Friday, July 30, 2010


Dawn McSweeney teaches Yoga in Montreal, Canada.
Dawn McSweeney writes poetry.
Dawn McSweeney robbed me of my life's treasures on October 7, 1996 - 
And she shattered my family.
I reported the crime to the Montreal Police as it was happening, as I was being attacked in my home at 4995 Prince of Wales, NDG, Montreal, Quebec, when I called 911.
The Montreal Police I called to rescue me helped the thief instead.
Since then I have reported all the details of the crimes of Dawn McSweeney and her self-proclaimed "partners in crime" to the Montreal Police and members of government at every level.
I provided the Montreal Police with all the documents of ownership to prove my claims, appraisals, insurance papers, insurance photographs, and minutely detailed descriptions of every item. Dawn McSweeney stole seven pages of inventory - all my best jewellery and cherished personal items including my wedding portrait and my darling husband's New Jersey Deputy Sheriff's badge, his trademark Stetson fedora, and his rings.
Member of Parliament Marlene Jennings twice declared in public that my rights were violated by the authorities three times.
Member of Quebec's legislature, Russell Copeman, appealed for justice on my behalf.
But Dawn McSweeney and her partners in crime are still free to teach Yoga, write poetry and enjoy the fruits of their crimes with impunity. Like Karla Homolka, Dawn McSweeney walks free among civilized people, looking sweet and harmless.
Montreal police detectives told me that Dawn McSweeney and her partner, Alex Lavergne, both refused to take a polygraph test.
I have volunteered to take a polygraph test at any time. The police refused me twice. They said they believe me.
But the Montreal Police refuse to take any action against the thieves who destroyed my family. At least Karla Homolka went to trial. Dawn McSweeney has not even been charged. The Montreal Police continue to refuse to take any action against her.
Why ? What immunity does Dawn McSweeney have with the authorities?
I believe that the reason the Montreal Police have avoided dealing with this case is not because Dawn McSweeney has any special power over them, but because that Montreal Police officer helped Dawn commit the crime on October 7, 1996, by turning over all my possessions to my assailant and warning me never to return to the house to recover my belongings.
Once he did that, the police at the local station covered for him - telling me to be patient and all my belongings would be returned to me -  and after that, officers along the chain of command covered for them - telling me that there were "NO FINGERPRINTS" on the cases Dawn McSweeney finally returned empty in March, 1997. The cover-up followed all the way to the top - when Quebec's Police Ethics Commissioner Denis Racicot wrote that the case was closed - when in fact, it was never open.
In fact, in March, 1997, when I showed the police at the Mariette Station the case full of empty jewellery boxes that Dawn returned, they told me to go to the house and ask for my jewellery. I went to the house and, while I stood in front of my home in the cold pleading for my belongings, Dawn McSweeney laughed at me and mocked me - and then she called the police. The same officers who had told me to go to the house and ask for my jewellery came to 4995 Prince of Wales and asked me to leave. I refused. The female officer begged me to go or she would have to arrest me. I asked her to arrest me so that I could present my claims in a court of law. But she pleaded with me to be patient and leave. And I left.
I have been reporting this crime since October 7, 1996. Dawn McSweeney has not sued me in all these thirteen years. Why ?
Because every word I have reported is the truth, and there are no laws against telling the truth.
The wicked flee though no one pursues;
But the righteous are as bold as a lion.
Proverbs 28.1
But Quebec's Human Rights Commission says I am "too late" for justice.
So I fight on day and night. It is 4:00 A.M.
Somewhere there is a hero who will see justice done in this case that destroyed my family. I will never stop fighting until Dawn McSweeney returns everything she stole from us or she is in prison.
Detailed reports are open to the public at

Monday, July 26, 2010


So many of our problems would disappear if society held the individual responsible for his or her own actions.
But our whole civilization's structure is built on the collective - the group, the political party, the company, the union, the corporation, the board of governors, the parole board, the school board, the committee, the church, the fraternity, the brotherhood, the armed forces, police forces - always the collective.
In that way, the individual may commit all sorts of crimes and abuses with relative impunity and even walk away with a fat bonus to boot. The group protects the worst offenders because each individual within the group gets to hide behind the power of the collective. How far would Hitler have gone without the collective - without the obedient, agreeable, supportive masses ?
The head of British Petroleum, responsible for the worst oil spill in industrial history gets to resign and is rewarded with millions of dollars for his horrible misdeeds and failures.
No one is held responsible. Everyone suffers unfathomable damage. There are no real consequences for the offenders. A slap on the wrist, perhaps, but, for the most part, the offender is Teflon in our society - slippery - untouchable.
The parole board frees a rapist murderer and the monster kills again. No one is responsible. No individual is punished for setting him free. Each and every one of the members of the board escapes the consequences.
The defence lawyer - like the teacher, the doctor, the nurse or the police officer - good or bad - is accepted as an icon in our society - no matter how he may transgress to defend the criminal. Our law requires the lawyer to do "put up a strong defence". Does anyone ever check to see if he has done it honestly? Not likely. Like incompetent doctors and crooked policemen - the lawyer is protected by the brotherhood - the bar association - the collective. Consequently, the innocent victims and their families suffer irreparable damage.
A police officer helps a young thief to rob and destroy a family, but the local station covers up for him and then the detectives cover up - incriminating fingerprints disappear - and no one is held responsible. The case is closed - even though it was never open. The old true blue line covers up instead of stopping that one officer on the day he committed the crime - October 7, 1996 at 4995 Prince of Wales, NDG, Montreal, Quebec. And the victims of his crime continue to suffer day and night, year after year.
A doctor drags a sick and terrified patient around the emergency room of a major Montreal hospital in front of dozens of witnesses. No one stops him. Then he tells the patient there is nothing wrong with her. He orders her to get into a wheelchair and tells her she will be pushed out to a taxi immediately.
The patient saves her own life by refusing to leave the hospital. With great difficulty, she makes her way to the oncology department and learns almost immediately that she has bone cancer.
The patient reports these events to the hospital's complaints commissioner. And, as expected, the chief of staff covers up, as he always does.
This is what happens when no individual is held responsible for his or her mistakes, abuses or crimes. The collective supports and guarantees abuse because there are no consequences for the individual. The individual culprit lives in the cocoon of the collective.
The collective covers up the misdeeds of the lowest, the most irresponsible, the most incompetent and the most evil members of society. The whole structure of our society is riddled with rot because we do not hold the individual responsible.
Our society is in terrible trouble because no one holds the delinquent individual responsible. Why should they? Once in a position of power, each individual is out to save his own seat. It would take a person of noble character, intelligence, and substance - a moral, ethical person - to reach a position of power and then risk personal loss to change things for the sake of us all.
Where, oh where, are the heroes ?
Canada's industry minister, Tony Clement, has been under heavy criticism for his political actions. He was looking like a real loser until, on July 25, 2010, he dove into white water to rescue a stranger. In that moment, he demonstrated courage, core character and individual responsibility. No one is perfect, but there is hope.
Read the details of these cases at PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL,

