Tuesday, November 30, 2010


November 30, 2010
PAT BURNS' WIDOW AND ME - Dawn McSweeney did the same thing to me that thieves have just done to Pat Burns' widow. I was 60 years old, newly widowed and fighting cancer when I was attacked and robbed. While fending off my attacker, I managed to call 911. The Montreal Police I called to rescue me - helped the thief instead.
The police will pursue the Pat Burns case because he was famous, but they refuse to take any action against Dawn McSweeney and those she proudly calls her "partners in crime" on her own blog.



A new correspondent from California writes:
" A victims first scream is for help; A victims second scream is for justice."
While I was fending off my attacker, I managed to call 911. The Montreal Police I expected to rescue me - helped the thief instead.
Take care of my lambs.
John 21:15
For fourteen years, day and night, I have appealed to the Montreal Police and to members of government in Montreal, and Quebec, and Ottawa to take action against the thief, Dawn McSweeney and those she proudly calls her "partners in crime" on her own blog - and recover everything they stole from me and from my family. To this day, they do nothing.
Expose the deeds of Darkness
Ephesians 5:11
Luke 18: 1 - 8

Sunday, November 28, 2010


Montreal Police Catch 22
In March, 1997, the police told me they could not go into the house where I had lived and been robbed without a warrant. Then get a warrant. No, they couldn't ask for a warrant because, even though all my belongings were still in my home and everything was clearly marked with my name and inventory numbers and I had given them the seven page inventory and all the documents, they could not ask for a warrant because no judge would issue a warrant unless he could be sure beforehand that they would find my belongings there. And so it went. time after time after time - for fourteen years now. The Montreal Police have found endless excuses to do nothing. To this day, they have taken no action to recover my belongings or to bring Dawn McSweeney and her partners in crime to face justice in criminal court.
All the details at

  • http://www.facebook.com/mjstlouis
  • Miki Jo StLouis   I live in Montreal and I understand.
  • Phyllis Carter  

    Oh Miki ! Thank you for writing. This has been such a lonely battle. It has cost me everything I worked for all my life, every gift given to me by my beloved husband and by friends. It has cost me my parents, my siblings and my health. It has cost me fourteen years of days and nights of torment. And it has cost me my faith in Canada and in heroes. And the Montreal Police - do nothing. But I keep on telling the world the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So I have not lost my Self.

    Saturday, November 27, 2010


    From the moment I was attacked and called 911 on October 7, 1996, the Montreal Police started helping the thieves, Dawn McSweeney and those she so proudly calls her "partners in crime" on her own blog.
    First, the policeman I expected to rescue me took me out of my home - physically by my arm - first telling me, in front of my assailant, that I could not take any of my belongings with me and I must never return home for any reason.
    I was 60 years old and fighting cancer. The police left me alone in the street in front of the house without as much as a coat and they just drove away. Everything I owned was left in the house with Dawn McSweeney and her boyfriend, Alex Lavergne. And the police who were supposed to save me never even filed a report.
    This was done to me without any legal process before or afterward, and with no justification.
    Then, at the Mariette Police Station, the police told me that all my belongings would be returned to me if I would just be patient. So I tried to be patient and reasonable. My sister Debbie - Dawn McSweeney's mother - told me that all my things would be returned to me - if I would be patient - but if I did anything to try to get my things back on  my own, I would be responsible for killing my mother and my father. So I tried to be patient.
    When Dawn McSweeney returned all my jewellery boxes - empty - in mid-March, 1997, the police at the Mariette station told me to go to the house and ask for my jewellery.
    So I went to the house where I had lived for two years and where I had been robbed - and I stood on the icy steps pleading for my belongings and crying my heart out.
    And Dawn McSweeney stood in the doorway and mocked me and laughed at me - and then she called the police. And those same two officers who had just told me to go to the house and ask for my jewellery quickly arrived at the house and told me to leave. The woman officer said she didn't want to have to arrest me. I begged her to arrest me since they would not arrest the thief. At least then, we could go to court. But finally, to keep the peace and be the good guy, I left - in the hope that the police would finally help me recover my belongings. But they never even tried.
    In March, 1997, the police told me they could not go into the house where I had lived and been robbed without a warrant. Then get a warrant. No, they couldn't ask for a warrant because, even though all my belongings were still in my home and everything was clearly marked with my name and inventory numbers and I had given them the seven page inventory and all the documents, they could not ask for a warrant because no judge would issue a warrant unless he could be sure beforehand that they would find my belongings there. Montreal Police Catch 22.
    In the summer, I learned that Dawn had a friend who was operating a jewellery store on Prince Arthur, I reported that to Det.Sgt. Sylvie Laverdiere. She  told me to go out and investigate myself and report my findings to her.
    So I drove out to Prince Arthur and made inquiries and I wrote a detailed report to Sylvie Laverdiere. Laverdiere went to the house and standing outside on the front steps, the detective asked Dawn McSweeney for my Borg coat. And Dawn McSweeney gave her my Borg coat. And Det. Sgt. Laverdiere never did another thing to recover all my belongings from the thief.
    And so it went. time after time after time - for fourteen years now.  The Montreal Police have found endless excuses to do nothing. To this day, they have taken no action to recover my belongings or to bring Dawn McSweeney and her partners in crime to face justice in criminal court.
    But I still fight day and night for what is my own and for the return of my father's property to the heirs individually named in his own will - all his children and grandchildren.
    And the Montreal cops keep copping-out.


