Folks: To anybody interested, this is a true story which has, to date, chewed up 6 years of my life. What you are about to read was written 4 years ago for a single ally in the national (Canadian) media who tried to expose the events described within but was shot down, unlike others who wouldn't even try. 

 This is because the lawyer I eventually had to hire for my own protection from dirty Toronto cops was also a well known Toronto TV reporter (Lorne Honickman, CITY  TV) and after I was betrayed by this figure, the rest of the local media circled their wagons to protect him, as well as themselves from his feeble threats to sue anyone who would dare to run my story. Better (or not) still, CITY had/has a very cozy and non-judgmental relationship with Toronto cops, the latter usually giving the former first dibs on those "hot lead stories". CITY, in turn, reports them in a tabloid style.

 As I write this on Nov. 9, 2004, I am back in appeal court tomorrow after losing a two year battle there, beginning upon my release from custody March , 2000  and which appeared to be finished May 17, 2002, when the presiding judge and self-described friend of  Honickman, Mr. Justice John Hamilton, threw out my motions, subpoenas  and evidence on the spot, but not before declaring that 12 cops failed in their attempt to kill me because they were "incompetent". Yes, this guy still sits on the bench and continues to hear cases.

 It was only after soliciting our provincial Chief Magistrate, in an inspired yet desperate move last year, that I received a mysterious invitation from The Ministry of the Attorney General to start again; this time before our highest and most august  body, the Ontario Court of Appeal,  in front of  three   learned justices. It came down unanimously in my favour and here I am today.

 Originally composed on a very buggy e-mail system (which explains some of the skewed text), I haven't really had access to a computer since then to bring it up to date. Suffice to say, though, I have done further and ferocious battle with the Law Society, the Ministry of the A.G., the cops (where every "investigation" has been buried/killed, including three publicly promised by our negligent, if not corrupt and now out-going Chief, Julian Fantino), City Hall and anyone else who dares to get in the way of justice or myself.

 As computer availability has improved somewhat as of late (being impoverished,  transient or, in a couple of cases, homeless throughout this certainly didn't help), I intend to add some of the documents and correspondence which were accrued then and since. Your eyes will believe it.

 This begins with some background for the intended recipient's sake, then accelerates rapidly come the middle of this composition. Do hang in there, if you care about human rights in an alleged democracy. Note that some of the players have moved around, so some of the numbers at the end have changed, but insofar as the cops go, (416) 808-8000 will hook you right up with any of them.

 The photo is of me; what I've become after losing my home, car, $55,000 yr. income, career, all of my possessions - save for a couple of bags of clothing - and so much more. 

 I  kid only about the picture (it's a post card, actually), although it's close, but not quite. The rest is true, although the way I see it, if  this guy can plug along, maybe I should bear it in mind in my worst moments. A little levity never hurts, no?

 Many thanks.

 Billie Turner

e-mail me: futhapo@yahoo.ca

(you figure it out)

June ' 84: Move to Broadview/Danforth neighbourhood but, working two jobs, I'm hardly seen around.

Mar.' 87: Buy house, then break ankle. STRESS; plot begins to unravel.

Oct. ' 88: Throw plot away, begin attempt to drink myself to death (or whatever).
Second Cup appears in 'hood (355 Danforth) as a corporate store.

Late ' 89: Serge Entine franchises said outlet; fun begins.

Mid ' 90: Front patio established; magnet for neighbourhood.

     Aug.' 91: Recession begins full swing; I begin 2.5 year
     unemployment streak, save for....

    May ' 92: Entine, overhearing of my experience at Timothy's Coffees (the competitor),begs me to work for him, citing "mature influence", etc.

    June ' 92: Entine's experiment ends (30th) but I'm not "fired", we "agree to disagree" (quotes his) and I'm more than welcome to carry on coming   by, hang out, sit on patio for hours.

   Early' 93: Side patio (large) opens; customers & scum bags alike converge.

   Nov. ' 93: Here we go... Ex Toronto cop (52 & 55 Div.) Matthew McMahon rents apartment above 2nd Cup; grovels & ingratiates himself with crowd.

  Mid ' 94: McMahon now "Building Mgr." for 355 Danforth & surrounding property.

 May ' 95: I move into 268 Danforth with ' hood's known (but not to me) speedball freak/junkie, have him taken out 24 days later. McMahon thinks this is hilarious but with me, feigns indifference (and I get real 1st taste of his two ( three? five?) faced character).

 Aug. ' 95: Under duress, I have Bay St. acquaintance move in to help with rent. Crackhead. Chaos. Even more hilarious to McMahon (privately), yet he's there when I have to pull out all of the stops to get this guy bounced. I' ve also had key, for a year, to common areas of 355 to borrow tools,shopvac, enter to visit Trevor Hopkins in Apt. 2 on Sat.mornings, etc.

 June' 97: With less than 30 days to go ' til 40th birthday, I question my right to put first band in 10 years together to celebrate if I'm only going to screw it up the next day. Begin binge to end all binges.

 June 11' 97: Stop, re-assess, sober up; work out catch-up with my landlord; start heavy movie-industry gig, pull 2 week rehearsal blitz for B'day bash; June 27 play at local scene of 10 years of drunkenness to 150 people. Half are stunned, half are taking bets on my sobriety.

 Aug.' 97: Movie gig now busy as hell and bucks to match; McMahon heard to say that he's going to put me in my "place" for standing upright & sober for this long. He now knows I must mean it. (I learn of this much later). When asked what I've done, query is met with 3 Stooges-like aping; when asked how it's to be done, McMahon says, "All I need is a girl in the store to say he's harassing her. I' m an ex-cop & I' ll do the rest". (Also, movie work suddenly ceases Aug. 20.)

 Dec.' 97: Aimlessly wandering along the Danforth one evening, but on my way home by now, I step in to 2nd Cup, only to see a ringer (Marie Anne Chartrand) for a long-gone but still precious friend of mine standing behind the counter doing day-end cash out.
 After a few moments of stunned disbelief, I ask Chartrand if she has any siblings. When the answer is "No", I exclaim to the other employee, Josephine Sinopolli, about the uncanny resemblance and a photo that I have at home of my buddy, then boot home and return with same to show both, then leave.

 Jan.' 98: Deciding to paint my apartment top to bottom, I have many occasions to run over to 2nd to find McMahon and borrow tools and gear. We'd always meet outside; I, avoiding my usual entering of the store but noticing that Chartrand, every time, would have suddenly have to wipe the tables nearest the window, straighten the newspapers by the front door and on at least one occasion, step out for a break (I quickly wound it up with McMahon and headed off). Later I heard that she'd been inquiring about me, with him and others.

 Mar.' 98: Absolutely gorgeous day early in (about the 3rd or 4th, as I recall), I decide to hit a patio for the first of the season, but the only one up is the Second Cup. Figuring that if Chartrand still works there I'm going to be sitting outside anyway, ergo minimal interaction with her, I proceed. McMahon starts giving me the first attitude of the year, also, then Chartrandcomes out to "wipe a table"; strikes up small-talk.
 Mid-month, I'm walking along south side of Danforth when work related page comes through, so I step into phone box in front of 2nd Cup to return call and looking up, notice Yvonne Thompson grab Chartrand's sleeve and draw her attention to me in booth (they being on the side patio). Thompson then puts herself in front of the phone booth and upon my exit says that she and her friend (Chartrand) want to come over. I knew Thompson as the roommate of friend Chris Ryan and had never had any problem with her or anyone else, so why not? Besides, who is this Chartrand?
 Introductions are made, they hang out for an hour, a good time is had by all (other friends dropped by, later to become witnesses, as it turns out).

 March 31: After a sleepless night before and lots to do that day, I zip over to 2nd Cup at 11:00 am. in search of an espresso.
Seeing me enter the store, Chartrand pushes aside two other employees to come front and center to the counter to serve me. 

 It turns out she's alright, as determined previously (or so I think) and having noticed that she appears to be rather lonely and knowing of free pool in the neighbourhood on select days, I ask if she'd enjoy a game sometime. She jumps on the invite and later portrays to Chris Ryan, who'd dropped by shortly afterward, how much she's looking forward to it.
 That evening, my pager goes off with a number I don' t recognize. Returning  the call, it's Yvonne Thompson at Chartrand's, asking if they can come by. 

 They do. Marie Anne divulges that she's moving out on her boyfriend into single digs the next day. Off they go.

 April 7 : Having been inspired to put together a quick cassette tape of tunes, beginning with Stephen Stills' "Marianne", I drop it by the store before she gets in, joking with the staff not to tell her who did it (but figuring she'd know, having seen my 3,000 albums).
 One of them decides to milk it, refusing to say who (hardly my intention) and she apparently heads home with the tape and some reluctance, as it was unmarked. (Later I'm told that there had already been a few mashers hanging around and calling the store, although I'm not sure how concerned she really might have been, given that she was already in the practice of picking up male customers and heading either back to her place if the "ex" was out, or off to theirs, appearing freshly fucked (sorry, but true), at work the next day).

 April 8 : Her Birthday! (Never knew, either). She comes in to work delirious about the tape, pissing McMahon right off. (Another tape
followed about a week later; same reaction from both parties).  First encounter with new employee Candace Gardner (see letter to Bregman).

 Apr. 15 : Drop by store after work, figuring she's gone by 4:20 pm. Wrong.
 Spying me, says something about going "straight home" to a fellow employee; I join a customer outside and a couple of minutes later Yvonne strolls up; greetings, inside, then both come out and sit at an adjacent table (with twenty to choose from) and ignore us, so I leave without incident (although the other guy was left scratching his head). By this time, also, McMahon has become mouthy, stupid, confrontational and has declared, via third party, that he wants my copy of the building key returned.
 Second encounter with Candace Gardner.

 Apr. 20 : Having been over twice more since, in the presence of owner Serge Entine, I drop by at about 10:00 am (and no Chartrand, even though she works Mon.- Fri.). Entine serves me, I head out to the patio to read the paper, an hour later go in for refill which Entine provides, then he claims to want to have "a word" with me.
 I indicated that I was outside; he followed ten minutes later, looked around, puffed himself up and then declared that my money was no longer any good, my patronage less than desirable and that I was, forthwith, barred from the premises (also see letter to Bregman).
 Passing by later that day and asking a male employee, who was outside, what was going on, he informed me that we couldn't talk, as all staff had been threatened with dismissal if they were to acknowledge me.

 Apr. 28 : Call Second Cup Head Office and make a discreet inquiry with Customer Rep. Wendy Gillis as to what's up. She calls back two
minutes later with the answer that Entine has identified me as an "exception, an asshole". Thanking her for her candour, I had to at least
ask where this was coming from, given my impeccable history at that location, if not within the entire neighbourhood. No go. Oh well.

 May 1 : Call H.O.again to ask who I might write to. Given V.P. Marketing Ron Baugh's name.

 May 4 : Deliver letter to Baugh.

 May 5 : Terri Chong calls on behalf of Ron Baugh, claiming him to be in Ottawa. Chong is, frankly, an idiot, calling Entine three times and
receiving three different answers about me, the first being that the staff "fear" me, then that I'm "disruptive" and then finally, that I somehow
adversely affect his bottom line. I challenged Chong on accepting Entine's fluid position, along with the ability to prove any impact, besides favourable (a meeting place amongst friends and recognized passersby who would join me), that I may have upon his business.

 May 6/7 : Two more days of bullshit with Ms. Customer Relations 101 until, exasperated, I finally laid out the soap-opera aspect of the notorious 355 Danforth location (being professional wasn't good enough), including McMahon's misogynistic attitude and comments to other customers and women just strolling past the patio; his unhealthy preoccupation with, particularly, younger female staff in the past and now, Chartrand (although she's 28, he's about 58, I believe); his known manipulative/vindictive streak and the means to carry it out, to a degree, by using a beholden Entine (McMahon being the repair guy around the premises) and specific to my concern, a neighbourhood filled with others in media & the movie industry who, upon overhearing McMahon's allegations about myself (whatever they may be, knowing both him & his mouth), could, with one phone call, bring my activities within same to a halt ( I was a "Permit", ie; permitted to drive only when the Union Member call list for IATSE Local 873 was exhausted, but that was often). Little did I absolutely realize that it had already been done (See "Work dries up Aug .20,' 97). 

 Going nowhere, but without prejudice, I inform Chong that I'll write to the one who possesses the authority to ask a few questions; Michael Bregman.

 May 8 : Deliver letter to Bregman, as originally addressed to Ron Baugh, at 3pm. Serge Entine, rather than leave at his customary 4:00 Friday
afternoon, is seen nervously pacing around for two hours until Bregman's flashy Mercedes pulls up and "The Man" himself emerges, grilling a
highly uncomfortable Serge for yet another two hours until he finally
makes off, leaving the supremely rattled Entine behind.

 Mid-May : Still not entirely satisfied and knowing of the above, I call Head Office again and speak with Bregman's assistant, Anne Morris, who "gets" it and is none-too-pleased with the description of McMahon's deportment and conduct on the patio. When I make the agreed upon follow-up call the next day to inquire as to the latest, Marie Fennell informs me that the Second Cup does not discuss Ann Morris, that she is "no longer with the firm".
 Marie Anne Chartrand, knowing of all of the activity surrounding my inquiries and having heard from McMahon that I'm a "stalker, violent, with previous victims at the store" (I learn of this later), not only continues to come into the Great Canadian Bagel next door (where I'm now exclusive), if only to say hello to employee Helen Kadas and then leave, but pages me from her new phone number.
 Yvonne Thompson answers, again asking if they can come by. Shortly afterward Thompson arrives at my door, alone and asks if I might know where to buy pot. I send her packing.

 May 28 : Chartrand is now taking breaks outside, if not coming over, when aware that I'm next door (and my schedule's the same as ever
and for years: in by 6:30-7:00am, out by 8:00-8:30). I'd been offered a job placement the day before to begin June 1 and it was troubling me
trying to understand the actions of Chartrand and others whom I know from the store, so I phoned Yvonne at home and asked to meet. 

 She agreed,but when I arrived it was to discover that she was in the middle of eviction proceedings. Despite this, a couple of things were determined.
 One, that the reason Thompson came by alone a couple of weeks prior was that Chartrand was "uncomfortable" in my presence, to which I
inquired as to why she continued to behave as portrayed; why I had been given her new home phone number by virtue of the page and then,
if it had been her who had had me barred.
 Assuring me otherwise, Thompson then described the scenario where Candace Gardner had come out to yap to McMahon when I'd been to the store April 15, saying that I "bugged" her, among other things and they then quickly formed a pact, handshake and all, where the allegation would be that I'd entered the store, threw a fit and was then removed by McMahon. ( This, from a well known pacifist and peacemaker. Me.)
 Secondly, when I asked Thompson how she and Chartrand were going to make out in a no-bedroom bachelor apartment (Chartrand's place,
where she was headed), she offered that, "Well, you know, I work at Starbucks, she's at the Cup; she works days, I work nights. We'll never
see each other", yet within two weeks Yvonne left her $35,000 year job (having been transferred here from Vancouver to manage the then-new
Pape/Danforth location as part of the Starbucks blitz on Toronto) to join her buddy at a two-thirds pay cut and then, two weeks after that,
latched right on, working the same shifts, with the same days off as Chartrand, much to her (Marie Anne's) purported chagrin. 

 Keep this in mind, for it comes into play, shortly.

 Summer 98: Bloody miserable. "Friends" from the patio, including Ashley MacInnis (who'd declared the cassette tapes, "The nicest thing
anyone could have ever done", as Chartrand had only a little boom-box prior to Yvonne's arrival, for company) and a multitude of others
would now cross the street if they saw me first; conversations would drop to a whisper or grind to a halt if I walked past; I was starting to hear mutterings of the rumours going around and throughout it all, had to witness Chartrand sit on the Second Cup patio for hours on end after work looking forlorn; in search of a friend, of company. Also seeping out were the stories about her abusive "ex" and other issues.
 As a consequence, I threw myself into all of the hours that my new jobs demanded, without regard for the basics such as sleep, food,
recreation, etc., save for an attempt to put another band together for my 41st birthday, complete with posters daring the neighbourhood
to turn out. 

 Result? Zero people (minus bar staff).

 Sep.25 : Stress, anxiety and alienation takes its toll; job goes out the window ( One customer complaint: "He won't say anything").

 Sep.26 : Witness comes across the street to Timothy's Coffees (new hangout for my neighbourhood, but patron of chain for 17 years at other locations and employee at Yonge & Eglinton in ' 91 until I was victim of unrelated assault) and finally relays details of McMahon's allegations.
 I suggest that this may be cause for legal recrimination and ask witness to leave it with me.

 Oct. 5 : Call 2nd Cup Head Office one more time and armed with specifics, inquire after their intentions. Terri Chong: "See you in court".
 I then call Bregman, get his voice-mail and articulate Chong's position, asking only if she speaks for the Corporation and if not, how we might resolve this. 

 Nothing, that is until ....

 Nov. 2 : Arrive home at 3:40 pm to retrieve a message from P.C. Karen Mckay, 55 Division, stating that I should call regarding a "very important matter" by 4:00 that afternoon.
 After six attempts (three dumps into voice-mail, two cut-offs and then...) Det. Paul Scudds picks up the phone, saying that he wanted a "little chat" with me. 

 I'm about to move my car anyway and tell him that I'll be right down. Oh boy, can't wait to finally straighten this out and of course, they'll realize what a moron McMahon is, being professionals and all. They may even get him off my back! How wrong could I be?
 After waiting 45 minutes, Scudds finally appears in 55's lobby and upon confirming my identity, announces that I'm under arrest for Criminal
Harassment. When I ask if I might portray my version of events, I'm told, "We know your story, asshole, you're a stalker". I figure it's time to shut up.
 Dragged upstairs to the Detective's offices, I'm shoved (already handcuffed) into their interrogation room and then Scudds, while refusing to name the complainant (in violation of my, or anyone's rights), reads off the charge and the allegations as quickly as he can.

 Among them: an overwhelming number of phone calls to Chartrand ( who's still not named), including one alleged to relate where she had been on one occasion, with whom and what she was wearing (in testimony later, her position was that these "calls" were unavailable as evidence as they had been erased by herself, thinking that I'd "gone away" in my neighbourhood of fifteen years); that, instead of merely reading my paper in the morning at either the Bagel or later, Timothy's, I was, in fact, "monitoring" the actions of Chartrand from said premises (and the cops, to this day, are yet to enter either store, as it would spoil their favour with Serge Entine and McMahon's "credibility") and a litany of alleged "events" that left my head spinning. Held in custody, transferred to 51 Division at 1:30am for transport to court the next morning and quite naturally, no sleep.

 Nov. 3 : Meet College Park Duty Counsel at 9:30am. Female. Doesn't have all of the information but asks if I'm aware of the charge and
what's behind it. I assure her that, as a woman and as my counsel, I didn't do whatever's alleged and that she should prepare for the worst.
With but a split second's consideration, she chooses to believe me. Thank Christ.
 At 3:00pm I finally make it before the court and with only two matters left on the docket (mine included) and having until 4:30, the J.P.,
upon hearing my name, announces that he has, "no time for this matter".
 Duty Counsel doesn't believe that she's heard right and tries again, only to be told, for the second time, "Not today, counsellor". 

 A third time, arguing that my Dad is recovering from open-heart surgery (true), "NOT TODAY, COUNSEL", at which point, begging the Court's indulgence, she comes over to me and literally asks, "What the fuck's going on here?".
 I could only suggest that she'd been warned and that we'd try again the next day. Straight to the Don Jail, held to return to court.

