The first time I said "No" to my niece Dawn, the toddler cried. My sister, Debbie, forbid me to speak another word. "We do not say 'No' to Dawn. Ever!". When I heard Dawn, then a young teenager, spitting vile insults at her parents, I protested. Debbie accused me of being "old fashioned" and she and Dawn's father, Ed, warned me to mind my own business.
In her early teens, Dawn knocked her father flat on the floor. And in 1992, Dawn struck another teenager with an iron bar. I was visiting when Dawn returned home after using the iron fence post to hit a school mate. She came into the house dancing! celebrating! She was elated. She boasted about what she had done - blow by blow ! She had set out to get him and she did. Her parents approved ! Dawn had the right to express her feelings and the boy surely got what he deserved. I protested. I was told that if I said anything more, I would no longer be welcome.
In 1993, I was diagnosed with cancer.
In 1994, I was baptized. That infuriated Dawn!
Widowed and ill, I went to live with my own parents in Montreal. In 1995, I caught Dawn's boyfriend standing in my room surrounded by my boxes and cases which I had stored there for years. I felt threatened, but I assumed an easy manner, and asked why he was there. "Dawn told me to wait here for her." he said. "Please go downstairs to the living room and wait there with my mother," I said. "I don't blame you, but it isn't right for you to be in my room."
In an instant, Dawn bolted from the adjacent bathroom in a flying rage and began cursing. I didn't see her face. I only saw her mouth moving. I didn't hear her words. They cut right through me. They were not information: They were something else - Fathomless hatred. Blades wet with venom. A dark, life-consuming whirlwind. Electricity! I was left standing - rigid, empty and breathless - like Lot's wife!
At the beginning of October, 1996, Dawn suddenly moved into my parents' home where I had been living for two years while recovering from breast cancer. Dawn and her boyfriend - known only as "Alex - moved into the bedroom adjacent to mine on the second floor of the cottage.
My mother said she didn't know the boy's family name. She said he had to come to live with us because his family wanted to do him harm. Why? Because he loved Dawn who was Jewish and he gave up his religion to be with her.
My mother said she loved Alex for that.
Upon their arrival, Dawn started removing my clothes from hangars and dropping them on the floor, replacing them with her own clothes. She put my toiletries on the floor and replaced them with her own. Dawn and Alex slept on a pile of camping gear and blankets on the floor. Suddenly, the house was rocking with blasting music! I was scared.
But the worst part was that the new tenants were smoking something in their room that made me nauseous. No one else smoked in the house. I was terrified of fire. I put a battery into the smoke alarm in the hall and slept in my clothes for the next few days. It was an alarming few days.
On October 5, 1996, fearing that Dawn would pilfer, I made a new and detailed inventory of all my belongings in my bedroom and in the room next to it where all my boxes and valuables were stored - many since the 1980's. "The safest place in the world, " my parents' home - I believed.
On October 7, 1996, I was suddenly attacked and robbed of everything of value that I had, everything I had worked for all my life, every cherished thing left to me by my husband. Fighting to hold onto the phone, I called 911. The police helped the thief ! I was escorted out the front door by the police and warned never to return to the house. I was rigid, trembling, breathless, in shock ! The police left me alone in the street, cold, homeless and destitute. Everything I owned was left in the hands of Dawn McSweeney along with the lives and property of my aged parents.
To this day, the police have failed to recover my possessions and Dawn and her associates are still free to enjoy the benefits of my precious belongings with impunity.
In the summer of 2007, following the death of my mother, I discovered Dawn McSweeney's blogspot on the Internet: It reads:
Dedicated to partners in crime and kindred spirits.
Voyeurs and well wishers also welcome.
The police cannot say "No" to Dawn. They say they are bound by laws that protect criminals. Police have told me that, as a victim, I have no rights. Debbie's lawyer threatened me with a law suit if I persisted in telling people what Dawn did. When I phoned the lawyer and said I would be so happy to have the case heard in a court of law, he swore one dirty word and slammed down his phone. I never heard from him again.
