Chapter 30

Sanctuary Denied

Life in Canada was good. Even better，it was safe – no more threatening

phone calls, no pressures and best of all, Lynda was comfortable and
stress-free living close to her family. Her mom and dad had just retired from 15
years of operating a convenience store in Toronto and her sister was a well
known piano prodigy in Toronto’s Asian community. They lived in a modest
apartment in the heart of Mississauga, once the largest suburb in Canada, an

18 minute drive to downtown Toronto. Our son Vince was the pride and joy of
our family and life centered around him. Watching a baby grow up is pure
entertainment and we were relishing every moment of it. Thankfully Vince
made us all forget the terror and anxiety we were all subjected to back in
America. It was even easy to forget about the horrible fate of Al Chalem.

Indeed the birth of my first son was a turning point in my life and I decided
within myself to bury the contempt and bitterness I felt for my corrupt
government. Lynda convinced me to abandon this book project and to focus on
the future - the past. And right now our family had a personal crisis
developing… My elderly mother-in-law was experiencing some serious
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migraine headaches and when updating the prescription on her eye glasses
didn’t help, we knew we had a serious problem. She had been complaining
about this growing pain for six weeks in Ohio and it was also a key reason

Lynda wanted to get back to Canada with mom, where doctors and hospitals
were free of charge thanks to their great social programs.

Overall I would live 8 years in Canada and eventually had to conclude it is the
best country on Earth to raise a family. Granted the pace my be slower than

America or Germany, but it is safe and very clean country with minimal crime
(compared to America) and an environment the people really try hard to
protect. Canadians themselves are friendly folks with big hearts and high
ethical standards, except for a handful or greedy politicians who make
headlines from time to time. Their hockey craze is well-justified in my opinion

and their beers are some of the best in the world. Most of I think their political
and government structure is one that should serve as model for the world.
Voters can vote out any scoundrel at any time Parliament convenes for a “no
confidence” vote instead of having to wait four years for a new election or
starting an impeachment process that will cost over a hundred million in tax

dollars and consume 1-2 years. But best of all, I truly appreciate Canada’s
non-invasive and respectful foreign policies. They seldom if ever invade
foreign countries unless part of a NATO or UN coalition. I truly admired Prime
Minister Jean Chretien when he said “No Thank You” to W’s demand for
Canadian troops to invade Iraq. The social programs of Canada are the best in

the world and even their jails and prisons are the most humane and dignified.
Canada is a young country but for the most part, they do things right and
proper with the least deceptions (varies according to the leadership however).
I only had one gripe with Canada, and that was how their Ministry of Justice is
often told what to do by the U.S. government, and the complicity of covering up

massive drug smuggling operations that involved corrupt rogue agents of both
the FBI & RCMP (FBI Agent Terry Nelson & RCMP Colonel Pierre Jeanette)
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Back in Canada, I realized all my funds in America had been frozen and I was
wanted for questioning in a stock fraud case. In reality, I was wanted to be a
potential witness against two friends of mine including my son’s godfather

Charles Arnold and one of my newest associates Michael Vax and his brother
Boris. I had actually been told so by FBI agent Greg Coleman when I had
called my ex wife Maggie before I had left to visit my own mom who was in the
ICU unit of Parma General Hospital. In fact, when I called Maggie, it was Greg

Coleman who snatched the phone out her hands and said “Listen Bruce, we

need to talk and you only have two choices. You can talk with me as a witness,
or as a defendant, what’s it going to be?” I just wanted to talk with Maggie to
make sure she got the $25,000 I sent her. I would be going to Ohio to take care
of my mom and I needed to know that she had enough money to take care of
our daughter Nicky for the next 6 -12 months. With an FBI agent sitting in her

living room I did not have to explain to her that I had a legal issue on my hands
as well a very ill mother. Maggie knew me well and knew my mom would take
priority over a bully FBI agent. We later decided that Nicki who was 10 at the
time would join me on the trip to see my mom as it would really boost her
spirits. It did. (You can read the sworn affidavit Maggie provided me as

attached exhibit W and take note that it was completely ignored, along with 11
other statements by Canadian authorities in the months that would follow)

I had managed to come to Canada with about $150,000 cash that I was paid
for a commission on a private yacht sale I had brokered in Miami for a wealthy

Venezuelan. It would be enough to start a new life in Canada and with my mom
gone and Globus Group operations suspended, I had no reason to go back
South any time soon. Since mortgages were being given out like candy in
those days, we decided to look for our first home since we had been staying in
a serviced apartment since we arrived. In less than a month Lynda and I

looked at a dozen different homes before one caught her eye and escaped my
own. Strangely it was being sold by the Crown Attorney’s office of the
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Canadian government which was taking bids on the property. From the outside
the home looked rather plain and nothing special but the land it was sitting on
caught my attention since it was a huge and heavily wooded lot. But once we

entered the home, we knew someone very wealthy with dogs (the home
smelled like a kennel!) lived there before. The home had 5 fireplaces and the
three bathrooms were all custom designed with Italian marble and there was
over 1,000 square feet of mirrors everywhere in the house. The three
bedrooms would allow the entire family to move in. We loved it and wanted it.