 Nov. 4 : I get my bail hearing, alright. Crown declares me a "menace to society"; wants me held in custody until trial.
 Duty Counsel argues no record; gives a bit of background about my relationship with the neighbourhood (including the drunk bits but still, no violence ever) and raises my inquiry with Second Cup head office a month previous, which finally gets the J.P.'s attention and levels the playing field.
 Crown, to even imagine a release, wants a bare minimum of house arrest because they can't get space restrictions (my home was across
the street from, or in the middle of, everything, ergo I could be arrested for sitting on my couch if such were applied). This is nuts and Duty
portrays it as such, successfully. $2500 bail (again, without a record) and off I go.
 After picking up my car from 55, I, for my own protection, head straight to the Bagel (spotting McMahon next door, naturally) and
inform the owner of the events that have taken place and show him my bail papers, knowing what McMahon is going to allege about my
conditions (ie: do not attend at Great Canadian) and trying to avoid an ugly breakfast the next morning.
 After some time there, I head across the street to Timothy's (McMahon now gone, of course) to repeat the process. As I'm filling
in the proprietor of that establishment, two cops come into the store, up from behind and try to grab me but because I'm anticipating this,
I offer to step outside and enlighten them. Satisfied, they then apologize and depart. Home to my own bed....

 Nov. 5 : As much as Ashley MacInnis tried to avoid the meeting agreed to the night before, I went to his workplace 15 minutes
before close and picked him up.

 Among other things, he related that Marie Anne had been "catatonic" at her work on Nov. 2, unable to even form the words to describe what was wrong and now he knew why; that she had started crying when she learned of my arrest, having been promised that the cops would merely throw a scare into me to "leave head office alone", if she'd only swear the complaint ; that she had once asked him for an endorsement of me (but he   wouldn't, of course, give it, just like everyone else, in case McMahon picked on him/her/them too. Boo-hoo, eh?). 

 Also Nov.5, statements finally taken from Chartrand and Thompson at 55 Division, on videotape (yes, really. Do the math). MacInnis knew all about this bit and, unknown to me at the time, had arranged to meet with the girls after we'd finished to giggle and dish dirt, of which there was none.

 Dec. 16 : Set date for trial; no disclosure according to Crown. Call 55, speak to McKay who a) wants to know if I'm defending myself  & b) claims disclosure left the building for College Park Courts.

 Dec.8. Go to Crown's office, who says, "Go to Police Bureau down the hall". Do that, cop asks what I want. When told, he says Crown has it in court and goes off to retrieve it.
 Upon return, states that disclosure is "incomplete" as addresses haven't been blacked out and it has to go back, but not before I note that Scudds has signed it out the day before (so much for "December 8"). Also observe that the Police Bureau cop never did have to ask me my name.

 Dec. 29 : Designated Officer In Charge Sheila Richardson returns from holiday (I was waiting) and I call her about disclosure. It just happens to be sitting on her desk and is, in fact, intact; just like when it left 55 Division November 28! She also warns me to back off when I inform her that this whole thing is a massive pile of bullshit because, "It's all true, we've got a video statement, you know". I decide that I want it, also.
 
 Dec. 30 : Talk to a soon-to-be ally in College Park Crown's Office, "Mary". Ask about obtaining video thru disclosure. Due to Harris budget cuts it's no longer automatic but can be had, once ordered, within 5-6 days. As for the rest? "Call me, let's see, New Years, long weekend....Monday" (Jan.4.' 99, then). 

1999

  Jan. 4 : Call Mary, who flips when she discovers that documents made it into the building and were immediately turned around, ordered back to 55.  She then calls Richardson on my behalf, disclosure produced the next day at College Park. As anticipated, nothing. 

 One Crown witness (Chartrand), not even the cops; two statements (Chartrand and Thompson, who by now has jumped a plane back to B.C.) which are incomplete and even those bits are wildly incongruent; no McMahon, no Entine and of course, no "previous victims". Let's have it thrown out, yes?

 Jan. 14 : Pre-trial with Crown Maureen McGuigan, who: denies me entry to her office ("That's only for people with a lawyer"), making
me negotiate in the foyer; doesn't want to hear from Ashley MacInnis (whose balls I'd busted to come down with me to serve as an example of the kind of witnesses I'd bring to court); recommends getting counsel, as this is an "emotional issue" (only in the sense that an entire neighbourhood abandoned me, as I told her); begs me to take a "Peace Bond" (yet they'd insisted on bail, as mere recognizance wasn't good enough, if you recall and besides, I didn't DO ANYTHING!) and finally, tells me that the video disclosure will be available in "five to six weeks".

 Jan. 16 : Set date for trial, ask for Judicial Pre-trial instead. Given February 8 for same. No mention of "Peace Bond". Later that day, walking along Danforth, I see Entine, with Chartrand in his car, pull over, oblivious to my existence and start screaming at her (about what, I can only guess).

 Feb. 3 : Leave message for Richardson inviting her to call me (about Judicial Pre) without saying exactly why. Nothing.

 Feb. 8 : I'm there, Judge is there, Crown's there and desperately seeking Richardson. Judge says, "hands are tied" and case must proceed. Set date of July 13. Arrive home to discover message from Richardson. Return. She admits to "hearing something about the Crown last week", but that's it. Liar.

 Feb/Mar.: Bomb neighbourhood (and "neighbours") with subpoenas. Get everyone and everything, including a few threats. 

 Among those subpoenaed is "friend" of 17 years, Liz Forrester (Drobig), Director of North American Operations, Timothy's Coffees, who I figured would attest to my attendance at same as having a history and being quite logical, in counter to this "monitoring" bullshit. Nice chat until I serve her with sub., when she gets entirely skittish, claiming that she could lose her job if she were to appear (even though 2nd & Timothy's are competitors, her boss and Bregman do dinner parties together). 

 Sho' nuff, come trial, Liz, risking a Contempt of Court charge, fails to show.


Date: Mon, 10 Jul 2000 17:12:09 -0700

1999 cont'd.

April 11:Andrew Sainsbury (neighbourhood figure) stops me in front of Tim's (Timothy's) with a 2nd Cup cup in his hand and offers to
buy me a coffee over there. I mention that I'm barred, then remember that's nothing compared to my bail order. 

 When he asks what that's all about (as if hanging on their patio, he didn't know), I mention Chartrand, et al. He then suggests that we should talk and takes me aside, saying a) "She's a pothead, y'know" & b) "She's done this (referred to stalking) before" and then continues on about how he and a buddy that he was putting up on his couch were going to 2nd just after she'd started working there and she was bitching to other staff (but not him) about how his buddy was "eyeballing" her, giving her "the creeps", etc.
 This so upset his pal, once he'd heard, that the next morning Sainsbury found him gone ( this, right out of rehab), never to be seen again ...and
then the kicker... " I fucked her", going on about how once his buddy was gone, she then, if even a a couple of days later, told him to wait a few minutes as she was getting off work, took Sainsbury back to the place she shared with her then-beau, Marc Gosellin, smoked tons o' pot, dropped two hits of acid and then "fucked around" ; she explaining that they couldn't "finish" because Gosselin might walk in. However, he took her phone number, hit on her all weekend (Gosselin even answering a few times) and upon seeing her four days later at the store, was told to come back in a couple of hours to pick her up, went back to his place and completed what they'd started. 

 Sensationalistic, you say? No, I figured that as part of an able defence, I could show the court just what her idea of reasonable risk was (again, me just reading the paper across the street versus..); her indiscriminate solicitation of, along with revealing her abode and phone number to, mere customers and her having cried the same plaint before (especially in this case, only to, well, we know).
 Sainsbury then suggests that we'll be pals from then on; he'll be my "spy over there" (2nd Cup) and keep notes of what's going on ( just like the ones he made about Chartrand, according to himself ) prior to the trial. Through out all of this, I notice that McMahon is carefully watching from across the street.

 Apr.12 Get Sainsbury a subpoena, call him asking to meet without saying why, he tries to stand me up but I nail him, does slow burn...

 April 18: Sainsbury pages me 9:30am and when I call, starts building up, demanding to see disclosure, then starts screaming. Meanwhile,
I'm holding an updated sub., this one asking for his "journals". What to do?

 April 19: Taking sub. out the door with me, I go for coffee at other end of Danforth, kill some time, step out their door and boom, straight into Sainsbury on his bike. He stops and tries to schmooze me while I'm reaching for the subpoena, not even noticing. Served, he loses it, takes off and then, as I'm halfway home, comes back and tells me to watch both my ass and my property, a couple more vague threats and then zips over to the 2nd Cup patio to talk to ... McMahon.

 Late April: Call Gosellin, remembering the number from page the year previous. Leave only my pager #. Cat and mouse for a couple, then we talk a bit and agree to meet in a public place, his local bar. All he has is my self-description, no name, no reason why. We meet. Before I.D., I ask if he's heard about the matter or my name. He says "no". 

 I then lay it out and ask about her history, without mentioning Sainsbury. He starts getting vague and heads off to the bathroom a few times, at one point coming back to the table with his knapsack and then turning right around, returning, sheepish, a few minutes later. Upon conclusion, I offer him a ride home. He says he'll walk, then heads in the opposite direction but toward 54 Division, a block away. I do believe we've just taped our conversation (and we'll find out Aug.17).

 June 7: Gosellin pages me. I call back, with the proviso that we probably shouldn't be talking at all by now (Communicate Third Party, violation of bail) but while I have him on the phone, I ask how she's doing with the trial a month away. He says two things: that she's "rough", because the cops aren't providing any support and secondly, that she was worried that I was going to serve him the subpoena I'd produced at our meeting but believed him to know not much at all. At this point, though, I think I smell a rat.

 June 14: Chartrand "fired", without notice, one month after promotion to Manager and a month till trial. Should be distraught, as everyone who put her up to this is bailing.

 June 21: With not a care in the world, Chartrand appears on 2nd Cup patio dressed head to toe in brand new clothing with yet another guy but without even the benefit of a coffee as a prop. Tossing her hair back, awaiting her admirers, then spots me across the street, panics and splits.

 July 7: Richardson calls to inform me that I'm wanted for a Fail To Comply re: Gosellin. Sure. Tell her to forget it, hear nothing until....

 July 9: Starts busting my balls, I get 3rd party to mediate while I call Crown, who says that they have "no issue" with me. It's then agreed, after two hours, that I'll turn myself in Monday, July 12 and "Bring your suit, 'cause we have no intention of releasing you". 

 NOW Magazine calls, to follow up the inquiry I'd made the day before about covering this. Meet Alex Scott, who's fairly lame until I mention Maureen McGuigan, who he'd gone to Law school with. Still, "No story". Oh well. 

 Five minutes later, pager goes off. Richardson. Return call to hear Rich screaming about "more evidence" and how the Crown now wants me to surrender by 5:00 (it's 5:02). Maybe tomorrow, I say. Fifteen minutes later, I receive a call indicating that my Grandfather has three days to live (this, out of the blue). Call Richardson, who flips. Too bad.

 July 13: SHOWTIME!!!!! 39 of my witnesses, including Entine, McMahon, an ex-girlfriend who's glad to be there, one of the two "previous victims", all of the cops (except Scudds, who submits a perjured affidavit to the court) and half of the community, shamed into facing themselves, mill around outside the courtroom while Chartrand & Gosellin hide in the Witness Protection Room next to it, darting in and out only to complain about how long they'll have to sit around. Second Cup Ltd. has sent scumbag greaseball  Johnathon Baker to submit bullshit affidavits about how the execs know nothing about this and Bregman's, particularly, is telling by virtue of the fact that he's "in Europe" until the 16th (day after trial is done, for now), he has "no knowledge" of events but specifically, his signature is nowhere to be found, as he's hidden behind Terri Chong's skirt (and submission) to get around this, yet Baker allows the Judge to believe it's from him and she buys it (I have the copy).

 Toronto cops' lawyer is there to kill the subpoena for Scudds and for McMahon's Human Resources file, after a member of their own office, Rhonda Blackmore, had helped me write the sub. properly to get what I was after. I got my answer with McMahon, though. It's better to hide his file, etc.
 Proceedings begin and McMahon loses it, of course, arguing that nobody wants to be my witness and that they have nothing to offer anyway, never mind all of these "illegal" subpoenas. Judge puts him up, at which point it's revealed that he knew about his H.R. file coming in, thanks to the cops (yet according to them later, they'd never spoken, Maciek going so far as to say they'd "never met" ); he'd counseled Chartrand, insofar as a "father would his daughter" (and I didn't touch, "One who wants to screw his daughter?"), contrary to her testimony later that they'd never discussed me (that being contrary again to her Nov. 5,' 98 statement that "Matthew knows everything about Billie") and all kinds of little bits and bites that were a nice beginning to my case before it really began, had the Judge actually been paying attention.

 Tammy Coutu of Starbucks ( long story ) then wants out of there, too, so she jumps up on the stand and under cross-exam admits that she tried to duck the subpoena in the first place and that yes, Scudds had ordered the material I was after seized, contrary to his attested affidavit, thank you. Again, had the Judge been awake... (this bout is also the first thing I noticed missing from transcript).

 The Crown then tries to challenge the legitimacy of the subs, Judge rules for me, now what? Oh ho! Johnathon Baker offers to act as amicus curae (friend of the Court) to help solve this little problem, to wit; who really has evidence to give?

 Being given two questions to ask, that is, "Do you have material evidence to offer the Court?" and "Do you have character evidence...?", etc., all of the staff, players, morons and hangers-on from the 2nd Cup store on Danforth come back with, "No". This from Entine, especially, who I'd worked for, "chased little girls around the store" and failing that, "busted the place up"? Pointing that one out to the Judge, she STILL didn't get it, but the witnesses remained mine to call, anyway.

 July 14: 1st up, Richardson, who the Crown waives with no q's so that I can get at her ( he already smells a rat, by the way, particularly since
he couldn't get one bad character reference from the crowd, in a straw poll, the day before). I demo Richardson with lousy testimony and
by her own notes, forced by myself to read them out loud as I backed her into corners (Result afterward? Out of C.I.B. and back into uniform,
appearing at the 2nd days later to make her point, whatever that was).
 She had also informed my buddy, the one who had dealt with her July 9, that there'd be no Fail To Comply after all, as she was satisfied with my conduct. Remember this (and sorry James, Chartrand was 1st but I'm getting tired, period, although the proceedings are true).

 O.K., so Chartrand. Should be distraught, despairing, demolished but instead walks in like she owns the place (turns out she does, or at least
it was paid for). 

 Chippy. Denies everything in her statement, even when confronted with it. Denies everything, in fact, but gives us the fact that she studied to be a Correctional Officer (Jail Guard) for a year, then dropped out; that P.C. Maciek was "Officer John" (tee-hee) whom she'd met July the year previous (in other testimony,"March") when she'd treated a burn with aloe, then started giving her rides home after work (even when she wasn't working nights) and blah blah blah. In fact, she couldn't say enough about "Officer John"; this, without any prompting whatsoever. Isn't anybody LISTENING???? (except the Crown, who was all ears by now).

 At this point I've got one eye on the clock and the other on the 401, trying to get out of there to bury my Grandfather, who had died July 11, in fact, so when asked if I had any more q's of Chartrand and I said, "Not at this time", that didn't suffice. It was, according to the Judge, all or nothing so, forgetting that I might ask for a break, I let her slide and the Judge called lunch (doh!).

 Half an hour into lunch, I'm ruminating upon what had happened. Where did the balls come from, the confidence to stare me down as she lied through her teeth, when it hit me. 

 Just as the guy who was set up with a short till, to be fired for really being "too gay" until he found out, or Monica Buonfiglio, who had applied for 26 jobs in a row upon leaving the 2nd Cup and no call-backs until I'd suggested a bad reference from Entine and a lawyer's letter ordering "cease and desist", getting the next job she'd solicited and a nice little cheque to forget the whole thing, Marie Anne had been PAID!

 Running back to the courtroom, I found that Gosellin and Chartrand were long gone, of course.

 Moving on to Maciek, then, I did him too, asking when they'd met, in what capacity, if there had been any mention of fear or threats to her safety that summer (he not knowing of her bragadacio about the rides home, etc.) but not of sex, as I thought the Crown would object on the grounds that it was "too personal", that I was too close to the subject. The first time she even spoke to him, officially, as a cop, though, was Oct. 11, ' 98, six days after Second Cup Head Office's defiant challenge. What's with the big salary? thinks me of the Judge. Do I have to draw a picture for you all?

 On comes Helen Kadas, of the 2nd Cup's neighbour, the Great Cdn. Bagel to level everybody. Testifies about the complainant's conduct in and around the two stores, her attitude around me within the same environs, the lack of "fear", or anything else, for that matter, either expressed or displayed when I'm about. In fact, talk as they did, Helen had never heard a word about me from her, either positive or negative, in the year and a half that our paths crossed, pre and post complaint/charge.

 That's it for now, James. When we return, it will be the calamity that was my attempting to report a couple of real crimes. Y' know; Obstruction of Justice, Perjury, Mischief, the usual (in my life, anyway).

Subject: part3
Date: Tue, 11 Jul 2000 22:50:17 -0700
From:
To:

 James: Hope I've still got your attention. I forgot an occurence in May ' 99 which will better explain what may have appeared to be a rant
against Sainsbury in my last missive, so here goes...

 May 25: Run into Sainsbury at local Loblaws. I've already identified him as one of McMahon's flunkies, obviously. Anyway, upon spying me in the company of a friend o' mine he diverts his course and launches into a tirade, including the allegation that I'm a "child molester,'cause McMahon told me (him) so". Words fire back & forth and I head off.

 By the time I get home I decide that I'm getting real sick of this bullshit, so I call the voice-mail number I'd been given when I was his "best friend" and laid it out, daring him to bring it on and warning him that the neighbourhood has ears and I'll find out first.

 He takes the bait, as three days later when I return home, having left only 1/2 an hour previously (8:00am), to move my car at the neighbour's behest, I discover somebody with one leg over the back fire-escape of my apt. 

 Calling him down, he comes up with some half-assed excuse for his conduct and when I ask the neighbour to hold this guy while I check inside, figuring Sainsbury is, he bolts while I am. Now I can add another face to the collection of enemies I don't know, thanks to this ex-cop, may I remind you, and his puppet.
 Obviously I call the cops (54 Div., my side of the street) to report, then I call Richardson at 55, asking her what she's going to do about a
threatened, then attempted b & e on my premises and particularly McMahon, not realizing just how tight this is.

 I also convey how Sainsbury flipped on me when I "ruined it" for him with Chartrand after serving him and that if she wanted to check out a real sicko, a real threat to Chartrand's existence (for Sainsbury had also implied, at Loblaws, that he'd kick in her windows and it would hang on me) she should begin with this guy and maybe seize his "journals" while she was at it, giving her the address, etc. I reminded Richardson that if I hung up the phone and then Chartrand were indeed terrorized it would be me that they'd come after. Serve and protect? My ass.

 When this came up in court, Richardson admitted that her idea of "investigating" this matter was to go to the 2nd Cup and inquire about my sanity. I'm getting pissed just tapping this out.

 Ok. So here we are July 19, back in Toronto after burying my Grandfather. I'm whipping around on my bike when I get a notion to investigate the avenues available to me and end up talking to a Det. Steve Pipe at Internal Affairs. I lay out the story for him while he's offhandedly asking for more particulars, including names. I counter with, "It's a scenario that's either true or not. What's in a name?" but after a bit, I decide to get this going, so I give him Richardson.