            A voice crying out against injustice,
            corruption and abuse in Canada.


Years ago a well respected Montreal surgeon gave me a tip. If there is any way you can avoid it, don't go to the hospital in the summertime. That's when the student doctors and nurses are set free from school and they flood the hospitals. It is a dangerous time to be in hospital.
To Rosemary Steinberg, Ombudsman,
Jewish General Hospital
Montreal  Quebec
July 19, 2010
I was in Emergency on July 15 due to a severe stomach problem. X-Rays and blood tests were clear. I was sent home.
On July 17 I was so sick I had to return by ambulance.
In Emergency, amateur nurses discussed who would try to put in an intravenous line.
I told the young lady I did not want anyone practicing on me. Only my left arm can be used and my veins have suffered stabbing for more than 15 years. As you know, it takes an expert to find a vein in such circumstances.
But the nurses decided among themselves that a young male nurse in a red shirt named Roman would try. I questioned him about his experience. He was quiet, but cocky and determined. He knew what he was doing. Since I was sick, alone and helpless, I gave in. I guided him, telling him where my arm is most sensitive.
The female nurse told me that Roman had done the procedure seven times. Seven times !
Finally he stabbed the needle into the fleshy outer part of my palm above my pinkie. A terribly sensitive part of the hand.
I screamed, I cried so hard I couldn't breathe. I haven't cried so hard since my husband died. I couldn't move, I was in such agony, crying and screaming.
But Roman did not remove the needle. He just walked away and left me with the needle searing my hand..
Someone brought me an ice pack. I was rigid with pain and crying my heart out. I couldn't do anything to help myself. The pain was excruciating and I cried and screamed until I started to faint. The nurses came and told me to be quiet because I was upsetting the other patients!
Then a nurse named Mitch Denbow decided to ask me if I would like him to remove the needle. He did. And later he made a few patient attempts and succeeded in putting in a line. I do not even have a bruise where he finally placed the line.
I was a guinea pig for the amateur nurse, Roman, and it took a long time before Mitch Denbow saved me.
The arrogance ! The heartlessness ! I suffered so much, I was tormented by it through the night and couldn't sleep even though I was exhausted.
There can be no excuse ! But, I know from experience that you will find excuses anyway. It is up to me to report the facts. You are responsible to do justice.
Phyllis Carter
The trauma took an immediate toll: Before morning I had an outbreak of shingles.
July 26, 2010:  Rosemary Steinberg has acknowledged receipt of this report.

Sunday, July 25, 2010


Edvard Munch
Injustice hurts everyone !

Saturday, July 24, 2010


Truth is the most powerful weapon.
Villains great and small fear it.
I battle injustice in Canada day and night.
My weapon is relentless truth.
Phyllis Carter

Friday, July 23, 2010


"When that the poor hath cried, Caesar hath wept".
(William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar Act III, Scene II)
Even Julius Caesar tuned in. But those we elect or assign to positions of power do not listen to the cries of the victims of injustice in our so-called "civilized" society.
One website describes the crucifixion of Jesus:
Hanging on a cross was the most disgraceful, agonizing, and cruel form of death penalty. In those times, such a death penalty was imposed only on the most hardened criminals: thieves, murderers, instigators of rebellion, and felons. The torture of a crucified man is impossible to describe. Besides unbearable pain in every part of the body, the crucified underwent the ordeal of terrible thirst and spiritual suffering until dead. ( -)
Death by crucifixion was, in every sense of the word, excruciating (Latin, excruciatus, or "out of the cross").
With nails driven into the flesh of His hands, the bible does not mention that Jesus screamed in agony. The thousands of victims of  crucifixion must have screamed. But the world does not want to know about that.
At the crucifixion, the crowd seemed to be playing a neutral role.
The crowd simply stands and watches what is going on around them. They are not ridiculing Jesus or defending him.... As followers of this teacher, they are no longer honoring Jesus but are shaming him by their silence.. (
They were shaming him by their silence. Nowhere do I find any reference to the fact that one suffering the piercing of crucifixion was screaming in agony. But everywhere I look, I see people who hold power shaming victims by their silence.
The bible does not say that, subjected to the most horrific pain searing his flesh, Jesus screamed. We are told instead that Jesus forgave his executioners and quietly asked for something to drink. The reporters tell the story for their own reasons, to persuade the readers to a certain way of thinking.
History and myth alike fail to report the screams ! With nails piercing his flesh, He must have screamed.
Christians believe Jesus was the Son of God, both human and God at the same time. But the human, flesh part must have screamed. But no one acknowledges that He screamed.
In Canada today, the screams of  the victims of abuse and injustice are ignored. Victims are rejected, insulted, threatened and even punished. (See The Suburban Weekly newspaper, Montreal, - September 5, 2007 and September 12, 2007 - The Phyllis Carter Detention and Condemned in Four Minutes and
Then some began to spit at him; they blindfolded him, struck him with their fists, and said, "Prophesy!" And the guards took him and beat him. - Mark 14:65
Then they spit in his face and struck him with their fists. Others slapped him - Matthew 26:67
Pierced and screaming, victims are accused of being trouble makers or mentally unbalanced. Anything to discredit, intimidate and silence their cries of agony. No one wants to be confronted by feelings. Those who hold power and have authority do not want their day disturbed by facts or feelings that do not fit comfortably into their own agendas. We are taught to follow the rules, fill out the proper forms, get a lawyer, wait your turn. Keep on waiting. No one wants to risk paying serious attention to the screams. No one wants to step out of line and get involved.
No one who is sitting comfortably on a modern-day throne wants to risk their comfort, security and perks in order to acknowledge the screams of the victims of injustice and abuse.
Just ignore the screams. Walk away.
It is not polite to make a fuss. Obey. Sssh !
Phyllis Carter