    These earrings I copied from ebay look exactly like the ones I bought at Birks in the early 1970's that Dawn McSweeney stole. These are selling at a low price. I paid much more for mine. They are but one item among seven pages of inventory Dawn McSweeney stole from me on October 7, 1996.
    No amount of money can replace the precious things Dawn McSweeney stole from me, I was widowed, sick with cancer, homeless and hungry, but I would never have sold those precious gifts. They are worth more than any amount of money to me. And Dawn McSweeney just stole them - with the help of the Montreal Police.
    In March, 1997, when Dawn McSweeney returned all my jewellery boxes  - empty -and the boxes that contained my files, I gave the Montreal Police all the documents to prove my ownership. Seven pages of detailed inventory made at 4995 Prince of Wales, two days before I was attacked, robbed and evicted by the Montreal Police without any legal process or any justification. There were hand drawn sketches and descriptions of every item. A description of where I obtained each item. I gave the Montreal Police detectives the insurance papers, insurance photographs, invoices, appraisals by Henry Segal of Somerled Jewellers and much more evidence to prove that the things that Dawn McSweeeny stole were mine. There was even a letter from my grandmother written in Toronto in my father's presence where she wrote that she was giving me her dinner ring.
    But the Montreal Police made absolutely no effort to recover my belongings which were still in my home at 4995 Prince of Wales at that time.
    And the Montreal Police continue to refuse to take any action against the thieves. Why? There can only be one reason: They are still covering for the Montreal Police officer who helped the thief to rob me. 
    Because the Montreal Police refused repeatedly to take any action against Dawn McSweeney and her partners in crime, they went on to steal everything my father had worked for all his life. Not only did Dawn McSweeney rob us of all our precious belongings, she tore our family apart, and now she writes flowery poetry and she teaches Yoga at Happy Tree Yoga in Montreal, and Dawn McSweeney, the thief, calls herself a Guru.
    And the Montreal Police do nothing.
    I will keep fighting for the return of my belongings night and day to my very last breath.
    To this day, November 27, 2010, the Montreal Police refuse to make any effort to recover what Dawn stole from me and from my family.
    All the details of these crimes are open to the world in the archives at
    Phyllis Carter
    This report is one of many I have sent over the years to:
    Silence implies consent.

    Friday, November 26, 2010


    Item image
    There are millions of jewels like these out in the world, but I only want my own, the ones Dawn McSweeney stole. Nothing can replace them.
    I gave the Montreal Police all the documents to prove my ownership in March, 1997. Seven pages of detailed inventory with sketches and descriptions of every item. I gave them the insurance papers, insurance photographs, invoices, appraisals by Henry Segal of Somerled Jewellers.
    But the Montreal Police continue to refuse to take any action against the thieves. Why? There can only be one reason: They are still covering for the Montreal Police officer who helped the thief to rob me. 
    Item image
    I will pursue this case night and day
    until all my belongings are returned to me.
    There is a REWARD for the return of all the (seven pages of) inventory Dawn McSweeney stole from me at 4995 Prince of Wales, NDG, Montreal on October 7, 1996. A Montreal Police officer helped the thief to rob me and since then, the Montreal Police have repeatedly refused to take any action against Dawn McSweeney and those she calls her "partners in crime" on her own blog.
    If you have any information or can obtain any information about Dawn McSweeney, Alex Lavergne, or Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme that leads to the return of the property they have stolen from me and from my family, please report what you know to Marlene Jennings, Member of Parliament at JenniM1@parl.gc.ca, or to
    Marlene Jennings, MP,
     6332 Sherbrooke Street West, Suite 204,
    Montreal, Quebec,
    H4B 1M7
    Tel:   514- 489-8703
    Fax - 514- 489 2806
    And to the Montreal Police at  
    And to the Montreal Police at
    PDQ 11
    6255, rue Somerled
    Montréal (QC)  
    H3X 2B7
    Telephone: (514) 280-0111
    Fax: (514) 280-0611

    Please contact the commandant of the PDQ 11 to share questions or comments

    Thursday, November 25, 2010


    The attack and robbery that destroyed my family
    is in nobody's jurisdiction
    Because a Montreal Police officer helped the thief.
    Member of Parliament Marlene Jennings
    Stated at two public meetings in 2008
    "Mrs. Carter's Rights Were Violated Three Times"
    The Dawn McSweeney Robbery Case


    My name is Phyllis Carter. I am a Canadian and I am a crime victim. I have been fighting for justice since October 7, 1996, when I was attacked in my home and robbed of everything I had worked for all my life and everything left to me by my beloved husband.
    While I was holding off my attacker, I managed to dial 911.
    The Montreal Police I called to rescue me - helped the thief instead.

    I told the police immediately who had robbed me but, for fourteen years, I have not been able to get the Montreal Police to take any action to recover my stolen belongings from Dawn McSweeney or to take any legal action against her.
    At the Meet the Candidates assembly in NDG on October 7, 2008, Liberal Member of Parliament, Marlene Jennings, stated before all the candidates and the public -

    "Mrs. Carter's Rights Were Violated Three Times".

    The three violations.

    1. In 1996, the Montreal Police refused to file a report of the initial robbery. They have continued to refuse to act ever since.

    2. In 2007, immediately following the death of my mother, the same group of criminals obtained a court order accusing me of being insane and dangerous. I was released from hospital unconditionally as soon as the doctors found out what my accusers had done and why.