 July 20: Lots o' stuff. First, I head down to College Park to seek out Iain Cunningham (a ringer who was brought in from Newmarket to prosecute
this, as College Park Crowns either won't face me, or send in rookies). I inform him of my belief. He suggests contacting Rich. I don't trust her and say so. He offers to leave it with me. I accept and leave.

Get home. Call Rhonda Blackmore at cop's Legal Services (my ally when writing subs for McMahon and others) and ask what to do. She suggests writing Boothby, Chief at the time. I think this a bit over the top, but she assures me it's legit, so I do and fax it off.

 Start going thru phone book to talk to a lawyer who might have the time. Some give me five minutes, some none, although I do stumble upon Bruce Karten who, as it turns out, was counsel for a guy who was accused of the same thing (Crim. Harass) by Jill Davison, a shill sent over, March ' 99, to Timothy's to apply for a job (successfully) by a now extremely desperate 2nd Cup (either the store, or Ltd., though I think both)  to  a) spy on my activities and then, when nothing was forthcoming  b) up the ante by "leveling the playing field" and swearing the same complaint upon a Tim's customer, any customer, to "prove" to the Court, when I come after them, that "this happens " in the neighbourhood, the coffee industry, amongst stores and competitors.

 When this fellow was arrested he dealt with Dets. Spencer and Gerry at 55, consequently he was released on his own recog., no custody, no bail and when it got to court, charge withdrawn. Nuts, I am?

 When the Timothy's owner first brought up the issue of Davison's pushing him to bar the guy (so that, of course, he would inquire with their H.O. as I did the 2nd and then everything else), we both knew that he hadn't done anything except grab a coffee to go or, if he hung around, sit and read the paper or tech. manuals. I couldn't say for sure what was up, but I told him not to bite.

 Davison became extremely agitated over the next couple of weeks and when it was determined that there would be no action taken, she suddenly missed a shift (unheard of from her, being one who would get to work at 4:00am for a 6:00 open), then showed up a few hours later, throwing the keys at the owner, screaming about suing over "workplace safety" and then, "Fuck you, I have a job waiting at the Second Cup anyway".

 Davison then bombs Timothy's H.O. with three phone calls, asking for the highest execs by name (this, from someone who had to struggle to make change), yelling the same threats and conclusion (the job at 2nd). She is then seen hanging on the 2nd patio 1/2 hr. later and that's followed by the appearance of a "homeless looking guy", according to the owner (Sainsbury, I conclude) at Timothy's who uses the bathroom, only to have it overflow about an hour after that. The plumber, upon performing the emergency repairs, informs the owner that the vandalism was a professional job, no accident. When we learned that Davison started at the 2nd the next day, I got her a sub. and served it the next. It was her last shift.

 Now, of all the names that McMahon could have picked during his buffoonery in court on July 13, calling my strategy and witnesses "worthless"; if he'd really wanted to go for the low blow (like that's gonna hurt), there were at least 16 others he could have cited as being against me or having no relationship, but the one and only that he mentioned, specifically and nervously, who didn't want to take the stand and was the last introduced to this was....

 When made to rationalise the function of every subpoena on July 13, I had to articulate this little bit of nastiness when Davison's came up. Nobody laughed, it's on the record and I'm still waiting to be sued by the Corporation. Let's not forget that Honickman, being a self-declared libel & slander specialist, had this info. in front of him in transcript (but behind my back) and nothing has happened.

 Wait! We haven't even got to Honickman yet and it's still July 20 !

After going thru a few lawyers, I suddenly remember an article I'd read about a year 1/2 prior profiling good ol' Lorne Honickman's  (everyone in Toronto knows him!) being called to the Bar. I get him and he gives me almost an hour, then tells me to call when the "book rights" are up.

 July 21: Call Boothby's office at 8:30 am to ask their position. They, too, want specifics, including which corporation, the cops involved, etc. When I reiterate the offer that is in writing, before the Chief, or at least this minion, to provide a full & complete statement, preferably on video-tape, I'm told they "don' t do that here". Some cop shop. They do, however, suggest the Fraud Squad. The only fraud...

 Call Rhonda Blackmore, who now suggests the station Superintendent, who, in my case (55 Div.), would be Al Griffiths, so with a c.c. of Boothby's letter and even more detail for his own enlightenment, I write Griffiths & fax that. Learn of Ontario Civilian Commission On Police Services, write to them about Scudds' bogus affidavit, Maciek's social life with Chartrand, Richardson's stupidity.

 July 22: Al Griffiths doesn't want to return calls, never mind play ball. Fax the Ministry of the Attorney General and College Park Crown's office, putting them on notice and seeking assistance.

 July 23: Det. Rick Browne, Griffith's lackey, calls me to sniff around. I give him Entine's numbered company, history of previous payoffs and a couple of other items and he responds with, "Say, you know a bit too much, don't you?" and then, a few minutes later, "Hey clown, you talk too fast. I quit listening to you half an hour ago". He then says he's going to take the Fail To Comply issue "upstairs" to the detectives and get back to me.

 (I forgot, James, to mention that on July 20 Richardson had paged me and as soon as we made contact, she's panicky and screaming, "Why haven't you turned yourself in?". When I asked why I should, she says, "We had a deal when you were done with your Grandfather". "What took you, then?" I ask. "I just got into work yesterday" she counters. Duh. "Well then, what's kept you? Have you been talking to anyone? (say, Steve Pipe or Cunningham; though I doubt the latter). Hang up.

 C'mon. She's heard to say there's no longer a problem on July 13 and "the Crown always has the last word", so I phoned them, too. "No issue", they say. I go out for a bit and return at 3:00 to p/u a message from Browne stating that the F.T.C. sticks and if I don't turn myself in Monday morning ( July 26 ) at 7:00 there'll be a warrant for my arrest to that effect.

 July 26: Chris Ryan is in from Sarnia and as is the case in that case, staying with me but out and about, as am I. I return at 1:30, Chris has
been back 5 minutes already when suddenly there's pounding on my door.
 Able to see, through the one-way mirror on my front door, Scudds (on holidays, among other things, according to his affidavit) and Rich.
standing there, the heart races. Scudds, taking note of the function of the mirror and pissed (I can hear them), begins rapping on it as hard as
possible, keys in hand, trying to "accidentally" break it, when Rich. says, "You better not do that. We don't have a warrant". I, holding my breath, wait for them to leave, grab enough clothes to jam into my bag, call Honickman (voice-mail), leave Chris instructions regarding the key when he goes and head to a cousin's out of town.

 July 27: As I'm peaking and freaking out of town, Chris is over at the Second Cup doing his "homework" and sees Chartrand who, instead of returning directly to her table and fan club out front, makes a broad detour to the side patio that he's on and starts gushing about the "wonderful vacation" she's just returned from in Sudbury, how much fun she had, ad nauseum; still untroubled by her "job loss", yet still without a job, or a worry, or a care or a means of support, it appears. Honickman pages me at 4:00pm, takes the details and says he'll come on board.

 July 28: Honickman calls again, says I'm safe to return to T.O. as he's going to work out my surrender and he'll call me at 8:00 that night. I get back into town around 1:30 that afternoon and indicate same to his voice-mail. Collapse. 

  5:00pm: Honickman calls me at my Dad's and indicates everything's alright; he's just got off the phone after 2 hours with Rich., telling her that I have Legal Aid (immediately I think: "Client/solicitor privilege?") and agreeing to a surrender at 7:00am July 30, although we're to meet the next day to finalize.

 July 29: At this point I have a whole lot of issues about Honickman's conduct on this date and the next, which are best articulated by passing a copy of my Law Society of Upper Canada complaint to you, if you want it, but in summary, Honickman GREETS ME with the recommendation that I seek psychiatric help, tries schmoozing and then patronizing me to the max and then, tah tah, "See you in court tomorrow".

 July 30: 

  7:00am. Show at 55 . 

  7:20: Richardson phoning ahead (and 20 minutes late) to see if I've arrived. 

  7:40: Rich. shows up, nicey-nicey and then realises I'm not interested, so what will "only take a couple of minutes" is now going to be "a lot longer then, I guess" 

  8:00: Booked, but "no room" in the cells (all empty 12 of them) so I'm cuffed, then pushed and shoved up the stairs and again, jammed into the dick's interrogation room, where you know I'm meant to hear that the paperwork can bounce/crawl around the office a little longer, slower, what have you; that "Ooops", I'm on the next van, and then the next one, instead; that Honickman should "stick to broadcasting", instead of practicing law (although that obviously changed radically, or you wouldn't be receiving this), etc.

  12:30pm: Honickman comes downstairs at College Park and assures me that this'll be "easy", we'll be "in & out" once I get up to court. 

  3:00pm:If July 13 was showtime, this is a circus. Civic holiday weekend, courtroom packed, lots on the docket and complete pandemonium, but no Richardson, Scudds or Chartrand. Excellent.

 Honickman strolls over to the box and says, "We're way in over our heads, here. I know this guy, Marshall Sack and if we can just put this over..." at which point I say, "No, I'm not giving them another minute for something else I didn't do. We're getting me out of here". He's, "What we?". 

 I tell him to get me sworn and I'll deal with the Crown who, if one bothered to observe, is, in fact, way in over his head. "What do I ask?" queries Honickman, to which I answer, "Who cares? Ask me my name, ask about the weather, just let me at that Crown". 

 Returning to the counsel table, he then drops into a chair and with dramatic flourish, runs hands thru hair, rolls his eyes, etc. Crown states the "facts" as he knows them, yet the phrase "alleged" is used every time, with the admission that everything is indeed, on paper and sums EVERYTHING up with the word, "allegory". Beautiful.

 My surety gets up and almost hangs me, but I recover when it's my turn. Crown and I do battle, with him literally backing away from the dais at one point and me demanding to know where all of the players are if I'm a "threat to society", so that they can attest for the protection of same. I win. Another $2500 bail and then, stunned, Honickman walks up and utters but one word, "Congratulations".

 July 31: 10:00am: I'm laying around a bit on this gorgeous Saturday morning when the phone rings. "Oh, you're out". It's Honickman. "Well yeah, you were there" sez me. "Well, you know, I thought the paperwork might have run late and they'd have to hold you in the Don overnight". Hey, thanks for the best wishes.

Aug.5: Honickman now wants me to find the Court Reporter of record re: my trial and get transcripts. I talk to a most co-operative Shelly Moorhead, who will fax (remember this) me an application which I can fill out and fire back. I then, as instructed, phone Honickman to give him Moorhead's name. I later receive order form, request two copies (one so I can analyze and follow along) and return it on ...

Aug.6: Moorhead then calls to say that as a legal document, each transcript has to be an original, so in my case, two days at about $800 per pair (and remember this number, too)... Honickman rings. "Listen, I'll deal with the Court Reporter from now on, you can take it easy", etc. Sure. He's my lawyer, right?

 A couple of days after this exchange, he phones again to inform me that as Legal Aid takes a while and he doesn't have the $$$ to lay
out for the whole thing in advance, we'll have to settle for just the testimony heard on day 2 of the proceedings (July 14) and besides, it's
the only relevant part, for his purpose, anyway. Naturally I argue that he's aware of the entire concept and he's just got to see the rest for
himself, but he claims that what he wants is, alone, " 800 bucks" (and on one more occassion, $750.00)

Sept 4: Honickman calls to say that he's got the transcripts and that I did "a good job". It also appears, according to himself, that I stand in good favour with the Judge if one looks at the give and take within, etc. Arrange meeting for two days hence, Sunday of Labour Day weekend.

 Sept.6: Show at CITY-TV at 11:00am, prepared this time. Sure enough, Honickman immediately brings up "psychiatric help" and I counter with a psychological profile administered upon entry to the Donwood Institute ( alcohol rehab, ' 91), defying him to find a client who could or would voluntarily cough one up. I ask to see what a transcript looks like, notice an "error", he gets testy and hovers around while I skim thru it, then I'm off.

 Sept. 15: Appear before Her HOnour (not a typo and right, no editorials) to put Honickman on-the-record. I now have counsel for only two very specific reasons. One is to create a buffer between myself and the cops (and in this lawyer, even the threat of a little media exposure couldn't hurt. Wrong. That became what was eventually sold out.) and the other is because, with the rationale that new counsel has to be brought up to speed on the issues, I can now get Chartrand back up on the stand and ask the all important questions, "Who paid and how much?". Acting Crown has none of the paperwork, "but that's okay".

 Other issues come up and the Crown is remiss, but that's "okay" also. In fact, everything's O.K. because I'm a good guy and if my lawyer and I are saying things will be along, well, we're sure the paper will turn up shortly. Honickman, though, can only tell me to "sit up straight" and "By the way, give me a list of your witnesses", with a smirk. Off the top of my head I give him 38 of the 39, but he doesn't ask for phone numbers.

 Sept.29: Resumption of trial. I've brought along a "previous victim"; the staffer who was working the night Chartrand and I met; friends over the night she dropped by, including the guy with me again June 21 when Chartrand appeared at the 2nd as the local prima donna, but having lost her job the week before; the witness to McMahon's specific words who came forward and also hung with Chartrand whenever over there, noting zero complaints about me from her, knowing we were pals and my most dangerous weapon, Chris Ryan, who can articulate previous abuse by and payoffs from Serge Entine, McMahon's conduct over the years, including vowing to "get me" Aug.' 97 and wanting to "blow (his) load" on Chartrand's face, Chartrand's expressed eagerness to play pool with me Mar. 31,' 98 and well, just about everything Second Cup.

 I' d tried to serve Scudds again, as his was one of a couple of successfully killed subs, but hey, the rules had changed, the cops now demanding "personal service", like walking into 55 and waiting til after roll call, for example (true).

 He showed up and sleazed around, pretending to be occupied across the hall but sweaty and staring thru the window to my courtroom and when I offered him up to Honickman, informing him of the subpoena that I could whip out with a moments' notice, I was told we wouldn't need him. I was going to hammer Scudds anyway but fuck 'im. I'm a bigger man, period and my satisfaction came from watching him squirm. Big professional cop.

 I'm looking around and see Maciek, who can't look at Chartrand and ask Honickman what's going on. He'd already insisted that Rich had to come back for "more detail", yet I'd exhausted her and now it was "important" to get Maciek for the same thing but not Scudds for, say, perjury? (applicable, for he had to swear to the affidavit). He doesn't want any of my witnesses, no no no and the fun hasn't even begun.

 If I remember correctly, Rich gets up first. (Current note: Did not have access to my own transcripts at the time of writing.) I'm hearing the questions, with the odd omission, of course and quickly realize that we're going over the same ground as I've already covered a couple of months earlier. Word for word, in fact. Then Maciek is up. 

 Oh yeah, throw this in my face. He's visited with Chartrand lots of times, including days off, making it a point to do his shopping in the
neighbourhood; she has his pager number and loves to use it but no, he never heard an odd word until October 11, ' 98 (with the allegations
including harassing/haranguing the "complainant" from November ' 97 forward. Oh, didn't I tell you? Practically a whole year, including the
month where I didn't know she worked at the store).

 Now Chartrand. Same story as the other two, ie: walk thru my transcripts verbatim, including the admission, for the second of three times, that the only "fear" she had to live with was that of peer ridicule for daring to hang out with me. Bonus, though (although in retrospect I believe this was prearranged to kill more time at the inevitable next appearance) when she blurts out that she has diaries at home with a chronology of events.

 When the Judge asks her to leave for a minute while the potential admissibility of said "diaries" is argued, she's caught trying to peek in the door and scared shitless. During this and after, also, Chartrand hits on one of my witnesses, claiming to be "scared" but ignored by my "friend", who didn't want to "get involved" (a sickeningly recurrent theme, as it bears out and the catalyst for all in the first place) and is running around the halls of College Park trying to buttonhole anyone who looks like a lawyer in search of help (and as seen by myself, prior to her going in).

 We're coming back Nov.2 with "diaries" and I'm pissed, particularly with Honickman's moll/law student, Clio Godkewitsch, a patronizing, condescending piece of work who offered to "explain", with stars in her eyes, how good Honickman and his strategy was, because I obviously was overwhelmed by the law and its procedures.

 As a few of us are standing outside College Park after the fact, another "friend" (since by the wayside) slides over beside Honickman and Godkewitsch in time to hear him turn to her and say, "This guy's got a solid case, but I'm not going to take some freeloader straight to the bank with a big cheque". I learn of this late December last...

 When I return it will be the recounting of the vicious events of November 2 last year, with foreplay, of course.

 Oct. ' 99: Still pissed but hanging on. My only hope is those "diaries", with which she'll hang herself because a) there are no diaries, as there's been nothing done to have been recorded, unless b) the true story is in there, including the rumours and allegations from McMahon, her looking forward to playing pool or other thoughts and sentiments, etc.

 Oct. 10: I've spoken with Honickman all of 3 or 4 times in total, aside of Court appearances and two meetings. Meanwhile, there are mega issues, one of which is no sleep. I' m getting between 1 & 3 hrs. a night, if I'm lucky and left a voice-mail last eve to suggest that there will be a message a night indicating when I pass out and when I get up until I get some straight answers. I go out for a coffee at 6:00am and return about 9:30 to find a whiny, pleading, demanding message from Honickman for "no more messages, no more messages". I guess I found something that resembles a conscience. Fuck 'im.

 10:45am: Phone rings.Honickman, starting with the smooth, oily shit, then turns mocking and patronizing, then furious. When he's trying to claim that raising the issue of payment for her testimony is an "illegal" question that could have him disbarred and I'm arguing "motivation " in the legal sense, I then reiterate the "theories" abounding, ie: Cops call me "menace to society", Chartrand's position has to be that it's true, so how about my theory that she got paid, her "ex" is holding the money and The Second Cup Ltd, Serge Entine, McMahon and 55 Div. are in this together, considering that I've lived through it?

 Honickman then snarls back, "I've got a theory for you, buddy. How about you harassed The Second Cup (Ltd.) and the girl and bugged and bugged and finally got what an asshole like you deserved?" Unbelievable. Now I'm begging, pleading and this sick fuck is enjoying every minute of it. I tell him to get his shit together fast or I'll be down to retrieve my evidence the next morning and he threatens me with CITY-TV security.

 Wrapping up 45 min. later, he then says he has to make "a couple of phone calls" and hangs up. I'm distraught, but then I remember his cozy rapport with Richardson, so I immediately call back and leave a message to remind him that if he intends to notify 55 that he's taking himself off-the-record, leaving me unprotected for at least the next 24 hrs. (it was a Sunday). I'll have his ass in front of the Law Society a.s.a.p..   Two minutes later he's calling back and tripping over his tongue, but now, at least, he's got a "plan".

 Oct. 28: I don't think, even as I write this, that anyone will ever know what I'm going through, ever. In the big picture all I did was sober up, proved to myself that I could believe in myself again and was then betrayed by most of "humanity" and life itself. 

 I haven't worked in, how long?, because my gig, driving; (particularly, large trucks) requires sleep before the fact; I'm going down the tubes and the bills are mounting, even though I'm more able-bodied than I've been in years and I get to watch. Who is this this asshole Michael Bregman, who pulls my string from his ivory tower just down the street, yet has never seen me? What's with the cops, with whom I was anonymous until they decided to serve their own best interest?
 Who told this bitch, Chartrand, that she and her pimp boyfriend only had to jump on a bus from Sudbury, head to Toronto and stumble upon a human life that she could destroy for personal gain and popularity? Why have I turned out to be everyone's lottery ticket, yet there's nothing in it for me; in fact, quite the opposite? Most of all, where's my defence? C'mon! I've gotta SEE something to show me that something's going to give.