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


In December, 2006, the Borough Council of NDG in Montreal under the administration of Michael Applebaum and under the central municipal government of Gerald Tremblay successfully smothered the Fraser-Hickson Library.
The Montreal Gazette reported:
"Supporters of the Fraser-Hickson Library rallied in the rain at Montreal city hall last night in a last-ditch effort to save the cash-starved Notre Dame de Grace institution from closing for good Dec. 22.
"The Fraser-Hickson is a keystone of our community," marcher Phyllis Carter said, recalling how she joined the library as a teenager in 1959.
Sharing Notre Dame St. in front of city hall with Park Ave. name-change opponents, about 50 Fraser-Hickson supporters waved signs and took turns shouting: "Save the Fraser-Hickson" and "Save Park Avenue."
The two causes go hand in hand, Carter, 70, said.
"The city should spend money on libraries instead of on changing street names."
Aliya Ahmed, another library supporter, presented city councillors with petitions containing more than 13,000 names of people opposed to the closing."
But Michael Applebaum's team and Nicholas Hoare of the Fraser-Hickson's board of directors were deaf to the pleas of the community.
Thus, at July, 2010, the people of NDG have been without adequate library services for three and a half years now while Michael Applebaum builds monuments to his own glory at the tax-payers' expense.
For the record, I present here two appeals I made to the Montreal municipal government of Gerald Tremblay at City Hall in 2006 in an effort to save our library.

Address by Phyllis Carter at the City Hall of Montreal,
November 27, 2006
To Mayor Gerald Tremblay:
I have been a member of the Fraser-Hickson Library since it opened in NDG in 1959. Our library is the keystone, the heart of our community.
NDG is a rich community - rich in human resources. It is diverse, but cohesive, embracing newcomers. We are rich in hope. We believe in continuing education and being productive members of society. And the library is our community's living room where all these good things come together.
So many residents of NDG are aged, and widows, and live alone. The Fraser- Hickson is a community center for those of us who are not able to hop on a bus in all kinds of weather to travel to other libraries. The Fraser-Hickson is close to home - where we need it !
We may have grey hair, but we are not ignorant or obsolete. We may be poor, but we each have the treasure of a vote.
Mr. Mayor, have you considered the cost - to your career - if you turn out the lights of the Fraser-Hickson and rob the people pf NDG of our library, our community center, our heritage?
This is not about money. It is about politics. The City has enough money to upset Park Avenue with a threatened change to the name of this long-established community thoroughfare. Use the money to save the Fraser-Hickson Library instead.
Phyllis Carter
Mayor Gerald Tremblay did not answer.
Address by Phyllis Carter at the City Hall of Montreal,
December 11, 2006
Is this the place? I feel like Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland.

Phyllis Carter, a pioneer of the Montreal community of NDG, and a member of the Fraser-Hickson Library.
I will address my question to M. Tremblay's eminence gris, M. Labonte.
The Fraser-Hickson Library, situated in NDG, and now under the threat of closure, is a long-established Montreal institution. NDG residents are determined to keep our library open - at the location where it has served Montrealers for generations.
I understand that the City of Montreal only finances libraries that the City owns. Therefore, if the City helps to finance the Fraser-Hickson, the City would then own our library.
The citizens  of NDG will not sell their souls for what is rightfully their own..
The money you manage belongs to the people. It is your responsibility to use it for the good of the people of Montreal of which NDG is a significant community.
The Fraser-Hickson provides essential services to the voters and tax-payers. Maybe this is a different story - A Christmas Carole.
Which law requires the City of Montreal to eviscerate NDG by appropriating or failing to support our library?
And  is that legislation engraved in the stone tablets Mayor Tremblay brought down from Mt. Sinai - or could you make a genuine effort to support our library, without confiscating it ?
Where one eliminates books and libraries, one will one day eliminate cultures.
Phyllis Carter
In December, 2006, Mayor Gerald Tremblay of Montreal and Minor Mayor Michael Applebaum of the Borough of NDG closed the door on the Fraser-Hickson Library and on the people of NDG.
In July, 2010, we still do not have a library to replace it.

