Saturday, February 26, 2011


March, 1967. I lived in a pretty cottage in the West Island of Montreal. I woke up one morning, looked out into my lovely back yard and there on the balcony I saw a sight I wish I could forget. Lying strewn across the grey boards of my porch were tiny pink blobs. What ? It took a moment to grasp it. There on the floor of the balcony were several dead featherless baby birds. It took a while to catch my breath. It took a while for me to figure out what had happened.
We had fixed a small bird house to the wall above our kitchen window. An invader had scrambled up the window screen and massacred the newborn residents of the little wooden house, apparently leaving the carnage in a hurry as I approached the window.
My neighbours, the Heeds, were the only ones in the area who had cats - two black cats - that they let roam free. We had trouble with those cats before. This time I was determined to take action. I phoned Al Heeds. He scoffed. I have never forgotten his words. "You know it was my cat, and I know it was my cat, but you can't prove it."
Mr. Heeds did not know Phyllis Mass (I was not to be Phyllis Carter until decades later.) He could not have known how strongly I feel about injustice. How desperately I hate abuse of the innocent.
The following morning, I woke up before the sun rose. And I stood by my window, waiting and watching - and there it was - that beautiful, sleek black cat - following its unrestrained jungle instinct and coming back to finish its grizzly mission.
I threw on my Borg coat and shot out the front door - meeting the black monster as he came round from the back of the house - and I grabbed him. He shrieked and squirmed and thrashed and bit and scratched and sprayed my coat. But I would not let go. Blood was running from my arm, but I would not let go.
I held on tight in spite of the blood and the burning and the wet stench until I got the cat into the house and tossed him into the kitchen and slammed the door.
I wrapped my bleeding arm in a terry cloth towel and called 911. The police arrived quickly. While one of the officers drove me to The Lakeshore Hospital, the others went into the kitchen in search of the cat. One of them was carrying a pole with a noose at the end of it. As we were going toward the door, I heard one of the police officers saying, in French, to another, "Be careful, Pierre! Watch your eyes!" And the other saying, "I don't see it. Are you sure you put a cat in here?"
How quick the police are to doubt the victim. Where did I get those bites and bleeding slashes and can't you smell the cat's spray all over me?"
At the hospital, I was patched up and given a tetanus shot. Then the police drove me back home. As I arrived, I found Mrs. Heeds on my doorstep crying. It seemed such a short time since I had left. I invited her in and made her a cup of tea. She kept apologizing. I forgave her. I had no doubt that her husband was the cause of the trouble, not her.
Then I learned that the police had caught the cat. Poor jungle animal had hidden under the fridge as cats often do. But the police would not risk what had happened to me. They "tranquilized" the cat. Turns out they tranquilized it with a little too much zeal and killed it. By the time I returned home, the cat was dead and its head was on the way to the Federal Government's laboratory in Hull, Quebec, to check for rabies.
If that were not enough, Aimie Heeds told me she felt so guilty about what their cat had done to me that she had euthanized her other cat ! Why? That cat hadn't done anything wrong. She said she had it put down as her "penance" ! What can I say?
The message here is - people are responsible. That is to say, they should be held responsible. None of this would have happened if Al Heeds had kept his marauding cats in his house in the first place. But he was so arrogant. He never imagined someone would take him up on his dare. I can prove it. I can still show you the long white scar on my arm marking that memorable day in 1967. It was worth it.
The North Shore News out of Roxboro, Quebec, reported the story on March 16, 1967.
Don't tell Phyllis Mass Carter that she can't prove what she says. Never doubt that I will. Just watch me. I have been fighting for justice in the case of the robbery by Dawn McSweeney for fourteen years. You can read the detailed reports at http://dawnmcsweeney,blogspot,com. You might say the thief has a tiger by the tail.

Women everywhere should be out in the streets protesting. Where, oh where, is justice ????? On the other hand, since the courts in North America favour criminals, there is still one choice. Maybe all that is left to crime victims is a serious vigilante movement. I am old and not well, but show me what I can do to help. 
Phyllis Carter
RISE UP IN ANGER LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. Good people are so damn nice and polite. Well, I approve of polite, but we are too nice. No one is afraid of good people. Maybe that has to change. In other countries, the people are taking to the streets. That's hard to do in Canada in winter, but spring is close and marches are called for. Huge protest marches ! No burning or breaking - just a lot of people protesting the injustice systems of the US and Canada. Crime is getting worse all the time. Why? Because our injustice systems protect criminals instead of the innocent and crime victims. See THE DAWN MCSWEENEY CASE - 
Phyllis Carter
SILENCE IMPLIES CONSENT. And those who sit on their high thrones are very silent about things that matter. I send copies of my posts and blogs to a long list of members of government. All I ever get back is automated messages acknowledging receipt. They are impervious, untouchable. Before I became ill, I used to attend political meetings at all levels of government - Montreal, Quebec and Canada - and I would stand at the microphone shaking and tell the pols exactly what I thought. Because of the robbery, my cancer returned and I can no longer do that. You who are still able must.
    Tyler Collins
    Thanks for all you have done for us Phyllis! Here in KY the auditor found that CPS was placing children in homes whose addresses matched those of registered sex offenders. I sent the governor a letter with my complaint...because in the news... article it said that the Governor was going to get involved. The governor sent me a letter back that said he was forwarding my letter to child protective services and thanked me for my interest.. LOL So I asked him to investigate CPS and he sent the letter to CPS. I have to wonder who is running the states and countries.
    Tyler, I am so pleased to hear that you have received a response to your letter. BRAVO for your efforts and thank God for some sign of reaction. Who holds the power? Anyone we allow to hold it. It is the fault of the people for not acting. No one wants to get involved. Everyone has their own problems. What's the use? We can't win. We are defeated before we begin. That is why the politicians get away with what they do to us - and with what they fail to do for us. My power is pretty much limited to the Internet now. But that is a super platform. Follow my blogs at PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL - - Building Camelot One Essay At A Time - and share this info with everyone - even people you meet at the cash at the supermarket. Spread the word. Good people fighting peacefully - but with determination - for justice are the hope of the world.
  • Monday, February 14, 2011