    After my mother's death, we learned that -

    3. In 2005, the same group who call themselves "Partners in Crime" created a will in my mother's name when she was 92 years old and handicapped physically and mentally. My mother had been kept in total isolation by these criminals for a decade - until her death.
    The sole beneficiaries of the 2005 will were the same people who robbed me and obtained the court order against me. Then it became clear why these criminals tried to discredit me and silence me.
    Marlene Jennings later repeated her statement at a Sunday service in Rosedale United Church in Montreal.
    But, to this day, the Montreal Police refuse to take any action against Dawn McSweeney and those she calls her "partners in crime" on her own blog.

    I believe there can be only one logical explanation for the Montreal Police to refuse to act against the criminals in this case: One of their own officers helped Dawn McSweeney to rob me - and his partner, who my attacker called "Mario" in a very familiar way - did nothing to help me.
    Read all the details of Dawn McSweeney's known crimes at http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com

    Monday, November 22, 2010


    While most people are absorbed with games and circuses, my circle of friends are overwhelmed by all the reports about the murders of innocent children. But this is not a fun subject and most young people would rather not be bothered about it. It is so much easier to float through the days and weeks pretending everything is about fun and games - and the media cater to those who finance their sponsors. Who has the spending money? Kids.
    In the past, advanced societies were led by the elders, the ones who had acquired experience and wisdom. Now, it is the least wise, the least, educated, the least experienced, who determine everything commercial - everything we get to see, hear and buy. No wonder we are in such a mess.

    Saturday, November 20, 2010



    What have I not investigated, studied, considered, analyzed and reported time and time again to the authorities in the Dawn McSweeney Robbery Case?
    In fact there is something I have not delved into. What happened to the money that was stolen from my mother some time prior to Dawn McSweeney robbing me on October 7, 1996 ?
    I have studied every minute aspect of Dawn's crimes insofar as it concerns what she stole from me and precisely how she did it. I have gone over the details day and night for fourteen years. Never was a crime studied so carefully, scrupulously and with such devotion to the cause of justice.
    But I have no first hand knowledge of who stole my mother's money - the money Dawn persuaded my mother I had taken - the basis upon which - apart from my religion - Dawn worked my mother up into believing I was the devil incarnate. After all, I was the betrayer of the faith - the Christian. Today, I decided to consider the question of my mother's missing money.
    The question is: Who could have stolen my mother's money?
    Who had access in the house ? Dawn McSweeney. My sister, Debbie, Dawn's mother. Ed McSweeney, Dawn's father. Alex Lavergne, Dawn's boyfriend. And me.
    Almost no one ever entered the house, but anyone who did was watched every minute and checked thoroughly before leaving. Anyone who had to come into the house to do essential repairs did not leave the house without my mother physically patting them down and checking their tool boxes. She did it in a joking manner - just kidding - but she did it.
    My father was an honourable man. In 1996, he was sick with cancer and could barely walk. He didn't go anywhere and he didn't need money.  He had laboured all his life and only spent money on taking care of his home and his family. He denied himself totally for decades  - never went to a restaurant or the movies. Never even bought himself a new suit or new shoes. He had given up his car. He didn't smoke or drink. Anything he had went into the house or the bank.
    Who knew that my mother had hidden money?  I had no knowledge of it.  Never thought of it. In fact, in all my life, I never even asked my father what he earned. It was three or four years after I was robbed that someone blurted out that $2,000. had been stolen from my mother. Only then did the pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place.
    I didn't know that my mother had money hidden or missing until then, but then, looking back to the attack, I remembered that my mother was screaming "What did you do with my money?" And she was tearing at my clothes and tearing through the pages of my bible and my purse. At the time, I was in shock - rigid, breathless, faint. It was a nightmare ! I felt my mother had lost her mind and was having some sort of hallucination.
    So we know that the only people who had access within the house in the 1990's and could leave without being checked were Debbie, Dawn, Ed, and Alex - and me. And since I didn't do it, and I am the only one willing to take a polygraph test … Friends of mine who came for a very short visit one afternoon in the summer of 1996, never left my parent's or my sight. They sat in the living room with us for about an hour or so and went out the same door through which they had entered.
    The next question is - Where was the money hidden? My mother could not climb stairs. Therefore, she could not have hidden it in the bedrooms upstairs or in the basement or garage. My mother's activities were limited to the living room-dining room areas, the bathroom and kitchen. If the money had been locked up in the hall closet, only someone who had the key could have taken it. Who had the key?
    While I was living in the house and undergoing cancer treatments from early in 1994 until I was attacked and robbed on October 7, 1996, I tried my best to help out. I mopped the kitchen floor, I washed and folded laundry. I cooked. I washed dishes. Once, while I was folding laundry into a box in the dining area, my mother started scolding me: "Leave it alone ! Pa will do it."
    I wanted to help so I continued folding the laundry. And now, all these years later, I am wondering if that is the area where the money might have been hidden.
    Dawn McSweeney made my mother believe I took that money. Clearly that is why my mother attacked me, leaving Dawn McSweeney with total control of all my property - and tragically - total control of my parents and all their property - and their lives as well.
    Who could have stolen my mother's money ?  The field is very narrow. I am available to take a polygraph test anytime.

    Friday, November 19, 2010



    Melanie Richards, Albert Bissada,  Jodie Duplisea, Geneviève Larocque, Sonya Beaudoin, Emma English,  Brian Tuck.