 Later that day, I pick up the daily paper that I'd bought earlier and start flipping thru, only to note, in the business section, that The Second Cup Ltd. has recorded their most successful fiscal quarter ever, with a 43% rise in profit from the year previous and a commitment to expand, by 46 new stores, in the G.T.A. for the year 2000. On the back of human misery, of course. I also call Honickman to discuss our meeting scheduled for 9:30 the next am., particularly with regard to Chris Ryan's 8:30 arrival at Union Station and how he ought to slide by
CITY-TV to join me for a ride back to my place, if not offer up some relevant ideas for the defence.

 "No Chris Ryan, no Chris Ryan" is all Honickman can get out and I tell him to chill, that Ryan is at least going to wait for me in the lobby, if that makes him happy. The goof. When are we going to hear from Ryan?

 Oct.29: Wow wow wow wow, wow. I'm out for a bit before heading downtown and duck into the house on the way thru. Message indicated on the phone. It's my Mom,telling me that a 3 year old kid bit into a muffin at some 2nd Cup store and started foaming at the mouth. It's all over the news! When his mom checked, she found half a pill inside and.....LAWSUIT! (at least potentially). I'll file that.

 Get on streetcar, open paper and...Second Cup Ltd. for sale?
 What's this, with the trial resuming in four days (my first thought)? No, there's more in here than I'm getting, I'll read it on the way back.

 Arrive at CITY, enter Honickman's lair. "So, didja hear?" "Yeah" says me, knowing full-well he was refering to the morning' s news on the radio about the muffin. "Was it the Danforth location?" he asks and when I tell him that I'd heard it was Bayview Village, he starts grilling me: "Where's that, how do you get there?" Ha ha ha.

 He then produces a copy of the "diary" (which Richardson had dropped off personally, rather than observe the rules of disclosure and file with College Park Crown's office. She had phoned me for his number the week before) and with "excitement" (for nothing is genuine with this guy) in his voice, claims that "We've got them! Here, look at this. Diary begins in June (' 98 ), yet she's said calls and activity began Nov.'97. Lots out of order, man, she's finished!". 

 He then starts whining about a Toronto Star article (author: Chris Nuttall Smith) that had appeared a couple of weeks previously (Oct.10, as it turns out, which partially explains why he was so chippy that day, with nothing to lose, in his opinion), mumbling about "law suits" and "having counsel look into this for damages" (this from a self-described expert in libel & slander, I learned too late, but that explains his ability to interpret my case against The 2nd Cup Ltd. if he saw it for himself by way of, say, the document: Day 1, July 13 transcript).

  Further, he then claims that he doesn't want to represent me civilly after I "win", because he wants to report on the story, instead. Whatever. At least he has a clue when it comes to the "diary".
 I get on the Rocket for the return trip and open the paper to analyze this 2nd Cup story.Let's see...record profit, 46 store expansion (that's a lot of liability for a prospective buyer, with leases, hardware, fixtures..); strategy includes "partnerships, buy-backs", trial's in four days....hold it. I KNOW what's going on (thanks, in part, to having spent five years on Bay Street).

 Get home, but what do I do now? Grab phone book to find, then call, CIBC World Markets (backers of the "sale"),the Toronto Stock Exchange Securities Investigations and the Ontario Securities Commission. Of each I ask, anonymously, "Sale of the 2nd Cup. Could it have anything to do with a potential civil suit involving Defamation, Slander, Loss of Enjoyment, Emotional Distress and probably, Obstruction of Justice?". CIBC realizes I'm not kidding and asks what's in it for me. I inform the lady of my time on Bay and suggest they don't want the egg on their face. She has to go; to make that phone call. Right answer.

 TSE. Guy picks up the phone. "You're not supposed to know about that" (the sale). "Well, if you're not doing your job and you've got your feet up, reading the paper...." " It's not supposed to be in the paper". "Anyway, we'll find out through due diligence", he says. "Not with a suit that hasn't been filed yet", sez me.

 This guy don't care and I care about his attitude even less, so I move on to the OSC and ask for the previous guy's counterpart, it turning out to be Michael Watson. Same question posed. Dead silence, then, "You know you can't sell or restructure a company to avoid civil indemnity." Got it. 

 "When can you get me the paper?". I'm thinking Nov.3, so I tell him "Next week" and we ring off. Also discover, that day, that Serge Entine had put his beloved 10-year franchise up for sale in June, one month before this trial began and for the first time the Corporation, which has been begging for the store back since success kicked in, doesn't even want to make him an offer (and why won't my friends and "supporters" tell me this when it's timely?). More fuel for the fire, though.

 Couldn't sell the store and get out so he had to pay Chartrand to follow through and buy a few of my witnesses to stay off the stand or, failing that, fuck me up, a la Ashley MacInnis calling me a "drug dealer", at least according to Honickman.

 Oct.30: Now, on my own time, I've analyzed this "diary" and it's way further off than even I expected. Major dates are wrong, including that of the arrest and the statement given; "cataclysmic" events alleged in testimony are missing; potential witnesses are alluded to (there was nothing to witness, insofar as my behaviour went, but as far as the rest of it, who had to charge out with subpoenas?) So, how does this go?

 We've got a major corporation on the ropes and our "complainant" is about to walk in to court with an obviously bogus, retroactive "diary", so they had better scramble quickly (the "sale", though, pre-planned, I'm sure) but if that isn't enough, we now have a major P.R. scandal on our hands (the muffin, the 3-year old, Mom. Where's Lassie?) that will require either a Herculean spin or ... a lightning quick, out-of-court settlement (like, how ' bout the Boardroom the next day? 

 This never did make the local paper, save for a small blurb on a back page in the next day's Star, only mentioning a "coffee shop". Check your CP newswire archives, though). If they don't buy Mom off, she'll bitch and moan about "negligence" and like issues to the press and then man, do I have a perspective to offer same but if they do, then I want mine.

  I imagine the 2nd's Boardroom was indeed very busy that weekend, having "Mom" in, fitting her somewhere around Chartrand & McMahon and Richardson & Honickman, particularly, on the Monday (Nov.1) too, I'll bet.( I know now that this last one's true, I just can't prove it. Yet.)

 With all of the above in mind, I leave a message for Honickman asking him to call me; think "business meeting". Nothing. That afternoon I phone back and via message, articulate the fallacies and inaccuracies of the "diary". Nothing.

 Oct.31: 2:30pm: Contrary to Honickman's instruction in our meeting, Oct. 29, that "Now's not the time for publicity", I call the Globe ROB, Financial Post, The Star and The Sun biz sections and put forth the same query to them as I did the others on Friday and then, the man himself. I leave a full-blown message indicating what I had learned/put together after I'd walked out the door two days prior, along with the individuals I'd contacted, both Friday and immediately before this one. I then instruct him to "get over it" and take the glory, as we were going to win; hand the reporting of events over to Libby Znaimer (Biz Editor, CITY-TV); represent MY best interest and yahoo. Finally. Nothing.

 Nov.1: Dead silence; that is, until I come in for the last time that evening and discover a message from Honickman that says, "(Groan) I go away for the weekend (contrary to his little statement to the Law Society about sweating over my case all weekend and yes, I have that), fourteen voice-mails, thirteen of them yours" (three, if you're really counting). 

 (Stage sigh) "I'll be at College Park tomorrow at 9:00 if you're there early. Wear a shirt & tie. Yeah, I know you don't like those things (even though I'd mentioned the Bay St. experience in my message) and by the way, no more messages. I'm not checking them tonight or tomorrow, don't leave me any more messages, I'm not going to check". What is one to do? I phone his office and leave a message, it being, "Just checking your principles".

 Nov.2: 3:00am: Wake up totally stressed, not trusting counsel in the least and I know it. What do you do with 7 hours to go
till trial? I fix my eye on 9:00.

 9:03: College Park: Honickman's pacing in the court hallway when I step off the elevator and pounces on me right away. He's pissed. Must have got my message, but that's the half of it. I'm more pissed and I'm just waiting for the last moment to dismiss him and take back control of my own trial.

 If I do it now, he'll run and tell Richardson, who will tell Chartrand to high-tail it because I don't have counsel anymore, ergo no putting her on the stand. If I wait until we're in front of the Judge I can get rid of Honickman and then call as my first witness, via the subpoena recognized July 13, Marie Anne Chartrand. ( I' d served her to back myself up twice. If I was going to be put through this shit, we were going to try the facts. I wasn't going to suffer and be disparaged, just to know that all of those happy faces, including the cops, would and could, without culpability or breaking a sweat, continue to laze around on the patio or in the store as the Crown "withdraws" and also, in the event that something went wrong during examination/cross-examination (as it did), I'd be able to get her a second time around).

 I apologize for being "late", informing him that, as he was going to tell me how to dress, I imagined that he was going to pick me up at home and tie my shoes to make sure we got it right. I notice McMahon, who walked out of court 4 months ago- risking a contempt, Mr. Ex-Cop and hasn't been back since - and Chartrand.

 I got it right. Calls were made on Friday, post mine, to keep this on track; McMahon because he started it and has to make sure that Chartrand follows it through. 

 Honickman doesn't say a word about my message from the day before; odd, considering that on Oct.10, when I was hammering him about the money issue he called me "nuts"; when I informed him of where the dough was stashed I was a "conspiracy freak" yet now, having spun him this huge "fairy" tale about corporate stealth and the whole world revolving around B. Turner, silence. He does claim, however, that the "diary" is now going to "kill" me and that it's a "weapon" in the Crown's hands that won't stand up to cross-exam, as the word "psycho" is on page 1 ( I' ve been called worse, obviously, or we wouldn't be here) and he can tear me to shreds after that and by the way, she's not taking the stand under the circumstances.

 WHAT???? We've GOT HER!!! "Naw naw naw. Our only hope now is a non-case motion. Y'know, the Crown doesn't have enough evidence to proceed." 

 After this everybody, and I mean everybody, heads down to the food court. McMahon's steaming 'cause Chartrand is insisting on scoping us out from her seat a table away, putting his back to us. Honickman's doing the "celebrity chillin" thing, but losing.

 They head up, I follow a minute later and as I wander toward the courtroom, McMahon growls, "Let's see where your big mouth gets you now", to which I respond, "And yours too, once you take the stand". "I'm not a witness, I'm not a witness" he snivels and the only answer to that is, "Tell it to the Supreme Court" (I'd won his personal sub., as opposed to his H.R. file). 

 A minute later Honickman, breaking away from his engaging analysis of my case with Rich & the Crown, walks over and asks why I'm "threatening" this 340lb sack of shit. When I challenge him as to who he thinks he's kidding, McMahon then departs, tail between legs, while he still can.

 Back downstairs for me. Honickman slides in about 15 min. later, throws an arm around me and wants a "man to man", the chance to look me "right in the eye". He then throws me the "deal of (his) career, the deal of a lifetime" that I'd be, of course, "insane not to take". Drop the complaint filed against the cops re: July 26 and the bits before and in exchange the Crown will stay the Crim. Harass, throw out the F.T.C and oh yeah, you'll take an 18 month Peace Bond. 

 I can't believe that counsel would even suggest that my democratic rights (the complaint) would be considered negotiable, never mind what the cops have DONE and we could stop right there, but with that in mind, these characters will have it that I stormed into the 2nd Cup screaming "revenge", or Marie Anne's name, or something before I'd get out of College Park and hey, what's with the 18 mos.? Bad guys get 6, lunatics 12, so why the year & 1/2 to set me up in my own neighbourhood? Oh wait. 6 mo. has run on her 2 year non-disclosure as part of the payoff and they don't want her talking to me, maybe?

  Naw, I've got other plans, so I tell him to hike it. Testy (I guess 'cause they're gonna "hang" me, according to him and he'll, you know, lose a client?), he storms off, then slides back 5 minutes later, bigger smile this time. 

 " Nyah, listen", he says and I stop him. "This is the deal you should have brought me 5 minutes ago" says me "I mean, how can you top the deal of your career. Besides, no deal". (Also, if the Crown's willing to stop this at such a late stage, what are they worried about? Why now? Where were they when I really needed them? I might as well know what they know. 

 Add to that the fact that if they'll toss the F.T.C. two months before the fact without even looking at it, I've just won that one too, although there's no saying I won't walk into Court on the scheduled date to discover they're expecting a trial. Still win, though.)

 Honickman leaves me to "think about it" while he heads upstairs to wait for the coin-toss on our double-booked courtroom. I'm going to mosey up in a few minutes so as not to give Honickman too much time to try to squeeze me as I'm in no mood, half wasted without sleep; catch the time to return and then, presumably, lunch.

 When I get off the elevator this time Honickman's on me like flies on and it's, "Whatchagonnado whatchagonnado?". I appreciate his concern but I'm kind of worried about his hearing. Toe to toe and practically brushing eyebrows, I say for what I think will be the last time to my counsel, "No deal". 

 There's panic, fear in his eyes. "Uh, uh..." "No deal" ( I was wrong, but now wondering exactly who I'd just said "no" to. It wasn't my competent counsel, for anybody could have pulled this one off, so who was really waiting for my decision? Where did the buck start/stop?).   

 Stunned and disbelieving,he then whimpered, "I'll need that in writing". "Fine, got a matchbook? It's not that big. N O  D E A L. Want it notarized? There's two J.P.s behind me". He can only say, "Wait here a minute" and stumbles off.

 Crown looks at me sideways, as he's still waiting for the word "money", Honickman returns a couple o' minutes later and begs me to sign this thing that says I won't accept the kindness the Crown has offered and the expert guidance my counsel has tried to illuminate my path with but he'll slog it out in my best interest.

 I ask if it's legally binding if I sign it, he says yes, so I feign addledness and ask if I can bring it back after lunch . What's he gonna say, "Choke on your lunch"? I'm now off to kill time until return and then a minute after that.

 2:17pm: I time this so that I can sweep Honickman into the courtroom rather than have him press but it's not enough. There's a small holdup and we'll all stand around until "he", meaning me, falls down. I flop down, for real, inside the doorway , with one eye on the courtroom door and the activity around it.

  Honickman's practically breathing on me right away, asking what I'm going to do. I'm so tired that I'm "confused" (my word) and I offer to meet him at the door of 509 in a minute. I'm not budging by any interpretation and they won' t let me get back to them when I'm more awake; everybody's shifting, so I guess it's now, while I'm still awake.
 I walk up to our hero and when he asks one more time, leering, "What's it gonna be?" I inform him that he's dismissed. "What?". "Yeah, dismissed. I've had it and I'm calling Chartrand as my first witness."

 "You think so?" retorts he and we head into the courtroom. Judge arrives. "Ready to begin?". "Aww, like they say on TV yeronner, Houston, we got a problem, Houston, we got a problem" (literally). He then goes on to call me adversarial & ugly, one who thinks he can do it all and when the Judge asks if this is correct, I concur that the dismissal of this guy is accurate and I'm starting with Chartrand, myself.    "Who?" Again.
" Who?" asks Her HOnour, who can remember everything except the complainant's name, it seems. When enlightened, the Judge is then "No no no, no more of her", etc. and accuses me of grandstanding. (Would have been cricket if H' man had called her, though.).

 When I remind Her HO of the recognition of the sub. July 13, well, that's not for me to "mess around" and I better get it together quick. "Give me a minute"; back outside. "Well, what's it gonna be now, huh?" mouth-breathes Honickman. "Maybe it's my turn to quit now, huh?". "Yeah, you would " is my reply. "Do your thing, gimme your non-case motion and just get me the
fuck out of this building" I say, meaning it.

 We re-enter to find just Rich.,Cunningham and Chartrand (who has gone from the "Witness Protection Room" on Day 1, to Ice Queen hanging, defiantly, in the hallways, when not seeking counsel, on Sept.29 to "puppy-dogging" me around the building all day) there.  Cunningham has his back to me, lounging on the rail, Chartrand's ok and Richardson, well, Richardson is turning, until she starts thrashing through a huge pad of blank paper (this is supposed to be her "case against" me, graphically speaking, I presume) and then, jumping up and whipping around, screams at me, "Why don't you just drop this?" to which I can only think and say, "Cause you've got too much to hide". When Chartrand laughs at this, I then counter with her, "And that's easy to do when you get paid". 

 Honickman is now like the proverbial chicken, running toward me, arms flapping, trying to shut me up.

"Where's the clerk?!" yells Rich., wanting it on-the-record that I dared to breach bail by "communicating" with Chartrand. Do I look like an idiot? (though I could have used a witness, considering what comes next). "Gone, like me", is my answer.

 Everyone returns. "What is it? ", inquires the Judge. Honickman: "Well, Mr. Turner now recognizes the folly of his ways and I'm pleased to say that I'm back on as his counsel". "That's a relief", says Her Ho. First and only up, Richardson. 

 Honickman: "So, Detective Richardson...", to the fully uniformed beat-cop on the stand and I catch it. Better be a mental lapse, as she was once Detective Constable, until I got a hold of her July 13. Again. "Det. Richardson..." and then asks shit that I honestly can't even remember, as I didn't get it at the time, either. (Note: Now that I have the transcripts back in my proximity, this performance can be seen by all).

 Stall stall stall, even while elevating the cop's rank, therefore status & credibility before her Ho.Honickman would have been fucked if we'd started, as anticipated, at 10:00am., or had he not refused to put us on the Crown's list till last, because then he might have been forced to call legit DEFENCE witnesses with the rest of a day ahead (Funny how College Park works, as you'll learn).

 I turn around at this point to observe the individual working the night Chartrand and I met (her reaction to my arrest and after was, "This is bullshit. Take ME to Court and I'll put this bitch in her place". Not to be) and my "previous victim" (same) sitting behind me. 

 What the fuck??? Fantastic! Honickman has dragged these two into court to wipe them out as witnesses 'cause he knows it's over and I won't be able to call them in the future, as they've "heard testimony". Cocksucker.

 With Richardson up & down, it's now time for his non-case, or direct-verdict (not guilty) motion. He summarizes by repeating the Crown's ostensible position (for Cunningham was a little easier peddling, after July 13); "Mister Turner stalked the complaintant (not a typo, but a big legal word); Mr.Turner chased her around the neighbourhood and annoyed her; Mr.Turner phoned her repeatedly...(you get the picture) but if I refer yeronner to this case back in 1890 (or something) and this one in 1962, he can't be found guilty, I guess". Judge wants 15 minutes to consider and I'm ruined.

 Judge returns and of course she's not convinced that there's "no case" for the Crown, so we're coming back. "A nice date, like, say, January 12" says the Judge. Crown agrees but Honickman turns to me from 30 feet away and in his best/worst stage whisper exclaims, "Great, the day before our other matter!" (Jan. 13 for this bogus F.T.C.), introducing more unnecessary prejudice before her Ho by making me look like I have to squeeze this matter into a list of court appearances which swirl around a known criminal like myself. I am truly alone.

 I walk out, followed by a smarmy Honickman who queries, "Howdja like that?" I informed him that it would have been real nice to have heard the word "alleged" at least once.
 Then, disgusted, I turn to depart , telling him not to bother me until the next century .... Next time ... November is a HOT month !!!!

Subject: part5 ( Date: Mon, 17 Jul 2000 01:39:48 -0700
From:
Organization:
To:
 James: Hope you're getting some ideas out of this. I was going to say "enjoyment", but is that the word? When I was trying to review part2 I got garbage, so I'm hoping you received it intact.

