t empowerment—it’s exploitation.

A system meant to “free” women is now being used to enslave girls. And what may have begun as a tragic blind spot is becoming something far darker. When a 13-year-old girl can be trafficked, abused, and silenced with a phone call and two pills, we must ask: who, exactly, is this system protecting? But she is not the exception. She is the victim of a system functioning exactly as it’s been designed to—with no guardrails. That’s not liberation. That’s a license for exploitation.

And so the girl disappears again—into another rented room, another man’s car, another abortion booked by phone.

Until someone rescues her.

Or doesn’t.

For all the Alberta government’s efforts to fight trafficking, there’s a glaring loophole in its strategy—one traffickers depend on. Its name? On-demand abortion access.

“Human trafficking is a serious and often hidden crime that devastates lives and communities,” said Public Safety Minister Mike Ellis. He’s right—it is hidden. But what makes it so easy to hide? What lets abusers erase the evidence and keep their victims trapped in silence?

A trafficker can control a young girl’s body, her movements, and even the consequences of his crimes—because Alberta allows it. If we are serious about protecting the exploited, we must be serious about what’s enabling their continued exploitation.

We are told that traffickers are moving west because they can make more money here. Paul Brandt warned of “predictable routes” and “cross-border situations.” And what are we doing to stop them? At the southern border, fewer than 1% of imports are inspected, and nothing arriving by train is searched. The CBSA admits it. So does Minister Ellis, who called it “extremely concerning.”

But the same principle applies here at home: when there are no checks, no screenings, and no accountability, criminals exploit the gap. If traffickers can cross borders without inspection, why wouldn’t they exploit abortion access that’s just as unguarded?

Minister Ellis says, “We’re not just trying to make headlines—we’re trying to change lives.”
Then let the change begin here.

Change the policy that lets predators cover their crimes with a phone call and a mailing address.
Close the loophole that puts abortion—chemical or surgical—in the hands of men exploiting vulnerable girls, with no age restriction, no parental notification, no questions, and no oversight.
Because right now, Alberta rescues victims with one hand—and hands them back to their abusers with the other.

Richard Dur is an award-winning political consultant with extensive experience working on campaigns across Canada. In addition to his professional work, he serves as the volunteer Executive Director of Prolife Alberta, an organization dedicated to advancing pro-life public policy in the province.