As a journalist, I have covered many stories about murdered and missing women. I worked in Prince George and broadcasted to the communities along the infamous Highway of Tears. So far at least, 18 women have disappeared or been killed along the stretch of highway between Prince George and Prince Rupert so I'm familiar with the stories of some of these women in a professional context. So when CBC released its database of murdered and missing women, I wasn't it expecting it to touch me personally.

When I opened up the database, on the front page there was a photo that I recognized, a photo that I took.

Samantha Paul was a member of the Kamloops First Nation. She was reported missing in 2013 and her body was found in 2014. (Jenifer Norwell/CBC) Samantha Jane Paul was reported missing to the RCMP on September 17th, 2013 and her body was found in June of 2014 by ATV riders who were in the area. I first met her back in 2011.At the time, I was finishing up my journalism degree at Thompson Rivers University in Kamloops. A friend of mine worked at the Ask Wellness Society and I began talking with her about the idea of photographing some of the women who accessed one of the group's programs called the Social and Health Options for Persons in the Sex Trade program otherwise known as the S.H.O.P. My idea was to take a series of portraits of these women doing things that they are passionate about. Looking back, it was a bit idealistic but my idea was to give these women some professional photos of themselves. My thinking was that often the photos that we see of vulnerable people aren't always flattering or even representative of who they are. This series was to be a counter-point to that, photos of the women the way they would like to be seen.

I approached Carmen Carr. She was coordinating the program at the time and I talked with her about the idea. I think she wanted to make sure that my intentions were good because I wanted to work with a vulnerable population, but she eventually invited me to meet with some of the women and see if they were interested in the idea.

I met them in the basement of the society's building. There's a kitchen off to the side and the program hosts weekly meals, prepared in part by the members. I was a bit nervous to meet with the group because given modern technology why would they need me to take their photos, but at the same time, there was no harm in asking. The response was overwhelming. By and large, every person that was there was interested in having their photo taken.

For Samantha, we went down to the nearby Thompson River to take the photos. I remember her getting ready in the basement bathroom, putting on makeup to be ready for the photos. She put on purple sparkly eye makeup and brought a number of different outfits so she could make outfit changes during our session together. Four years on, I don't remember too much about her. Just that, me, taking hundreds of photos made her uncomfortable and I spent much of the time reassuring her that the photos were turning out well. She was photogenic and I ended up getting some fun photos of her, including a favourite of mine — one where she's jumping in the air. I just liked it because it showed some of her personality and that she was willing to relax a bit.

It was disconcerting to see a face I recognized staring out from the database. In the photo, Samantha is wearing a white shirt and dangly earrings and unlike the photos around her, the shot looks professional and she looks happy.

Desiree Smith was the mother of a 13-year-old daughter when she died. (Jenifer Norwell/CBC) The most difficult part about seeing this photo is that it's not the first time that I have seen a photo from my project in a similar context. Just about a month and a half before, another photo of mine showed up on my Facebook feed. This time it was Desiree Smith.I took her photo a few weeks after the photo shoot with Samantha. The photos of Desiree had her standing beside a tree, wearing a black shirt and smiling. The article beside it was not so happy. Her body had just been found in the Thompson River in Kamloops. She had been missing since November and her friends and family had been looking for her. Police don't suspect foul play in the case, but it was still disconcerting to see that she had died. After I found that first photo, I called my husband and tried to explain how I was feeling. I didn't have a clear answer for why I was so upset, just that someone I had known and photographed had died. Now seeing the second photo this time showing that Samantha was murdered, really added to my feelings.

I think the closest emotion I can choose is guilt. I feel guilty because I hardly remember anything about these women beyond the fact that I was trying to get good pictures of them. I remember talking with Desiree about how I didn't want her to post my photos on Facebook because of copyright issues. These photos were supposed to be printed in hard copy so they could be framed or sent out to loved ones. I remember that she looked at me like I was crazy and I realized that she was likely going to post them anyway. What I realize now is that they wanted the photos for social media to show people that they were doing well and I was worried about my copyright.

In covering the cases of murdered and missing women, I have tried to be sensitive of the people behind the stories. What this experience made me realize is that perhaps I've not been as aware as I would have like to be. Four years after I took these photos, I remember only the barest details of these women's lives. Of the seven women that I ended up photographing in this series, two of them have ended up either missing or dead. It seems like such a high ratio. I took these photos so they would be seen the way they wanted to be and now these photos are just part of their legacy. I'm left feeling a bit like I'm still part of the problem. I met these women, talked to them and photographed them and I still hardly remember them. It's not to say that they didn't make a difference in people's lives, but to me it speaks to how vulnerable women can sometimes be dismissed and forgotten and I feel I'm perhaps part of that attitude.