 Nov.3 ' 99: Had enough of our hero, obviously. Go down to Church St. to pawn my Gibson Les Paul Custom. Never thought I'd see this again. Get back & call the Law Soc. of U.C. to ask how to complain about a lawyer but have it held until a specified date, as I believe that Honickman, without naming him, is going to destroy evidence if he's put on notice, but what evidence? I could probably replace most of what he has but still...

 They tell me to put it on the letter, which kinda defeats the purpose, so I get them to settle for seeing such instruction on the envelope, although I oblige them also so there's no excuse should anything go wrong. 

 Call Honickman around 5:45pm to inform him that I want some specific material back for the purpose of meeting with a Det. Gyde Nov.8 re: original cop complaint w/out saying why and head out for my Wednesday night homeless meal.

 6:50pm: Coming from across the street & around the corner from my home a bit earlier than usual, if anybody cares about such things, I see that McMahon does, as he's standing kitty-corner to my front door, psychotically pulling on a cigarette and staring, staring,to the point of oblivion, which I take advantage of and walk right up to him.
"Hmm, let's see", I say, "monitoring my activities, watching & besetting. This looks like Criminal Harassment to me.I gotta make a phone call" and amble off. Getting upstairs, I do. First, to 54 Div., giving the cop his address, phone # and description and essentially asking that if somebody's over for a coffee soon to tell this guy to fuck off. 

 Then I phone Richardson and leave a vox-mail telling her what I've seen and warning her to get her boy out-o'-my face.I also challenge her to identify the "stalker" now. Me, or the wanna-be & disgraced ex-cop who can' t let go & who's file had to be hidden & protected by the force (sorry, Service) itself ? Call Honickman, informing him of events & now asking for the rest of my evidence.

 Nov.4: 8:45am: Before I head out to drop my letter to the Law Soc., Honickman calls, claiming that he got my message, but he won't be "in the city" until Monday (Nov.8) so I can' t have my "shit". This goes back & forth, getting more & more tense (for him) and he hangs up, but not before he informs me that he's yapped w/Rich., who's none too pleased and has "kept (my) message" and that I'm "going down" on the F.T.C. 'cause there's new evidence in disclosure (still waiting for it...). I tell him to tell Rich. to charge me w/ Crim. Harass (he chokes) and fuck it.

  A couple o' mins.later I'm talking to my Mom, who makes reference to Hero's T.V. gig and I gotta go.

  I phone CITY & leave a message (I know that he stares at the call display) stating that if I see him on the tube for the noon news, he's busted (Bluff. I have no cable).  2 mins. later a sputtering Honickman calls back, claiming that I "misunderstood"; that he got my "late" messages even later, in fact too late to do anything about it. 

 Now the gauntlet's been thrown and it turns into a pissing match, with him adamant that I don't deserve my stuff before "Monday" (which clues me in to the fact that he knows the date of my cop meeting, even though I hadn't told him) and me more insistent that it's my property, period. I finally demand, in the usual no uncertain terms, that I have possession no later than the weekend and he's, "Oh, you'd do that?".   Think, buddy. Our second meeting was on a HOLIDAY weekend, so I'm sure your basic Sunday is no hardship, under the circumstances. I want a confirmation call so there's no wasted trip with this moron & he doesn't want to do that, either.
 It's "agreed", if you will, that my "shit" will be at the front desk Sunday, sometime. Drop letter on L.S.of U.C. with a "will call" Nov.8 and my pager # on the envelope, in case.

 Nov.5: As I tap this out, I can't recall the what, particularly, but things were starting to get stupid enough that I phoned the Law Soc. and told them not to wait for the call but to open my letter, as instructed, 1st thing Monday morn. 

 Have Chartrand & Entine served for bank docs. re: FTC & Chartrand tears hers up. When told, I decide to call 2nd H.O. & warn them about compliance in case Entine feels the same way. I won't ID myself until I get to the top & when I get Bregman's assistant, Sonya Thom, she, very literally, stifles a scream & the phone falls out of her hand, bounces off the desk & hits the floor, fumbles w/ it & hearing I'm still there, drops it again, then I'm disconnected.

 Nov.7: Before I zip out to do laundry I phone Hero because now I want it all. Lv.msg stating that the transcripts are mine and to see the taxpayer for the difference (Legal Aid). I return to 2 msgs. 

 First one, Hero's pissed; "Got your threatening message", he says "and I'm in Newmarket today, all day, with a very important client, so you can't have your shit till Monday (again?) so too bad." 

 Second is, "Whoa, did you get lucky! I've got a V.I. client who just called me from downtown and I have to meet him at 11:00 (am), so you can p/u yer stuff, including the transcripts". Same 60 mph wind noise in the background on the cell phone, so he didn't have to go home to get ' em, he's simply, suddenly changed course and headed right downtown. Wish I'd received that kind of client service/attention.

 
 I ring CITY-TV, front desk picks up & I ask if there's an envelope w/ my name on it. I'm told to hold for "Steven in Security". He picks up & I ask if he's at the front. "Yeah", he says & I know he's lying, twice. Besides holding (one), if you've ever walked into CITY-TV, you'll know that the domed foyer resonates there & on the phone. Where Bozo picked up from was dead, acoustically. I asked about my envelope and he confirmed, including the fact that the "other items" had already been added. I hung up.

 Pacing around my place, I imagined that I could risk flattering myself if I thought there was anything to do but go pick it up
personally. I didn't have 20 bucks if that's what it amounted to, but I sure needed a minute. "Violent message" & he was sounding nasty. "Steven"... 

 I'll have to wait when I get there for a lying and wait just like, hey, this happened w/ Starbucks at their H.O. on John St. (funky neighbours, Nah!) when I was asked to wait and while I did that Tammy Coutu & or Alex Box called 52 & when those guys showed up they wouldn't give me their badge #s and got aggressive & wanted me 1 way or another & then asked which Div. was involved; made the call & got only Scudds' name but still the order, after the 4 took a 5 min. huddle in a back office & then back to me in the lobby was, "Fuck this guy", from Officer ???, pointing to me & "any evidence that HE's expecting goes to Scudds." 

 I told Box & Coutu to check w/ their lawyer cause I was going to get back to them. 3 days later (May 11) Coutu left a msg. that she agreed; that Scudds was getting it and anything else I might intend. End of that.

 I was trying to retrieve Yvonne Thompson for testimony (and funny, Starbucks' HO in Van. won't "discuss" her, either. I had to dig deep until I got someone who would admit that they knew what they had to do w/ a subpoena). Neither Rich. nor Scudds wanted her in Toronto as of taking her statement - one bearing little resemblance to Chartrand's story - into "evidence" & knew that she was leaving, a month hence, when they did so (see "Witness List"). 

 In fact Thompson was initially looking at "the 1st of August" when I chatted w/ her May 28, then "Sept..." then "Probably Nov..." was what I heard. 

 When Thompson knew she was coming to TO her to do the Star $$  thing her last act, in BC, was to do an "ex" like I was done, according to Chris Ryan too late, but not his fault. When my situation began to unfold Mr.Ryan had already moved to Sarnia, unfortunately. Had Ryan been around it is true that this would not have happened. She was also heard to say to Chartrand by same how much fun it was to do.

 (During my Judicial Pre I pointed out to the Crown that Thompson had come here, big career, then met Chartrand, zipped right in there and mirrored her every movement, monitored her actions, threw fits if she saw I was sitting next door (followed by Chartrand's having to sweep the patio, or have a smoke at the front door during the 8:00am rush), missed the witness list, wasn't coming back and took a 2/3 pay cut to do all of this? C'mon, you want a real stalker? The (female) Crown couldn't look at me.)

 I called for a taxi quote & said I'd call back. I paced some more. What was I on about? I'll put my shoes on and ...no, I called the cab back, got a car #, then phoned "Steven".
 When I got him with the info he didn' t seem to care & done. I walked over to my phone & glanced down, counting 4 calls since I'd been out, all from the same un-ID'd source. My guess by now was that an enraged Honickman phoned me & left the 1st 1, called back a min. later to put me in my place but realized it "unprofessional" or better, that he'd be recorded; still didn't have it together, though he thought he did, by the 3rd 1 & then , a plan.

 I would have been extremely welcomed into CITY-TV, invited to "relax" in the lobby, kept a few mins. while Honickman is tipped & then phones the same 52; they walk in & I'm "nuts"; I'm "obsessed", I'll have "threatened" him ("on the phone", probably. He wouldn't suggest the message & hey, I've been threatened too. Oct. 10, in fact). I'll think I'm "a lawyer", who's here to p/u evidence to rat out 55 tomorrow morn. They'll have a few q's, we'll have to drive to get there as my evidence blows out the window along the way to Lakeshore & ??? & everybody's happy except me. Again.

 Law Soc. opens my letter at 9:00am & will be quite "eager" to reach me but "he flipped over the wkd.& is being held for threatening the very member he's complaining about" (laughter) & at 10:00am Det. Gyde, who'd already dared me to give him a reason not to arrest me (I then told him about my 1 outstanding parking ticket & more, the next day) will be drumming his contented fingers on his desk, waiting for 10:01, when he can then "discover" that I'm in custody, period. I can't believe it & then the cab arrives.

 I walk back upstairs, opening a thicker than I'd imagined envelope. Looking for the obvious (the 1st piece of paper I'd asked for re: cop meet.) as I tossed 2 books aside to get there, I found the item front & center, of course. I then shuffled thru some things & stopped, suddenly piqued. TWO books, one larger than the other?

 Picking up the 1st 1, yeah, there's the testimony, there's the cross, so this book must be ... July 13, with the rationalization of my case, word for word. Why would he want ...?

 I've been smoked. There's large $$$ involved. Burning thru 1, I hit Tammy Coutu. The exchange about the cops seizing is missing. No. I know that I moved in on that quickly in case I lost her after the escape attempt in Court. Here's McMahon, it appears to be here, yet it's missing his pre-stand diatribe. Later. Coutu. Let's see, everyone's confused right here but no matter, it's the OTHER book, the one that shouldn't be here.

 9:00pm: Marked CITY-TV vehicle seen idling outside my door (but not by myself). 

 Nov.8: 8:30am: Phone for Shelly Moorhead at CP & leave message with only my name & #.

 9:00am: Call Law Soc. until 9:12 & someone actually speaks, saying that all are in a special meeting re: me.

 9:15am: Ring Gyde, who is not amused when I call it off until a)I get counsel & b) upon that, it's me & same, Honickman, Richardson, Cunningham & Chartrand & an investigation of why I have what I have. Evidence. Gyde "doesn't investigate crimes", just police complaints & I better quit my bullshit & get up there or else lose it. This will be the 3rd time a triviality of this nature has come up & I've missed a meeting, Gyde reminds me ( he's right about the count, not the gravity) & Marlene Watson (his overseer) has long-ago written me off.

 11:30am: Moorhead calls. Upon ID I say "Remember me?" "Oh yeah & there's nothing there". I get the answer to my question before I actually get to phrase it. "You're sure?" sez I & she's certain. She "went to the files" before calling. "I want all written instructions, or at least what's left of them (thinking of my application) faxed to me a.s.a.p." "I can't fax anything" sez Moorhead, "it won't be a legal document" & offering to get back to me later disappears, quite literally, after that ( & me, thinking of my application, this REALLY starting to sink in).

 2:00pm: As I'd informed the contact at the L Soc' y of my evidence (or "evidence", if you're skeptical/incredulous) & heard 0, I phoned to ask of our progress. Bureaucrat Charlene Rochman is handling the case & I ask to speak but get v-mail. I hear 0 until....

 Nov. 9: Straight to College Park & up to the counter for a blank sub to serve Moorhead.They're "out of " them. "But"..."There aren't any & won't be for a month, maybe two." Glares,
then smirks. Nothing from Rochman when I get home,so I phone at 11:30 am & lv. a msg., asking that if she's no longer on it to lead me to whomever. At 2:00pm or a bit after we speak & "Yes", I'm informed, "this matter is now being addressed by the Law Society's lawyer, Susan Carlyle" (indemnity again?). "I'm sorry". Huh. Call Carlyle. 0 response until...

 Nov. 10: Nothing, nada, then, at the last possible moment, office hours wise, I try 1 more time. Reception laughs when she hears it's I looking for Carlyle & wishes me well as she puts me thru. Forwarded to Carlyle on car phone, angry. 

 First question, "What's this evidence?" & when I inform her that it's hot, that it's altered & manipulated transcripts, she suggests I bring it in. Uh, no. "Make me photo copies, then" sez Carlyle & when I plead poverty, she remarks upon how much $$$ I'd had, "for gas, to run all of those subpoenas around..." Where'd she get this? (Turns out she was just leaving a meeting w/ Honickman.) 

 I notify Carlyle that, under the circumstances, I'm not making another move until I secure counsel & she demands, voice rising, to know whom that will be. I'm not sure yet & say so. 

 I then inquire about her possessing the file to interpret Law Soc. indemnity re: Hero's actions & she's now screaming, "Who told you that? This conversation ends right here unless you tell me". I mumble a bit & keep her going, but THIS is going nowhere. I finally declare that I'll get back to her when better prepared, but she just has to know why I had the complaint held for open in the 1st place. Her last (of many) stupid question, I say so & down goes the phone. 

 Cop complaint file closed by Marlene Watson, but nobody tells me ( I later p/u a letter, at my now - former residence, dated January something when I get outta custody Mar.28).

 Nov.12: 8:45am, Old City Hall: Here to swear service of Entine & Chartrand, along w/ get signature to serve Hero, Moorhead & 1 other for Jan. 12.

  Meet JP Justice Foulds, who, disarmed by the 62 yr. old schoolmarm who had served both E & C the week previous, obliges w/ Hancock. Now slide in the 3 new subs, he looks, then blanches. 

 "What's this about?" he asks, tremulously. "Oh, Honickman's up to no good & I want him to explain his actions." His response? "I can't do this. Honickman & I are neighbours at the cottage in Muskoka" (at which point I definitely have no sympathy, as I can't even pay my phone bill & he's worried about offending his second property neighbour meaning, of course, that Hero has one too) and then, "And this?" referring to the one for Moorhead.
 "That's who was paid to alter transcripts at his behest." "No, no, you better take these somewhere else, I can't be objective about this." I counter that if he were truly objective, he'd perform his sworn duty & sign. He, shaky, points me out of his office. 

  10:00am: Arrive for scheduled appt. w/ Ont. Securities Commission. Meet one of their counsel, Donna Martin Sidey & 1 other, having transcripts & a very good memory. Lay it out, including TSE's reaction & Martin Sidey goes to press release data bank & spots it, arguing that it's there, therefore...

The other 1 (whose name I don't have & the OSC now doesn't want to reveal) gets it & is all ears. Meeting concludes, I head toward C Park. ( I've continued to notify OSC of pending dates & other developments but as promised in the confab, I may never know of their actions. To date, not a word.)

 12:30pm: C Park, meet a JP who was articling at the same firm as Hero, but he's into it & Moorhead. Signs & then points me to the Court Reporter side. At the counter, I'm told that Moorhead is "no longer w/ College Park." When I ask where, then, he answers (for he can not lie, but he can't look at me either) that "she's no longer w/ the Ministry of the A.G.." "But she returned my call.." "We allowed her to keep a message-box to clean up her backlog." "When did she leave?", I ask. "About 4 mos. ago", to which I counter, "She was at my trial in July." "Then do the math." Lessee. Nov., Oct., Sept., August... I turn around & the JP's standing in his doorway, observing....

 Nov.15: There's an S Moorhead (1 of 4 M ' heads w/ this spelling & the only S )in the phone book. I get a sub., but my buddy's unable to help me serve it (as Shelly will recognize me) until...

 Nov.19: Go, but house dark & no answer.

 Nov. 23: Phone around to ask about M' head's professional existence & get a stall, a freak & a new # to call. End up at Min.of A.G., proper; minion suggests Payroll & puts me thru. Find that M' head left (Current note: At this point I' d have liked to have other info in, but it may be part of my defence in the future). Won't reveal reason for leaving, though, but I'm content. For now.

 Nov. 26: Buddy's avail. for this 1 & we go to do it. He runs upstairs to serve & returns a couple later, enlightened. New tenant in apt. claims that he moved in Sept. 1, never expecting to get in so quickly after applying. Moorhead "must be important & in a hurry when she left", as "she left a lot behind"; mail was never forwarded & continues to arrive in bulk. Zoom over to "S. Moorhead" on (other street. Same here), buddy is told at the door that "Seana moved, suddenly, on Sept. 1".

 Nov.29: Phone my contacts at Bell Cda. Security, who, by now, are quite aware of what I'm fighting & why. I ask for new address of Shelly, formerly of, etc. & if they've got it, I'll get the requisite paperwork. An hour later they call back, informing me that she skipped on her phone bill (making at least $75,000 yr.) & left no forwarding. "Seana?" Min. later: "Same". The best they can do is a credit reference on Seana's file (none on Shelly's) & if I want it, paper. I don' t.

 Dec.7: 6:00pm: On a whim, I p/u the phone & call the CP Court Reporter's office. I get a real, live person (as opposed to the always-on answering machine & this, after hours to boot) & ask if they still take messages for M' head."She no longer works here", tersely. Again & her again. Back, forth & then she (whoever it was) directs me to call the "main # " the next day.

 Dec.8: Bonus. "Main" number is, in fact, according to the msg., Director of CP Court Support George Bazios. Lv. msg. of my own, asking him to call me.

 Dec.9: Bazios pages & I return, telling him that I want Shelly Moorhead. The "why" is touchy, so I at first inquire in the most generic terms. He's curious but cool, so eventually I have to tell him whassup. He says he'll phone her & get her back to me, then I inform him of Bell's articulation, so he must be a better man than I. Also mention that I'm still waiting for follow-up call re: Nov.8.

 Dec. 10: 10:00am: Try to follow up w/ Bazios, he's "no longer with us" & has left C Park. Now Eya Greenland. A "new broom"?
This would be alright. 

 One of their own & now ex has taken & fled, incriminating herself large & there's no way that Justice can be brought into disrepute like this, so great. Very straightforward. Lemme talk to Greenland. We do, she's as straightforward & we agree to meet the next day. Excellent!

 Dec.11: Take 5 relevant, photocopied pgs. of transcript (as, after my initial shock of discovery, analysis of the complete works yielded lots of buggering with testimony, particularly) down to CP & meet Greenland & Aldo Bruno, who's there to witness. She takes info from me, w/ promise to get back.

 Dec. 14: Greenland wants to see it all. This is good, but I'm dead broke & I can't afford to copy it. I get it, though. She wants to run the original audio tape against the written, in its entirety & get everything. Cut a deal w/ the local merchant & get copied for $ 5.00 flat, so I can't really ask him to bind it, in the same manner as the original, for free, but I do replicate the way I received it by splitting it into 2 envelopes.

  Get down to CP & meet Greenland at counter, who yanks material out of the envelopes & says " Good. You didn't bind it"  & then sends me on my way, promising to follow up/thru but, "not tomorrow, I won't be in the office at all. Call you soon.". Suddenly I don't feel so good.

  No binding = no holes, therefore the transcripts can be copied en masse with none of the inconvenience of backing up each page w/ a blank to block them out. All one has to do now is recreate the last page, sign it & voila!, it's an "original" (just don't make me produce the tapes). Oh oh.

 Dec. 15:  

  8:30am: Serve Chartrand for bank records 2 days hence. 

