Right or Wrong. On the Canada Day Long Weekend, I was denied a trial that I waited in near suicide conditions for roughly ten months. I could not go on any longer, in fact I didn’t see making it through that last day I was scheduled in court. It all depended how the wind blew. What fate would land in my lap. I was sidetracked and talked into the idea of having the charges dropped if I voluntarily asked a judge to deny to my right to life. If I would only voluntarily asked a judge to deny my ability to come home. Basically, I was routed and conditioned to ask for my own death sentence, which would place the very onus of it on my own person, leaving everyone else guilt free. As mixed up as I was, I almost went for it. The denial of my right to life, the denial of my right to come home, the only place I could ever truly salvage my life had nothing to do with the Charge of Breach. Nothing at all.
Right or Wrong I walked away from the ‘System’. All it had been doing up until this point is killing me. Employing plenty of people, giving plenty of people useless jobs, but killing me with no clue and no accountability for anyone involved. I have read lie after lie in reports. Walking away actually gave me some sanity. I slept in parks for roughly two weeks or more. Meagerly scrapping by. Food, coffee, cigarettes, dignity – that came from the charity of friends and strangers. It was hard because I kept running out of all four while trying to keep myself moving forward and not into the path of an oncoming car. A very close reality, I block most of it out. By this point, I swear my eyes are damaged, I have lost feeling my right hand, my oral health has greatly declined, lung health is probably a mix of better and worse, my muscles are gone, my feet are bleeding, I literally have scales on my feet, my skin all over is not what it used to be. Mentally, focusing my concentration is just not there.
Remember, through this I do not even have a phone. Something people take for granted every single day. Day after day, it was the same thing, try to get my needs met, try to attain psychological balance and try to find a phone to call a friend who was helping me greatly. Our long standing verbal deal was expiring and with it, any chance to ever work again. He is not the easiest guy to get by phone. He is old school. His phone is still attached to the wall. It took several tries over several days. If you want a challenge, try being in that position and having to find a phone you can use – long distance and there’s no place to leave messages.
From here… he met me with much opinion to state about my overall situation… I had to grin and bear it as painful as that was. Everyone seems to know what I need but me. A great guy. He ran an errand for me so that I could change my contacts that I had been wearing for seven months and he brought me things that I did not need. I was already carrying two bags which had felt to weigh roughly fifty pounds. Maybe only thirty five, I do not know. He attempted to saddle me with a third bag against my expressed wishes. I never took the bag. He also delivered news. News I have always known. My mother wished that I was at home with her. I had no idea what they talked about, but as always I was deeply concerned about having anyone involved. One wrong miscommunication from a third party (government?) and the damage just becomes too great to deal with. This ended with another long chat of having to bear someone’s third party opinion. Opinion that has to little to do with my reality. Very taxing, as well intended as it all was. From here, I eventually made my way with shoes falling apart and bleeding feet to phone my mother. She agreed to meet, we had dinner. She expressed the same to me. She wished I was home with her.
From this point I returned home which was very painful to see the current state. Extremely violating. The internal damage from what took decades to earn simply gone. The most painful part was not being able to just set up and begin pulling everything together. As my siblings were and still are the biggest threat. It had to continue to look as if I wasn’t here. This meant continually abandoning my computer mid-task to hide as my sister dropped off her kids for babysitting, even having to leave for days at a time. The injustice was nearly unbearable. The offspring of my parents had to leave for another lineage in the home I am bonded to. At this point I had clear intent, I had resolve, I had a plan. I just needed the control and the freedom of my own domain.
At the point of this writing, which honestly has been hurried and off the top of my head without notes, I remember I had planned to go see Peter Ng at the Courthouse by the next Friday of whatever first week I was at home. At the same time, health wise I needed to heal. I would often awake from nightmares induced from the things I had been through. I had dreams like the TV Episode “the Walking Dead”. I attributed that to the experiences with the people in the homeless shelter. Eventually those nightmares disappeared and were replaced with nightmares from another experience. I logged them in Facebook. My point is that I wanted this dealt with quickly as I knew I needed to myself up and running work wise which can only really happen after the impedance is removed. Running out cigarettes and falling into crashes, having to leave because someone was coming over. For whatever reason, I missed my first personal to go to the courthouse. Then I planned by the following Friday, I would have to spend time on this to remember. At some point, my answer became simple. Reading up on the Criminal Justice System, reading up on a Crown Prosecutors Provincial guidelines, all I had to do was provide him with what he needed to absolve himself. He needed confirmation that continuing to Prosecute me and to drive me into suicide was not in the Public Interest. I assure you all, from the everyday people that know this story – it is not.
It is not in the Public Interest at all.
I was briefly side-tracked into writing Her Majesty the Queen. After wasting a few days I came to conclude I should not do that. At least not in the head-space that I was in. The Petition upon first writing just flowed until I was interrupted. I wanted a second page to really hit home the reality of the situation. I wanted to cover all the bases. Eventually this began spilling out into forty plus pages. Far too much, yet at the same time necessary. After interruptions from running out of money for cigarettes, people coming over and having to hide, the RCMP writing emails which deserved a response, I kept finding myself impeded and derailed. Mentally it has taken a long time to gather strength, begin healing and gather stability. Eventually, I tried to whittle everything down to two pages. At some point I woke up to the reality that I wasted an incredible amount of time as the first page was all I ever needed. It took a friend to point that out in confirmation as well. Thank you. Time to get off the pot and go get the Petition signed. I aimed for 100 signatures. A feasible amount I figured. Some people claimed I needed 10,000… but for me, 100 was enough on a personal level.