The house was appraised at over $500,000 for mortgage purposes but we put
in a bid of $400,015, just in case another party bid $400,000 (Lynda’s idea).
We then learned that the house belonged to some co n artist that had been
peddling low-quality diamonds and had been snagged by the cops. The home
was confiscated during the legal proceedings that followed, and to make a long

story short, it became ours in less than a month of placing the bid.

We moved in and scrubbed, steamed, and cleaned for two weeks and I
planted some Japanese Cherry Blossom and fruit trees in the back yard after
my father-in-law and I cleared over 300 square meters of scrub. We loved our

new home, and raising Vince in our new home gave us a sense of progress. It
was the new life my wife and I both wanted so badly. She too had suffering in
her life to overcome including an 8 year engagement with the famous Chinese
singer/actor Andy Lau. In fact she had been only months away from marrying
him when we met in Hong Kong on January 19, 1998, the luckiest day of my

life. (See Chapter 32)

I now needed a new job or at least a new source of income. I decided to look
up some old friends from Canada that I had met when I worked at American
Financial Group – the Sanchez family. Although Ed Chism Jr. was convinced

their wealth must surely be drug related, I had learned otherwise. I went to the
address on their old business card at 365 Evans Avenue and found their office
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occupied by another company who gave me the new East Mall address for
AFC. I made a surprise visited and received a warm welcome by Juan Pablo
Sanchez, his wife Conchita, and their two sons John and Javier. Their

daughter did not work for their family business which was factoring. Juan
Pablo was especially appreciative of my visit since it was I who secretly called
him and stopped him from making their first initial $7 million investment with
AFG. The total investment would have been $20 million. I made this warning
call less than a month before I resigned from AFG and about two months

before I contacted the FBI and debriefed SA Maury Berthon. Of course, until
now, Chism never really understood why the Sanchez deal went South.

I explained my situation to Juan Pablo and we had agreed to have a dinner to

meet my wife and new son. Afterwards he offered me and my wife a

marketing contract to help him expand his business. I had no other prospects
and aside from brokering some databases on the side I had no other income
that Uncle Sam wasn’t grabbing. I took the job.

About this time we received the bad news. After weeks of testing at Trillium

Hospital and after consulting the neurological and oncologist experts, we

learned that “Mommy” had a brain tumor growing in her head and the growth of
that tumor what was causing her migraine. It was growing slow but sure and
would have to come out. But the placement of the tumor was on top of a very
key nerve that affected all motor nerves in the human body. The operation

would be extremely delicate and if not done exactly right could result in total
paralysis. Of course Mommy did not want the surgery and it would take two
weeks to convince her she really did not have a choice.

In the spring of 2000 just as my new Cherry Blossom trees began to bloom, I

got a call from my best friend Mike Tober back in Ohio. He had been diligently
baby-sitting our house for us. “We have a problem Brucie” (He kept using my
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childhood name for 40 years despite my many protests. After I turned 30, I
gave up scolding him and just accepted his bad habit that he used for all of our
childhood friends. He then went on to explain that there were some heavy

rains recently and he discovered a leak in our roof that had penetrated the
house and destroyed some ceiling panels and that the dehumidifier in the
basement had stopped working and he was sure mold would result. We
agreed that I would drive down and help him fix the damage which he said he
did not know who to do himself and when he called a roofing expert, he

refused to believe the $5,000 quote. So I took off for a weekend and drove with
my wife and father-in-law in his Toyota down to Ohio. I was still in a bonding
process with him and we were starting to really appreciate each other’s
company. Plus he was a pretty handy guy like myself who could fix just about
anything. But he also enjoyed traveling so we decided to make the trip together.

This trip would prove to be very crucial later in a twisted legal proceeding.

