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August 7, 2010
KATHY LINDSEY AND THE TRAGEDY OF DAWN MCSWEENEY
I just read your story! I am outraged! We are so much alike in our story, I understand how you feel, I been there and I am still there! My half sister and half brother (all having the same mom) pushed me aside when step dad (their real dad ) died.They sided with the woman which put my mom in her grave, took all of my mothers belongings,CDs savings,land etc...the list goes on, for themselves. Gave the other woman moms house and land. I got Nothing! They said I didn't belong cause I wasn't one of them, RIGHT I am not one of them, but I am my mothers daughter, just like them.
I have been fighting this since step dad died over 5 years ago. All I asked was fairness for my mothers possessions. I do not want any of his money, for it is evil. Siblings sided and made a deal with the devil. They chose the dollar over their own sister. It makes me sick. But I will continue to fight, until I am heard! These silver tongued lawyers knew better, but like I said earlier, the good ole boys stick together down here! (in the southern USA). Oh, and they claim there is no will. My mom was divorced from that man. He falsified a death certificate,and gained access to all her items in the bank. Still nothing was done. I could go on and on about my case, We have similar injustice going on.
Kathy
Kathy, I thank you for reading THE TRAGEDY OF DAWN and for posting it and for telling your own story. This must happen to so many people, and each of us meets with the stone wall that is set in place by our injustice systems. We are each told that we are alone.
Well, clearly we are not alone. We are legion. Just as devils are legion, so are their victims. We are multitudes of victims, not only of criminals, but of the legal systems of our countries, states, provinces and cities.
May I copy your story? I would like to join it with mine on my blog and copy to politicians and the media. Let us multiply our power.
There are so many victims. There is power in numbers as evidenced by the power of our votes. When the authorities try to make us feel helpless and alone, we must show them that we are neither helpless nor alone - but growing in numbers and growing in strength through the power of our experiences and the truth. Truth - the most powerful weapon in the universe. Villains of every stripe fear the truth.
Well, clearly we are not alone. We are legion. Just as devils are legion, so are their victims. We are multitudes of victims, not only of criminals, but of the legal systems of our countries, states, provinces and cities.
May I copy your story? I would like to join it with mine on my blog and copy to politicians and the media. Let us multiply our power.
There are so many victims. There is power in numbers as evidenced by the power of our votes. When the authorities try to make us feel helpless and alone, we must show them that we are neither helpless nor alone - but growing in numbers and growing in strength through the power of our experiences and the truth. Truth - the most powerful weapon in the universe. Villains of every stripe fear the truth.
Phyllis Carter
Kathy Lindsey commented on your note "HOW TO RAISE A CRIMINAL: THE TRAGEDY OF DAWN MCSWEENEY":
"I will be more than glad for you to copy and use my story in any way that can help, Love Kathy"
"I will be more than glad for you to copy and use my story in any way that can help, Love Kathy"
Phyllis Carter:
HOW TO RAISE A CRIMINAL: THE TRAGEDY OF DAWN MCSWEENEY
The first time I said "No" to my niece Dawn, the toddler cried. My sister, Debbie, forbid me to speak another word. "We do not say 'No' to Dawn. Ever!". When I heard Dawn, then a young teenager, spitting vile insults at her parents, I protested. Debbie accused me of being "old fashioned" and she and Dawn's father, Ed, warned me to mind my own business.
In her early teens, Dawn knocked her father flat on the floor. And in 1992, Dawn struck another teenager with an iron bar. I was visiting when Dawn returned home after using the iron fence post to hit a school mate. She came into the house dancing! celebrating! She was elated. She boasted about what she had done - blow by blow ! She had set out to get him and she did. Her parents approved ! Dawn had the right to express her feelings and the boy surely got what he deserved. I protested. I was told that if I said anything more, I would no longer be welcome.
In 1993, I was diagnosed with cancer. In 1994, I was baptized. That infuriated Dawn! Widowed and ill, I went to live with my own parents in Montreal. In 1995, I caught Dawn's boyfriend standing in my room surrounded by my boxes and cases which I had stored there for years. I felt threatened, but I assumed an easy manner, and asked why he was there. "Dawn told me to wait here for her." he said. "Please go downstairs to the living room and wait there with my mother," I said. "I don't blame you, but it isn't right for you to be in my room."