Dawn stole everything I had. I have nothing left worth stealing. Furthermore, telling the truth is not a crime, it is a command:
"Expose the deeds of Darkness" ( Ephesians 5:11).
Am I afraid? Of course I am. You may want to hear about what Debbie and Dawn and their "Partners in Crime" did to me in June, 2007.
(See THE PHYLLIS CARTER DETENTION - The Suburban, September 5, 2007, and CONDEMNED IN FOUR MINUTES -IN ABSENTIA , September 12, 2007. You can also read the hate mail they sent me immediately following my mother's death in June, 2007, in an attempt to intimidate, discredit and silence me.)
This is a case of grand larceny aided and abetted by the Montreal Police and the governments and agencies of Montreal, Quebec and Canada.
If I have accused Dawn McSweeney falsely for more than thirteen years now, why hasn't she sued me in all these years? And why did Dawn McSweeney refuse to take the police polygraph test? I have volunteered to take the test more than once. The police refused my offer, saying that they believe me. But they don't take any legal action against the thieves who are still free to enjoy the benefits of everything they stole.
I AM ASKING FOR JUSTICE !
I WILL NOT SETTLE FOR ANYTHING LESS.
I invite you to read the reports on my blogs and see the specific evidence of what the Montreal Police did to me. A Montreal Police officer helped the thief to rob me of everything I worked for all my life, every precious thing left to me by my darling husband. And since then, the Montreal Police continue to refuse to investigate these crimes. The cover-up continues to this day as I write on August 11, 2010.
The Montreal Police took me out of my home and left all my belongings and the lives of my aged parents in the hands of the thief.
Once I was out of the house, the thief and her "partners in crime" had months to search through all my belongings at their leisure and take everything they wanted. And they did.
The partners in crime kept my mother in total isolation for almost a decade.
No one was allowed to see her or speak to my mother from October 7, 1996 to her death in 2007. We learned after her death that, in 2005, the partners in crime made a will in my mother's name - when she was 92 years old and handicapped mentally and physically - and then they took everything my father had worked for all his life - his house and all his money - and everything that belonged to me and to my siblings and to the grandchildren who were all named specifically in my parents' own wills.
This could not have happened if I had not been removed from the house by the Montreal Police - if the police had proceeded in a lawful and honest manner.
What is really behind the police cover-up? Incompetence or corruption?
Quebec's Ombudsman and Quebec's Human Rights Commission -"Droits de la personne" - wash their hands of any responsibility for these crimes.
About four years after the attack and robbery, when a family member let slip a piece of information in my presence, I pieced together the puzzle and suddenly realized why my mother had attacked me - why she was so angry at me, so injured.
Dawn had persuaded my mother that - because I had betrayed the family faith - I was the evil one who had stolen money that my mother had apparently hidden somewhere in the house.
There can have been no other reason why my mother would have thought that her first born would rob her and not Dawn who was smoking pungent cigarettes with her boyfriend in the bedroom next to mine. My mother believed that a Jewish child would not have robbed her.
Once after the robbery, I learned that my mother was in hospital, and I went to visit her. I introduced her to a Christian nurse who was very kind to her, and I called in the Jewish Chaplain to visit her. He came bearing challah bread for the Sabbath. On my second visit, I showed my mother all the empty jewel boxes Dawn had returned.
My mother said she could not believe that Dawn would do such a thing. I did not argue with her. There was nothing to say. She believed Dawn.
Some time in 1996, during a normal conversation, my mother had remarked that if I ever won the lottery, I would give all my money to the Anglican Church. Now the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. My appeals for support to the Anglican Bishop of the Diocese of Montreal were never answered.
I continue to pursue this case - day and night - to my last breath.
I cannot be silent about injustice - for my sake, for your sake, for God's sake.
Read about the visit in the summer of 1996 that seemed to trigger the plan for the robbery.