We arrived at our Parma home and I was amazed that Mickey (Mike Tober)
had kept the yard neat and trimmed. We had left 5 electrical timers in the
house so lights and a TV would randomly turn on and off at night to discourage

burglars from the city that were prowling the suburbs at night and especially in
the summer when people usually took vacations. Mickey showed us the leak
and it looked worse than it was. About 5 ceiling panels absorbed most of the
water and then grew heavy from the extra weight of the water and collapsed.
Upon examining the dehumidifier in the basement we realized that the water

tray merely reached it’s maximum capacity of 1 gallon and the auto switch
kicked in and turn the unit off. We only had to empty the tray and the machine
started right back up. It amazed me that this one “Oasis” brand dehumidifier
had been working in our basement for over 30 years of my life and never once
malfunctioned. If that company is still in business, let this be a testimonial for

them! The next day, I made a trip to Parma Hardware on Pearl Road and
bought a 5 gallon bucket of roofing tar for $120. My father-in-law and I agreed
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that patching the roof with tar would be the expedient fix and one that would
last another 3-5 years before we’d replace all the roofing shingles. Of course
there’d be a big black spot on our roof. So we climbed up on the roof and made

the repair in less than an hour and saved ourselves $4,500. We then inspected
the house for any other maintenance issues and when we found none invited
Mickey to go have dinner at his favorite restaurant. Mickey never charged us a
dime for looking after the house although I would send him $200 a month for
his trouble. Mike unexpectedly died 3 years ago from Cancer and I could never

possibly have a better friend in my life than him. When FBI agents tried to
intimidate one time suggesting I was an “armed and dangerous wanted
gangster”. He replied to them (according to his brother) “Either your lying or
you looking for the wrong guy here.” Mickey was neither stupid, naïve, nor as
gullible as many of my other neighbors demonstrated to be. My father-in-law

and I returned home but not after he insisted on stopping at a bar. He always
wanted to drink a “Shlitz” beer in America. Don’t ask me, I don’t know, but I

made his wish come true. “Well, how do you like it?” “Not bad but I still prefer
Molson” he replied.

Also during this time, Lynda received an offer through her old entertainment
contracts to be a TV host with Rogers Cable TV. It was a part time gig that only
required her to tape program intros for 6 hours every Saturday. It would be a
fun distraction for her and some extra cash for our family so she accepted.
Her exposure on that cable channel would also give her some Canadian

exposure and later we would decide to film a pilot for her own weekly
entertainment show “Manzei!” (“Hurray” in Korean).

Although I decided not to finish writing this book, I did promise myself to file a
report with Amnesty International about the human rights violations and

murder of Ralph Steele and negligent manslaughter of Udhisti Diciarian at

MCC Miami. My summary report was hand delivered to a lady named
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Samantha at the Toronto office of Amnesty International in an Enveloped
marked for Nancy Cameron and her director in Ottawa. The complaint was
dated June 20th, 2000.

But only 2 or 3 days later, in June of 2,000 our happiness and peaceful life was
rudely interrupted. Lynda had just dressed up in costume to go do an audition
for yet another show they wanted her for while I was working in my little
bedroom office on the backside of the house. From that desk I could only look

out the window and see our wooded lot and our two Mastiff puppies playing in
the back yard and Grandma working in her beloved garden. Our telephone
rang but before I could answer it the answering machine did and there was no
message. I assumed it must have been a telemarketing call. Then about 15
minutes, I got a call on my cell phone from Lynda. How strange I thought she

did not even say good bye before she left. But I knew instantly when I heard
her voice that something was terribly wrong “You need to come to the front
door and don’t freak out”. When I rushed to the front door, I saw my wife
standing on our lawn and no less than 20 men in police uniforms and swat
gear all pointing guns at me with a police helicopter hovering at about 3,000

feet.

One of the plain clothes coppers hollered over to another police officer
“Nobody touch him or talk to him, this has to be an immigration arrest”.
Although I was shocked at the scene I immediately knew this was something

orchestrated by the U.S. government. The only man not pointing a gun at me
told me to step outside with my hands behind my back and walk backwards
five steps. Of course I asked for an explanation as did my wife. Constable
Robert Bonnefant of the Toronto Police department ignored me but told my
wife “Shut up cunt or we’ll arrest you too”. Finally the immigration guy (I forget

his name at this time) says “You are being detained for immigration violations
and investigation” What the hell was this guy talking about? I had always
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entered Canada legally, under my own name and passport, and never stayed
more than the six months allowed by law. My wife and son are both Canadian
citizens, and I was not an employee working in Canada without a work permit.