In an instant, Dawn bolted from the adjacent bathroom in a flying rage and began cursing. I didn't see her face. I only saw her mouth moving. I didn't hear her words. They cut right through me. They were not information: They were something else - Fathomless hatred. Blades wet with venom. A dark, life-consuming whirlwind. Electricity! I was left standing - rigid, empty and breathless - like Lot's wife!
At the beginning of October, 1996, Dawn suddenly moved into my parents' home where I had been living for two years while recovering from breast cancer. Dawn and her boyfriend - known only as "Alex" - (my mother said she didn't know his family name) moved into the bedroom adjacent to mine on the second floor of the cottage. Upon their arrival, Dawn started removing my clothes from hangars and dropping them on the floor, replacing them with her own clothes. She put my toiletries on the floor and replaced them with her own. Dawn and Alex slept on a pile of camping gear and blankets on the floor. Suddenly, the house was rocking with blasting music! I was scared.
But the worst part was that the new tenants were smoking something in their room that made me nauseous. No one else smoked in the house. I was terrified of fire. I put a battery into the smoke alarm in the hall and slept in my clothes for the next few days. It was an alarming few days.
On October 5, 1996, fearing that Dawn would pilfer, I made a new and detailed inventory of all my belongings in my bedroom and in the room next to it where all my boxes and valuables were stored - many since the 1980's. "The safest place in the world, " my parents' home - I believed.
On October 7, 1996, I was suddenly attacked and robbed of everything of value that I had, everything I had worked for all my life, every cherished thing left to me by my husband. Fighting to hold onto the phone, I called 911. The police helped the thief ! I was escorted out the front door by the police and warned never to return to the house. I was rigid, trembling, breathless, in shock ! The police left me alone in the street, cold, homeless and destitute. Everything I owned was left in the hands of Dawn McSweeney along with the lives and property of my aged parents.
To this day, the police have failed to recover my possessions and Dawn and her associates are still free to enjoy the benefits of my precious belongings with impunity.
In the summer of 2007, I discovered Dawn McSweeney's blogspot on the internet: It reads:
grasping at intangibles
Dedicated to partners in crime and kindred spirits.
Voyeurs and well wishers also welcome.
http://graspingatintangibl
IN MONTREAL, CRIME PAYS !
The police cannot say "No" to Dawn. They say they are bound by laws that protect criminals. Police have told me that, as a victim, I have no rights. Debbie's lawyer threatened me with a law suit if I persisted in telling people what Dawn did. When I phoned the lawyer and said I would be so happy to have the case heard in a court of law, he slammed down his phone.
Dawn stole everything I had. I have nothing left worth stealing. Furthermore, telling the truth is not a crime, it is a command: "Expose the deeds of darkness" ( Ephesians 5:11).
Am I afraid? Of course I am. You may want to hear about what Debbie and Dawn and their "Partners in Crime" did to me in June, 2007.
(See THE PHYLLIS CARTER DETENTION - The Suburban, September 5, 2007, and CONDEMNED IN FOUR MINUTES, September 12, 2007. You can also read the hate mail they sent me immediately following my mother's death in June, 2007. in an attempt to intimidate, discredit and silence me.)
I cannot be silent about injustice - for my sake, for your sake, for God's sake.
This is a case of grand larceny aided and abetted by Montreal Police officers.
If I have accused Dawn McSweeney falsely for more than thirteen years now, why hasn't she sued me in all these years? And why did Dawn McSweeney refuse to take the police polygraph test? I have volunteered to take the test more than once. The police refused my offer, saying that they believe me. But they don't act.
I AM ASKING FOR JUSTICE ! I WILL NOT SETTLE FOR LESS.
