When I signed up to attend Truckers Against Trafficking’s first B.C. coalition-building event in Prince George, I wasn’t sure what to expect—or, honestly, why an event about human trafficking would need voices from the resource and energy sector in the room. By the end of the day, that question had answered itself.
Human trafficking (HT) isn’t confined to any one industry, city, or demographic. It moves along the same highways, through the same hotels, and into the same work camps that fuel B.C.’s economy. And stopping it takes the same breadth of people who build that economy: RCMP investigators, survivor advocates, municipal councillors, trucking companies, pipeline contractors and energy majors, all in the same room, working from the same playbook.
Why Prince George, why now
Prince George sits at the crossroads of Highways 97 and 16, with rail lines running through it—a natural hub for mining, oil and gas and forestry. That same connectivity that makes it an economic engine also makes it a target. The city saw $350 million in construction last year, with one project alone expected to bring $1.6 billion in 2025. Every major workforce influx is an opportunity traffickers watch for.
TAT has run more than 100 coalition-building events across North America, but this was the first in B.C. Co-hosted with Enbridge, the City of Prince George, the B.C. Trucking Association and the Human Trafficking Prevention Network of B.C., the event made one thing clear: this was meant to be a starting point, not a one-off.
What law enforcement is seeing
RCMP Insp. Lindsay O’Rourke laid out how coercive control works in practice—love bombing, identifying a victim’s unmet needs, gift-giving that quietly becomes debt bondage, and isolation from anyone who might intervene. Most victims in Canada are Canadian, not foreign nationals, and most are women between 18 and 24, though O’Rourke has encountered victims as young as 11. Because victims are manipulated rather than kidnapped, they rarely self-identify, which is why the people around them—coworkers, hotel staff, truck stop attendants—are often the first line of defence.
The economics are stark: a single trafficking victim can generate $168,000 to $336,000 a year, which is part of why organized crime groups are shifting from drug trafficking toward human trafficking. A victim can be exploited repeatedly; a shipment of drugs can’t.
A survivor’s perspective
Carly, a survivor of domestic sex trafficking who now works to embed survivors within police HT units, walked the room through the real mechanics of exploitation: luring, grooming, coercion and control—never kidnapping. She was clear about why victims stay: fear of the trafficker, fear of the unknown and the trauma bond itself. What got her out wasn’t a raid—it was an undercover officer who treated her as a person and connected her to ongoing support. Her message to the room was simple: education is power, and it has to start early and be honest.
Where industry fits in
This is where it clicked for me. Traffickers follow workforce influxes—construction camps, pipeline builds, trucking corridors—because that’s where large groups of men with disposable income gather. TAT’s own data shows over 56,000 energy professionals and 62 energy companies or contractors have already gone through their training. Dave Earle of the B.C. Trucking Association noted that human trafficking awareness is now built into mandatory entry-level driver training, reaching 4,000 to 5,000 new Class 1 drivers a year in B.C. Enbridge described embedding HT awareness training into its Sunrise Expansion Program before construction even begins.
None of this is about industry policing itself out of guilt. It’s about recognizing that companies moving large workforces into small communities have a front-row seat—and a responsibility—to watch for the warning signs: cramped housing, workers being bused in and out with no independence, withheld documents, wages diverted to employers instead of workers.
The gaps still to close
The room was honest about who wasn’t there yet: unions, mining companies, other energy operators, provincial and federal government staff, tourism and hospitality and rideshare and delivery drivers—all frontline observers who could be trained but currently aren’t. Attendees left with concrete commitments: Prince George councillors agreed to revisit bylaws licensing body-rub parlours and escort services, a pipeline contractor committed to folding HT awareness into orientation for up to 1,000 workers, and Enbridge is now building a post-training strategy beyond its initial commitment.
Get involved
Human trafficking prevention isn’t a specialist issue—it’s a community one, and every sector has a role. TAT’s training videos, print materials and app are free, and quarterly impact tracking is the only ask in return.
Private sector organizations interested in training, partnerships, or getting involved can reach: Bethanie Lyall, Canada Program Manager—[email protected]
Public sector, government and law enforcement inquiries can reach: Dylan Wecht, Director of Public Sector Engagement—[email protected]
If Prince George’s event proved anything, it’s that this fight doesn’t belong to one sector. It belongs to everyone who shares the roads, the camps and the communities where trafficking hides in plain sight.
Resource Works News
