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Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
LETTER TO THE MONTREAL POLICE - THE BATTLE CONTINUES
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NO PEACE WITHOUT JUSTICE !
Luke 18
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I am a victim of the Montreal Police. I have been pleading for justice since I was attacked and robbed in my home at 4995 Prince of Wales, NDG, Montreal, Quebec, on October 7, 1996. While I was being attacked, I managed to wrestle the phone from my assailant and call 911.
The police I called to rescue me - helped the thief instead - and the Montreal Police have been covering up ever since.
On October 28, 2002, I sent the following letter to -
Commander Francois Anger,
MUC Police, Station 11,
6255 Somerled,
Montreal, Quebec
H3X 2B7.
MUC Police, Station 11,
6255 Somerled,
Montreal, Quebec
H3X 2B7.
Dear Sir,
Thank you for taking the time to write to me and thank you for the copy of a letter from Commander Paquin. I find no record of the original and I do not recognize the contents.
You tell me that the case is closed, but there are many questions that remain unanswered:
Can you tell me why the Police at the Mariette Station refused again and again to file a report of the October 7, 1996 attack and robbery - until March, 1997 ?
Can you tell me why Sgt. Det. Sylvie Laverdiere told me, the victim, to do the investigation myself and send her the reports ? In normal practice, I believe, the detective should have followed up my leads and sent me the police reports.
Can you tell me why, in the middle of March, 1997, the police officers at the Mariette Station told me to go to the house (4995 Prince of Wales) and ask for my jewellery?
After mocking me and laughing in my face, Dawn McSweeney (who had robbed me) called the police while I stood outside my home in the cold begging for my own belongings. And the same two police officers came to the house and asked me to leave.
Who had such power to intimidate those officers? A teenage thief ?
Can you tell me why the Police Ethics Commission (Denis Racicot) never spoke to me, never interviewed me? Can you tell me why he was so eager to close the case ? Is it because, as the letter from his assistant, Maitre Monty, says, the MUC Police have "large powers and vast authority" ? Large powers to help criminals? Vast authority to rob widows?
Can you tell me why, for six years, I have been denied a copy of the police reports on my case? I believe that police reports - certainly of "closed cases" - would be Public Record available to any citizen.
The police at the Mariette Station told me that all my belongings would be returned to me if I would "just be patient". I have been waiting for six years. I never rest. My husband cannot rest in peace while I am still going through this nightmare. Cliff could not rest while the badge he wore with dignity, courage and devotion is in the hands of the thief.
You can bury the file, refuse to pursue the criminal, refuse to make any serious effort to recover the stolen goods, close your eyes and your ears to the truth, but there will be no closure to this case until my belongings are returned or the thief is in jail.
The investigation is accelerating and will expand until everything Dawn McSweeney stole is returned. I will be presenting my case to Human Rights and Civil Rights organizations.
At present I am bringing my case to government representatives, commissions and agents including those of the United States. Several of the items Dawn McSweeney stole belonged to my husband who was an American and an officer of the law in the United States. He served proudly as a deputy sheriff in the State of New Jersey - hence the badge Dawn stole - and he was entrusted with confidential work by the U.S. Department of the Treasury.
My husband was loved and respected wherever he went. He was an honourable, decent, courageous man. I have reason to believe that American law officers who knew Cliff early in their careers will also be interested in his widow's plight.
We require the following pertinent information: Copies of all police reports relating to this case. Since all citizens have a right to know the laws of the land - the number, date and source of the statute upon which the policeman acted on October 7, 1996:
Which Quebec statute permits a Montreal Urban Police officer to evict from her home the victim of an attack who called 911 for help - a 60 year old widow, cancer patient, evicted without any justification, warning or legal procedure - to leave her homeless and destitute in the streets of Montreal in October without so much as a coat, and to give all her personal possessions to her assailant, without any court procedure?
Thank you in advance for your good faith.
Phyllis Carter
Copied to: Marlene Jennings, M.P.
Russell Copeman, M.N.A.
Marcel Tremblay, Montreal City Councillor
Russell Copeman, M.N.A.
Marcel Tremblay, Montreal City Councillor
This letter was never answered.
The concerned reader will find detailed reports of the case at
PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL
at http://phylliscartersjournal.blogspot.com
and http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com.
PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL
at http://phylliscartersjournal.blogspot.com
and http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com.
Monday, June 7, 2010
DAWN MCSWEENEY STOLE MY SHORT SNORTER
*********************************** NO PEACE WITHOUT JUSTICE ! Luke 18 ***********************************
Among the many things Dawn McSweeney stole on October 7, 1996, was my coin and bill collection. My father collected foreign coins and bills that came into the cash at our family business, Metropolitan News. He would put the correct amount back into the cash and keep the odd items for me. He also collected autographs for me before I was old enough to know about such things.
Along with all my best jewellery and items of deep personal sentiment, Dawn McSweeney stole my coin collection that included one short snorter - a bill with signatures all over it. I know what it was because my father told me.
To Dawn, it must have been just another source of profit and gain. Another way to hurt me. To me, it was another treasured gift from the father I loved.
I will keep on fighting for justice.