For sure this was ruse and I had no choice but to submit now that I was in
handcuffs as all my neighbors surely must have thought a serial killer was just
arrested. Later I would learn they were all told something very similar after they
saw 7 police squad cars on our small street that only had seven single family
homes on it. Not one of them were told I was being detained for “immigration

violations and investigation.”

I now instantly realized the U.S. government had orchestrated this show and in
time I would learn they even tried to deceive the Canadian Ministry of Justice.
Now the legal games would begin. It would truly be a legal chess match, but
one played not in a court of law but in private hearing rooms with “Immigration
Adjudicators” (the decision making judge and jury in Canadian immigration

hearings).

Thankfully, my loyal and now angry wife was no longer intimidated by police

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after what took place in Ohio with the FBI. She jumped into action and got me
an immigration lawyer named Joe Farkas who came to see me in jail. Evve n
though I was “detained” and not “imprisoned”, I sat in the same damn jail cell

as rapists, murderers, and street thugs at the Metro West Detention Center – a
maximum security jail in Toronto close to the airport.

Joe knew right from the get go, my case had nothing to do with immigration
“Anthony, I really don’t understand why you are jailed here. All of our usual

immigration detainees are kept at a hotel on Airport Rd. And I do not see any
indication that you were armed, nor resisted arrest.” I just smiled and asked
him…”Do you really think this has anything to do with immigration law Mr.
Farkas?” I asked. He shook his head and then asked me to confirm how and
when I came into Canada and how. He then told me what I already knew… this

was not a legitimate immigration matter and he confirmed that I had entered
Canada legally and he said he was “confident” that I would be released at the
first hearing the following morning. I told him not to count on it because
Washington was behind this.

The following day, I got my 30 minute immigration hearing before Immigration

Adjudicator Simi who heard lawyer Farkas detail how and when I entered
Canada – 100% legally. But strangely, it was this Toronto copper Robert
Bonnefant that represented Immigration Canada along with a blond woman
named Susan. They claimed I was in Canada illegally because I overstayed

my six months. In fact this was not true and I said so. I reminded them that I
went home to Ohio to do repairs on my family home and came back and still
had another 40+ days remaining on my legal stay status. They asked me to
prove it. I asked to call in my wife and father-in-law as witnesses or to call Mike
Tober in Ohio. They consulted privately and after 5 minutes said no witnesses

would be called today and even though this hearing was supposed to be open
to the public, it was not, and even my own family was not allowed admittance.
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This reminded both Farkas and myself that this hearing was not the normal
SOP. Under no circumstances were they going to release me today. So, the
law provides that I be granted “immigration bail” in a fair and reasonable

amount. This would ensure that I would attend any future immigration hearings
and not skip the country. But this Bonefant character insisted that if released
I would flee Canada and Farkas calmly reminded the adjudicator that my wife
and son are Canadian citizens and we just purchased a home here and I had
no reason nor desire to leave Canada. Once again, a private conference, an

once again, another “no”.

After the hearing Farkas admitted they were not playing by the rules, and he
suggested I find a high profile immigration powerhouse law firm like “Green
and Spiegel”. I relayed the day’s summary to my wife by telephone that night

and she called Green & Spiegel who referred her to one of the most honest
lawyers I ever met in my life Solicitor Marshal Drukarsh. Marshal is a
registered Immigration Law expert in Canada and he knows the Immigration
Statutes and guidelines better than a 40 year old woman knows every wrinkle
on her face.

On Marshal’s first visit to see me, he brought me some bad news but it really
was no surprise. He first acknowledged that the immigration arrest was just a
ruse to detain me long enough for the U.S. Justice Department to get my
attention. They wanted me to come back to America voluntarily and

“cooperate”. But this “cooperation” was never really defined. Marshal informed
me that the U.S. sent notice to Canada’s Ministry of Justice that I would be
sought for extradition, if I did not voluntarily surrender myself or if Canada did
not deport me. Marshal asked me to explain the whole story and after we got to
the death threats and how Chalem also was receiving identical threats before

he was murdered, he gave me the “Time Out” hand signal. He asked me if I

had proof of the allegations I had made about American Financial Group,
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Enron, and FBI Agent Nelson. When I answered “Yes”. He said to me “If you
go back to America your life span will probably be shorter than that of
mushroom”. With your approval I will file a refugee claim on your behalf this

week to keep you in Canada long enough to get the local courts to hear your
story and bar your removal from Canada”. It sounded good to me, even though
Marshal predicted the U.S. would play hardball and keep me detained in this 2
by 3 meter jail cell for a few months. He was right, but at least now I had an
honest lawyer who knew the game that was being played. Unlike other lawyers