    Quebec's Police Ethics Commissioner wrote:
    "The police have large powers and vast authority."
    Quebec Premiere, Jean Charest wrote that the robbery that destroyed my family was "unfortunate."
    Quebec's Human Rights Commission wrote: You are "too late" for justice.
    My name is Phyllis Carter. I am a 74 year old Canadian journalist, a widow, a cancer patient - and, thanks to the Montreal Police, 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 fending off my assailant, I managed to call 911.
    The Montreal Police I expected to rescue me - helped the thief instead !
    Since then, the Montreal Police have repeatedly refused to take any action to recover my belongings or to bring the criminals before a court of law. They say their hands are tied. They tell me crime victims have no rights.
    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".
    She repeated that statement at a service at Rosedale United Church in NDG, Montreal.
    But the Montreal Police do nothing. And Mrs. Jennings is silent.
    The voters might ask, "What - or who - has silenced her?"
    Quebec's Police Ethics Commissioner, Denis Racicot, wrote to me, saying: "The police have large powers and vast authority"
    Large powers - to help criminals? Vast authority - to rob widows ?
    I appealed to Quebec Premier Jean Charest. He wrote back saying that the theft of all my jewellery and the fruit of my life's work and the personal treasures my husband left to me, is "a civil matter of an unfortunate nature."
    Grand larceny is a civil matter ?
    The police cover-up continues to this day and my struggle for justice continues day and night.
    Read the detailed reports of the crimes committed by Dawn McSweeney and those she boastfully calls her "partners in crime" - at -

    Saturday, February 12, 2011


    The following is an excerpt from my comments on Brian Greene's page on Facebook on February 12, 2011.
    In my simplistic way of seeing reality, everything is One. I believe there was once "nothing". Don't expect me to explain "nothing." I believe that everything is part of the original One and we are all part of the original One. I do not see "God" in a white beard sitting on a distant cloud writing in a book. I see the Originator as everything, everywhere, always, and everything as part of the Originator.
    I believe that the Original or Creator encompasses all that is and all that ever was, that "He" (for want of an alternative term) is all-knowing, all-powerful, omniscient and omnipotent.
    What I do not know, cannot know and cannot imagine is - in all of creation - from the outermost darkness to the innermost particles - do we matter - as individuals? Are we of anymore value in the total picture than a virus or an amoeba or cockroach? In all the immensity of everything, are we just particles - like cells in the body of God or somehow, is it possible that when we, in desperation pray, the omnipresent Creator cares?
    Don't bother telling me that this is religion or philosophy and not relevant to a deep discussion on a scientific principle too complex for my simple mind. Either "God" is everywhere and all is one - or nothing makes sense or has any purpose. In which case, why bother stressing the amazing, complex brains given to you by - "nothing"?

    Thursday, February 10, 2011


    February 10, 2011
    Will you be single this valentine's day? Share your coping methods here
    Robert H.
    It wasn't meant to be romantic but to make the point of a certain % of mens reality come home and be acknoweldged. The harsh reality is whenever you see these articles in magazines or on TV shows or in the newspaper they always throw this '...successful woman' and loser man thing in your face and I'm god damned tired of it and ultimately it plays out in terms of expectations in relationships. Global economics has a massive impact on who is considered 'eligable' (women use this annoying term all the time to mean how much bread does this guy bring in already) and who ultimately isn't. Newsflash people::: economic circumstances shift over time and it could render your 'successful man unsuccessful and if that was a determining factor for terms of endearment then the relationship you have is just a better packaged arrangement then the temporary variety one can find at a truckstop.
    To Robert H. - Times of trial have strong impact on relationships. But if two people are intelligent and really love each other, trouble binds them closer together. If the relationship is already flawed, it tears them apart, You have to ask yourself, Why are we together? If you love each other, nothing can tear you from each other's arms short of death. I know. I sat by my husband's hospital beds day and night for up to three months at a time. He was 34 years older than me and we were of different races and religions. We were never rich. I have no doubt everyone thought I was crazy. But we loved each other. And though he has been gone from my arms for 18 years now, I still love him the same way now as I did then. Hard times test your love. If your love is not real, that will be revealed by those tests.


