HOW TO RAISE A CRIMINAL: THE TRAGEDY OF DAWN MCSWEENEY

Conservative plan would name violent young offenders
Updated Mon. Sep. 22 2008 12:31 PM ET CTV.ca News
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HOW TO RAISE A CRIMINAL:

THE TRAGEDY OF DAWN MCSWEENEY

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” - (my mother said she didn’t know his family name) moved into the bedroom adjacent to mine on the second floor of the cottage. 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 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 Montreal 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, I discovered Dawn McSweeney’s blogspot on the internet: It reads:

grasping at intangibles

Dedicated to partners in crime

and kindred spirits.

Voyeurs and well wishers also welcome.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Pickup
A redneck in a pickup truck

with a cracked windshield

and a pit-bull hanging his head

out of the passenger's side

revved his engine at me today

and I swung my hips despite myself

http://graspingatintangibles.blogspot.com/


IN MONTREAL, CRIME PAYS !

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 slammed down his phone.

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. I cannot be silent about injustice - for my sake, for your sake, for God's sake.

This is a case of grand larceny aided and abetted by Montreal Police officers. If I have accused Dawn McSweeney falsely for twelve years, why hasn't she sued me? 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 act.

I AM ASKING FOR IS JUSTICE !

I WILL NOT SETTLE FOR LESS.

Phyllis Carter

September, 2008

PARTNERS IN CRIME: A MATTER OF PUBLIC RECORD

PARTNERS IN CRIME

THE PURSUIT CONTINUES

On October 7, 1996, I was attacked and robbed in my parents' Montreal home, where I had been living for two years while recovering from breast cancer. At the beginning of October my teenage niece, Dawn McSweeney, and her boyfriend Alex had moved in with us. Within a week of Dawn’s arrival, I was suddenly attacked for no apparent reason and without any warning. In shock, I managed to call 911.

One of the two officers who responded to my distress call 'helped' me out the door without as much as a coat. In front of my assailant, the officer told me that I must never return. This police officer's unilateral decision to evict me, forbidding me to return home, gave all my most precious belongings, and my aged parents' lives and property into the hands of Dawn McSweeney.

This action was taken without any investigation. There was no legal procedure. No hearing. No court procedure. No trial. No judgment. No background to support such an action. No justification. The officer just decided to do it. And then - he did not file a report.

Widowed, unemployed and fighting cancer, the Montreal Police abandoned me in the street alone, cold, homeless and destitute. My entire life was locked up behind me, in the hands of my teenage niece, Dawn McSweeney. I pleaded with the police to file a report, to go to the house and see for themselves the proof of what I was saying. They refused again and again. For six months, the police refused repeatedly to file a report. At 60, I had to start life again - from scratch.

Quebec's Police Ethics Commissioner, Denis Racicot, wrote to me: "The police have large powers and vast authority .... The case is “definitively closed.” Large powers - to help criminals? Vast authority - to rob widows ?

I appealed to Quebec Premier Jean Charest. He wrote to say 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 ?

After the robbery, Dawn's mother, Debbie McSweeney, our youngest sister, obtained power of attorney from both my parents. Every other member of the family, social services, fire protection inspectors and even police detectives, were barred from my parents' home thereafter.

In April, 2004, the home of our youth looked like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie, doors and windows overgrown with dead vines. I called for help and learned that my mother had been removed from her home. So I went to the police station to file a missing person report. The officer could not file a report - because Debbie, told him by telephone that she knew where mother was. To see your mother or get information about where or how she is, you have to file a civil suit. “But you will need a lawyer.” But that would take months ! Can't the police check on my mother now ? Sorry.

The following is a matter of Public Record.

In June, 2007, we learned that our mother had died. She was buried on June 21, 2007 after being kept in total seclusion by Debbie and her associates from the day of the robbery. Suddenly, on June 26, I started receiving hate mail and threats to drop the robbery case were posted on my blog. I reported that to the police immediately. The next afternoon, June 27, two police officers came to my door with a court order to have me committed for a 30-day mental evaluation, accusing me of being insane and dangerous. I was released from the hospital unconditionally on June 29, 2007.

The Suburban newspaper carried that story in two parts,
on September 5, 2007 and on September 12, 2007.

The following is also a matter of Public Record.