    If you have any information about the robbery that took place at 4995 Prince of Wales, NDG, Montreal on October 7, 1996, please contact Marlene Jennings, Member of Parliament at JenniM1@parl.gc.ca , and the Montreal Police. Silence is not an option. If you know anything about this robbery or any other crime, you have a moral and legal obligation to report what you know to the authorities.
    Anyone who participates in a crime, before, during or after the fact, is an accomplice. Anyone who gives comfort to a criminal is an accomplice. You are not absolved of responsibility by closing your eyes and ears and pretending everything is alright.
    I have been fighting for the return of my stolen belongings for fourteen years.  I have been reporting all the facts to the Montreal Police, Marlene Jennings, MP and to the media for fourteen years. If I have been telling anything less than the absolute truth, why have the thieves not sued me in all these fourteen years? 
    Montreal Police detectives told me in Spring, 1997 that Dawn McSweeney and Alex Lavergne refused to take polygraph tests on advice of counsel. I told the police that I am available to take a polygraph test at any time.
    I look forward to that day in court when Dawn McSweeney will finally have to face the consequences of her crimes and return everything she and her "partners in crime" - as she calls them on her own blog - stole from me and from our family.
    I will not accept money or any "compensation".
    I want only what is my own.
    I want justice. I will not settle for anything less.
    Silence implies consent.
    The details are open to the public at   http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com.
    Phyllis Carter

    Thursday, November 18, 2010


    Let me begin by saying that I am alive and writing this report today, November 18, 2010, because Jewish General Hospital oncologist, Dr. Francois Patenaude listened to me on April 1, 2009, and took the right actions immediately after emergency room doctor Jerome Stasiak - without speaking to me or examining me  - told me there was nothing wrong with me and ordered me to go home immediately. It took only one blood test to reveal that I had bone cancer.
    I will also make it clear that I believe without a shadow of a doubt that the events I will report here from my own experiences are but the tip of a Titanic iceberg and that such horrible experiences happen all the time in hospital but remain unreported, Silenced. Because patients are afraid to offend hospital authorities.
    I also have no doubt that, while almost all the events I will speak of occurred over the years in the Jewish General Hospital in Montreal, such nightmare experiences happen in hospitals everywhere and are covered up to protect the hospitals from being sued or disgraced.
    I have reported these experiences to the proper authorities - without a satisfactory outcome.
    At the same time, I proclaim that lives are saved every minute of the day and night at the Jewish General Hospital, and I do not hesitate to express my heartfelt gratitude to those doctors who do excellent work with great care. Everyone makes mistakes. My report is not about human error. It is about systemic negligence and cover up.
    Rosemary Steinberg, Ombudsman for the Jewish General Hospital is a very nice woman,. As I understand it, she is supposed to represent the interests of the patients. I believe, however, that her job is primarily to smooth over complaints to protect the hospital.
    The Jewish General Hospital is a truly fine hospital and I owe my life to doctors there. But I have also experienced and observed many serious - even life-threatening problems there - as a patient and as a patients' advocate.
    Some problems - like wheelchair access to the toilets in the emergency department, have been dealt with - but really serious problems have been dismissed with the insult that I am just very sensitive. I could write a book, but it is more expedient to write emails to Rosemary Steinberg with copies to my blog and to members of governments and the media.
    Here are the most outstanding examples of my own experience.
    The colonoscopy from hell - without anaesthetic ! Dr. Vasilevsky is an excellent doctor and a charming woman. I really like her - and I trusted her until she performed a colonoscopy on me, botching the anaesthetic. When I shrieked in unspeakable agony, I was told to shut up because I was scaring the other patients. Afterward, I was left alone in a hallway retching up foamy yellow fluid, until I started to faint.
    Nurses told me to get my clothes on and go home because the clinic was closing and they were leaving to pick up their children from school. I couldn't stop retching even though there was nothing left in me but cramps. Finally they shifted me to an observation area somewhere in the hospital where nurses argued about me taking up space.
    I lodged a formal complaint. Dr. Joseph Portnoy, Chief of Staff of the JGH, wrote me a letter saying I was just too sensitive. Blame the patient for suffering too much. He has done this more than once.
    Years earlier, after a very pleasant doctor named Doctor Sweet performed a test on me for vertigo, I was left sitting in a small waiting area, retching up my last drop of foamy yellow fluid until I almost passed out. Hospital staff passed me by without paying the least attention. It seemed hours before someone took me down to the emergency department for an intra venous treatment to stop the nausea and vomiting. The years pass, but the painful memories remain all too vivid and disturbing.
    In a hospital in Ontario, following  breast cancer surgery to remove lymph nodes, a doctor in training was sent in to remove the pump that was suctioning fluid from my armpit. He said it was a simple procedure and would be over in a minute. Then he ripped the device out. The searing pain shot through me like a hot knife. I shrieked. I saw black.  "Morphine!" He cried. In an instant, I was gone.
    When my child was born, I trusted my doctor completely. He was very kind and I considered him a precious friend, even as I do now half a century later. But he made a very serious mistake too. He performed an episiotomy - and I was not frozen. It took decades until I stopped hearing my scream. I still feel dread when I remember the indescribable searing pain. My scream seemed to travel around the world. I was cut open alive ! When I spoke to him about it months afterward, he still believed I had been frozen. Perhaps he needed to believe it.
    My husband, Cliff  Carter - age 89 - 1991-92  - JGH Emergency Dept. - on the blood thinner Coumadin - he was left with blood pouring from his arm on to the floor after a nurse yanked out an intra venous line and walked away. If I had not been there, no one would have known. Cliff was quiet and polite and he didn't even see that his blood was quickly pouring out into a small deep red pool on the floor. If I had not been right by his side, he would likely have bled to death there and then. No one was paying any attention until I started screaming.
    Perhaps of lesser concern to others, but not to me, is the fact that while Cliff was in the emergency department of the JGH he was left lying in his wet bed for hours while I pleaded with the staff again and again to help me change him. I was completely burned out. I could hardly breathe. Cliff was left there wet - for hours. Finally, I had to be taken into emergency myself for a blood gas test because the doctor thought I was having a heart attack. So while I worried about Cliff, he was worrying about me. And for the very first time in the almost twenty years I was with Cliff, he had an injury - a painful, ugly bedsore. And still, he never uttered a word of complaint.
    Cliff - Age 89 - March, 1992 - left bleeding in the corridor of the JGH Emergency Dept. for eleven days and nights after the doctors pressured me to allow them to remove a loose wisdom tooth. They said he might choke on it if it fell out. I expressed my grave concerns about the blood thinners, but haematologist Dr. Archie Rosenberg assured me that after Cliff had been off the Coumadin for three days, he was in no danger of bleeding.
    My beloved husband bled to death.  My immune system was worn out. Within one year of Cliff's death, I had breast cancer.
    I am not saying that all these doctors are bad or uncaring. I am saying they make mistakes - serious mistakes -  and those mistakes are covered up. Sometimes the mistakes are due to overwork or distraction. Sometimes due to carelessness. Sometimes due to arrogance. The problem is that doctors are not held responsible for their actions or their negligence. Everything is covered up. And patients and their families are afraid to complain, afraid of the doctors, afraid of the system, afraid they will be neglected, rejected, disliked - even killed.
    In the 1970's my friend, Alma Mia Kotsos believed that if she tried to press her doctors to start her cancer radiation treatments more quickly, they would just give her a pill and she would die. The treatment was delayed and delayed. And she did die.
    It is my duty, my great responsibility, to report these facts. Doctors are burying their mistakes and the living are afraid and grieving.
    Stop blaming the victims ! The cover-ups must stop ! Who is responsible ?
    Here are some articles I have written on this subject.