Lest we forget at the time of the next elections.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010


A few short decades ago, I wrote a column for The Lakeshore News and Chronicle out of Pointe Claire, Montreal, Quebec. My copyrighted column was entitled, WITH SIX SENSES. I wrote under the name Phyllis Mass and later as Phyllis Mass Carter.
I started writing WITH SIX SENSES about this and that, and then life threw a serious adventure at me that resulted in an exciting series of seven or eight columns subtitled: MY DEAR BANK ROBBER. But that's another story.
A fellow columnist named Stanley Matthews enjoyed writing columns about my earlier columns. The title of his column was THE COMMUTER. I must admit I really enjoyed reading Mr. Matthews observations. I don't believe I actually ever met Stanley Matthews, but he was apparently enchanted with my columns and took it upon himself to respond.
It is now 2010, and I tried Googling to find anything I could about Stanley Matthews, but I couldn't turn up any reference to him.
Since I have not been able to find Mr. Matthews, I will take the liberty of  copying his columns that pertain to me. One is entitled Casanova and Me and another, Fearsome Phyllis. Even the titles are enticing.
Should Mr. Matthews happen upon my blog,  I hope he will be pleased to find that he is remembered and his column is still appreciated.
These are fun !
Phyllis Carter
By Stanley Matthews
Three cheers and a gilt edged volume of the Kinsey Report to News and Chronicle columnist Phyllis Mass who has done more to boost this aging lecher's morale than a hot buttered rum on a frosty morning.
Just when I thought my sex appeal had plunged off the charts and I was about as desirable to the opposite gender as a bucket full of old door knobs, Phyllis comes along to cheer me up and say it ain't so.
In last week's column (With Six Senses), she dealt with marital problems and intoned that the vast majority of us are not only unhappy with our lot but many of us are playing, and the rest seriously considering a marathon game of musical beds.
And best of all, she revealed that there are ever so many ladies of varying virtues continually lying in ambush to lavish their seductive charms upon unsuspecting husbands like me.
Imagine that …. On little old me !
Among those Phyllis lists as potential samplers of my especial delights are the "sultry false-eyelashed hussy at the office to the plump-frump who sells him the newspaper."
I asked the office hussy if she was at all interested in sporting it up a bit with me but she merely told me to get lost. I guess she must already be somebody else's hussy.
And I buy my newspaper from a man He is a bit frumpy, I suppose, but not frumpy-sexy. You know what I mean. I have hunted all over the place for a plump-frump female type news vendor …. but to no avail. Do you know how frustrated a man can become knowing that somewhere on the streets of this city a sex starved plump-frump news lady is pining away for my affection and I am unable to locate her? It's driving me bananas.
Phyllis has also let out the secret that most of the neighbours' wives have been eyeing me with adulterous intent.
This is a startling revelation and I will certainly be more careful about sucking-in my gut when I am outside mowing the lawn or shovelling the walks now that I know all the ladies on the block are peeking at me from their bedroom windows and casting me in starring roles in their erotically imaginative adventures.
Wow … I may cut the lawn twice daily next summer!
But Phyllis warns that while practically all members of the opposite sex are out to get me the one that desires me most is my wife's best friend. She is, apparently, mad for my body.
I've asked my wife about this but she says she hasn't noticed any particular inability of her best friend to keep her burning passions for me under control.
She's not even sure she likes me.
I'm trying to get my wife to change best friends (there's a cute little blonde up the street) but she's not too keen on the idea.
Oh, well … things will probably start looking up pretty soon. If Phyllis is convinced that so many people are after me, surely sooner or later one of them will let me know.
In the meantime if anybody out there feels an uncontrollable desire for my affections (ladies only please), leave a mash note at the News and Chronicle office addressed to me and I'll get in touch as soon as possible.
My wife lets me out on Thursday nights.
By Stanley Matthews
I think  my wife is divorcing me and it's all Phyllis' fault.
It's not because Ms Mass claimed in last weeks' column (With Six Senses) that she and I have been dating on Thursday nights.
No …the reason for the impending break-up of my previously happy home is not because of any alleged extra-curricular social activities on my part but because my wife has been reading Phyllis' recent columns dealing with marriage problems.
We've been married for over 10 years now and all in all it's been a good relationship. I don't think anyone will offer to buy the film rights to our marriage for a romantic drama starring Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant … but we've been happy.
Oh, sure … once my kindly spouse threw a frying pan of half-cooked bacon at me (and she knows I like mine crisp) and we didn't speak to each other for five days after her mother's last visit (was it my fault I happened to miss my train every night that week?) but I guess that's about par for the course.
I always rated our marriage as solid.
Then my mate started reading Phyllis.
"Dear …did you see where Phyllis Mass claims that husbands say 'you're crazy' to their wives when they can't win an argument?" she asked me the other night.
"You're crazy, " I retorted.
"She also says that husbands shout instead of debating with reason and walk out of the room rather than deal with conflict," my wife continued.
"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard!" I yelled back and went to my den to get lost in a book.
It's been like that all week. My wife keeps bringing up the faults that I have had, but she hasn't noticed for the past 10 years … until Phyllis happened along.
Now my wife quotes Phyllis like the Chinese quote Mao.
The other night she announced that we need professional help. I pointed out that the snow wasn't even off the fairways yet and besides I doubted if any golf pro would be willing to give lessons in February.
Apparently she hadn't meant that kind of professional help. She meant a marriage counsellor. Phyllis says marriage counsellors are good.
Now what in hell does a pleasant, even-tempered, understanding, jovial chap like me need to go to a marriage counsellor for?
Besides, my wife's not fault free. I've been sneaking a few peeks at Phyllis' column myself and I've begun to notice a whole bunch of things my wife has been doing for the past 10 years … but are just starting to bug me now.
If it hadn't been for Phyllis' help, I may never have even noticed.
Say … do you think Phyllis is getting a kick-back from some shrewd West Island lawyer?