who will tell you anything you want to hear until they can’t squeeze another
dollar from you, Marshal told me from the start that the playing field would
never be level, and politics usually prevails over justice when the American
government gets involved. But he did tell me that if the courts allowed the
phony extradition to proceed I would at least have 5 years or so to raise my

son before they fed me to the wolves. Actually, I would get luck in this regard
and spend 8 years with my family. In the interim Marshal did all that he could to
expose the fraud and he succeeded in proving that Robert Bonnefant was
feeding false information to Immigration Canada officials to the effect that I was
armed and dangerous, had a violent history, was a member of organized crime,

and my wife was allegedly smuggling prostitutes from Asia into Canada! This
BS would work with immigration Canada bit not for Madame Justice Garton of
Ontario Superior Court. More on that later.

But for ten months I was kept in maximum security detention (as was Bradley

Manning) officially in “immigration detention” at the direct “request” of the U.S.

government. Within 45 days of my arrest, er… sorry, “detention”. I provided
sworn statements from six eye witnesses including my dentist in Ohio who all
saw me in Ohio when I went to fix the leaking roof. We even had the gas
station receipt from when we stopped for gas in Pennsylvania. Still they kept

me detained during one of the most difficult times for our family.

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It was during this time that my mother-in-law underwent her brain surgery and
the surgeons made a mistake that left her paralyzed on her left side of her
body as if she had a stroke. Less than a month later my father-in-law passed

away. My wife was distressed and at perhaps the lowest point of her life. I
asked for permission to attend my father-in-law’s funeral and was denied
without explanation. Even accused felons awaiting trial are granted permission
to attend family funerals. I was only held on immigration detention! My wife
was numb from all the misfortune. I could not be there for her as she was

always there for me. On top of that she was a new mother having to take care
of an infant. I felt so guilty and ashamed for being so stupid to be in the
predicament I found myself. I felt so relieved when her older brother arrived
from Korea to look after the family. Inside I was angry that these immigration
bastards knew very well that I legally entered Canada and did not overstay my

visit. I was not charged with any crime, and even though Canada was informed
that America would be seeking extradition, I was allegedly “innocent until
proven guilty”. They knew they had no legal right to detain me and even if I did
violate some immigration law or policy, their own guidelines mandated that I be
released on bail unless I was a danger to society or a flight risk, and there was

no evidence or historical behavior that I fell into either category. What was
most frustrating was that Jamaican gang members, a Malawi man accused of
murder, and a Pakistani man with no family in Canada and who failed to
appear for his last immigration hearing were all released on immigration bail!

I was furious and frustrated. My family needed me and a s former law

enforcement officer, I knew quite well America was pulling Canada strings and
it even came out after one of my 12 immigration hearings when a immigration
adjudicator, whose name I no longer have readily available (but which is
known to Marshal Drukarsh) waited for my hearing to end to say… “I’m really

sorry Mr. DiMarco but your government insists that you be detained.” To which
I replied “Do you work for the Canadian or American government?” She said
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nothing. Her name was Simie.

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Up until this point, I had been a passive participant in my hearings, only
answering questions that were asked of me and not mentioning any of the

corruption and government and corporate crimes I witnessed in America. I did

not think my past whistle blowing history would be of help to just obtaining
immigration bail, but I decided that at the next monthly hearing, I would go on
record with all of it. What I did not know, is that in Immigration hearings the
standards of juris prudence do not apply. Those accused have no rights to

cross examine accusers, no rights to demand documentary proof or sworn

testimony of any accuser, nor even the right to present witnesses on ones own
behalf. In short, Officer Bonnefant could accuse me of being a wanted
pedophile or rapist in any country and not be obligated to provide any proof, or
even testify under oath. He could continue to lie with impunity. At this point I

direct your attention to the attached worn affidavit of former veteran Toronto
police officer Abraham “Chris” Bailey who talks about the systemic abuse of
authority used by police at immigration hearings in Canada. As a former
immigration officer myself in America, I can confirm that similar abuses take
place in America as well.

By this time Canada received the extradition warrant from America with one
glaring omission. There were no “charging documents” a legal requirement for
extradition. There was also no indictment. No grand jury had indicted me for
any crime in America. When Marshal asked to see a copy of both documents,

he was told that they would be “forthcoming” Please take note that this was in
July of 2001. For the next 5 years, neither legal document would be produced
nor provided to the Canadian government yet my extradition would proceed –
illegally.