When will the Government prosecute the thief ?
I copy the following article, not for profit, but to share the information with caring readers all over the world.
A dollar bill's war story
Posted: 02/06/2010 01:53:39 PM PST
A "short snorter" was a drinking custom in WWII. Soldiers and pilots would sign a dollar bill and have one member hold it. If that person failed to have the bill in his possession, when one of his comrades asked to see then he owed that person a drink. This bill was signed in Luxembourg on Feb. 7, 1945. (Steve McCrank Staff Photographer)
For nearly 35 years, the aged dollar bill sat in a box inside Lewis Turchi's bedroom closet, kept so securely hidden for safekeeping that it was nearly forgotten.
But after talk over a recent breakfast with friends turned to a discussion about war, Turchi went home to Palos Verdes Estates and pulled out the short snorter - an artifact of a World War II tradition in which servicemen signed and dated pieces of paper currency.
Scrawled upon the bank note was a handful of names penned in faded loose cursive, the name of a city in Luxembourg, and the date Feb. 7, 1945.
And on a margin of the bill's backside, written in neat, bold print, still vivid 65 years later, was a name: Cpl. Roscoe N. Pyles.
A longtime dentist on the Peninsula, Turchi was so enthralled that he began researching the name.
And what he would discover was a priceless link between a father and son that would bring a new perspective to the horrors of a war that left a deep, lasting impression on a family just a few miles away - all at the bargain price of $1.
Nearly every night of his childhood, Ron Pyles was awakened by the sound of his father screaming in his sleep.
U.S. Army Cpl. Roscoe Pyles survived the Battle of the Bulge, the long and bloody German offensive that concluded 65 years ago last month, but shortly afterward suffered injuries in Luxembourg for which he earned a Purple Heart.
Drafted as a 17-year-old Los Angeles High
School student during World War II, he was processed April 22, 1944, at Fort MacArthur in San Pedro. Soon, he headed to Europe as a member of Gen. George S. Patton's Third U.S. Army, his son said.At the war's end, Roscoe Pyles returned home to California as a veteran at just 19. He married, settled in Torrance, and opened a shop that sold decorative concrete products in an unincorporated county area west of Carson.
But life post-war was not always easy. After a few glasses of Jim Beam loosened his tongue, Roscoe Pyles would tell his son war stories, and few were pleasant.
"He talked about getting frostbite in Belgium, he was in the Battle of the Bulge, and all these things," Ron Pyles said.
His father suffered a mental breakdown in the 1960s, and died of heart failure in 1998 at age 72, the younger Pyles said.
"I often wonder if maybe that attributed to his life span," the 53-year-old said. "I had heard somewhere that people that are involved in a combat situation - they think it could take a few years off your life."
Clearly, the effects of war cast a dark, lifelong shadow over Roscoe Pyles.
Turchi called short snorters "the Facebook of the war," and indeed they served as a record of soldiers and aviators traveling together, said Tom Sparks, founder of the Short Snorter Project, a nonprofit that preserves, documents and raises awareness about the relics.
The tradition began with bush pilots in Alaska in the 1920s and peaked during World War II. Servicemen would each autograph the bank note, which one person retained as a keepsake. Later, should the bill holder be unable to produce the note at the request of another signee, he would owe a small glass of liquor - or a short snort, Sparks explained.
The practice became a morale booster, with first lady Eleanor Roosevelt signing a bill, and even movie stars like John Wayne and Gary Cooper offering up signatures, said Sparks, who lives near Seattle.
He figured that thousands of these bills exist around the world - many as collectors' items, some undiscovered and each a happy memory for a veteran somewhere.
"I get to meet a lot of the veterans who served in World War II, and when they find out what I'm up to, it causes this memory to resurface and you see this twinkle in their eye," Sparks said.
When cursory Internet research revealed that the man whose name was clearly etched onto his aging dollar bill entered the military and retired just miles away from his home, Turchi was incredulous.
"What's really sad is I've had this forever, and I was just 10 miles away the whole time," he said. "It's kind of a curiosity. Here's this dollar bill signed in 1945 in Luxembourg and ends up belonging 10 miles away."
Turchi made a telephone call, and learned the soldier had died more than a decade ago, but that his son Ron had taken over his business. The pair arranged to meet there on a rainy afternoon.
When he turned over the bill, Ron Pyles recognized his father's handwriting immediately, reflecting that it was just like his dad to be the only one of his platoon to print, rather than sign, his name.
"It's like a message in a bottle," Ron Pyles said.
The short snorter was a sign of happier times in the war that left such a significant impression on his father, who would have loved to see the bill again, Ron Pyles said.
"He would have been thrilled," he said. "(Turchi) would have loved my dad. They would have gotten along great."
For Turchi, himself a Navy man planning a trip to Normandy with his two World War II-buff sons, looking up Roscoe Pyles after all these years was a patriotic duty of sorts.
"It was kind of like taking him home again," Turchi said.
After the exchange, Ron Pyles matched the other signatures on the bill to those listed on the back of an old black-and-white photograph of his father's platoon. Now he's considering tracking down the other gentlemen.