July 20, 2010
Between Philipp Marais and You
Phyllis Carter July 18 at 5:28pm
Could you write a very brief piece describing the situation from your point of view and post it on my page so I can share it?
Philipp Marais July 19 at 1:06am
I am not PR, so i am not actually allowed, but i can tell you, with the resent rains and renewed fights its not looking to good.
Phyllis Carter July 19 at 3:59pm
Thank you for writing. I can only imagine what you are seeing there. I think of Darfur often and I feel so helpless - and angry about what some human beings do to others. The Internet makes it possible for us to tell the world what is going on.
Philipp Marais July 20 at 2:15am
And for that i am so thankfull, because if not for that places like Darfur would go unoticed and people could still keep on killing other people and no one would ever know!!!!
Phyllis Carter July 20 at 1:36pm
Philipp, the world is so full of injustice, so full of greed and fear and hatred. The problems are overwhelming. Most people give up and look the other way. We who have no power or money feel so helpless. But I ache for the suffering of the innocent.
Like my grandmother, there is something in me that just echoes the pain of the innocent who are abused. She suffered real pain when she read about what was happening in the Holocaust. I have felt such pain about Rwanda and Darfur. But what can I do? I write about my concerns but I am so small and my voice is so weak.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


Calgary Stampede veterinarian David Chalack, interviewed on CTV on July 9, 2010 said the primary concern of the Calgary Stampede is the welfare of the animals. He repeated this over and over again. I will say this only once - he lied, and he knew he was lying. The primary concerns of the Calgary Stampede are profits and thrills. Thousands of paying customers derive pleasure from seeing bulls, calves and horses roped, chased, run ragged, whipped, spurred, thrown to the ground, tied up, hurt and terrified. What fun !
The same thrills have always been the purpose of  bull fights, the running of the bulls at Pamplona, dog fights, cock fights, the butchery in the Roman forum, boxing matches, hockey, wrestling and other so-called "games" whose real function it is to satisfy a primitive urge in human beings - the blood-thirsty passion of the chase and watching others suffer, while being safe from all the consequences; the need to prove the viewer superior and even impervious to harm while being potent, macho enough to cause painful injury to others. It is war with little or no risk to the one who pays the piper.
At most of these spectacles, the customer is usually shielded from harm, while being inspired by the mob. It helps to numb any budding conscience if the viewer clouds the brain with drugs or alcohol
These public entertainments justify and encourage the lowest behaviours. They feed on the most base characteristics of men - and some women. In a crowd, these primitive urges and behaviours are supported and justified by mob mentality, so that the weakest, most ineffective members of society can feel big, strong, accepted, important,  
All the more so when the victims of these "games" are helpless animals. Sticking knives into living flesh is not acceptable in western society in our time. You may actually go to prison for a little while if you are caught doing it to a person. But if you do it to a captive bull, that makes you a hero in some circles.
The sight of someone else's blood inflames the passions of people whose primitive instincts find no suppression by conscience. And the crowd, the participants - including the tourist industries and the media - fire up those passions. Why? For profit, of course. Give the customer what he wants - for a price.
It is not true to say that there is nothing new under the sun, because we learn something new every day - some of it good - but people who find excitement and pleasure in the suffering of those who are helpless is clear evidence that thousands, perhaps millions of people, are still savages. Watch how the mob drools and hollers with pleasure when blood is shed - at a bull fight, at a boxing match. It is the same savage passion.
It is a struggle for more highly evolved people - people of conscience - to try to protect the innocent and the vulnerable, while resisting public opinion - so much of which is motivated by the insatiable, timeless hunger for power and profit.
Those who now sit upon Caesar's throne enjoying the spectacle will find there are some citizens who are not amused.

Monday, July 12, 2010


Lawyers win cases all the time by lying, cheating, "bending the truth", intimidating, and even bribing. Everyone know it, but the Canadian injustice system allows it, accepts it.
It is not always about the law: It is often about the interpretation of the law. In any case, we know that lawyers bend the truth and that they specifically train their clients to lie. Lawyers coach their clients in the fine art of lying under oath - more so when the clients are wealthy. After all, the lawyer practices his craft for profit and it is more lucrative to invest time and effort in wealthy clients. Most people know this. It is understood and set aside. Everyone looks the other way unless someone calls attention to a particular case.
So lawyers win. But where is honour ? 
I expect honour takes the rumble seat - far behind profit and prestige in their social and professional circles.
The bull fighter plunges his blade into the living flesh of the animal who, unlike the matador, did not choose to be in the arena. Sooner or later, the bull will die. Sooner if it is lucky. And the matador in his (or her) glorious garments, garners hails and praise from the throngs of blood-thirsty aficionados. Gold, applause, praise, glory. The matador wins.
But where is honour ?
I make no secret of the fact that I am always happy to hear that the bull won. I favour the innocent over criminals.
The boxer wins by a hidden punch out of bounds. The hockey player wins by disabling his opponent. Children win by bullying their peers. Businesses win by lying about their products and services. Financial institutions win by juggling statistics. Investment councillors win by confounding their clients with complex gibberish and documents that have pages of tiny incoherent print. Sign here. You can trust me.
Where, oh, where is honour ?
I have been fighting for justice in my own case for more than thirteen years. I was attacked and robbed at 4995 Prince of Wales, NDG, Montreal, on October 7, 1996. The Montreal Police I called to rescue me, helped the thief instead. And since that day, I have been fighting for the return of all my life's treasures, and for the thief, Dawn McSweeney, and her self-proclaimed "partners in crime" to be tried in criminal court.
But the Montreal Police have refused again and again to take action against the criminals. Why?  Usually they tell me they are just obeying the law - "just following orders" - a term familiar to those who lived through the Second World War years. 
Obeying the "law" that allows criminals to keep someone else's property and pick it apart at will for months, choosing the best items for themselves? Law that allows the thieves to walk free, enjoying everything they have stolen?  Law that allows the thieves to keep an aged woman in total isolation for almost a decade and, while she is isolated from her family and everyone else, make a will in her name when she is 92 years old and handicapped physically and mentally?
Family members are not allowed to murder each other. Is there a Canadian law that allows them to steal from each other with impunity? Is it a Quebec law I don't know about?
One might well ask if the Montreal Police are lying when they tell me again and again that they will not pursue the case because of the law; When they tell me that the accused have all the rights and all that victims can do is get a lawyer. One might well ask if the Montreal Police are playing judge and jury. One might well ask if the Montreal Police are corrupt or merely incompetent - entrenched in incompetence.
Where is honour among the Montreal Police?
After all my years of begging the Montreal Police and members of government at the municipal, provincial and federal levels for help, only to be refused and rejected again and again, Quebec's Human Rights Commission tells me I am "too late" for justice.
Where is honour in Quebec's legal system?
I have fought this battle against a system that ignores, denies, rejects and refuses to do justice. But I have fought with honour and truth. Search my blogs and see for yourself. I fight on day and night, always with truth and honour. I never have to remember what I said or wrote in these thirteen years because I have  always reported every detail accurately and honestly.
Canada has laws. It does not have justice. And Canada does not have honour.
                        Luke  18