After the extradition process began with the arrival of the warrant, Marshal
advised me to find a criminal lawyer to handle the extradition matter since he
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had no expertise in criminal law and he would focus on my immigration matter.
I then proceeded the tedious task of hiring a lawyer from a jail cell which is next
to impossible when you are only allowed to make collect calls and when most

lawyers are in court until 5pm-7pm and when phone access is restricted to
prisoners. Still, I managed to find the lawyer who would be my ultimate
downfall and nemesis. Ultimately both my wife and I would file formal
complaints against the man I would hire – William Ross Gilmour. I will not get
into it here and now, but in the chapter The Trojan Horse Lawyer. Suffice it to

say that I did not know this man was a former RCMP officer who was asked to
resign, I did not know that he himself was arrested, I did not know that he
represented a local police department, and I did not know of his lack of ethics
BEFORE I hired him. What I did know is only what he told me when he came to
visit me… He claimed he had extensive extradition experience and had

represented five previous clients on extradition charges and prevailed on two

of the cases. This would turn out to be completely false, but I had taken the
man at his word. He also told me that he would work on a flat rate basis and
accept installment payments since my funds were now limited due to me
having to hire two previous immigration lawyers (Farkas & Drukarsh). I agreed

to hire him on a limited basis and he consulted with Marshal. Later Marshal
would question my wisdom in hiring Gilmour but did not say why for another
year.

I then caught a break in the form of an honest judge. If not for the extradition

warrant being filed I would never have the chance to call witnesses on my
behalf nor have the right to habeas corpus (freedom on bail during the judicial
process). Once I became the subject of an extradition, I was entitled to a bail
hearing! Usually a bail hearing is a one hour affair. But because of all the lies
told by Bonnefant to immigration officials, my bail hearing would take two days.

And my new criminal attorney Gilmour was “not prepared” to handle it so I

asked Marshal to please pick up the ball on my behalf. Also, since Gilmour
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would be called as a witness for my bail hearing (he had visited Ohio and
obtained sworn statements from my neighbors about my presence there to
establish timelines and my credibility), it actually was more convenient for

Marshal to take the lead, and he agreed to do so.

In late July or early August (I can’t recall and here in China I do not have
access to my records), I was taken before the Ho norable Madame Justice
Garton at Ontario Superior Court. The Crown Attorney was a likeable fellow

named Bradley Reitz, who I must admit, was only a pawn in this deceitful
chess game, and over the next five years I would come to know him fairly well.
He knew that he was selected to be the hatchet man in my case but later he
admitted to that he never relished the role, and once would privately apologize
to me. But today at the bail hearing he did his job and regurgitated all the same

fabrications of Officer Bonnefant, assuming them to be true. The judge listened

quietly and occasionally asked, “And of course you have some evidence to
support your claims?” In every instance, Reitz would have to refer to “Officer
Bonnefant” as his source and “proof”.

When the proceedings began to go over two hours, and the Judge indicated
that she “had other matters to attend to” I feared that my version of events
would get cut short or not heard at all. Instead, she said something along the
lines of “This is a very unique story, we will continue these hearing tomorrow.”
At this point we were all surprised that she had taken a real interest in my case

and appeared to be truly interested in justice and not just processing another
one of 50 bail hearings she had to deal with every week. In reality, judges are
some of the busiest people on Earth and their calendars are always a major
concern to their assistants and court administrator. One judge has many
calendars, one for trials, one for pretrial hearings, and other for plea bargains,

and yet another for bail hearings. In some jurisdictions they have judges that
specialize each of these functions, and in smaller jurisdictions, or in extradition
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matters, sometimes one judge does it all.

Solicitor Marshal Drukarsh

The next day, Marshal was allowed to present the truth and he did so calmly
and in a logical chronological order or events. He then pointed out all the

discrepancies of Bonefant’s allegations which had zero documentary evidence

nor testimony to substantiate the lies. If Bonefant took the stand he would
surely be guilty of perjury. My wife took the stand for 30 minutes to confirm
when, where, why, and how we had come to Canada. Even before Marshal
finished all of his arguments, Madame Justice Garton said “I think I have heard

enough in order to make a decision”. She granted me bail and released me

into the custody of my wife. That was the court order of a Superior Court judge.
I thought I was going home to my family and we were all quite happy. But
instead, the bailiff put handcuffs on me and took me away. What was going
on?!?

