Statement by Steve Brown (1975–1990)
Steve Brown
What happened? Why do we wake up one morning in a free fall, into a bottomless pit?
Accusations are made against two governments, which will not be named in this brief autobiography. What should be understood from this unusual letter? That one must avoid judging at first glance. I invite you to try to understand my situation which, it must be said, is out of the ordinary. But I am not responsible for that. An event occurred without my knowledge, which allegedly led to the arrest of a magistrate and several police officers. I must clarify, here, the reason for my strange relationship with this developing crisis: I have nothing to do with the troubles of that justice worker and those public security agents—I do not even know them.
It was in 1980 that this story, which I qualify as a baseless vendetta, began to affect me insidiously, like a slow-acting poison. Naturally, I could not have known—or even suspected—that individuals were targeting me with fabrications, identity theft, and lies. It becomes clear now, considering who I am, that the criminals were aiming at people I don’t even know, through me. These may be individuals connected, directly or indirectly, with those arrests of the judge and the officers. You'll understand that untangling these mysteries consumes my curiosity, especially since my safety now depends on it. My name is Steve Brown, and I reside at 3429 Des Églises Avenue in Lévis, Quebec, Canada.
Who am I?
Like many Quebecers, I dropped out of school at 15. But in 1975, I pulled myself together and went back to school. I attended a private college to learn a trade. Then I returned to complete my secondary education—I was missing grades 10 and 11. In winter 1977, I enrolled full-time at CEGEP Limoilou, under the condition that I complete my final high school year by attending night classes, which I did. In 1979, I left the college network (reluctantly—I loved that environment), but instead of enrolling in university as planned, I decided to work full-time to repay my student loans. The new plan: work full-time and study part-time.
So I began working at the Ministry of Revenue in early 1980, on a two- or three-month contract during tax season. In spring 1980, I became a full-time security guard for about 11 months, then continued part-time until 1982. After that, I was unemployed until 1990. During those 8 years, I developed a passion for writing in various styles. I’m not an important person, yet I had the distinct feeling of being targeted repeatedly (indirect remarks, vague allusions, never direct speech), enough so that from 1985 to 1989, I kept a log of when I left the house, where I went, the time I arrived, and when I came back. I wanted to know my whereabouts at any moment while I was outside.
At the end of April 1990, something unexpected happened: a light—figuratively and literally—coming from a door slightly ajar, through a radio broadcast, gave me hope. I began to glimpse the identity and motives of those persecuting me, the very people who had, years earlier, plotted to kill me.
Before going any further, I must explain the usefulness, for certain individuals, of radio and TV stations. These media are used in investigations, often in conjunction with technology accessible to nearly anyone. Think, for example, of the micro-spy "nails" used by law enforcement to eavesdrop through walls before intervening in homes. Knowing what the subjects of investigation listen to can be useful for public safety. This system may have played a role in triggering the crisis.
What follows may sound trivial—but as you’ll see, two murders and an attempted murder soon followed. In spring 1990, in late April, I was listening to the morning show on CHRC radio. I heard host Myriam Ségal ask someone to call in. I understood that she wanted to talk about a night I had spent in a strip club. What follows is difficult to explain. Even today, I struggle to understand the turn events took in 1990 and in the decades that followed. But now, there is hope.
They wanted to use me as a scapegoat. In 1990, individuals—acting under the orders of an unidentified government—attempted to assassinate me for the second time. The unbelievable part is that they sought to pin the death of a gangster on me, even though I know no one from that world—not a single criminal. I hope to shed light on this assassination attempt, because now it may be possible to discover the truth behind the judge and the corrupt officers’ scandal, linked to organized crime.
In short, I’m missing a piece of my life—and that’s why I must accept being hard to believe.
I spent years afterward meeting with lawyers and journalists, as suggested by a Crown prosecutor, and with a human rights organization in Montreal. I had already written to the FIDH (International Federation for Human Rights) in the winter of 1991, but never received a reply. No one was able to help.
I accuse two governments (unnamed in this declaration), individually and collectively, of the following:
1. Attempted murder
As is standard in all criminal cases—especially when the allegations come from a victim (Steve Brown, still seeking evidence)—the Accused are presumed innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. The charges against them are based largely on testimonial evidence and powers of attorney. Having orchestrated murders as part of a conspiracy commonly referred to as a “frame-up” or scapegoating operation, the Accused and their accomplices dragged into this botched setup (pinning two murders on me and trying to kill me to prevent me from testifying) numerous public services, including the media—over which they took full control. The manipulated media thus helped sustain the crisis that unfolded during the summer of 1990.
A federal inmate (whom I did not know) was murdered; his group then marched past our home for weeks. A woman (also a stranger to me) was also murdered. These facts make it inevitable to conclude that many witnesses exist—among them, holders of powers of attorney. A sophisticated media manipulation followed the crimes of summer 1990.
Tragically, a corruption case sparked that bloody summer, which took place in the shadow of the Oka Crisis (a major 78-day conflict between the Mohawk people of Kanesatake and the Quebec government, from July 11 to September 26, 1990). The political sphere used its influence to keep journalists away from the corruption case—up to this very day. The Canadian media industry was manipulated for the next 31 years to hide a number of scandals, including this one.