Sunday, July 11, 2010


I'm wondering if I might be the last person on earth who remembers Patrick Farney. It seems silly, but I can't imagine who else would even think of him, let alone remember him. All the more reason for me to write this piece,
I was a young teenager and Paddy was in his seventies, like I am now. So anyone who knew him or even noticed him in passing is unlikely to be giving a thought to him in the 21st Century.
Paddy was a fixture on Peel Street in Montreal long before I came on the scene when I went to work at our family's newsstand, Metropolitan News Agency, at 1248 Peel at the corner of St. Catherine Street, in the mid-1940's.
I started working at The Store part time after school when I was about eleven. By the time I was fourteen, I had left school to work there full time upon the promise to my family that I would follow courses at Alexander Business College.
Paddy Farney was already an established employee at Metro. Anyone who knew Paddy, knew him as a newsie, usually standing on the street corner at Peel and St. Catherine with the latest, hot-off-the-press, ink still wet, Montreal Star and Gazette. He was our man on the street.
My grandfather, Israel Feldman, sold newspapers from all over the world from the store window open onto Peel Street winter and summer - in all kinds of weather. I sold papers and magazines, handled the cash register, sold fine linens and English Bone China, and did some of the office work - yes, as a teenager.
But this is just to give the reader the setting of the story about Paddy Farney. He was an "old man" to most of us - usually with a heavy salt and pepper stubble but never a real beard. He wore a long, navy blue coat in the cold weather. Paddy would often be seen holding up the hydro pole outside the store, dozing between tasks. And every St. Patrick's Day, he sported a generous sprig of shamrocks in his lapel.
Paddy sold papers and he could make change for a customer, but he would not take a two dollar bill. Why? My father told me that, at some time in the distant past, someone had slipped him a counterfeit. He never took another two dollar bill.
Paddy was mute. He could hear quite well I think because he seemed to understand everything we said, but he could hardly speak. We who knew him - especially my Pop, George Rubin, who was usually managing The Store - could make out what he was saying. When  upset, or frustrated or annoyed with some of my childish antics, Paddy would curse " Deedut Tite". We knew that was Jesus Christ. 
Everyone on Peel Street knew Paddy - including the local policemen. In those days, the same policemen would be in the neighbourhood for years. They were part of our community. Everyone knew them by their first names, Kenny Campbell, Kenny Law.
But, somehow, some passing rookie saw Paddy during a night run, and assumed he was a vagrant and drunk, and took him off to the pokey. I can only imagine how frightened and upset Paddy must have been, unable to communicate with people who wouldn't listen, and with no rights to speak of in the 1940's. Has anything really changed in 2010?
Later, Paddy would tell the story to anyone who wanted to hear it. His night in jail. It is difficult for me to present his pronunciation, but here is the translation my father gave: "Beans, no salt. Coffee, no sugar." A call from the station to my father the next morning freed Paddy, but he never forgot.
How did Paddy come to be mute? He was not born with the handicap. But it was very much the central factor in his life. He was very poor. He was not able to take on most jobs. There were scant government benefits available to such people back then. In our store, he occasionally swept the floor, but mostly he just sold newspapers for us on the corner.
But how did he lose his speech?  Pop told me that the chauffeur for Mr. Strachan of  Strachan's Bakery had told him that he had known Paddy for decades. Way back when, there was a fire department on the site of what was later to be the Sun Life Building at Dominion Square. Paddy used to ride and take care of the fire wagon horses. At some point, he fell and thus, lost his normal speech. He didn't ride after that, but he would walk the horses and cool them and groom them when they came back from a fire all hot and foamy with sweat.
What else do I remember about Patrick Farney? He lived with his sister, a tough Irish cookie who didn't put up with any nonsense. Sometimes, Paddy would fail to show up for work. He was not a drinker. We never, ever saw him drunk. I am sure he had a reason for it, but he did not drink. But perhaps he would just oversleep or forget, so my Pop would phone his sister. Well, the way the story goes, she would take the iron frying pan to Paddy and he was on his way to work in a hurry. I never had the impression that there was really any violence there. I think it was a bit of a joke.
And now, a little story about my run in with Paddy Farney. I was standing behind the linens counter across the floor from the newspaper counter at Metro, so that customers facing my Pop had their backs toward me. I was still a kid and known for my mischief - such as untying the shoelaces of some of the young men who worked there while they were busy serving a customer at the counter.
One day, Paddy came in to pick up his papers and he was standing facing my Pop with his back toward the linens counter where I was stationed that day. 
Paddy was really shocked when I came running out from behind the glass showcase and ripped his coat off his back, threw it on the dirty grey wooden floor and started stomping on it full force with my feet.
Paddy was an economical fellow. He lived very simply. I never saw him eating as I recall - he didn't seem to have many teeth - no Medicare coverage for dentists back then either - but I remember him having a coffee if someone would treat.
Paddy was careful with his money and he picked up cigarette butts from the street and put them in his pocket for later consumption. That fateful day, I saw smoke coming from Paddy's coat. That was when I pounced.
Paddy cursed like crazy as I jumped up and down on his coat. He was shocked and furious! I know he thought I was playing a trick on him, insulting him.
I don't know what everyone else in the store must have thought. I was focused. After a couple of minutes, while Paddy stood there stunned, I lifted his coat and showed him the burn hole in his left pocket. Another minute and ... ! The cursing stopped.
I'm glad I thought of Paddy today. I can't help wondering if anyone else remembers him. I don't think Paddy had any family but his sister, and probably no real friends. But he mattered.
Phyllis Carter     July 11, 2010    Montreal, Canada