The younger Pyles also pulled out the delicate paperwork that accompanied his father's Purple Heart, a substantial medal encased in a rickety black leather box lined in gold velour.
The fragile documents explained the location and circumstances of Roscoe Pyles' meritorious injury, and the date: Feb. 7, 1945, the exact day that he and his platoon signed that dollar bill 65 years ago today.
"This was the quiet before the storm," Pyles said. "They probably signed this at lunch and got attacked at night."
Roscoe Pyles spent 21 days in the hospital after shrapnel from a German 88mm tank gun embedded into his thigh bone. The war ended shortly thereafter, and he returned home with an honorable discharge.
And that dollar bill somehow, somewhere got put into circulation, and ended up in Los Angeles County in the hands of Turchi's mother, who passed it on to her son upon her 1975 death.
"It's just eerie," Turchi said.
Someday, Pyles will frame the bill, he said. But for now, it has a place of honor at his bedside, right alongside his father's Purple Heart.
"We were inseparable," Pyles said. "When he died, I was 41, and I was thinking to myself that there were only two weeks of my entire life we weren't together. That was my honeymoon, and I still called him every night."
Saturday, June 5, 2010
DEBBIE RUBIN MCSWEENEY - WE LOVE YOU ANYWAY
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How do you save someone who doesn't understand that she is living in hell? Our baby sister, Debbie Rubin McSweeney, is a grandmother now, but in my heart and memory, Debbie is still our little sister - the sweetest, gentlest, most innocent and loving child anyone can imagine. An angel child. I am haunted by the memory of her goodness.
But Debbie, like most members of our family, had a weight problem from the time she was about three years old. She grew up and she grew larger and larger. As a consequence, Debbie lived in isolation through her childhood. She had no friends and she never went anywhere. My parents couldn't find clothes to fit her. And still, she was the sweetest girl God could have created. We adored her.
And then one summer, Debbie ventured out. Through Sir George Williams College in Montreal, she somehow found a day camp. I believe it was called "Unschool". And there Debbie met Ed McSweeney. And we lost her. She slipped away into the darkness. Her character changed. She married Ed McSweeney, the first boy who ever paid attention to her.
I tell this in absolute honesty, their home was not fit for human habitation. Ed McSweeney who was a talented employee in the computer programming field suffered problems that caused him to give up or lose his job. He never worked again. He sat at home year after year and smoked cigarettes until the walls, and windows and sofas were coated in thick brown sludge and the carpeting and sofas were covered with cigarette burns. The hair of their darling younger child - in the early 1990's, a toddler in diapers -reeked with the sickening stench of tobacco. It broke my heart. But I was told to mind my own business.
Why am I writing this? Because I am haunted by the love I have for my baby sister, My sister Sheila tried many times to rescue Debbie and her children, but Debbie always returned to Ed. She said it was because she loved him so much. She said it was because she feared him so much. There is ample proof that her fears were justified. But, when asked, she denies that she ever said it.
I don't fear Ed McSweeney for my sake. I fear speaking about him for his sake. There is no way to know what he may do and I wish him no harm.
But I love Debbie, and I do not believe that she willingly participated in the robbery her daughter Dawn committed on October 7, 1996. I cannot imagine my beloved little sister enjoying my stolen belongings. It just isn't who she is - or who she was.
I am convinced - based on a lot of evidence - that Debbie's circumstances are due to her love for her daughter, Dawn, and her total dependence on the men in her life - her fear of Ed McSweeney, and the machinations of a man named Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme who created a will in our mother's name - two years prior to her passing in 2007 - when she was 92 years old and had been physically and mentally handicapped for decades.
Our mother had been kept in total isolation by these self-proclaimed "partners in crime" for almost a decade when this bizarre will was created in 2005.
I appealed to Ometz, Jewish Family Services in Montreal to help Debbie, but I was refused again and again. They say Debbie has to ask for help herself. The social worker at the CLSC told me the same thing. No matter what her circumstances, they will not accept our pleas for help.
Only the truth can set us free from the secrets and the lies that destroyed our family.
Debbie, we love you. I will not hold you responsible for the robbery. I can't believe you took part in any of it willingly. We want to help you. Just reach out and tell the truth.
While there is life, there is hope - and there is love. It isn't too late, yet.
Dawn McSweeney's boyfriend at the time I was robbed was Alex Lavergne. Here on my blog, Alex Lavergne twice accuses Dawn's mother of being the thief.
http://dawnmcsweeney.blogspot.com/2010/01/alex-lavergne-accuses-dawn-mcsweeneys.html
Saturday, January 23, 2010
ALEX LAVERGNE ACCUSES DAWN MCSWEENEY'S MOTHER
WHO ARE THE "PARTNERS IN CRIME"
so named in Dawn McSweeney's own blog ?
ALEX LAVERGNE ACCUSES DAWN MCSWEENEY'S OWN MOTHER, MY FOREVER-BELOVED "BABY SISTER" DEBBIE MCSWEENEY .
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I can only speak for myself in saying i am 100% sure I never was asked to take a lie detector.
Now quit looking every else and look at the most likely target. If you were to search your youngest sister's home, i'm sure you'd find all your missing items. Your sister stiole from you, not us.