While it took nearly three weeks for my feet to heal from the bleeding cracked skin and the layers of strange scale, I was back to walking kilometers per day again. I honestly am not in the health for doing that. At least I no longer had the fifty pounds of bags to pack. My first stop, my longest friend. The first person on my list to pay back fifteen hundred plus dollars to. He made an issue over signing it. It took me over two hours to walk to his place risking police contact to ask him to sign it. He wanted me to go back and change some words not realising that I do not have the luxury, the printer ink, the time, the energy, nor the risk to warrant doing such. This broke down our friendship further as he felt I was not being fair to burden him with a “threat” of myself committing suicide, which for me is reality, not an emotional ploy. Something that is very hard to take as people just do not realise what I have gone through and what my realities really are. He tainted his parents from signing too. Human nature I suppose. More damage to friendships (a sign of victimization by the way). That was an emotional setback as I felt he should have signed instantly. It pushed me backwards mentally for a few days.
The first signatures were the important ones. The more signatures people see, the easier it is to ask people to follow suit. No one likes to stand alone. Well, perhaps no one but me. I picked myself up and then I went back out again. I can do this. I can get one hundred I thought, no problem. Except there is a problem. My brain still calculates travelling as if I am driving, not as if I am walking. I would end up walking twelve kilometers expecting to physically contact up to ten friends per route. Every time I came to a friends work or his house, he or she would not be there. I would walk up to twelve hours plus and only manage to see two friends, if any at all. Meanwhile, I have one really bad cigarette addiction that I must feed for mental stability, stimulation and sanity.
The next major blow was my own General Practitioner. He would not even read it. Exhausted from walking so much, ankles swollen, another pair of shoes disintegrating, he simply took my statement that I was aiming to have this petition signed to save my life as a claim that I was suicidal. I should go see a psychiatrist at the hospital was his idea. After twenty psychiatrists, that was the last thing I needed.. To me, that was just another slap in the face from a guy who pushed pills over an illness that I do not even have. A fraud. As my General Practitioner, as a Doctor, he should be the first to stand up and state that I need my own bed, my own shower, my own washer and dryer, my own office and I need to go back to work unimpeded. Nope. All he wants to do is make referrals and push pills. Another useless Communist.
So between walking up to 12 kilometers per day, often taking a day in between to rest, with swollen ankles, aching feet, having to hide from siblings, neighbours, police and continually running out of cigarettes I wasn’t getting too far in my list. I made it to eighteen. I rationalized with some large get together’s, with one hundred plus people, that I could collect lots of signatures, but I was weary for all of the painful advice that I would have to swallow. Even though I kept expecting myself to speak at a few different large weekly events, I continued to go without opening up and asking. On my last visit to a large gathering, I finally asked if I could speak, but it was a special night for a person there and it would have to wait for another time. I visited churches. Some who knew me, some who didn’t. Nothing came of that as the timing of my foot travel, personal energy and meeting the right pastor never lined up.
After finally acknowledging to myself that I was taking too long, the Port Moody Police started showing up after I was ‘reported’ in the neighbourhood. This began complicating my situation as I had to find a means to secure a meager amount of money to keep functioning. Their presence cost me a lot. All it did was make me want to write in reply, wasting more time. Now I had to decline offers to go to work. On top of this, my real work, getting that all up and running was soon becoming impossible. I was going to lose any chance of Summer hours to get myself organized, sort my tools, materials and very slowly, engage in getting a rusty machine missing many many components up and running. To eventually, over a lengthy period of time, begin pulling in stable money. Which cannot be done until the System removes itself as both a threat and an obstacle. What people think is not problem, attending a bail office, or court, or being incarcerated is a huge problem for me. One arrogant move by the Legal System will destroy any chance at life once I start up. As it is, they zap any energy, any balance, any resources and any mental health for absolutely no positive result to my person at all period.
I have concluded that even if there were no legal affairs, it would take me a very long time to get up and running. I will never catch up to where I was when the Port Moody Police threw me out destroying what I just recovered and saved in my life, but if I did manage to recover to that prior point it would take at least ten years. Ten years with no legal issues. No system. No government involvement. Realistically, it would actually be less painful to just kill myself. The losses are exponential. My income is crippled and it will be for quite some time once I start up, if I can start up. Then, here we have the Criminal Justice System the bullshit, the corruption, the abuse of power it brings. You really are all criminals. It is just a dog and pony show of politicized justice. I am sorry, but I think it is all a fraud. At some point recently, with the police continuing to come, violating my home which is truthfully my church, searching through all the closets, etc., I began to ask myself… why would I bother with this petition and all these criminals? Seriously, that is what I have been dealing with. Criminals who keep moving goal posts.
At this point, very late in the game I chose a different approach. I had to write one letter. An important letter that I am too sick with the insanity of the situation and interruption to write. From there, I would begin my letter campaign. I would put everything right back where it belongs. The corruption with the corrupt. In the process of this, I often fell sidetracked to Facebook. I had to feel right inside before I wrote. The night they arrested me I was sure I was going to put in a good day of writing the next morning, then they came and they threatened my 73 year old mother. She either lets the police in at 1:30am waking her from a sleep, or they’ll tear up the house. I am not a criminal. My mother is not a criminal. What the Justice System has been used to do – is Criminal. Obviously, the Criminal Justice System, the Police, the Healthcare, the Social System… none of them want any exposure or any accountability. So the insanity of driving someone into what looks like inevitable suicide continues.
I am Canadian. I am suppose to be free. Who are you people?