Dennis MacKenzie started his day on Wednesday with news that an ex-soldier was involved in an apparent triple murder-suicide inside a rural Nova Scotia home.

But it would be hours before he knew that his friend and fellow Afghanistan war veteran, Lionel Desmond, is assumed to have pulled the trigger, killing his wife, mother and 10-year-old little girl.

Their deaths have raised questions about why some veterans still struggle to find help with post-traumatic stress disorder after being released from the military, despite promises of improvements to the system.

MacKenzie is left with more questions than answers, too.

"Obviously the extremity of this, it's easy to say it's shocking no matter who the person is," MacKenzie said.

"But just to even know that this man in particular was anywhere near that point was just utterly, utterly shocking."

Two different outcomes

MacKenzie and Desmond started their military careers together at battle school, rooming together in an old dorm called "the shacks."

Years later, it's his friend's smile that stays with him.

"He was just the guy to light up a room," MacKenzie said.

After training, they were posted together at CFB Gagetown, where they waited for the the call that would see them deployed to Afghanistan. It came in 2007.

Both struggled with post-traumatic stress disorder and adapting to civilian life after that tour.

MacKenzie found treatment in medical marijuana and it's given him his life back.

Relatives say Desmond looked for help too, trying different medications, including medical marijuana. He even went for treatment at a Montreal rehabilitation centre.

But family members say the nightmares and flashbacks just wouldn't go away.

How did two men who started their careers together have such different outcomes?

MacKenzie can't pinpoint an explanation.

"I really wish I could," he said.

"If I had that answer, then I don't think I'd need to be talking to you today."

A difficult transition

Lionel Desmond was part of the India Company, 2nd battalion, Royal Canadian Regiment in Afghanistan in 2007. (Facebook/The Canadian Press) It's not the first time MacKenzie has grieved a military brother.

His tear-streaked face was on the front page of newspapers across the country ten years ago, as he held up the casket of a friend.

Six men — five from Base Gagetown — were killed by a roadside bomb on Easter Sunday 2007. It was an incident that planted the seeds of a decade-long battle with PTSD.

But MacKenzie's struggle with PTSD really began when he was released from the military in 2013, forced to leave his old life behind and adopt civilian life.

He found himself trying to navigate a confusing web of services and a mountain of paperwork, all on two hours of sleep per night.

"Especially when you're released for something like post-traumatic stress, there's a lot to be taken in," MacKenzie said.

"There's a lot that you have to learn. The release process does not really help you with that."

After taking pharmaceutical drugs that left him a haze, MacKenzie tried medical marijuana more than a year ago.

Immediately, he started sleeping again. And then his mind began to change.

Now, he volunteers with Marijuana for Trauma in Charlottetown, helping an endless stream of veterans navigate paperwork and other roadblocks. He survived, and he wants to help others.

He doesn't know what could have saved Desmond and his family.

But he sees a system filled with gaps that could be improved for others who struggle with life after service. He wants someone to do something.

"This is a nationwide epidemic that we need to get under control."

Falling through the cracks

Gary Walbourne, Canada's military ombudsman, worries that some former soldiers are falling through the gaps as they transition to civilian life. (CBC) Canada's military ombudsman has also raised red flags about the gaps facing soldiers as they transition from the Department of National Defence to Veterans Affairs Canada.

Gary Walbourne has called for a simpler system that where veterans have their benefits in place before they're released from the military.

"I worry about the continuity of care," Walbourne told CBC News.

"If it's not in place prior to release, that becomes a gap where someone can slip through."

Walbourne wouldn't speculate on whether Desmond fits the description of a former soldier who fell through the cracks.

But he does see the death of Desmond — along with his wife, Shanna, mother, Brenda, and little daughter Aaliyah — as a wake-up call.

"We have to look at the system that we created and it needs to be changed. It's just not functioning in today's environment."