    Sunday, November 14, 2010


    Building Camelot
    One Essay At A Time

    Friday, November 12, 2010


    Union United Church in Little Burgundy, is going to be demolished. It is the spiritual home of generations of hard-working people of colour and the community centre where such gifted artists as Oscar Peterson, Daisy Sweeney and Oliver Jones grew up and the home from which they were sent out into the world to enrich our lives with beautiful music.
    It will be heartbreaking to see that church disappear. It must be rebuilt on the same site, rebuilt well and quickly, incorporating some of the original building's elements because they are sacred - filled with the love, tears, music and hopes of a People who have contributed so much to Montreal and beyond.

    The Church of Notre-Dame-de-la-Défense, located in the heart of Montreal's Little Italy was designated a National Historic Site of Canada in 2002. Along with that designation, the government provided a very generous grant for repair work even though there was a portrait of Mussolini riding on a white horse painted on the ceiling. To receive all that money, the government did not require the church to remove that painting which is still there.

    It is right and just that the government now provide an equally generous grant to Union United Church so that they can get on with the task of rebuilding without delay. Perhaps there could be a mural in the new Union United Church of Oscar Peterson, Daisy Sweeney and Oliver Jones - around a grand piano.

    Thursday, November 11, 2010


    Justice is what makes us Canadian:
    Pierre Elliott Trudeau promised me a Just Society.
    Canadian soldiers died so we might live in a just society.
    Montreal Police robbed me of my right to justice.
    Marlene Jennings, MP, stated publicly,
    "Mrs. Carter's rights were violated three times."
    Quebec's Human Rights Commission says
    I am too late for justice.
    November 11, 2010


    November 11, 2010
    I have just sent the following email to Quebec Elder Abuse.

    Want to bet they will tell me my case is not in their jurisdiction ?
    I am a 74 year old Canadian journalist, cancer patient and crime victim. I have been pleading for justice day and night for fourteen years - since I was attacked and robbed in my home in Montreal, Quebec, on October 7, 1996.
    While I was being attacked, I managed to wrestle the phone from my assailant and call 911. The police I called to rescue me - helped the thief instead. The policeman took me out of my home and told me I could not take any of my belongings with me and that I must never return. This was done without any justification, without any legal procedure whatsoever. The police left me standing on the street alone, homeless and destitute, without as much as a coat - and the two officers just drove away. They did not file a report.
    At the age of 60 and fighting cancer, I had to start my life all over again, from scratch.
    I have been pleading for justice day and night for fourteen years. Quebec's Droits de la personne says I am too late for justice.
    Marlene Jennings, MP, twice acknowledged publicly in 2008 that my rights were violated by the authorities three times, but the Montreal Police still refuse to act.
    Copied to Members of Government and the Media

