When it comes to breaking the cycle of domestic abuse, two stories from opposite sides of the spectrum—one of hope, the other of tragedy—have recently captured the attention of communities across North America. Both stories underscore the urgent need for new approaches to tackling intimate partner violence, and they raise a pressing question: Are we doing enough to prevent these tragedies before they unfold?
In Waterloo Region, Ontario, a groundbreaking initiative is quietly reshaping how communities respond to gender-based violence. The Engaging Men program, launched in 2023 by the Women's Crisis Services of Waterloo Region, is turning heads for its bold focus: providing free, voluntary counseling and support to men who have perpetrated violence against women and want to change. It's a shift from the traditional emphasis on supporting victims alone, and it comes at a time when police and social service agencies are grappling with the limitations of the criminal justice system in preventing abuse.
"We're trying to put the responsibility where it lies, on the person who is causing the problem," said Jude Oudshoorn, a counselor with the program, in an interview with CBC. "We do have an epidemic of intimate partner violence in our communities and all of our data, all of our information, shows us that the vast majority of perpetrators are men... We're never going to arrest our way out of intimate partner violence."
Since its inception, about 80 men have completed the Engaging Men program. The course consists of eight counseling sessions and often includes referrals to additional supports, such as addiction services or mental health care. The program is designed for men who recognize their harmful behavior and are ready to take steps toward change. According to the Women's Crisis Services, the program is both free and voluntary—an important distinction that, as it turns out, makes a world of difference.
Waterloo Regional Police officers play a crucial role in referring men to the program. Detective Constable Andrea Gilker, from the intimate partner violence unit, explained that officers must carefully assess whether a man is genuinely ready to participate. "If I see that a couple has had police involvement more than once over a relatively short period of time, then we might mark them as being a good candidate for early intervention," she told CBC. Referrals can come from patrol officers or detectives, and the process involves ongoing conversations to gauge the man's willingness to confront his behavior.
"There's really no downside to supporting men," Gilker said. "When we help them, we help their partners. It's good for everybody." She added that many men are surprisingly receptive to the offer of help. "We get a lot of feedback from frustrated men who admit that nobody's ever offered them help like this before. A lot of them are happy to accept that assistance."
The results speak volumes. According to program director Trish Sabourin, feedback from participants has been overwhelmingly positive. In surveys, 93 percent of men reported being overall satisfied with the program, 96 percent said they would recommend it to someone they know, and 89 percent felt they had learned better ways to approach conflict. These numbers suggest that, for many, the program is more than a lifeline—it's a turning point.
Oudshoorn has seen firsthand the impact that early intervention can have. "I've done this in prison-based, community-based contexts... when it's often times a bit too late, they say 'I wish I'd asked for help sooner.' I think it's a bit of a misconception that once men start to become problematic in their relationships they don't want to change," he said. "We hold the bar really low in our communities around our expectations of men."
Gilker agreed, emphasizing that the benefits ripple outward. "It's helping their partners. It's helping their children. It's helping the community... It has far-reaching impacts," she said. "I think this is something that is going to be essential. Moving forward, most police services are going to have to have a way to provide services to men... [through] partner agencies around us able to offer those supports."
But while Waterloo Region offers a glimpse of what proactive, community-based intervention can achieve, the harrowing case of Mariah Samuels in Minneapolis is a stark reminder of what happens when the system fails to act swiftly.
In August 2025, Mariah Samuels made the difficult decision to end her relationship with her boyfriend, David Wright. That same night, Wright tracked her to a north Minneapolis home, where she was dropping off her 11-year-old son. According to a no-contact order later filed by Samuels, Wright assaulted her—pistol-whipping her, throwing her against a fence, and grabbing her by the throat. She called the police, provided a statement, and her friend, who witnessed the attack over Facetime, also gave a statement. Surveillance footage captured the incident, and a police risk assessment flagged Wright as a serious threat.
Yet, despite these red flags, no investigator was assigned to the case. For three weeks, Samuels waited for follow-up that never came. Then, in a devastating turn, she was shot ten times and killed outside her own home—just hours after calling 911 again to report that Wright had violated a restraining order. Wright is now charged with her murder.
"She called the police because she was scared," Samuels' sister, Salina Owens, told the Minnesota Star Tribune. "They didn’t do their job. That’s just the bottom line." Her words echo the frustration and heartbreak felt by so many families who have lost loved ones to domestic violence.
The case has prompted soul-searching within the Minneapolis Police Department. Chief Brian O'Hara, responding to the Star Tribune's investigation, has ordered a thorough review of the department's handling of Samuels' case. He has also mandated that every officer in the force be retrained on domestic violence protocols by the end of 2025—a move intended to prevent similar tragedies in the future.
These two stories—one of prevention, the other of loss—highlight the stakes involved in how communities and law enforcement address intimate partner violence. While programs like Engaging Men show that change is possible when men are given the tools and support to break old patterns, the tragedy in Minneapolis is a sobering reminder of the consequences when warning signs go unheeded and systems break down.
As communities across North America grapple with the ongoing epidemic of domestic violence, the lessons from Waterloo and Minneapolis are clear: prevention must go hand in hand with protection, and innovative solutions—rooted in compassion, accountability, and early intervention—are essential to breaking the cycle for good.
