Tuesday, October 12, 2010


Months after the robbery by Dawn McSweeney at 4995 Prince of Wales, NDG, Montreal, Quebec, Canada on October 7, 1996 -
After I had been pleading with the Montreal Police to recover them for five months, Dawn McSweeney finally returned my stolen belongings - that is - the ones she didn't want.  If I didn't die then, I won't until I get back everything Dawn McSweeney stole.
The robbery took place on October 7, 1996 . Now it was mid March, 1997. I believe it was March 17, St. Patrick's Day. With my heart aching, I carried the suitcase full of empty jewel boxes to the Montreal Police station on Mariette Street in NDG. It is a big old school building taken over at that time by the Montreal Police as their NDG headquarters. The place was dark except for a dim light in the entry hall. There wasn't a sign of a policeman or a police car.
It was the edge of a bitter cold evening. I crossed the street and knocked on the door of a house facing the station. I sat crying my heart out on the icy steps while the people there phoned 911. They were told that I should return to the station and ring the bell. Then a police officer came and answered the door.
What joy it would have given Dawn McSweeney to be witness to my agony when I opened my boxes and cases and found she had stolen everything I had worked for all my life, every precious gift, my every treasure. A lifetime, gone at the hands of a malicious and greedy teenager with the help of the Montreal Police and my mother, a mentally troubled old woman.
The suitcase had been full of my rings, bracelets, necklaces, brooches, silver, gold, opals, diamonds, amethyst, onyx, topaz, designer works of art. She had taken everything - and spitefully sent back all the empty little velvet and cardboard boxes with friends from my church that had gone to 4995 Prince of Wales, NDG, to recover my things when Dawn called.
She had even opened one box from the bottom and removed my husband's rings from a pill vial, replaced the cotton in the vial and put it back in the middle of the box where I had hidden it among my lingerie and socks, and she resealed the box - at the bottom.
How did she know where I had hidden Cliff's rings? She had been listening when my emissary had gone to the house on my behalf a few days earlier and begged my mother specifically to return three of my most precious items, identifying them by labels I had affixed to all my belongings - stored in the house - some since 1988. How do I know Dawn was listening behind the kitchen door?  She opened the door and laughed and told my messenger and my mother that she and Alex  - her boyfriend who had moved in with along with her a few days earlier - had heard every word.
And the Montreal Police - do nothing.
Mid-March, 1997: I showed the police the suitcase full of empty jewel boxes. Then they ostensibly "opened" an investigation. Two male and one female detective came to my place and dusted for fingerprints and finally took the suitcase and the cardboard box to test - they said - at their lab. It really looked serious, official, lots of gadgets. I thought, "At last ! At last !"
Soon afterward, the police told me "There were no fingerprints." They did not say there were many smudged prints. They insisted there were none.
How is that possible? I handled those things. Dawn McSweeney handled those things. Debbie McSweeney handled those things. Boxes that were returned by them were initialled with the letter "D" in felt pen to show they had been checked by either Dawn or Debbie McSweeney ! The people from my church who picked up the boxes and cases handled them. But the detectives insisted that there were no prints whatsoever. Does anyone wonder why I don't believe them?
The detectives told me that Dawn McSweeney and Alex Lavergne had agreed to take polygraph tests and then changed their minds - "on advice of counsel". 
And the Montreal Police - do nothing.
And so my battle continues, relentlessly, day and night, until everything that Dawn McSweeney and her partners in crime return everything they stole from me and from the Rubin Family and until the criminals and their accomplices pay for their crimes.

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