I was taken back to the Metro West Detention Center, to the same cell I had
been residing. I then thought that perhaps Canadian law requires that I be

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released from the detention center and not the court room. This would be a 2-3
hour ordeal because of the bureaucratic I thought. Seven hours later the lights
went off in the cells and in the morning I demanded to see the duty Captain. As

good luck would have, the most decent, kind, and fair Captain was o n duty –
Mrs. Dvorak. I explained to her what happened in Court and told her that I
should be free. She agreed to investigate. Within an hour she returned and told
me. “This is quite odd Bruce. The computer indicates that you are officially
released on bail but your release papers are nowhere in the office, and without

those we cannot process you. I am having someone contact the court to obtain
another copy. Please be patient.” Despite her explanation and noble efforts, I
was already impatient and it was a Friday. I did not want a bureaucratic screw
up to keep me in jail yet a single day longer and I called Marshal.

The weekend came and went and my wife and I were both angry and confused.
We both sensed some more games were being played and we were correc t.
On Monday, I saw Captain Dvorak again and she was surprised to see me still
behind bars. “Were you charged with something?” she asked. “No” I replied.
She then confirmed herself that I was being held illegally and had better

contact my attorney. I did. Marshal said he was looking into, and Gilmour said
he had no idea what was going on. But only Marshal bothered to come visit me,
and he brought me bad news… I was still being held on immigration hold and
the extradition bail was not being recognized by Immigration Canada. I would
have to get a separate immigration bail from them. SAY WHAT? There was

clearly some machinations going on, and Marshal agreed. But he also stated
that it would be impossible for them to justify holding me when a Superior
Court judge already determined that I was not a danger to society nor a flight
risk. But we would have to wait another two weeks for my monthly immigration
detention review hearing to address the matter. We had no choice but to wait.

When the hearing date arrived my family came again, as they did for every
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previous hearing, only today they expected to take me home. Marshal
proceeded to present the bail papers and the events that took place in the
court room. Robert Bonefant was again present, but today he sat silent ly. We

were all shocked that even when Marshal made all the facts clear, I was still
ordered to be held in immigration detention with no explanation. Bonefant,
followed me into the hallway with a big smirk on his face. “You will never go
home until you call Coleman and tell him you will cooperate” he said to me as
he stuffed Coleman’s New York telephone number in my jumper pocket. I truly

wanted to spit on this man and send him to hell. It was his fabrications that
kept me jailed and prevented me from attending my father-in-law’s funeral. I
truly had to restrain myself.

Marshal looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. “We have another month to

figure this out Bruce.” These people down South really have an ax to grind with
you.” I thanked Marshal for his loyal determination. I tossed Coleman’s number
in the toilet and flushed it as soon as I was returned to my steel box. It would
be my home for another 8 months.

Roughly a week later I had a long talk with my wife. Clearly the law was being
ignored and America was telling Canada how to deal with me and we were
both disappointed that Canada’s Ministry of Justice was colluding so easily
without question. Telephone time is limited to 15 minutes because 36 prisoners
had to share just 2 telephones, and if you did not feel like fighting (literally) the

resident bullies hogged the telephone time for themselves.

That night I was a bit depressed and I could not sleep. My cellmate was a long
time resident and as a result had access to the all the drugs being peddled i n
the jail (a cottage industry run by a handful of corrupt guards and lawyers who

brought the drugs in during “legal visits” for a handsome profit of $5,000 per
visit). He saw that I was distressed and offered me some pills. “Here take these,
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they will make you forget your problems in less than ten minutes and you can
get some sleep” “What are they?” I asked. “Valium” he replied. I never took
drugs before but I remember that after my dad died my mom had been

prescribed Valium for a week and noticed she was not crying all the time as
she did when she did not have the medication. So I took the pills and expectd
to go to sleep.

What happened next was quite strange and scary. I became quite dizzy and

disorientated. It was not a good feeling at all. I could not sleep. I went to the
cell door and hoped a guard would come by so I could ask to see a nurse. As I
stood patiently by the door, a man in his late 30s approached my door in a
prison jumpsuit. It was after lockdown so I assumed he was an orderly. But he
was not anyone I had recognized. Yet he knew my name. He walked towards

me and said “You don’t look very well”. I confirmed “I don’t feel very well”. As I
was talking to him I must have passed out. When I awoke I was in pain,
choking, and gasping for air. My cellmate awoke and came to my rescue.
Someone (I can only assume it was the “orderly”) hung me from the cell bars
with a sheet! Of course it would be written up as a “suicide attempt” no matter

what I said, and given recent events of the phony immigration detention, and
my family situation, it would seem credible. I asked to see photos of the
“orderly” that was on duty that night and I was ignored. Instead I was sent to
see the Chaplain for “counseling”. I told him the truth but nothing came of it.
Someone just tried to kill me and nobody seemed to care. I later learned that

the value of life behind bars is highly discounted and prisoner deaths, no
matter what the circumstances, are only looked upon as a huge inconvenience
of a paperwork burden.