  7:00pm: Pager goes off; it's Greenland at the office. "I've gone over the transcripts with a fine tooth, etc. & there's nothing out of order."
"Other matters discussed" (a reference to same, written a few times, within t-script) is just that" & "Oh, there's a spelling mistake at...", at which point I'm not really listening, 'cause what's the point? I assure her that even though I'm to respect her professional judgement, I'll never forget being called, from the stand, an "asshole" by Chartrand (missing, along with a
healthy part of the exchange that got us there) & then notify her that I want her decision in writing.

 Dec. 16: Down to CP & get a sub for original audio-tapes of July 13/14, to appear next day at Hero's motion to withdraw as counsel to prove why he is. See Greenland for t-scripts back & written decision, then slam her w/ sub. She's pissed.

 Dec.17: I arrive at C Park & see that Chartrand's there, as served, to produce personal banking records before Court to show why, etc.
Honickman's there w/ his lawyer, Marshall Sack(!) & I'm there w/ t-scripts & Greenland & her tapes in my back pocket. Greenland's sitting on a bench, more pissed, of course. 

 I've served Iain Cunningham, also, for there's an exchange between us, toward the end of Day 2 (July 14) where he invites me to address the defence chronology of what brings us before the Court by beginning with myself; by taking the stand. I, at that time, had stated that I had no intention of doing so as the evidence & other witness testimony would, indeed, speak for itself. This is missing in t-script & I believed that if Greenland had "problems" or otherwise w/ the tapes, Mr. C would remember that much. No Iain Cunningham. Enter Court.

 J Baker's there to rep the execs-in-hiding at the 2nd H.O. & so is some shrew from the L Soc. ( I'd served Carlyle after she nixed my complaint to put before the Court an awareness of the issues) plus, for the first time, Liz Forrester, Director of N. American Operations, Timothy's Coffees to inform the Court of the threat to her career if she had testified. She's made it, though, unlike the risk of Contempt & Obstruction she'd run the 1st time, yet tells me that she has "nothing to offer". We're done & the fix must definitely be in. 

 Her HO enters. "We're here to remove you as counsel?" the ho asks sweetly.
 "Yes, yeronner. I have my counsel blah blah blah"... "Is this correct, Mr. Turner?" "He can't quit, he's fired, your Ho, because..." "Well, as long as you agree, then. Next." "But yer Ho, M A Chartrand (Who?), even after your instruction that she'd never have to appear before yourself again, is waiting outside this courtroom w/ her $$$ records & ..."
 "Neither the time nor place, Mr.T." "Well how ' bout altered t-scripts..."(pointing to same)". "I've heard enough of this, Mr. T. Who else do we have?" 

 Baker, now smugger & oilier than ever, announces that the 2nd Cup Ltd. is a "responsible corporate entity" which is "rather weary" of my appearing at their office because "nobody has anything to offer" and, you know... "Fine, no more subs for The 2nd" sayeth Her HO. Then L Soc. shrew gets up, peaking & glaring at me & announces that they have NOTHING to offer, either. "Fine, no more subs for the Law Society, then. Got it , Mr.T?". Oh, I GOT IT, alright. I exit & head for the Men's, noticing Chartrand's still there, brow furrowed.

 When I step out, a very obviously cop-like guy walks up & extends his hand, which I refuse, for I can't see what's in the other, behind his back ( handcuffs?). He introduces himself (but with the roar in my ears as I look around for his back-up, I miss it) & indicates that he's from 55 w/ M.A. & both are wondering what "this" is all about.

 Upon determining that there won't be an arrest ("I would have done that by now"), we sit & I fill him in about Hero's motion & what I was trying to accomplish. I then go further, explaining that if 55 hadn't fucked up & sold me out for $1.50 (the price of a coffee), none of "this" would have happened. He tells me that I didn't give M A enough time to secure the records, but as we had another matter to address in Jan. ( two appearances, in fact; 12th for the continuation of the Crim. Harass & 13th for the FTC), she'll "fully co-operate" at that time.

  I put him even further straight, advising him that I want the testimony behind the graphics & to offer her the protection of the Canada Evidence Act. He can't plead ignorance, being a cop & all (though that's not to say he isn't) & he's stunned. "Yeah, she's been thru enough", I say, finishing the job.

 Ecstatic, believing the end of "this" is nigh, I'm talking to server buddy later & he reminds me that nowhere on the sub for Jan.13 (& there's no guarantee that she'll show on the 12th) does it mention $$$ records. Shit.

 Dec.18: Call 55 & lv. Rich. msg. asking who that nice man that they sent yesterday was. Nada, naturally.

 Dec. 20: Speaking w/ clerk at 55, by description it's determined that I probably met Det. John Graham & if
not, he's the Officer In Charge anyway (as opposed to his "Designate", Rich.) & he'd know who. Graham is to return Dec.24.

 Dec. 22: Way late that eve, I'm inspired to write to this "Graham" to thank him for his intervention & lay out the entire epic, complete w/ details & characters (Bregman; Hero; Entine, et al) so that we can resolve all of the crimes inherent to it.

 Dec.23: 8:30am: Have Chartrand re-served (who, fearing "stalkers" coming to her door, answers in underwear) w/ sub
asking for the almighty $$$ info. Drop missive to Graham at 55.

 Dec.24: Phone Graham to say "hi, anything you need", etc., but now he won't be in til 27th. I figure he really wants time to scope the note, so I move on.

 Dec. 27: Lv. Graham msg., nothing.

  Y2K: Jan. 4: Graham phones me at home, all apologetic, saying he was off, then sick, whatever, but anyway, I've got the wrong guy. T' wasn' t he who appeared at CP Dec.17 & no, he doesn't know who did, either. So let me get this straight: Some cop crawls out o' bed that morn to escort Chartrand to Court, but not on behalf of 55 or anyone else, contrary to his declaration of same. Ok. As a cop yourself, what about the litany of crimes articulated within the letter? Uh, well, um.... "Sorry, have a nice day."

 Jan.5: Get sub for Graham.

 Jan.6: Serve same thru 40 College HQ. They try to refuse Service Guy, but because he got a name when they thought it was but a mere envelope (A/S Al Lewis), they've been served! Guy walks back in to drop copy on counter.

 Jan.7: Drop copies of my letter to Graham upon the OCCOPS for reference; CP Crown ally Mary & 1 for Iain Cunningham, c/o.

  10:00pm: Phone rings. "Hello, hello..." Again, 30 seconds later, p/u: "Bill Turner, John Graham. What the fuck's with the subpoena????" 

 He then carries on about how what he has in front of him is, "illegal, illegitimate" ("and by the way, did you serve this here yourself?" he practically roars, barely hanging on to it) & I "better get down to 55 to give him the original. When's that gonna be?", now raging, definitely. 

  It's not gonna happen, I tell him, 'cause I just follow the instructions of the JP, as I have, by now, 60 other times & no, he's not getting near my copy, which is the only other & the de facto affidavit of his being served (I keep the latter to myself, but I know what he wants). "Is that right, Turner? I'll think of something else", slamming the phone down.

 Jan.9: 9:30am: Coffee at Tim's done & in no hurry, I then change my mind & decide to mosey on home, but don't know why. Get in & shoes off, when suddenly there's a-poundin' on the door. Large. Look downstairs & see the bulletproof, the blue thru the 1-way. What now? Like really, what now? 

 Cop steps away & I tip-toe down the stairs to see a cruiser parked on my sidewalk, the ass-end of one "hidden" next to my door & 4 cops milling around out front. More beats on my door, some swearing & name calling (them) & they crawl off.

 3 mins. later, phone rings. Since Graham's threat I'd been screening my calls, in the event that the cops were on the way & with a cell-phone, called while pulling up to determine if I was inside. 

  I checked the display & noted a 905 #. Thinking it could be one of my many west-end frenz (but I should have known better, knowing their # s), I picked it up only to hear "Bill!" & traffic rushing by. Cell phone! Damn! 

 Seconds later, lots o' beats on my door. Lots more, then, silence. Peek thru 1-way, see cruiser # 5501 sitting, alone, across the street.
Cop is having a cig & waiting. For what? Phone rings. # 724 races up, parking nose-to-nose w/ the other. Phone's going mad. If they're taking me out (& it looks like it), I best have my shoes on. I'm doing that when I hear a commotion. 

 Look out to see Rich. behind 5501 & as she gets out from behind the wheel w/ a blood-chilling, psychotic grin, her partner emerges from the other side & comes around the back of the car, slipping on the OTHER short, black leather glove & begins slamming fist into palm for fit.   724's out of his & beating billy-club against thigh, while his buddy starts making toward the parking lot adjacent to my
building, heading for point on the back door. Then somebody says something to crack them up (probably, "What's the hurry? There's more coming) & w/ goofy grin, he turns around & leans against his car, lighting one up too.  This is it, the moment of truth.

 I run up the stairs, the phone hasn't stopped ringing & I look down to observe that this one's coming from the 2nd Cup store.They guess that I won't answer, recognizing the cop #, so they try a dummy tactic like this. Busted. They' ve got point at the 2nd, probably w/ McMahon running the show over there, or at least more cops gathered. I grab my jacket, hit the floor in case they have spotters across the street ("Madame, we have a bad-boy in that apt. Be a good citizen & let us in.") & crawl the length of my apt.
 Standing up, once at the back, I can't even lift the blind to check it out, as they'd detect the movement, so I say a prayer, throw open the back door, smash open the screen door & .... nothing. Good. There's time to lock up, if I hurry.

 Done that, I hop the fire escape, over to the next one, over two fences & then stroll up the side street & away (no running). 5 bucks to my name, where can I go? Hop in auto & drive away, spot a gas station & hit that w/ my life's savings, then ... call 55!!! 

 Once thru, I say, "Here's my name, here's my address, check your call display, I'm not at home, so you've got no excuse to smash down my door. What's w/ the cops surrounding my place?" "We don't have a call there..." "Well, you heard me. Now I'm calling the press" & I do,
getting Dave Smith at The Sun's City Desk & asking him phone 55, ID himself as a curious member of the press & ask what's going on at my address, thinking that if 55 receives such a call they'll absolutely back down, believing witnesses (especially witnesses w/ a public reach) to be on the way. He does. I then call 54, same story, except I truly expect that from them so I summarize, they being the "good guys", 55 the "bad" & I want no excuses about "confusion", "lack of communication" or anything else. Off I go.

 Upon reaching refuge I call Dave Smith, who tells me the same thing. 55 claims "nothing going on there" & I know they' re gone, thanks to him & ask only that if one of their roving reporters passes over that way, they make sure that mine is not suddenly an "open house" w/ the door missing & an invitation to pillage. He never pages me back, so we're alright, I hope.

 P/u msgs. There's 12 of them. First: "Hey asshole, you fucked up. We know you're in there because you picked up the phone. First we're gonna smash down your door, then we're gonna work on your head." Second: "That's right, asshole. You sit tight while we get a warrant typed up (quite the admission) & then we're gonna smash down your door." Third: "Uh, Hi Bill. This is Officer (Bob, I've learned) Greg from 55. Well actually, I'm at your front door. Hey buddy, it's just a minor matter (really?). Here's my pager #, we can talk, do a bit of paper work & we'll go our ways." I' ve seen TV. This is what you call the "Good Cop". Fourth: "Arrgh!" (a very fucked Sheila Richardson,
I recognize, but hardly admissible). Five thru 12: "Clickclickclick", etc.

 Jan.10: Fax a friend at work downtown w/ the intention, once she masks the source & finds a generic print shop to send from again, of putting CP Crown Team Leader or something Rick Bennett on notice as to current events with reference to the letter to Graham & demanding the protection of the Court so that I can enter the room Jan.12, w/ evidence, unmolested. "No guarantees", they say, upon follow-up. "We can't tell the cops what to do. We can't interfere w/ Justice." Justice? Fuckers.

 Jan.12: 9:55am: Nearly shitting my pants, standing at a phone booth 2mins. from CP & of course,no "friends", no one w/ me to scoop my evidence & run if this fucks up or witness my rights being violated, same story. 

 Enter & it's dead quiet but there's Chartrand, spinning like a little pixie in the hallway in front of Rich., Scudds & w/ trusted buddy/fellow employee Lisa Baker, who was in the Witness Pro Room July 13 & subpoenaed at the 2nd store Aug.30 to explain what she knew of this now quite apparent deal to take the stand. It was her last shift (after 3 yrs.) & a no-show come Sept. 29,'99 (& no-one wants to prosecute contempt these days, either). A couple o' my witnesses are there, including Chris Ryan, but not Sonopolli or my "previous victim". Beautiful (kidding).

 Court opens. Hero & his moll are up at the front, as sub'd. Ho comes in, takes 1 look & inquires after his presence. He "doesn't know why" he's there but being "nothing less than respectful of the law, the Court", he is. 

 When asked his function, I invite Honickman to share w/ the Court the fee he'd accepted to throw my trial. Ho is not amused. Clio? See conversation outside C Park Sept.29. Ho has "heard enough" & threatens me w/ contempt for not following her "no more subs" edict, also threatening to secure t-script of Dec.17 to nail me. I remind her that it was "No more 2nd Ltd., no more Law Soc.". Slowburn from bench. Cunningham feels obliged to inform the Ho that he was quite satisfied" w/ Honickman's "able defence". Weasely prick.

 Ryan is up, but every time he dares to utter "McMahon", Her Ho objects. "Irrelevant", she cries, even though here's proof of why we're REALLY before the Court & secondly, EVERYBODY saw the spectacle of McMahon zoned, flipping out, perspective lost, with images of the patio & humiliation in front of "the gang" filling his skull & his pathetic attempt to hijack the trial, accordingly. 

 Ryan slams & slams w/ testimony about Chartrand's attitude & behaviour, tries to fit Thompson in there (hearsay!) but makes a # of points under my examination, if anyone's listening (Her Ho is getting $128,000 yr. to sit there & ignore it. You could look it up). Crown was. No cross.
 Individual who hung w/ Chartrand when over there & me otherwise (in full public view) & heard ZERO, then crossed over to specify McMahon's allegations (Inadmissible!) & everything else after.....No cross. Me.
 Grabbing my bulging collection of evidence, including some of the dirtiest, most fucked over transcripts you'll ever see & climbing the stand, Her Ho admonishes me for daring to ask for the chair back so that I can sit down ("C'mon, you're not going to be that long"; meanwhile I'm barely standing after 4 days w/out sleep), is furiously scribbling down shit that I can't imagine & as I'm just about to peel the lid off of this by introducing the stack o' shit sitting in front of me, Her HO asks, "Does the Crown have copies of that?" 

 What, MY defence, w/ no obligation to introduce any of it until I DEFEND myself? I aver that the Crown will probably WANT copies of everything I have when I'm done, but Her Ho sez "inadmissible".

 I ask for Rich. to be removed from the courtroom to make my testimony easier; "irrevelant". Lisa Baker then strolls in, sits down & makes faces from the rear of the Court & when I stop to ask for her removal before I continue, Her Ho wants to know why so I grab it, quickly outlining who she is & what she might know, also mentioning her no-show under sub: "Get over it". Cunningham has all of 3 q's for cross & rests: Ho calls recess to render a decision.

 Twenty mins. later, having been made to endure this slob Scudds getting his paperwork, for whatever they've got planned, ready, next to me & Rich. singing a little tune under her breath, THE HO walks in, parks it & says in a stern, clear voice, "Marie Anne Chartrand WAS harassed, Marie Anne..." & it's stunned disbelief from both the Crown & myself; satisfaction from fucking Scudds & glee from Rich.. I am found to be "less than truthful & w/out remorse" (maybe if someone had paid ME). 

 Turning to me as my counsel, THE HO then asks for a recommended sentence, to which I respond, "An appeal", & she brushes me off. Same to Cunningham & he, after recovering,can only grab around for a bit & then, pulling on his other hat, mentions, but not very convincingly, something about "had I only pleaded guilty in the 1st place", "no record to mention" & puts it in "Her Ho's hands". Sentencing Feb. 23, then.

 Get up, walk out of the courtroom proper after handing my evidence to whoever can grab it ( it lands up in Sarnia, to be recovered later) & Rich. & Scudds ( but no Chartrand or Baker. RUN!) pounce, Rich. strong-arming me as I attempt to dispose of my pager, ID, valuables & the lying fuck chickenshit, Scudds, smirking. Off to the station & Rich., driving, almost hits 3 cars on the way, but she got da power. At 55 I'm booked, stripped & cavity searched ( I crack to the desk guy that I thought they'd seen enough assholes in their line of work. He laughs & Scudds is pissed 'cause I'm not whimpering). 

 The crime? I allegedly put the letter to Graham in Chartrand's mailbox, retro to Jan.6 & prior to his threat. Figure that one out. Another Fail To Comply, Communicate.

 Jan.13: The REAL "Big Day", w/ Chartrand, Gosellin & Entine coming in w/ personal/corporate $$$ records & Ceridian Cda. w/ 932640 Ont./2nd Cup Ltd.( Entine's Co.) payroll records (under mega duress, I might add). Dragged into Court at 2:30 that pm. & now 5 days w/out sleep, 3 w/out a shower, it's SRO; the room packed w/ about 40 cops from 55 in their Sunday best to show solidarity/intimidation. 

  Gosellin is looking homicidal, Chartrand I don't even glance at; I don't want to give her the satisfaction. No Entine that I can see. The Judge is already there & is unfazed by my being in custody or the shape I'm in, period. This helps, believe it or not. 

 They don't even want to take the cuffs off, but the Court cop clues in when it's obvious that I can't sit down w/ my knees pressed into the front of the box & my hands up in the middle of my back. 

 When the Judge, not fully appreciating the farce before her, asks if I'm ready to proceed, I answer that I'd prefer to do so w/ counsel. When, shuffling thru her notes, she asks what happened to the counsel of record (Hero), I get to respond, in MY loud, clear voice, "Lorne Honickman is CORRUPT". The sound of 40 cops opening fire, had they not feared the presence of witnesses & the ricochet in the room (it might hurt). 

 Judge is cool & holds it over for 2 wks. so I can find a lawyer & thinking fast, I ask that not only the subs but their contents be held over for the trial. "Of course", responds Her Honour (different) & on cue, Ceridian's sleazebag jumps into it, claiming that they have "nothing to offer" (is this written in every corporate manual?
 I'd had it out w/ their Carol Norsworthy, who as much as admitted that she found EXACTLY what I was seeking (Dec. 21, ' 99), phoned Entine & has since specified that she has no intention of bringing "this" in to Court). Too late & fuck you.

 Jan.17: Bail hearing for FTC the 2nd. Gotsa lawyer but useless on 2 counts. One, he won't be avail. in a reasonable time if we can boot the Jan.13 matter to trial & two, there ain't gonna be any bail anyway. 

 Crown's up, calling me a lunatic, a (cue broken record) "threat to society", mentioning my conviction from 5 days previous & it's "nature" (chasing little girls. Chartrand's 5' 3" & "cute", which worked for Maciek) etc., etc., ad fucking nauseum. On the heels of this, the Crown's also screaming, funny enough, about my invading her privacy re: her bank records, but not the trial they're tied to (my turn to say "irrelevant").  JP is befuddled but even I can't save me now. 

 No bail. Back to the Don, where a white man can't get a haircut, but CAN eat vegetarian.