    Sunday, November 7, 2010


    BEYOND BORDERS  - A film starring Angelina Jolie which features the Ethiopian famine in 1984 enraged the country's government because they say it provides an "untrue" image of the nation.
    BBC News - http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/1874845.stm
    I watch a lot of movies, old and new. When there is extreme violence or gore, I turn away or change the channel. And I am pretty wise about what is real and what is computer generated.
    But, today, I thought I was going to be interested in an old movie about Ethiopia. What I saw was so horrible I couldn't bear it. It looked awfully real to me. Starving children, skin and bones, wounded, dying people. If these images were computer generated, it was the most realistic job I've ever seen - and I couldn't bear to watch any more of it.
    I was moved to send another donation to Doctors Without Borders, but I was reminded about the little girl I sponsored in Ethiopia for five years through World Vision. Here is a letter I wrote about her and about World Vision, published in The Anglican Journal. It speaks for itself. When organizations are about statistics more than about human beings, what are we to do ? Who can we trust ?
    Phyllis Carter
    November 7, 2010
    Found via Google. Actually published a few years ago but still online in June, 2010.
    Cut off from child
    Dear editor,
    For five years, I have shared my social security widow's pension sponsoring a girl in Ethiopia.
    Recently I received a letter from World Vision saying how successful the project has been, and now it is finished and they would like to me take on the sponsorship of another needy child. I would do this, except that World Vision seems to just drop the child and move to the next piece of business.
    I am not allowed to communicate with my sponsored child again. I have no address other than World Vision, Addis Ababa. The child's family has no way of finding me. How cold! World Vision seems to be saying, "Just forget this child. We need your money for the other millions who are starving."
    I am only one senior citizen living on my government pension. I do not sponsor "projects;" I share my limited means with a child I love.
    I would be happy to hear from other reputable organizations which sponsor children in Africa but do not cut you off when the "project" is finished. I can be reached at (deleted here.)
    Phyllis Carter

    Friday, November 5, 2010


    Dawn McSweeney is a thief. I have been reporting her crimes since October 7, 1996, when she robbed me of everything I worked for all my life, every good thing given to me by people who loved me, every sentimental treasure left to me by my beloved husband.
    A few months ago, I discovered that Dawn McSweeney now calls herself a "yoga guru", and she works in Montreal for a company called Happy Tree Yoga. I have given quite some thought to this. It has been troubling me.
    I checked the Happy Tree Yoga website and saw the names of other yoga teachers who work there. And I have been wondering about that. I didn't recognize any of the names of any of the other employees, but I have thought about it. Could some of those other people be implicated with Dawn among her "partners in crime" as she calls her accomplices on her own website?
    I have been wondering how this company could be employing Dawn McSweeney as a yoga guru when I have been reporting her crimes for fourteen years. Don't they know what she has done? Don't they check a person's background before hiring them? Her name appears on Google many, many times and all the facts are there for anyone in the world to read. Don't they care that they have employed a thief to teach their clients the way to Nirvana? If they doubt what they read, could they not have written to me and asked their questions? But no one ever has. The more I think about it, the more I wonder.
    Are any of Happy Tree's other employees also criminals? If so, do the police know? I don't want to blow any undercover operation, but I am only surmising, wondering. I really don't have any information about Happy Tree Yoga except that they are employing Dawn McSweeney - who is a thief.
    If the other employees are honourable people, has management advised them about Dawn McSweeney's crimes? If they are innocent people, don't they deserve to know so they can protect themselves and any valuables they may have? 
    Dawn works slowly and carefully. She may take months or years to accomplish her goals. She smiles, she writes flowery poetry. She could sell the Brooklyn Bridge to the President of the United States. My mother trusted her, but my mother was mentally handicapped, so she was an easy target. Once a psychiatrist at the Jewish General Hospital Davis Building told my mother - in the presence of our entire family - that she needed psychiatric treatment. My mother told the doctor that HE was crazy, and she never went back.
    After my mother's death - after Dawn had robbed my mother and then robbed me - she wrote passionate poems of adoration dedicated to my mother. Dawn McSweeney can mislead almost anyone. But I doubt she could fool a polygraph machine which is, no doubt, why she refused to take a police polygraph after she robbed me. I have told the police that I am available to take a polygraph test at any time.
    I don't want Dawn McSweeney to lose her job. But did she stop robbing people after she stole all my valuables and received her share of the will made  in my mother's name  by one of her "partners in crime" - a stranger named Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme - a will made when my mother was 92 years old and handicapped mentally and physically?
    Prior to her death in 2007, my mother had been kept in total isolation for almost ten years by Dawn McSweeney's "partners in crime". When I found that my mother had been taken out of her home, I begged the Montreal Police at the Somerled station to go and see my mother's condition, but they refused.
    Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme made the bizarre new will in my mother's name in 2005. Dawn McSweeney and her mother, my youngest sister, Debbie Rubin McSweeney, were the only beneficiaries in Prud'homme's will that cut out all my father's legitimate heirs who were specifically named in his own will. All his children and grandchildren were omitted from the Prud'homme's will. Debbie and Dawn took everything my father had worked for all his life - his house and all the money he had saved all his life by denying himself even a new suit or a new pair of shoes. He wanted everything to go to his children and grandchildren. Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme and Dawn McSweeney had other plans. 
    Dawn should have plenty of money after robbing all her relatives. But some thieves never can stop. So, I hope she does not lose her job because she might then start to rob other trusting people, like my parents - who both died after years of being apart from all their children and grandchildren - having their family torn apart by Dawn McSweeney.
    Both my parents went to their graves not knowing the truth about what Dawn had done to our family. My mother believed Dawn because she pretended to be a sweet and devoted Jewish girl - while I had chosen to be baptized and was, therefore , "the enemy" - the devil incarnate. Dawn sold my mother on that story and, because of her mental state and her helplessness, she believed her. Even as a young girl, Dawn could fool her own mother, Debbie, but she never fooled me, and she despised me for not falling under her spell and succumbing to her will..
    Dawn McSweeney is a thief, and by her lies and crimes, she destroyed my family - her own family. She is a very convincing actress. Goldilocks. But never turn your back when she is around.
    I apologize for waiting so long to write this report, but I didn't want to risk Dawn losing her job and starting to rob other innocent people. I will not approach anyone directly, but someone should let the employees at Happy Tree Yoga  know about Dawn McSweeney so - if they are not involved in her crimes - they can protect themselves and if, by chance any of them are, they should know that I copy all my reports directly to the Montreal Police, members of government and to the media.
    Full reports of Dawn McSweeney's crimes and her history are open to the public at    http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com.