I invite you to check out my blogs and read about what the Montreal Police did to me. A Montreal Police officer helped the thief to rob me of everything I worked for all my life, every precious thing left to me by my darling husband. And since then, the Montreal Police continue to refuse to investigate these crimes. The cover-up continues to this day as I write on July 9, 2010.
The Montreal Police took me out of my home and left all my belongings and the lives of my aged parents in the hands of the thief.
Once I was out of the house, the thief and her "partners in crime" had months to search through all my belongings at their leisure and take everything they wanted. And they did.
They kept my mother in total isolation for almost a decade. No one was allowed to see her or speak to her from October 7, 1996 to her death in 2007. We learned after her death that, in 2005, they made a will in my mother's name - -when she was 92 years old and handicapped mentally and physically - and then they took everything my father had worked for all his life - his house and all his money - and everything that belonged to me and to my siblings and to their children who were all named specifically in my parents' own wills.
This could not have happened if I had not been removed from the house by the Montreal Police - if the police had proceeded in a lawful and honest manner. What is really behind the police cover-up? Incompetence or corruption?
I continue to pursue this case.
All the details at - http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com/
PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL - http://phylliscartersjournal.blogspot.com/
The first time I said "No" to my niece Dawn, the toddler cried. My sister, Debbie, forbid me to speak another word. "We do not say 'No' to Dawn. Ever!". When I heard Dawn, then a young teenager, spitting vile insults at her parents, I protested. Debbie accused me of being "old fashioned" and she and Dawn's father, Ed, warned me to mind my own business.
In her early teens, Dawn knocked her father flat on the floor. And in 1992, Dawn struck another teenager with an iron bar. I was visiting when Dawn returned home after using the iron fence post to hit a school mate. She came into the house dancing! celebrating! She was elated. She boasted about what she had done - blow by blow ! She had set out to get him and she did. Her parents approved ! Dawn had the right to express her feelings and the boy surely got what he deserved. I protested. I was told that if I said anything more, I would no longer be welcome.
In 1993, I was diagnosed with cancer. In 1994, I was baptized. That infuriated Dawn! Widowed and ill, I went to live with my own parents in Montreal. In 1995, I caught Dawn's boyfriend standing in my room surrounded by my boxes and cases which I had stored there for years. I felt threatened, but I assumed an easy manner, and asked why he was there. "Dawn told me to wait here for her." he said. "Please go downstairs to the living room and wait there with my mother," I said. "I don't blame you, but it isn't right for you to be in my room."
In an instant, Dawn bolted from the adjacent bathroom in a flying rage and began cursing. I didn't see her face. I only saw her mouth moving. I didn't hear her words. They cut right through me. They were not information: They were something else - Fathomless hatred. Blades wet with venom. A dark, life-consuming whirlwind. Electricity! I was left standing - rigid, empty and breathless - like Lot's wife!
At the beginning of October, 1996, Dawn suddenly moved into my parents' home where I had been living for two years while recovering from breast cancer. Dawn and her boyfriend - known only as "Alex" - (my mother said she didn't know his family name) moved into the bedroom adjacent to mine on the second floor of the cottage. Upon their arrival, Dawn started removing my clothes from hangars and dropping them on the floor, replacing them with her own clothes. She put my toiletries on the floor and replaced them with her own. Dawn and Alex slept on a pile of camping gear and blankets on the floor. Suddenly, the house was rocking with blasting music! I was scared.
But the worst part was that the new tenants were smoking something in their room that made me nauseous. No one else smoked in the house. I was terrified of fire. I put a battery into the smoke alarm in the hall and slept in my clothes for the next few days. It was an alarming few days.
On October 5, 1996, fearing that Dawn would pilfer, I made a new and detailed inventory of all my belongings in my bedroom and in the room next to it where all my boxes and valuables were stored - many since the 1980's. "The safest place in the world, " my parents' home - I believed.
On October 7, 1996, I was suddenly attacked and robbed of everything of value that I had, everything I had worked for all my life, every cherished thing left to me by my husband. Fighting to hold onto the phone, I called 911. The police helped the thief ! I was escorted out the front door by the police and warned never to return to the house. I was rigid, trembling, breathless, in shock ! The police left me alone in the street, cold, homeless and destitute. Everything I owned was left in the hands of Dawn McSweeney along with the lives and property of my aged parents.