 Jan.26 (if I recall correctly): Range-mate walks up to me w/ newspaper in hand & asks if "these" are the cops on my back,
passing it over. By God! (by Jennifer Quinn, actually), a little profile of 55's Domestic Assault Squad & its creator, Paul Smuggs, er, Scudds.
 Yeah, what he's describing isn't funny at all, but the accused is hardcore & I'm glad they took him out. Where's Smuggs' perspective, then? If he's really seen shit like he portrays, before (but he's lied before, too), how could he not recognize the lack of material ANYTHING in my matter? 

 Oh, right...ex-cop (McMahon); cop owing large favour (Maciek); cop on the rise so we'll get her a collar (Richardson); all of those free coffee & I'm just a (41 yr.old, at the time) punk anyway. So Smuggs isn't just a dick doing his job who missed one; he sold out any
rationale & validity that he, himself put forth when he was inspired to form the unit.

 Jan.27: I get in just under the wire w/ Probation Services to write my Pre-Sentence Report, thx to a buddy (for it's been proven that I have no friends anymore) who swung by my place on the way down here & grabbed my mail, the only item being a letter from Prob.telling me to participate in the creation of this farce or lose out large. 

 Call Diane Curran, the signatory & inform her that I'm being held. She didn't know. I start to fill her in, specifically addressing the "lack of remorse" thing & attempt to tell her why & what else to expect. She informs me that it's "not her job" to deal w/ things like that & when she comes down, she'll want to hear about my childhood.

 Feb.2: Curran comes by. I blow her mind w/ the facts (she later hangs me in print w/, among other things, my ostensible obsession w/ same. Uh, wouldn't you be preoccupied w/ what I'm going thru & how I got here, as opposed to buying into their version of events so that one more cretin can keep THEIR (job?).

 I volunteer a list of 15 references, 13 of them female, including my "previous victim".Curran leaves, promising to return 2 days hence to p/u where we leave off. She is rattled, definitely. File my appeal from the Don, or so I think.

 Feb.4: I knew she couldn't handle it. No Curran today.

 Feb.5: Neighbourhood buddy has heard of where I am & has come ' round for a visit, asking if this has anything to do w/ the TWELVE cops in six cruisers that were splayed across the Danforth, w/ full lighting on & in effect, that he saw surrounding my building; four on the back door alone. I'd say that's a yes.

 Feb.7: Call Prob. to inquire after Curran. "Away for a week" is what I'm told.

 Feb.9: By now everyone relevant has been told of Curran & what she's doing. I want a stack of messages waiting for her when she returns.

 Feb.10: Classification guy tells me he has "lost" my appeal application, so I ask for another form on-the-spot. By the time he returns I've filled it out, w/ the same distresses & grounds, verbatim. Pissed him off.

 Feb.11: Same guy back; has "found" the original. Also, I'm going week-to-week video remand for my Mar.8 FTC court appearance since there was talk of knocking me out by shipping me to Niagara Falls, leaving me unable to see my counsel, network my ass off to get things done (all collect calls but bearable for the recipient at 75 cents, unlike long distance) etc.

 Feb.15: Get Curran, who's coming tomorrow to "finish the job" but I don' t know it, if you know what I mean ....

 Feb.17: Call Curran to ask how the PSR is going. "I keep hearing the same thing over & over ", she whines. " What, that it's corrupt, that I didn't do it?" retorts me. "That's confidential!" snaps she. "I'm your client!" exhorts my humble self. "Not yet..." echoes in my ears.

 Feb.21: Phone Curran to ask how the report turned out, as sentence date is 2 days away. "I don't know how you got convicted", says empathetic she. I've been asking her all along
to include the fact that I have evidence to introduce, at sentencing, in my PSR. Scrappy,scrappy,scrappy & then, "Ok".

 Feb.22: Counsel & I finally have it out. I've been slamming his office, trying to have M A sub'd for $$$ records for this appearance as it may be her last, if there is one at all (see Mar.8). He shows up, major p o'd & threatens to pull out if I don't settle down. Doncha love it? Behind bars, defenceless, even w/ a defence.

 Feb.23: Put off sentencing til Mar.28, as we're waiting to confirm Legal Aid to bring counsel on the record. My
copy of PSR ain't there.

 Feb.24: Call Curran, asking her to mail my copy of PSR to the Don. "Sure!", glees she.

 Feb.29: Phone Prob. looking for Curran &/or PSR. Curran's asked for & rec'd a transfer. "Where is she?". "That's confidential".

 Feb.25: They got me. Being shipped to ????? ( they won't tell you ) w/ a little more than 2 wks. to go. Talk says Guelph, Milton or "The West" ( Metro West D.C.); a time bomb full of YOs.

 Feb.26: In holding downstairs, 24 names called,then 14 more volunteers solicited to fill the bus. I'm just about to, thinking it's inevitable, when I recall that you don' t volunteer for anything in jail. At least I don't; I'll play my fate. They're off to The West.

 Feb.27: Toilets have backed up all night, so we're greeted w/ 2-3" o' water, but now we're down to 8 guys, a little extra toast for
breakfast & leaving shortly. I go to "The East".

 Mar.7: Counsel comes for visit, hands over PSR & stands back. "Whaaaaaaat?". I've just been FUCKED in a major way, no lube. Some of the major witnesses/references are missing; I'm said to be "obsessed" about everything, including the possibility of incarceration (& again, wouldn't you be?). Curran also, having filled this thing w/ editorials & suppositions when the truth would have worked just as well or better & having the last word/grasping at straws, has included not only some expert jerk-off from Prob. Services to recommend a sentence based upon her paper report but thought she'd ask Scudds what he thought, too. What the fuck is HE doing in here?

 So far from impartial & objective it hurts, Scudds gets his big mouth in writing & recommends Psychiatric counselling, claiming that the cops were just trying to get my attention, to get me to "leave the girl alone" & it "mushroomed" from there. Yeah, if mushroom = clouds = bombs.
Note, by the way, that it ain't Rich., the OIC. She's done enough damage to her career w/out putting more in writing, I guess. Bottom line? The Clarke Institute for me, buddy (Ever see the movie "Frances" ie: about Frances Farmer? I saw only the end. That was enough for me.)

 Mar.8:Trial? Zero witnesses (are you getting this?) besides the "complainant" & zero evidence, aside of the letter. 

 Meet lawyer downstairs & remind him of 3 things...1) If I hear any BS about her phone#, Bell was in Court to straighten that one out.. 2) If I hear any BS about "fear", well, you know (peer-ridicule).. 3) Anything about $$$, go nuts, no matter WHAT he believes.

  3:00pm: Try as they might, even I have rights, including one to a FAIR trial, beginning with the date agreed upon. Brand-new rookie Crown, although I'd like this guy if he wasn't paid to do me. Not stupid & you can see his reluctance, w/ letter in hand. 

 My lawyer claims the messages I'd saved aren't "threatening" enough, let's Rich. go home because she's "tired" (how about a couple of YEARS w/out sleep?) & now we're ready to go (?). Chartrand strolls in & throws her bag in what, by now, must be her designated spot. Sashays up to the stand, wearing yet another shiny new article of jewellery for me to see. Guess I bought that, too. 

 Crown admits that he was thrown the case just that morning & all he can do is summarize the "events" that led up to "this" by reading from the Crim. Harass matter. She's chippy & defensive, alternating between smirks & scowls. Gosellin's outside, in the hall, I hear.
 "Blahblah blah, he phoned you & left messages?" "Hundreds of times."  "But you erased them?" "Yep." (For your edification, James, I used the # given to my pager & vox-mailed her, rather than call & appear to be confrontational, when I believed that The 2nd Ltd., in Oct.' 98, might send someone over to resolve this. I merely left a couple of messages suggesting that if I was right, her participation may be required but not to worry about anything. Cunningham subsequently declined to use them, as Chartrand had played them back at high speed for the purpose of Rich. recording them, also, rendering what little was there an unintelligible embarassment. When an attempt was made to actually play some of Richardson's prized "evidence" & the Court could make neither head nor tail of it, I explained why, having v-mail at the time myself. This exchange has been buggered w/ in t-script also.)

"You feared him?" "Ooooooh, yes!" He then knocks around a little & when he tries to hit specifics, suddenly everything becomes "so long ago", according to her, w/ lots of "I don't remember"s being thrown in for good measure. I don' t recall exactly what happened next, but Chartrand's getting more & more anxious & antsy when she suddenly blurts out, "I'm sick of hearing this guy's (my) name. Every time I do there's a subpoena behind it. In fact, for our next appearance, he wants my BANK RECORDS!!!"
 Hallefuckinglujah! My lawyer's going to get her in the cross & ask just why I'd want such a thing & she'll crumble. Maybe Gosellin thinks the same thing, which is why he'd rather have a head start out there than get caught in here. Crown's, "Whoa whoa whoa ..." & wants out of THIS line of q in a hurry because he's got the whole thing in the letter, but the Judge is intrigued. Crown asks for a 5 min. break & the Judge awards it on the condition that he & my guy sort out where they can go w/ this. She stomps out & 5 later, all return.

 Retaking the stand & enraged, she's then asked by the judge what she's on about. M.A. whips out the sub (half chewed, if you recall) for  the Jan.13 matter & when the Judge asks her about the legitimacy of same, she bites her lip & says, "I don' t think it is".  Judge tells Crown to go & he starts asks non-descript, inoffensive q's which go nowhere. Time for cross-exam. 

 My guy wants to argue law, not fact. He never asks why the bank records matter, nor does he catch her on her "fear" or the phone issue. She's free to go. 

 Graham gets up. This isn't who I met, so what's he got to hide? I thought he'd freaked because I'd recognize him in Court.

 According to him, he phoned on Dec.24 upon receipt of the letter, we had a pleasant conversation & it was determined that there was nothing more that he could do. No q's about threats; about who ordered, orchestrated, then executed the raid; the phone messages or even the contents of the letter; y'know, the EVIDENCE before the court? He's free to go, too, but not before we sort out when we're coming back, as we're out of time for today. More custody. 

 Crown & my lawyer, after bouncing dates back & forth, have to come up w/ something agreeable before the Judge or my guy's n/a until JULY! Crown steps out, leaving me, lawyer, Graham, M A & the Court cop. If Graham's going to "eavesdrop", he's gonna get it. 

 I ask counsel just what he was doing letting Graham lie thru his teeth & no challenges & he's looking at me stupid. As for M A, "She got paid", she flips her hair & takes her time strolling out. Lawyer follows. I then turn to Graham, who's looking everywhere but at me & ask him to finish what he started, in the most humanitarian way, by putting the bullet thru my head. Sweaty lipped & discomfited, he leaves.

 We're back. The Judge, being aware of the pending Mar.28 sentencing , offers up his chamber &/or lunch time for that date to spare me the agony of further unreasonable detention. We take it.

 Mar.28: 10:00am: Straight in to finish this off. Excellent.
 Lawyer makes summary, Crown paid to counter but has 0 conviction. Judge says that a letter in her mailbox borders on Ob.of Justice (not me!) but finds no guilt for lack of evidence. I fully expected Chartrand to have claimed that she saw me walk away from her place just to clinch it, but I suppose it dawned on the cops that I might have an alibi for whichever alleged date of the alleged crime they pulled out of a hat.

 11:00am: Sentencing in front o' d' HO! Crown really wants no part of this (same guy, NOT Cunningham) but has to give it his best. Standing erect, w/ letter in hand (even though it isn't part of the Crim. Harass evidence or my sentencing), he goes on to describe it as a "manifesto", a "diatribe against the entire Justice system" & based upon what he holds, I am obviously "highly intelligent & mentally ill", therefore he has no choice but to recommend psychological counselling & forced medication ( it's on the record ). "Oh by the way, does yeronner have a copy of this? No?"

 I jump on it & instruct counsel to enter it, as I had asked Curran to submit it along w/ the PSR (didn't) but this is better. I'll have it otr that Her Ho is aware of the issues & chose to ignore them. Counsel isn't sure exactly why I'm doing this but is starting to warm up to what I continue to lay out for him. I haven't been wrong yet. Crown then walks us thru the PSR, getting the requisite nods from Ho & now it's time for  recommending sentence. 

 3 yrs. probation ( the max. More = time), the "counselling" (Ho has balked at the meds, calling it "unenforceable". Gee.Thanks) & a "no weapons" order for the public's protection (all of this w/out a record, save for the ' 90 Impaired Driving). Counsel argues the weapons thing, rightfully positing that she could hand me 10 of these but I have 0 history & it ain't gonna happen anyway, so why hang me in writing? 

 She agrees, that is until I'm invited to say anything before sentencing & I inform her Ho of the duress that I've weathered during every appearance: My Grandad's death in the 1st place (nods all around, but that's not it); Honickman's "strategy" on Sept.29 & the frustration inherent & then the events of Jan.9, 3 days before the last one. 

 That does it.  I'm now the lunatic psycho in the clock-tower waiting to take -out/get taken out by the ETF, who had to, in the public interest, do what they (but it was 55) did, so yeah, it's "no weapons" all around.

  Understand what this means? Cops can pull me over, either in vehicle or on foot ( now redundant, as my car recently exploded for the want of $100 to replace a $3.00 part), "find" a knife or anything else that qualifies as a weapon under the C.C.C., I'll be pissed, of course, as I' ll have been caught "breaching probation" & I' ll "flip" when they arrest me, says the psychological counselling order right here, so the busted limbs/face will have come during my "resist arrest", of course. Fuck it. Just get me out of here, I'm free. Lunch.

 2:00pm: Back to get my Prob. papers going. Rich. just happens to be standing outside the C Park Prob. office, sees me & suddenly notices a spot on the floor that needs her attention. What's in it for these assholes to jack up an innocent, previosly anonymous HUMAN BEING from beginning to end? I'm not a statistic or a bunch of blanks waiting to be filled in, or at least I wasn't until every one of these fuck-ups saw a chance for personal glory on my ass. 

 Ironic, too, that all concerned (except the cops, at that point) chose me because I was, in fact, "safe". McMahon & the patio morons knew that I'd never hang around the 2nd & wait for Chartrand, or appear at her home (wherever that was), to even the score after the fact; Entine knew that his store & windows were safe from harm as I wouldn't exact vengeance, a la psycho Sainsbury, but everybody did think that I was underlyingly stupid, as their knowledge of me was as a nice guy who did stupid things, like pass out on sidewalks or in bars & alleys around the ' hood. It became something all prayed would happen again when this got going. I, w/out knowing all of the details at the time, became a bloodsport. 

 How "safe", by the way? Thru disclosure, in the Occurrence Report, it sits there, in black & white that among other things, the cops DID NOT CPIC me; run me for a criminal record. Not an oversight, as they have to fill in each blank of the yes/no sheet. They made their choice. Now is this an inside job/favour or what?

 In the Prob. office I'm doing my intake when a light goes off. Get me Dianne Curran! I ask, the stiff doing the work from this end does too & I'm told that I have to go thru the first-contact I've been assigned to & arrange it. Ha! No mention of "transferred", "no longer here", or anything else. I'll throw this in her face!

 Apr.6: Show for my Prob. meet a week early, by accident, but I'm received by Marianthy Mpatsos anyway. She appears to be alright (you can see where this one's going) No sign of Dianne Curran. No surprise, either.

 Apr.8: I'm sitting in my "buddy" (for I have no friends, remember) of 25 yrs. warehouse; he, the one who's pimping me for the use
of my poor little car as a courier vehicle to catch up on the backlog of shit that he's left laying around until I got out. At night I sleep on a piss-stained mattress & call it "home". Not able to face this community-imposed "reality" today, I drink for the 1st time in almost 3 yrs. Then I drink some more.....

 Apr.11: Go to new Prob. meet, tell worker of my misery. I then dare her to have the "complainant" in & straighten the whole thing out, as she's a walking cry for help & might just unload, given the right correspondent AND the Canada Evidence Act.
She's floored, but then agrees to do it.

 Apr.19: 

  12:00pm: Walk in to Prob. for noon meet. & can see, as always, my worker's office from the lobby. This time for the 1st time, her door is closed. Thru the runner-window though, I can see a female in the client chair, small, dark hair & ... Jesus! She did it! So when do I get in?

I wait till 12:15 & then suddenly don't like the look of this at all. We playing a game here? I move out to the parking lot to catch some rays & I don't even want to know.

 12:45pm: Mpatsos emerges from back door of the building &
too cheerful for my liking. "Oh, I thought you'd gone", she claims. "So where's the cops?", asks I. "Uh..." "It's a breach if I'm not here, lady, so where are the cops?" "I'm going to lunch" she says, "be back here at 1:30".  I then informed Mpatsos that if it was as easy as walking out of a meeting w/ out penalty, I may not show for any others .I couldn't say a word about what I had seen, as to push the point would be soliciting; Communicate 3rd Party, in violation of my bail.

 Apr.18: Get wise, decide to write to our new cop boss, (Hail to the) Chief J. Fantino & see if he's really a "Law & Order" disciplinarian.

 Apr.19: Stroll into 40 College HQ to del. missive & recognized by ball-buster at front desk, who heads me off & tells me to hand it over, no going upstairs. Says she'll put it "in the mail", throwing it over her shoulder. Refuses to give name, laughing.

 Apr.20:Phone Chief's office & Janice Pennington informs me that letter not rec'd. "Could be in the afternoon mail" says she & I suggest that if it didn't make it y'day morn. nor afternoon, slim chance. Couple o' mins. later, I phone back to suggest that she call front desk to check & in any event, page me when it shows. She's already called down & they have "never seen it".

 Apr.24: Arrange to have another copy of Fantino letter del. by courier buddy's buddy, warning him to expect bullshit & keep me apprised. He thinks I'm "James Bond"-ing him; I tell him it's the real deal & not fuck around.

 Apr.25: 

  11:00am: Buddy's buddy whips out cell-phone & calls office when, as he enters 40 College, ball-buster stops him & states that she knows "where that's coming from & what's in there & you aren't taking that anywhere, so give it over". I
call Pennington & as we're on phone, envelope suddenly drops on desk. I convey to her that it's real funny how that happened, as I was calling her to ask why my guy was being rousted. I guess somebody panicked.
  2:00pm: Two days to go until my review w/ the Law Soc. On Jan.12 I'd had a message passed on to Nadine Khadaroo, Appeal Liason w/ L.S.U.C., that I wasn't going to make our meeting as scheduled ( like the date, too) as I anticipated being taken into custody (see "12 cops"...) & not to do a thing till she heard the sound of my voice.

 Complaint against Hero was knocked out by Abdul Chahbar Feb.20, according to my mail & I'd since won an appeal of that, too. 

 Report to Prob. & have it out w/ worker on 2 counts. I now mention my belief about seeing Chartrand & she's speechless, then floundering around, but not denying it. Can' t deny it, in fact. I put her on notice that I don't play games, especially one as sick as hers & I'm not going to tolerate anything like it again. Then, the issue of this L Soc. appeal & how it would be nice to have someone there for my own protection. 

 As 55 will apparently stop at nothing to cover this up & are quite obviously working w/Hero to do so, I expect to walk in to Osgoode to see Rich. & Smuggs w/ yet another accusation & arrest. They've never needed evidence before. Mpatsos muses about how she'd "love to be there" but has a "seminar" to attend.
 She's been aware of my appeal since day 1 & portends to be concerned, asking me to tell her how it goes. She's also buggin', in a major way, for my address, NOW, but Spider-sense says don't trust her, so I mention that I'm moving to Oshawa in a few days anyway. Doesn't want that, though ...

Go "home", pissed & then decide to get it on/out. Fax Mpatsos w/ the opinion that 100 seminars could never replace the experience of representing a client's best interest. Satisfied, kind of.