    Tuesday, November 2, 2010


    I was about eleven years old when I first laid eyes on Cliff Carter. I was working in my family's store, Metropolitan News, at the crossroads of the nation, Peel and St. Catherine Streets in Montreal, selling newspapers from all over the world. My family was teaching me the business. And Cliff, a singer and pianist, had just come to Montreal from the United States to play at The Clover Cafe across from the Montreal Forum.
    As time passed, Cliff came to play in the Candlelight Room of the Diana Grill right next door to our store. I was too young to go down into the nightclub, but I could watch Cliff through the restaurant's storefront window and listen to his sweet music flowing out into the evening air over the loudspeaker. And that handsome man would look up at me and smile and make funny faces at the fat little girl in blue jeans.
    And that teenage girl dreamed that one day, somehow, Cliff Carter would discover she could sing and invite her to be his partner. To me, he was always The Gentleman at the Piano. I listened to his radio shows and I started a fan club - and I sent all the fan mail myself. And he dedicated songs to me, and to my mother, and to my grandmother who also worked in our store selling Irish linens and fine English Bone China.
    Decades later, Cliff would remind me that he would play a song I requested on his radio show. "Stella By Starlight". He remembered that. I didn't. Decades later, Cliff told me he had seen me riding a horse at the corner of Peel and St. Catherine when I was fifteen. He remembered that. I didn't even know he had seen me.
    I brought home every Hit Parade song book and I listened to the radio and memorized all the songs of the day. Someday he'll discover me. I studied theatre arts at the Montreal Repertory Theatre  - dramatics with Eleanor Stuart, voice and diction with Dorothy Danford, stage makeup with Griffith Brewer and history of the theatre, with Miss Stehle  I studied opera with Mme. Pauline Donalda, founder of The Montreal Opera Guild and co-star of Nellie Melba and Enrico Caruso. Some day. One day.
    I met so many fascinating people while working at Metro. Metropolitan News was my alma mater. Eddie Feigelman was an impresario - a theatrical agent - a big man with a big heart. One day, Eddie told my father that there was to be a Red Cross Blood Donors' Marathon at a Montreal armoury. All sorts of entertainers would take part. I overheard - and I dared to ask if I might have a chance to sing. Eddie said, maybe. Was I ever thrilled when I received a telegram announcing that I was included on the program and a volunteer would come to drive me to the armoury. I was about sixteen.  I had never sung in public before. Thrilled, surprised - scared. I put on my salmon colour gown and my parents bought me a rose corsage. I still have that flower in a scrap book.
    It was a cold, dark and icy night. The doorbell rang and a gentleman who identified himself as "Harry" waited to help me down the slippery steps to Uncle Harry's School Bus.
    I had told Eddie Feigelman that I had no accompanist. Eddie said, "Don't worry about it." Don't worry about it? How could I perform in front of a huge audience and television cameras without an accompanist? God would provide. I went forward in a haze, my heart pounding with fear and anticipation.
    The lights were out in Uncle Harry's School Bus. My guide told me there was one other passenger on the bus - "so don't get scared". There was only one person on the bus. I hadn't seen him in years. One person  - who happened to be the partner of my dreams - Cliff Carter.
    That night, for the very first time, Cliff played for me to sing .When I stood up there on the stage in front of all those people and the lights and cameras, everything went white and I thought I would faint. I couldn't think of a word or a tune, Cliff played an arpeggio  - and my mind cleared and my pounding heart slowed down - and I opened my mouth, and I sang Blue Moon and Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.
    I had never sung in public. I had never sung with an accompanist other than Peter Miller, my first singing teacher, and Mme. Donalda's sister, May Lightstone, who played for my lessons. I had never sung for Cliff before. And yet, when I opened my mouth to sing, he knew exactly what to play.

    In 1954, Cliff returned to the United States. Shortly afterward, I married " a nice boy" and settled down. But my heart never settled. There was always something missing. I became more involved in politics and journalism. Twelve years passed and there was no word from Cliff. My dreams of becoming a singer were set aside like childhood's beloved toys - but they were kept in a secret place somewhere very deep in my heart. "Someday" had not yet come, and I didn't think about it. I just felt restless, insecure and incomplete. I loved my family but I rarely felt happy.
    Cliff returned to Montreal in the late 1960's, but we rarely saw him. There followed years of turmoil in my life and, unbeknownst to me, also in Cliff's .
    One day, my parents received a phone call from Cliff. He was playing at The Raphael in Montreal and he invited our family to come. It was Christmas time, 1972.
    Cliff and I sat on the winding staircase in The Raphael to pose for a souvenir photograph. Something deep inside me stirred at that moment. Daylight. Awakening. I attributed it to sentiment. But I soon realized that it was something much richer. It was persistent and overwhelming and warm, and the newfound excitement brought hope back into my life. And terrible fear. There would be a lot of heartache before there could be any peace. Our incompatible marriages had both been on the rocks for years and had to be carefully dissolved before we could breathe freely. Out of the ashes of that painful transition, The Sheba - a new me - was born.
    One January night in the late 1970's, Cliff was invited to play for a business party on the 34th floor of the Chateau Champlain Hotel in downtown Montreal. The baby grand piano stood by the bay window overlooking Dominion Square. Cliff played and we sang and the guests applauded. The guests surely thought I was singing for them. In truth, I never sang for the audience. I always sang for Cliff alone.
    The white moon shone as I gazed down in awe at the park. The dark night was brightened by the sparkling snow and Christmas lights and the great church way down below looked like a pretty toy. Miniature cars and people scurried about. It felt like a dream.
    Just then, I experienced a stunning revelation. It struck me like a zap of  lightening. From where I was standing at the bay window on the 34th floor of the Chateau Champlain Hotel, I could see the exact spot where, as a young girl, I had so often stood with my nose pressed against the window pane listening to Cliff play the piano in the Candlelight Room. I saw myself there, as I was back then - a young girl, enchanted. I felt now what I had felt back then. At that moment, I knew deep in my heart that there was a heaven watching over us.
    " I believe in love. I believe in music."
    Phyllis Carter 
    The Sheba