Saturday, July 10, 2010


After the Holocaust, Jewish people vowed "Never again!". Yet, all over the world today, genocides continue. Why?
Are there too few good people to stop tyranny? Too few resources? Is there too little power?
Or is it because those who have the power and the resources have their priorities screwed up?
Those who have the power and the resources are less interested in the suffering of innocent people than they are in oil, money and more power.
Those who have the power to change things play politics, make deals, look the other way - for a price. They compromise, play the game called "diplomacy" and tell people like me that we don't understand how things work.
And we ordinary people are overwhelmed by the enormity and complexity of the whole thing - and so many give up arguing - and so many contemplate their navels - and so many don't give a damn.

Thursday, July 8, 2010


Princess Tiara Isolated on White Royalty Free Stock Photo
Marlene Jennings is an honourable woman. She is talented, experienced, very likeable, a respected Member of Parliament with a background as Quebec's Police Ethics Commissioner.
For some time, I thought Marlene Jennings would and should be Prime Minister, a bright woman with a personal manner that would be an asset in Parliament and on the international scene.
Marlene Jennings is an honourable woman. I am certain no one could find fault with her. In my experience,. I have found her very human, open, sensitive. An honourable woman.
Today, Marlene Jennings sits at the right (or left) hand of Michael Ignatieff  - whose leadership has been shaky from the start. There would appear to be an opening to fill, perhaps before much longer. And Marlene Jennings sits close by, a very desirable candidate who could appeal to women and, what Jacques Parizeau called, 'the ethnic vote." Why not?
I would have been among the first to support Marlene Jennings - yet again.
But then, I cannot. Because I am a dreamer. I dream of a leader who cares about justice - enough to actually protect the innocent and ensure the appropriate punishment of criminals.
I first asked Marlene Jennings for help when I was attacked and robbed in my home in NDG, Montreal, in October, 1996. Even though Marlene Jennings was my Member of Parliament. Even though our family had always supported her. Even though she had the experience of serving as Quebec's Police Ethics Commissioner and she had all the knowledge and contacts to help me, she answered that the crime was not in her jurisdiction.
And so, for more than thirteen years, I have spent all my energy, all my time, all my strength, fighting for justice against the criminals who robbed me and my family - with the help of a Montreal Police officer and the subsequent police cover-up. I have spent these thirteen years draining my life away for the sake of justice.
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 was kept in total isolation by these criminals for ten years - 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 met with me and went over the file and prepared some papers for my case. I thought, I hoped, I prayed, that, at long last, we were on the road to justice.
Then, on October 14, 2008, Marlene Jennings was re-elected to Parliament.
And she disappeared.
I have been very ill, but I did write to Marlene Jennings many times, appealing for her to proceed with the case against these criminals. I am unable to walk very well, but I can speak and write. I can participate in a court case.
It is now July, 2010 and I am no longer waiting for Marlene Jennings to take action. I am no longer waiting for an e-mail or a phone call from Marlene Jennings saying she is ready to follow through with the case against Dawn McSweeney and her "partners in crime". The stars have been lifted from my eyes and I see now that Marlene Jennings' interest lies elsewhere. It is clear that she has set her gaze on a much more important goal than justice for me and my family. Marlene Jennings has her eye on the throne, and that is a powerful attraction.
Marlene Jennings would be leader. I believe that is the prize she has dreamed of for a very long time. So she waits and she watches. Everyone can see her on the television news. She behaves appropriately. Her every move is designed to ensure that she does not appear overly ambitious. She is the loyal supporter of her chief. After all, Marlene Jennings is an honourable woman.
Who am I to say that Marlene Jennings is ambitious? I am only expressing what I believe based on my personal experience with her over many years. Of course Marlene Jennings has the right to aspire to the throne. She is capable and hard working and she behaves well.
But I am no longer waiting for Marlene Jennings to follow through with the case against the criminals who destroyed my family. It took me a very long time to give up hope in her. I am such a stubborn idealist, a relic of a time when people believed in heroes. 
But I am above all, a fighter. I will not allow anyone to deter me from pursuing the case against Dawn McSweeney and her self-proclaimed, "partners in crime." 
I am working night and day to try to find someone in authority who cares enough about justice to do what is right. An honourable person who has authority. Is it hopeless, really? Once a person is granted authority, does it follow absolutely that they can no longer be honourable?
Lord Acton said, "Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely." A rational person would give up hope. But I have never been a rational person. George Bernard Shaw said, "The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man." - or woman. I am that woman.
My reports of the crimes committed by Dawn McSweeney and her  "partners in crime" are now being read all over the world. Somewhere, there is that one honourable person who will care enough to pursue this criminal case, because I am just one of so many Canadians abused by police and rejected by the so-called justice system, while criminals thrive in the full confidence that they are impervious. It is easy to see why criminals have no fear. After all, in my own case, the police I called to rescue me - helped the thief instead, And since then, the Montreal Police have unashamedly continued to cover-up.
After I have struggled for justice in this case for thirteen years, meeting with one rejection after another, Quebec's Human Rights Commission tells me I am "too late" for justice. That is Canada's shame. That is my challenge and the challenge of all Canadian crime victims.
After pursuing this criminal case on my own for so long, I have now found many other crime victims who, like me, are fighting for justice against cruel criminals who are protected by Canada's incompetent, negligent and corrupt legal system. I am no longer alone.
As for Marlene Jennings, I am just an ordinary citizen with nothing to offer a would-be Prime Minister - except my vote. And that kingly crown, I withhold.
The only thing needed for evil to triumph is for good men (and women) to do nothing.  Edmund Burke
For all the details see
F.A.C.T. - Families Against Crime and Trauma -