    February 10, 2011
    Will you be single this valentine's day? Share your coping methods here
    My beloved husband, Cliff Carter, died in 1992. He was a few days short of his 90th birthday. He is in my heart every day and every night. While we were together for almost twenty years, I went to sleep singing and I woke up singing. I washed dishes singing and we sang together professionally. The audience always thought we were singing for them, but, in truth, we sang only for each other. Since then, I skip Christmas Eve, New Year's Eve and Valentines" Day when we used to enjoy some of our happiest times. Like the bitter winter weather, I wait for them to pass and then get on with life. But I keep Cliff's memory alive by sharing my memories of him with the world. SEE MR. NOSTALGIA, CLIFF CARTER at
    Halia ‎@Phyllis, I wish for, what you spoke of, so beautiful. My XH was a jerk, I know.....but many men are good souls. I look forward to meeting such fine men as Cliff. Cheers to you on that day.
    Halia, I so appreciate your message. The problem is we tend to generalize. There are good people and bad people. Most people are good some of the time and bad some of the time. We have to be very careful about who we choose to be with - mates, husbands, friends, even employers and landlords. We have to choose carefully who we let into our lives. And if someone abuses us, we have to get help and/or get out fast. In the past, women had to stay with their mates because they had no way to earn a living and take care of their children without a man. And society supported that system. Now, it is better to starve than to stay with an abuser. You can find help. I have gone through bad times, sick, homeless, destitute, living in shelters and in my old car, my clothes in garbage bags. It was not because of an abusive relationship, but because after Cliff died, I couldn't find work and because of all the grief and struggle, I got very sick. But I did find friends who helped me when the cold, heartless social system failed. Do not stay in an abusive relationship. If no one loves you, love yourself enough to fight for a better life.

    Tuesday, February 8, 2011


    Those who are striving so hard for a separate Quebec state are hoping that Canada will treat the ghetto state as an equal partner. If the citizens of Canada want to keep this great country as a federation for all Canadians, they will have to stand firmly against accepting any kind of separate state in their midst. If they flinch, it will feed the extremists' aims. 
    Except for the most irrational extremists - and there are some very determined types, as those who remember the October Crisis will attest - I expect that most nationalists would not want to live in an isolated ghetto.
    And would Canada tolerate having a foreign state splitting the country? A separate army? A separate currency? Show your passport to get from Ontario to New Brunswick. Body screening to cross the Quebec-Ontario border? 
    The destruction of Canada can only happen if Canada allows it.

    Monday, February 7, 2011


    One of the earliest stories I heard when I was a child was Pinocchio by Carlo Lorenzini aka Collodi. My father would read it to me from a twenty-five cent pocket book.
    Snow White, Cinderella and Mickey Mouse are popular figures even today. But we don't hear much from Pinocchio. Why?
    In the early 1880's, Lorenzini created Mastro Gepetto, a childless carpenter, who then created a wooden boy puppet to fill his loneliness. What made Pinocchio a figure of interest to me is the fact that he was designed to be a good son to Gepetto and so, every time  he told a lie, his wooden nose would grow longer.
    Pinocchio went through painful adventures in order to learn not to lie and, by his good behaviour, he finally became a flesh and blood human boy - much to the joy of his father, Gepetto - and their creator, Carlo Lorenzini Collodi.
    And so, as I prepared my supper this evening, I started to wonder yet again: What would happen if - for just one day, all over the world - anyone who told a lie would see their nose grow longer.
    Imagine the chaos !

    Imagine the fear !

    Imagine the possibilities !

    Wednesday, February 2, 2011


    Wisdom Seeker to Phyllis Carter
    January 25. 2011 
    Your input is important. Sometimes I think I am jumping way the hell over my head taking on so many things at once, but all are important...
    Your wisdom, Wisdom Seeker, is in that you are seeking the truth. Most people, I think, have just given up. Their children numb their brains by making a lot of noise they call music and blur their senses with drugs, tobacco, alcohol and games and foolishness. No wonder our societies are in such a mess !
    But you, Wisdom Seeker, are searching for the truth. You are biting off huge chunks of mystery and searching under robes and rocks for the truth. That is the noblest of quests.
    The truth - like the pot of gold at the end of the proverbial rainbow  is elusive and, most believe - unattainable. And there are villains, disguised in all manner of disguises, whose purpose it is to ensure that the truth remains hidden from mere mortals - the citizens they govern.
    But if you weary or shudder or despair, all is lost. It is the quest that makes you worthy and admirable - the authentic, honourable, relentless unyielding quest.
    The Sword of Truth is like Excalibur - waiting for the one who will reach for it with a pure heart.
    Of course people will scoff and sneer and even seek ways to silence the seeker after truth, but if you succumb, the tyrants win. The partners in crime in my case went so far as to obtain a court order declaring that I was insane and dangerous. You can read all the details at -