    October 31, 2010

       Cliff Carter , " Mr. Nostalgia "
    The Gentleman at the Piano
    His Claim to Fame
    Cliff Carter saved the life of W.C. Handy when he fell onto the subway tracks.
    He participated in a pageant celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Emancipation Declaration: Booker T. Washington was present at that event.
    Cliff's grandmother and great-grandmother were teachers at Hampton College where Booker T. Washington was a student.
    As a young lad, Cliff sat to lunch at Mrs. Pickenpack's apartment with Matthew Henson, the man who trained the dogs and led Robert Peary to the North Pole on April 6, 1909.
    He ran foot races with Jessie Owens in the park.
    He lived in the home of Fats Waller's sister. He filled in for Billie Holliday.
    He played for Princess, (later Queen) Elizabeth and Prince Phillip in Montreal.
    Cliff's godfather, Charles Luckyth " Lucky" Roberts wrote Moonlight Cocktails.
    Cliff made pancakes for Bing Crosby when he would come to rehearse at Lucky's home.
    At Lucky's house, Cliff met Sigmund Romberg, George Gershwin and other great artists. George Gershwin came to Lucky to ask his help with some of the difficult fingering for Rhapsody in Blue.
    Godfather, Lucky, and Godmother, Lena, were stars in Sissel and Blake shows.
    Cliff retrieved Lucky's diamond ring, repeatedly lost in gambling to Bojangles Robinson.
    He met Enrico Caruso and knew his daughter, Gloria.
    He won trophies for his ballroom dancing.
    He set an unofficial foot-racing record for the Newark, New Jersey, Athletic Club.
    Cliff invented a sepia solution which he sold to Eastman ( before Kodak), for $100.00.
    He was a chef on the old Penn Railroad when everything was cooked from scratch.
    He sang with Art Tatem at the piano.
    He was probably the first Black person to appear on stage at the Hippodrome Theatre.
    He taught himself to play the piano at the age of thirty-seven - just by watching.
    His repertoire consisted of approximately 3000 songs, but he did not read music.
    Cliff could play ANY piece of music immediately upon hearing it for the first time.
    He composed several songs, some of which appear on his only commercial album,
    "Cliff Carter, Mr. Nostalgia" . RCA Records. 1982.
    Cliff recorded this album for Thrill of a Lifetime-CTV, just weeks before his 80th birthday.
    He learned to drive a car when he was in his mid-fifties.

    He worked on a cattle boat to South Africa with his friend, son of a Zulu Chieftain.
    He polished torpedoes in WW I.
    He saw Houdini perform his straight-jacket escape while hanging high above the pavement in New York City by a single rope.
    He was acclaimed for his elegant penmanship and was chosen to inscribe graduation certificates for a famous American naval academy.
    Cliff had his own radio shows in Montreal in the 1950's.
    He made numerous radio and television appearances in Montreal and in New York City.
    More about Clifford John Manning Carter
    Cliff Carter played piano and sang from Java to Broadway, where he had his own band.
    Cliff's personal friends of long-standing included Duke Ellington, Cab Calloway, Cozy Coles, Art Tatem, Count Basie, Fats Waller, Louis Armstrong and Billy Daniels.
    He was also associated with Sarah Vaughan , Dorothy Lamour (whom he always called "Dottie"), Lena Horne, Liberace, W.E.B. Dubois, Mae West, Nat King Cole, Percy Rodriguez, The Mills Brothers and so many others.
    Cliff visited Germany at the time of Von Hindenberg.
    He was a professionally qualified portrait photographer and earned his living doing fine embroidery and bead-work.
    Cliff saw Halley's Comet in 1911, but we both missed it in 1986 due to overcast skies.
    Cliff and I first met when I was about eleven years old. It was my dream to sing love songs with Cliff Carter, but I never seriously believed that some 25 years later, we would be married. We lived and loved and sang together for almost 20 years. His smile was like sunshine, his voice like honey. Cliff was adored by everyone he met. He was a gracious, easy-going gentleman in the best of times and in the worst of times.
    Recognition by Thrill of a Lifetime and RCA records was a major highlight in both our lives. Another came in the Autumn of 1986 when Cliff Carter and The Sheba performed in the Parliament of Canada at the Black Orpheus Gala for the Harambi Foundation.
    Cliff Carter left us on March 25, 1992, eleven days before his 90th birthday.

    The world has never been as lovely since then.
    Phyllis Carter
    The Sheba
    Label: RCA Victor KKL1-0445
    Item Number: 15-70577
    Release Country: Canada
    Release Date: 1982
    For more about Cliff Carter, see