 Apr.26: Copy of complaint given to Mayor Mel Lastman in his capacity as member, Toronto Police Services Board. 

 Apr.27: Avoid Osgoode until exactly 3:00pm, then enter. Taken upstairs, Khadaroo's there w/ ???, Abdul Chahbar! 

 He can't remember sending letter until Khadaroo, w/out looking up from her work, confirms & then the recognition, that he's "extremely sorry" about what I've been put thru, never mind the L Society's negligence, as if he knows that all roads lead right back to here. I think he means it. 

 Off we go, w/ me laying out, for the umpteenth time (kinda like this here, James. There are truly times that I just shake my head, wondering if I've merely imagined this walking nightmare. Everybody pretends to be receptive, all smiley-facey, then nothing. Ever. I can't believe it. A trial bought & sold in this country, backed by arrogance, greed, big money, the Min. of the A.G. (see Eya Greenland) & dirty, dirty cops who jumped right into it as if they were prepared for me & having a handbook ready to guide them thru it) what happened, complete w/ samples of evidence (copy of t-script, for example) & articulation of the rest.

 Chahbar pronounces himself "shocked", claiming that he's never seen nor heard such damaging evidence/allegations & that I can stop right now, take my evidence & hide it in an ultra - safe place, as there's going to be a hearing. "The L Soc does as I instruct" he says, "you won't have to worry about waiting 6 mos., either" &..."By the way, Carlyle's out of the loop. You won't have to worry about it." (This, w/out me raising her but after that, I assure him that I have issues w/her that ought to be addressed, too. He's either perceptive, or has more than I've given him.) 

 When I suggest that I'm bereft of mailing address, he counters w/, "Do you really have that much time?". I guess not, now that he mentions it, so I give him my pager # & just in case, my Mom's address.

 Apr.28: 9:02am: Pager goes off w/ Prob.#. My my. Mpatsos doesn't start till 11:00, what's this? Her, of course, screaming ( It's true. These people really do scream, sometimes ), wanting to know why I haven't called & then giving me an earful about losing her job thanx to the fax sitting in her in-box that morn., where "everybody" could see it. Gee, could there be other performance-related problems, too? I assure her that I will be neither beholden nor accountable to HER much longer, tx to the hearing being awarded.

 May 10: Prob. meet & I tell her it's over, I'm not taking any more. "Find someone who believes your b.s. & buys your pose & get me a new worker." She then starts ragging, asking why I don't move my file to Oshawa if I'm so broke for gas, etc.

  I tell her that I need the buffer between 55 & myself if they come here 1st, believing me to still be in Metro. Some bullshit as I'm leaving. Not only does "everyone" hear this, they also hear "liar" & I'm out the door. Next meet is to be June 6 w/ whomever.

 May20: What a month, so far. Complaint to Fantino (& OCCOPS) was handed to a Sgt. Hamilton Dunnah in his office, who vowed to outlive this & then booted up to Staff Insp. Keith Forde, who found it "confusing"; something that could only be deciphered by knowing where I live. Of course I suggested that it couldn't be so confusing that a Sgt., having interpreted it, didn't see fit to kick it up 1/2 dozen ranks. 

 Next step, to oblige OCCOPS, was to have it "investigated" by 55 Supt. Al Griffiths or, failing that, Det. Rick Browne; he of the FTC arrest from last year when I was the "clown" who knew "too much" (note that the 1st complaint from then at least circumvented 55 via a "neutral" Det.Gyde, obnoxious as he may be. Never did hear from the Supt., although Browne did try to smoke me for details of the raid Jan. 9 & make up a retroactive "dispatch" on the spot & over the phone. He definitely blew it when I asked him for the ocurrence, ie: the rationalization of the cars "sent". "Uh uh uh", as I hung up). The Chief 's having his charming little "fence-mender", the "Town Hall Meeting", in 55 district tonight & I'm a goin'.

 7:00pm: Arrive & no goons. Do they really think I'd miss this? Park myself near the front, but not too close & next to the mic. 

 Oh look, there's parachute candidate Jack Layton, he the hubby of Police Services Board member O.Chow, who has better things to do than respond to, or even acknowledge, my inquiries, which now date back a year. Wave, Jack, wave.
 The brass comes out on to the stage. Some cop named Beatty, I believe, makes the intros. Da Chief, hisself & Al Griffiths. Yay!

  Fantino gives the overview, makes promises & is ready for q's. "Beatty" explains that you're to introduce yourself & name the issue. 

 Lady's up w/ concerns about traffic in her school zone (A classic right off the top & yeah, no editorials), "Mumblemumblemumble", etc. Then another, addressing the lack of co-operation w/ some unit. "We're behind it, we'll look into it". 3rd sez, "Yay for Fantino!", which is a perfect segue for .... me.

 "I wish to reiterate the previous fellow's sentiment & by the way, Chief, I've put something before you...", at which point
"Beatty"'s no longer just scoping me, he's livid; Griffiths smacks his forehead & Fantino's glowering. I then make reference to the fact that despite the Chief's noble efforts, his trusted guardians of policy have let him down, to wit: Hamilton Dunnah, complete w/ his aforementioned sentiment; Keith Forde & his; 55, period. Somewhere in there I tossed in my name, mentioning that it, alone, has been cause for arrest over the previous two years & Fantino's about to draw finger across throat (really) when suddenly, it's, "Talk to my man Cotgreave at the back".
We wave at each other & I stroll out to lobby.

 "Wayne" is all puppy-eyed, hammered, can barely stand & sympathetic, asking whether I have the messages from those out-of-control cops (I do) & taking the details of this "unfortunate incident" plus a copy of the letter to Fantino. I get his card & then (you getting used to this?), nothing. 

 When Cotgreave departs, the shadowy figure who had been sticking his head out of the auditorium door then comes storming over to head me off. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" demands figure. He obviously knows the answer to this one or he wouldn't be here, but who's he? "I'm Sgt. Hamilton Dunnah! You better take back what you said to the Chief, because I never said it !".

 I make it plain that I was left w/ the most distinct IMPRESSION that he'd see me expire before I ever witnessed any action & his counter was, "I never used those words". Alright, how 'bout the position, then? "I didn't use THOSE WORDS! Now get in there & TAKE IT BACK! Tell the Chief you were lying."

  I then offer, if I'm wrong, to take the mic., w/ him standing there & correct myself for the record & his ostensible integrity. "No no, buddy, you're going in there &...", when I stop Dunnah, reminding him that I've just been referred out of the auditorium by Fantino & to return w/out reason would definitely piss him off. "I offered to humble, not humiliate myself", says me & head for the donuts & coffee. Dunnah disappears.

 Citizen approaches & we chat. Time to go. As I'm trying to remember my way out of the building, I walk past the pay-phones, only to hear a whiny voice complaining that, "He even said I'd outlive his complaint!". Turn to look. My my, Sergeant. The wife? It could have waited. Someone at 55? They ought to be here, if they care so much.

 I wait a minute & when he gets off, I yell to his quickly retreating back that he & Forde both still have my pager # & to use it anytime. Guess. Nothing.

 May 29: Lv. msg. for Cotgreave, as in, "You da man or what?". See above. Auto is history, so I call Prob. to beg hardship & ask if I can blow out the appt., especially if there's no one to expect me. I'm put on hold while they ask Mpatsos & I'm, "No, she's not my...". Person comes back w/, "You've got it all wrong. You're to see her as scheduled." As scheduled was we are finished! Put thru to supervisor, who picks up, I ID & then wants to put me on hold while he discusses an incoming call he's getting from "Bill Turner". 

 Hey you MORON!!! Gone. Plebe picks up a min. later. "Uh, hold on while I discuss it w/ her." C'mon! Returns w/ "No no no, oh, wait. Here's a little piece of paper that says..." exactly the opposite of what she's claiming to your face, huh? "Transfer my file to Oshawa." "Gotta come in to do that, or it's a breach". "Who do I see?". "Gary Geer". Singular or plural?

 June 6: At Mayor's office w/ Jean Bennett & running a bit late. Three things. First is that he's been given Cotgreave's name by
Fantino. Really? A stall if I recognize one, telling Bennett, so let's smoke him out. Fax. "Where are you?". Two: Police Services Board Chair Norm Gardner is looking for me now, unlike 2 wks. ago, when I asked how to get put on the June 1 agenda following a Toronto Star article portraying a revamping of the Board mandate. This would include all matters likely to receive "media or public attention" to be brought front & center before them, every time. Let's see. Honickman (media), busted (public attention). I think I qualify.

 Fax from Mel's office to Gardner, "I'm here!" Nothing. Third is to tell Prob. that I'll be a bit late for my 11:00. "Not today." "Uh, balls busted? Breach? Gary Geer?." "We wouldn't do that, 'cause he NEVER comes in on Tuesday. Come in tomorrow, or BREACH, y' know."

 Why does this matter, James? Because it's a) personal & they have no right to behave as such (they definitely know of my destitution, yet particularly push me to do a $13.00 round trip per, including their fuck-ups. On one occasion it took the John Howard Soc. in Oshawa to save me w/ the $$$) & b) just another example of the long-reaching tentacles of the systemic bullshit where everybody gets on board for the sake of their job, their career or just to contribute. How DO they treat the guilty?

 June 7: I'm concerned that Mpatsos has flipped & pulled her final stunt on me by reporting a FTC to 55, ie: by daring to suggest that she straighten this out by having Chartrand in. It was only mentioned in passing, as in, "You REALLY want to 'rehabilitate' me & return me to the community whole, as is your job?". When it comes to the system, though, it's my word against theirs, every time & Rich. would just love this one.

 I literally stake out the office before the fact, arriving at 10:40 & watching, particularly, for anything looking like an unmarked. 11:01: Enter & ask for Geer. Step in to bathroom 5 ft. away. Emerge to discover they "thought I'd left". That easy, eh? Meet Geer, head to office, walking right past Mpatsos' office, obviously.
  11:20: Geer's on the phone when my pager goes off w/ Prob.'s #. What's THIS? I shove the pager in Geer's face & then, when he's done, ask if this is supposed to be funny & grab the phone to call out & back. He says it can wait but I tell him that I don't intend to "wait" for what, TWO dozen cops to show up in the lobby? Dummy on desk doesn't who called, but I do. Only one has my # & I inform dummy that I'm down the hall, she saw me do it & she better straighten out whoever did call. "Try starting w/ Mpatsos to keep yourself busy ", I say. Phew.

 June 10: Mom informs me that letter from Law Soc. has arrived. Oh oh. "Dear Mr. Turner..." & goes on to say, in the blandest terms, after reviewing the evidence left w/ him (& not one mention of the rest taken back, nor the oral evidence/our conversation) that my dispute lies w/ the 2nd & the cops. Too bad about "this most unfortunate conspiracy", as I "continue to find peace"(?) in my life but rest assured, this WILL be kept on Hero's file.

 Fanfuckingtastic. This opportunistic motherfucker, this exploiter of human suffering & misery will continue to represent the "best interests" of any unsuspecting victim/rube & the Law Society itself (teacher of Media Ethics, as I understand it, at Osgoode) & be a little more careful next time, or maybe not. 

 It was his vanity that cost him when he threw the whole package back together before returning it to me, demented visions of retribution dancing in his head but then again, when is he EVER going to stumble on an instant goldmine like me again, able to do his handiwork one more time? There won't be another client complaint against Honickman again, as his mortgage on that cottage in Muskoka is probably history by now. Free & fucking clear. Thanx, Monsieur Chahbar.

 Rest o' June: Gardner finally returns my inquiry (a phone call of mine after the fax) but states that the PSB doesn't deal w/ cop complaints. Whadjawant, then? "Where do you live?". I give him counsel's address ( which I now use ) & he's, "Yeah, Turner, I've got it." Next day, letter arrives at lawyers dated the week previous, so that wasn't it. Rick Browne pages & I'm a long-distance call away, so Sheila Cuthbertson of OCCOPS (& the 1-800 #) returns the call for me, informing Browne that I'll be in the next week. Keith Forde's office pages a few days later & I use counsel for the same purpose.

 Following up the following week, Browne's on holidays & it's Sgt. Doug McLeod from Forde's office who wants me. This guy
appears to be a no-nonsense kind o' & tells me that Browne may have to declare a conflict. Finally. 

 I notify McLeod that if this is merely window-dressing & that Browne determines later that there is none, we've got 12 of 55 surrounding my house so it only takes one more to back them up & of course, Maciek's daliances. THERE'S a conflict for you. Straight line from A-B, I'd say. 

 Also, inspired by RT Capital shenanigans & bust in the news, converse w/ & then, upon instruction, write to Bert D'Souza, Market Surveillance Officer, TSE & give that another shot.

 June 4: Browne, back from hols, tries goofing me 1 more time but doesn' t know that I know about his "conflict". "Do you think there is one?". Cut the bullshit & pass it on, buddy, or I'll bust you too.

 June 27: 43 & glad I was born?

 July 6: Pager goes off w/ another 55 Div.# & curious, I return. Det. Scott Gilbert & believe it or not, he sounds alright & I say so, but also allow that I don't trust anybody anymore; not within the system, certainly not from 55. He keeps mentioning that he's been in 55 11 yrs. & has worked w/ some of these people as long & I'm thinking "too bad", as I slam it home w/ Rich.& her demented, sociopathic actions, Smuggs & just that he is, Maciek skanking around in civvies & behind pillars when I was arrested July 30 last year, Browne dead-to-rights & the rest. "I've worked w/ these people 11 years" ...
 I inform him that if anything's going to happen, it's to be at a neutral location (no, another division isn't really neutral, as in my world lately a cop's a cop is a cop), & on VIDEO tape (unlike audio, which CAN be easily edited, video has the continuity time-stamp) & leave him to think about it.

 July 5: High Court, 361 University Ave: Lawyer's left me w/ the impression that C Park is sniffing around & asking about whether I'll be alone (which is where YOU come in) but it turns out that it was 361 rep asking if they should be putting him on-the-record for the date. Who cares? Motion to Appeal granted, based on the same damning assertions & evidence that, ultimately, didn't impress Chahbar.

 July 7: Zip downtown to drop copy of letter to TSE Market Surveillance on every brokerage house on Bay St. w/ the proviso, of course, caveat emptor.

 July 12: 2nd Ltd. does 166,000 Shares, up from 220 the day before, 0 July 3 (more the norm, also). Compare w/ , say, July 1
(approx.) last year, 2 wks. before the trial & everything (except Honickman, merely dreaming of me) locked up , when more than 600,000 shares rolled over. Lgst. vol. in the history o' the company , also.

 July 8: Maybe I'm fooling myself, maybe Gilbert's good at what he does, but I really wouldn't mind getting this over with (or started, before "trial" Aug.17) & getting a load off & maybe, maybe he's trying to tell me something. That he's been at 55 "11 years" & that he's understanding this to be very serious, because a # of people will go down & he'll have to live w/ the fallout & ostracism. Not for that alone, but I lv. a msg. outlining the bottom line. 

 1)That if I lay it out, it's going wherever it was supposed to go, as if we had never spoken & he had to turn it over to the next in line & then upwards, not to be buried in 55's archives/basement &  2)that the crimes I will allege will be investigated top to bottom. The cop investigation is nice but there are massive issues & violations of things sacrosanct long before I came along, including truth, for a start & the upholding of Justice in a democracy for another.

 July 13: Rick Browne again. Usual stunt; pages me & I get vox-mail. "This is getting a bit tired " is the message I leave. 2 min. later, pager again. This time, an apparently rattled Browne is practically begging forgiveness & calling to inform me that Gilbert's on hols but wanted me to know that he's received my message & I'll hear back soon. 55 helpful? Now it's my turn to be smug (maybe). Happy ending? Not yet.

 Today, July 17: One month exactly till "trial". I'm ragingly pissed (it happens, along w/ nightmares, flashbacks, despair. You know, the usual.), as I can only imagine the frustration & humiliation I'll be subject to if the Crown "gracefully withdraws" at that time for the lack of a complainant. There'll be no articulation of the events preceding this "sudden development" & no compense for what I & the couple of true friends & family have been put thru.

 My 25 yr. career of public service (cab & limo driving, to begin w/) is finished ( that "menace to society" conviction ); there's no
picking up the pieces at minimum wage, for I'm severely overqualified w/ 1 glance at my resume & in the field of truck driving (even temp.) there's a lot of q's about what I've been doing w/out a job in this economy, anyway. 

 Ah, but the appeal? Probably heard next year & lawyer's not avail. till at least Feb., at any rate. Winter will be here & I'm a breath away from homelessness as I write this, so....

 I p/u the phone & call Jim Flaherty's office downtown (a.k.a. the A.G.; solicited last year & ignored, brought up to date a mo. ago ) & yell it out to Jenny Lam: "Intervene or investigate before August 17. Turn College Park upside down. I want the "complainant" on the bloody stand w/ an uncorrupted Crown to represent my, society's & Justice's best interest. The press won't touch this in deference to one of their own, so I can't threaten you w/ that, but I might just have an interested party who thinks otherwise (yourself, w/out naming you or the Corp.) if you don't."

  "Those are some very serious allegations" (where have I heard THIS before, Mr. Chahbar?). "Well, no fucking around (not exact). Flag it, fast-track it, do anything but get bureaucratic on me. You have until 10:00am, August 17". We'll see.

 Thanks, James. I hope you're getting these. You've not called back, but you may have said something about hols yourself. Parts were rough, as I was made to relive some bits & not expecting to. Parts were exhilarating as I attempted to open up & accurately portray events & some parts were having fun w/ the most basic of commodities; the English language.

 In the interest of fellow Canadians anywhere (no joke), I certainly pray you'll find cause to follow through so that this may never happen to another. With as much $$$ as is available to these bastards & the amount of corruption that can be bought & sold to maintain the facade of "integrity" (corporate & public), stunning even me, it could happen to any one of us. 

 Hope the editorials (I call them asides, like this one. Ha!) didn't wear you down.

 Cop Phone #s (all 416): Big Boss Fantino: 808-8013. 

Janice Pennington/Sgt.Hamilton Dunnah: 808-8017

 Insp.Exec.Officer Wayne Cotgreave: 808-8006 

Staff Insp. Keith Forde/Doug Mcleod: 808-7723
Norm Gardner, Chair Po-lice Serv. Board: 808-8080
55 Div: Supt. Alan Griffiths/Det. Rick Browne/P.C John Maciek:
808-5500 P.C.(Ha ha)Sheila Richardson/Det. Paul Scudds: 808-5545
Det.S.Gilbert: 808-5515

College Park: Eya Greenland: 325-8961

 Rick Bennett/Maureen McGuigan/325-8994

Ministry of the AG: Jenny Lam: 326-4000 Main: 326-2220
Second Cup Ltd: Michael Bregman/Sonya Thom/Marie Fennell/Terri Chong/Wendy Gillis: 975-5541. 

Bregman also at XDL Intervest, a $200 million venture capital outfit. (Dennis Binnie, too. Call me for more.): 411

Lawless Society: Susan Carlyle: 947-3300 

Nadine Khadaroo: 947-3313, but not Abdul Chahbar, who flees to London Ont. after rendering decisions. You can try.

Shitty-TV: Moses Znaimer: 591-5757 Lorne @!#%&* Honickman: 591-7400 x2419

Marc Gosellin (Probably gone Aug.1): 757-7279
Marie Anne Chartrand: Phone pulled Apr. 1 & GONE.

Go get 'em.

Yours truly,
Billie Turner