To this day, the police have failed to recover my possessions and Dawn and her associates are still free to enjoy the benefits of my precious belongings with impunity.
In the summer of 2007, I discovered Dawn McSweeney's blogspot on the internet: It reads:
grasping at intangibles
Dedicated to partners in crime and kindred spirits.
Voyeurs and well wishers also welcome.
http://graspingatintangibl
IN MONTREAL, CRIME PAYS !
The police cannot say "No" to Dawn. They say they are bound by laws that protect criminals. Police have told me that, as a victim, I have no rights. Debbie's lawyer threatened me with a law suit if I persisted in telling people what Dawn did. When I phoned the lawyer and said I would be so happy to have the case heard in a court of law, he slammed down his phone.
Dawn stole everything I had. I have nothing left worth stealing. Furthermore, telling the truth is not a crime, it is a command: "Expose the deeds of darkness" ( Ephesians 5:11).
Am I afraid? Of course I am. You may want to hear about what Debbie and Dawn and their "Partners in Crime" did to me in June, 2007.
(See THE PHYLLIS CARTER DETENTION - The Suburban, September 5, 2007, and CONDEMNED IN FOUR MINUTES, September 12, 2007. You can also read the hate mail they sent me immediately following my mother's death in June, 2007. in an attempt to intimidate, discredit and silence me.)
I cannot be silent about injustice - for my sake, for your sake, for God's sake.
This is a case of grand larceny aided and abetted by Montreal Police officers.
If I have accused Dawn McSweeney falsely for more than thirteen years now, why hasn't she sued me in all these years? And why did Dawn McSweeney refuse to take the police polygraph test? I have volunteered to take the test more than once. The police refused my offer, saying that they believe me. But they don't act.
I AM ASKING FOR JUSTICE ! I WILL NOT SETTLE FOR LESS.
I invite you to check out my blogs and read about what the Montreal Police did to me. A Montreal Police officer helped the thief to rob me of everything I worked for all my life, every precious thing left to me by my darling husband. And since then, the Montreal Police continue to refuse to investigate these crimes. The cover-up continues to this day as I write on July 9, 2010.
The Montreal Police took me out of my home and left all my belongings and the lives of my aged parents in the hands of the thief.
Once I was out of the house, the thief and her "partners in crime" had months to search through all my belongings at their leisure and take everything they wanted. And they did.
They kept my mother in total isolation for almost a decade. No one was allowed to see her or speak to her from October 7, 1996 to her death in 2007. We learned after her death that, in 2005, they made a will in my mother's name - -when she was 92 years old and handicapped mentally and physically - and then they took everything my father had worked for all his life - his house and all his money - and everything that belonged to me and to my siblings and to their children who were all named specifically in my parents' own wills.
This could not have happened if I had not been removed from the house by the Montreal Police - if the police had proceeded in a lawful and honest manner. What is really behind the police cover-up? Incompetence or corruption?
I continue to pursue this case.
All the details at - http://dawnmcsweeney.blogs
PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL - http://phylliscartersjourn
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August 7, 2010
Kathy, With decades of experience, I have gained insight that gets me around all the games and hullaballoo and down to the truth that, once accessed, is clear to intelligent, rational people.
The only language politicians understand is votes. And if the vote only occurs once every four or five years, it has very little impact on what the politicians do.
But if thousands of voters went out in the streets of North America on a given day in peaceful protest against laws that favour criminals and stifle the innocent, that should make a dent.
But the protests must be peaceful and they must be repeated and constant to have a real effect.
Only then will the commercial media take an interest and change will become possible
The only language politicians understand is votes. And if the vote only occurs once every four or five years, it has very little impact on what the politicians do.
But if thousands of voters went out in the streets of North America on a given day in peaceful protest against laws that favour criminals and stifle the innocent, that should make a dent.
But the protests must be peaceful and they must be repeated and constant to have a real effect.
Only then will the commercial media take an interest and change will become possible
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