Sunday, July 4, 2010


                        Luke  18
When a police officer or a judge says , "Case closed", that is not an Act of God. It is the opinion of a person. Yet society bows before such decisions as if God had decreed their hopeless state.
I have never advocated violence. In the more than thirteen years of my struggle for justice against the criminals who robbed and shattered my family - with the help of the Montreal Police - I have never advocated violence or even approached Dawn McSweeney, Alex Lavergne or Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme. Nor have I threatened anyone with anything other than a trial in criminal court. I hold fast to this battle for justice against a Canadian legal system that cares nothing for justice.
These criminals are still free to enjoy everything they have stolen because of the failure of the Montreal Police and Montreal, Quebec and Canadian politicians and the so-called "human rights" authorities - Quebec Human Rights Commission and the Quebec Ombudsman - "Droits de la  personne " and so many others who have told us through the years that these crimes are not in their jurisdiction. Our tragedy has been in no one's jurisdiction. I have yet to find one Canadian "leader" who truly cares about justice enough to do what is right. Marlene Jennings, MP, took a stab at it and then turned all her attention to the Liberal throne. Anyone can see her on the television news, sitting behind Michael Ignatieff - waiting.
So I must fight on day and night with every fibre of my being, like Diogenes holding his lamp on high, seeking a single honourable person.
The thieves are so confident that the law won't touch them that they take pleasure in taunting and threatening me openly on the internet. They even had me picked up by the Montreal Police - twice over the years since the first robbery - and sent to hospital accused of being insane, in an effort to discredit, intimidate and silence me. In spite of all their threats and hate and greed and cruelty, I have not chosen the path of violence.
But there are many people who resort to violence because of the grinding injustice that is visited upon them by Canadian lawmakers and those who obey and carry out those twisted laws that protect criminals instead of the innocent.
Crime victims are crushed by the Canadian injustice system and it is not difficult to understand that the average person coming up against the stone walls again and again finds himself left with no choice but to curl up and die or to attack the social system.
Only criminals can win in Canadian society, so the innocent are tempted to join the winners circle from a young age. It takes enormous endurance and determination to carry on the fight for justice without considering violence. 
Don't tell me it is not your table, not your department, not your responsibility, not your fault, not your jurisdiction. I have heard it all, and I am not impressed.   
Phyllis Carter
The wicked flee, though no one pursues,
But the righteous are as bold as a Lion.                Proverbs 28.1
The only thing needed for evil to triumph,
Is for good men to do nothing,                             Edmund Burke
Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God.
Attributed to Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson
If I am not for myself, who is for me ?
If I am only for myself, what am I ?
And if not now, when ?                                        Rabbi Hillel                               
Righting wrongs is what lawyers do.     
Robert Louis Stevenson -  Kidnapped. 
In what world was that?  Phyllis Carter
You must be the change you want to see in the world.  Mahatma Gandhi
The Battle for Justice: If it was easy, everyone would do it.   Phyllis Carter
The reasonable man adapts himself to the world;
The unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself:
Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man.
George Bernard Shaw
The ink of the scholar is worth more than the blood of the martyr.
The Prophet Muhammad
A patriot must be willing to defend his country from his government.
Edward Abbey
He who does not bellow the truth when he knows the truth
Makes himself the accomplice of liars and forgers.
Charles Peguy
If you are going through hell - Keep Going !         
Winston Churchill
The Parable of the Unjust Judge : Luke 18



Saturday, July 3, 2010



Dear Editor,

Here we go again ! More millions to replace the roof of the Olympic Stadium - again ! One has to wonder about the sanity of a society that persistently invests taxpayers' hard-earned money in games and circuses, while hospitals are struggling to keep up with patients' needs, Montreal pavements are constantly collapsing into pot holes, homeless people lie about in the streets and parks, pieces of buildings are falling onto pedestrians, and the news of the day is always - "We are in debt".

Authorities talk about different jurisdictions, but in fact, there is only one "pot" of money. Everything comes out of the same pot - the citizens' worn out pockets.
Montreal's Olympic Stadium - like the Roman forum - is the icon that represents the twisted values of our society.
Games and circuses?  Let them eat cake!
Phyllis Carter
First published in The Gazette, Montreal, on July 2, 2010