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 of the day 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 undergoing treatment for 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 we were not supposed to know Alex's real name because he was in hiding from his family who were furious that he had given up his religion to be with Dawn. My mother said she loved him for doing 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. Struggling to hold onto the phone, I managed to call 911.
The police I expected to rescue me - helped the thief instead !
The police officer warned me - in front of my assailant - that I must leave the house and never return. I was not allowed to take any of my belongings with me - except my purse, my bible, and a small cloth bag that contained a clean pair of shoes that I had planned to wear in church that day. Everything I owned was left in the house with the thieves. The policeman removed me from the house, physically by my arm. I was in shock - rigid, trembling, breathless !
The police left me alone in the street, cold, homeless and destitute, without as much as a coat. 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 make any serious attempt to recover my stolen belongings 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:
IN MONTREAL, CRIME PAYS !
The police cannot say "No" to Dawn. They say they are bound by laws that protect criminals. They 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 blurted out an expletive and slammed down his receiver. 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 Alex Lavergne sent me immediately following my mother's death in June, 2007. in an attempt to intimidate, discredit and silence me. You will find these articles published at
PHYLLIS CARTER'S JOURNAL - http://phylliscartersjournal.blogspot.com.
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 fourteen years, why hasn't she sued me? I am eager to go to court.
Montreal Police detectives told me in March 1997, that Dawn McSweeney and Alex Lavergne refused to take the police polygraph test on advice of counsel. Why ?
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 DEMANDING ONLY WHAT IS MY OWN.
I AM DEMANDING JUSTICE !
I WILL NOT SETTLE FOR LESS.
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. Since then, the Montreal Police continue to refuse to investigate these crimes. The cover-up continues to this day.
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 her from October 7, 1996 to her death in the Summer of 2007. We learned after her death that, in 2005, that a stranger named Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme made a will in my mother's name - -when she was 92 years old and handicapped mentally and physically. The only people who benefited from this bizarre will were Dawn McSweeney, Debbie McSweeney and Kenneth Gregoire Prud'homme. 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 their children 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 Montreal Police had proceeded in a lawful and ethical manner.
What is really behind the police cover-up? Incompetence? Corruption?
I continue to pursue this case day and night, telling the world about these crimes that have been aided and abetted by the Montreal Police.
NO PEACE WITHOUT JUSTICE