Weeks later, I found out why a complete stranger wanted me silenced: My accuser, the mise en cause who applied for the court order, was one Kenneth Gregoire Prud’homme, a person I do not know and with whom I have never spoken. This same Prud’homme is named as the liquidator of a will in my mother’s name created when she was 92 years old, handicapped mentally and physically and had been totally under the physical control and influence of Debbie and this group for a decade. Their will was notarized and executed, but OUR MOTHER DID NOT SIGN THAT WILL. All the children were included in the wills my parents had made. Only Debbie and Dawn McSweeney and Kenneth Gregoire Prud’homme benefit from the bizarre 2005 will.

Months later, I discovered Dawn McSweeney’s own blog on the internet. The heading reads:

grasping at intangibles

Dedicated to partners in crime and kindred spirits.

Voyeurs and well wishers also welcome.

http://graspingatintangibles.blogspot.com/

In November, 2007, my Member of the Quebec National Assembly wrote an appeal to the Conseil de la Magistrature against the judge who condemned me with his court order in less than four minutes without ever seeing me or speaking to me and without any medical evidence, but based solely on the bizarre accusations made by a man I do not know and Debbie who had not spoken with me since 1997. The Conseil de la Magistrature of Quebec replied that the judge did nothing wrong.

I am now 72 years old. I have been fighting for justice in this case for twelve years. I will never give up. I want to make it very clear that I will not accept money or "compensation" from anyone. I want my parents’ true wills to be reinstated. I do not want anything from my parents’ estate for myself. I want only what Dawn McSweeney and her associates stole from me. And I want the thieves tried in criminal court.

I am fighting for that rare and elusive treasure - JUSTICE !
I will not settle for anything less.

Phyllis Carter

September. 2008

Though rare, it is not a crime to tell the truth.

STOLEN BADGE - PASSAIC, NEW JERSEY

See details about the robbery: http://www.dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com

The Record
Passaic, New Jersey
letterstotheeditor@northjersey.com

September 5, 2008

Dear Editor,

I am watching Bill Moyers' Journal and your reporter Mike Kelly. The subject of the discussion is the New Jersey State Home Guard and the deployment of so many of them to Iraq.

They speak of their pride in wearing the Badge of their State, and my heart breaks.

My late husband, Clifford John Manning Carter was a Deputy Sheriff in Passaic, New Jersey, from the late 1950's - perhaps from 1957 - and into the 1960's. He lived in Paterson at the time. He was so proud of his badge.

After my darling husband died her in Montreal, Canada in 1992 at the age of 89, I treasured every little thing he left me, especially that badge. On October 7, 1996, I was attacked and robbed in my home. The thieves took everything I had worked for all my life and every precious thing Cliff had given me - including his Passaic, N.J. Deputy Sheriff's badge.

Every time I see a badge, I am left shaken with the pain caused by those thieves. The robbery shattered my family. And the thought of, not only being deprived of Cliff's precious badge, but also knowing that the heartless thieves have it in their dirty hands hurts me more than words can say.

I did write to the Sheriff's office in Passaic, but no one there had any information about Cliff. Younger people take over and the past is lost. Papers and documents get buried, lost, especially since everything is now computerized.

Is it possible that anyone in the Passaic area remembers Cliff Carter? Is there anyone who remembers his service as Deputy Sheriff?

I yearn for the return of Cliff's badge but the Montreal Police have been unwilling to do anything to help. I am still struggling to get my Member of Parliament, Marlene Jennings, and my Member of the Quebec Assembly, Russell Copeman to get to work and go after the criminals, who I identified to the police immediately at the time of the robbery. Since then those criminals have tried various cruel tactics to try to silence me so that I would stop pursuing the case. *

Who cares about Cliff Carter's legacy ? I am 72 years old and I have been fighting for justice for 12 years now. Cliff has been gone for many years now, but I am still his wife. I am still deeply in love with him. I am still so proud of who he was. And I will continue pursuing this case to my last breath.

I would be so grateful if your newspaper and Mike Kelly take an interest in this story. I assure you, it is a fascinating insight into the many flaws in our justice system and a moving true story of how a family was destroyed because the authorities in Montreal refuse to take appropriate action.

Cliff was a proud citizen of the United States. As a landed immigrant, he was a beloved figure as a gentleman musician here in Montreal for half a century. RCA Records made his only album, MR. NOSTALGIA, CLIFF CARTER in 1982.

I can provide detailed information upon request and I will gladly answer any questions. My struggle for justice continues.

Phyllis Carter
Montreal, Quebec,
Canada

* I refer to the hate mail, and the court order taken against me in June, 2007 and the will made in the name of my mother when she was 92 years old and handicapped, mentally and physically.