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 Stabbings are the number 1 cause of prison deaths as I almost learned personally.

Before I would leave the Metro West Detention Center, yet another prisoner
would attempt to stab me as I sat at the dinner table one day (we ate
communally) and for no apparent reason. I had no arguments nor
conversations with this man. He had only been in my cell block for about a

week. Fortunately for me, another prisoner, a jailed Toronto cop saw the man
approach me from behind and leaped to stop him. As the copper pushed the
man out of camera view into the washroom where he was disarmed, I walked
back to my cell and locked myself inside (the doors self-locked when you
closed them) The copper probably saved my life. No explanation was ever

given and the next day the assailant was absent from our cell. That copper
became my friend and guardian. He is the same Abraham Bailey who supplied
me with the sworn affidavit dated January 15th, 2002 (See below).

I was beginning to believe I might not ever see my family again. In prison, it

only costs $5,000 to get a man killed. I would not mention these events to my
wife. She was already stressed out to the max and did not want to add to her
emotional burden. How she endured my situation was indeed a miracle
beyond comprehension. I reflected back to the day in 1995 that Finta sent
someone to shoot me at Fort Apache Marina. Now I was wondering if he or
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Nelson would actually send someone to Canada to finish the job, or was this
related to the death threats of 1999? The latter made no sense as we had
complied with the caller’s demands to “leave the country”. Either way, I now felt

more vulnerable than ever and I knew that if I died in jail, any reason could be
given and would be believed. In reality, deaths of prisoners is not a public
concern as most people have zero empathy or concern for anyone behind bars
– even those “presumed to be innocent until proven guilty”.

My cell was also this size but I had to always share it with one or two other prisoners for 10
months on “immigration hold”. Welcome to maximum security detention.

From that point on I realized I was fighting for my life and every day behind
bars was a real danger for me. I became extremely alert – perhaps almost
paranoid and at my next immigration hearing, I was not going to remain

passive. I decided to put the corruption on record and demand an explanation

as to why criminals and murder suspects were being given immigration bail
and why I was detained.

At yet another Immigration Detention Review hearing, I was directly told by

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Adjudicator Simie, that regardless of the facts, and regardless of my bail
granted by the High Court, my detention would continue unless and until I
voluntarily waived my right to a refugee hearing and voluntarily submitted to

extradition! In other words, I would remain behind bars on immigration hold

unless I was willing to forfeit my constitutional rights to due process of law!
This is born out by transcripts and the two affidavits and a letter submitted by
Marsh Drukarsh (See attached exhibits T1, T2, and T3).

What was extremely ironic and aggravating about all of this is that an
honest adjudicator named William Willoughby had already issued a
“voluntary departure order” for me to leave Canada on my own free will!
So according to Willoughby, I was free to leave Canada, I had extradition
bail granted by Justice Garton, I was not charged with any other crime in

Canada, yet I remained jailed for 9 months and counting! As Captain

Dvorak, Marshall, and the ACLU agreed, I was being illegally detained in
Canada only at the insistence of the U.S. government.

On February 6th, 2001 I had yet another monthly immigration detention review

hearing before Adjudicator Frederica Douglas, and I unloaded on them as

politely as I could and without being accusatory. In all I spoke longer than ever
before – about 30 minutes, before they cut me off and told me they no more
time allotted for my hearing! But before they cut me off I told t hem about
Chalem, American Financial Group, FBI Agent Terry Nelson and my years of

whistle blowing. They sat there unphased and at one point the adjudicator
began trying to interrupt me with attempts to change the subject or distract my
train of thought. As you can see from attached exhibit V, the transcripts from
that hearing have been grossly edited and censored with 88 “inaudible” and
“taped skipped”. What is truly humorous is that electronic digital recorders, like

those used at immigration hearings, do not use recording tape. There is

no ”tape” to “skip” and thus a “tape skip” is a virtual impossibility and fabrication.
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See below…

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Immigration Canada was clearly honoring the “request” of the FBI to keep me
detained until I agreed to their demand. In short this was extortion.
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© Copyright 1995-2014 By Bruce A. Gorcyca – All Rights Reserved

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