Cordell Cook

HELL WITHOUT FIRE LIVING WITH SCHIZOPHRENIA

RC 514 C65 '1997

cot
Paul Hayward

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At the age of about twelve, I began to wonder if God t ruly exists. By the Lime I was fourteen, I had come to the conclusion that the Bible was nothing more than a comic book and that Jesus Christ was a mad man - to the extent that he allowed men to crucify him. I believed people had made God up. By the age of sixteen, I was a confirmed atheist. At sixteen, I quit school. Having failed grades four and seven, I was in my second go-round of the seventh grade when I decided I'd had enough. One day, I stayed home from school and said to myself, "That's it." My friend, Billy Goguen, showed up at my door with a message from my home room teacher, Mrs. MacArthur. Mrs. MacArthur knew I had been on the verge of quitting and must have guessed that's why I hadn't shown up for school. She wanted me to return for the last few clays of the month so the class could win the perfect attendance award for the month. I went to school and made an agreement with Mrs. MacArthur to attend classes without having to do any school work. The next morning, the French teacher, Mr. Rile, carne to our classroom to teach. I sat there chewing gum, my feet on my desk. Mr. Rile swiftly walked to my desk and said, "Spit that gum out." I spat the gum onto the floor. Mr. Rile pointed to the door and said, "Get out." I left and never returned. In my teenage and young adult years, my fear of the police led me to become paranoid. Walking down the street, upon seeing

a cat wanting to be let into an apartment or a house, I let the cat in, then wiped the doorknob with my shirt, clearing it of my fingerprints, fearing that if there was a burglary or a fire, I would be accused. One clay in the spring of 1962, a friend named Freddie and I were drinking quite heavily at Freddie's. We made plans to attend a dance in the north end. In the evening, walking up Germain Street, I decided to go to the dance at Lily Lake. This upset Freddie. We started arguing, our voices growing louder and louder. It almost turned into a fist fight. Suddenly, from beyond an alleyway, a man's voice sounded. "Shut up and get the fuck off the street!" "Fuck you," I hollered. I ran up the alleyway. Freddie followed. We ran into a yard. A man was standing on the porch of a house. He went inside. He returned in an instant, brandishing a handgun. He aimed it at me. A light flashed in his hand. A burning sensation blazed in my inner right thigh. It hurt like hell. Again a flash and the same burning sensation. Again and again. I fell. Freddie took off up the alleyway. I raised my head and looked around. I was alone. I knew I needed help. I dragged myself to the alleyway and out to the street. My pants were soaked in blood. I made my way to a house on the corner of Duke and Germain. I managed to open the door and crawl up the set of stairs. I pounded on the door and yelled, "Help! I've been shot!" From the other side of the door, I heard a man's voice. "Don't get involved in that, Mother." I became lightheaded. I was losing blood. I knew if I lost consciousness, I might die from loss of blood. I was able to get my left leg under me. I lunged forward, smashing the window in the door with my fist. 1\4y hand ripped open. I fell onto the stairs. I lay there, conscious one minute, unconscious the next. Police officers were putting me in a car. Medical staff were working on me. My right foot felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. I kept hollering,

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"Take my shoe offl Please! Take my shoe off': I was in a police car again. The cool breeze felt good in my face. A voice woke me up. 'Wash up time." I looked around. I was lying in bed in a jail cell. My right pant leg had been cut away. My leg was completely bandaged. The door opened. A police officer handed a set of crutches to me. He said, "Use these, Son." Adjusting my leg, I sat on the bed. I was nauseated and extremely thirsty. I made my way to a set of sinks. Inmates were washing up. I drank from a tap. The water satiated my enormous thirst. I went back to the cell and lay on the bed. I was asleep instantly. I awoke to the sound of the cell door opening. A detective entered. "What happened last night, Son?" "Fuck off." "You were shot on Germain Street." "So talk to the guy who did it." He picked up my shoe. There was a bullet hole in it. He set the shoe down and departed. A few minutes later, two policemen came in, bearing a stretcher. I was taken to the Saint John General Hospital. Medical staff worked on my leg. I spent a month in-hospital. My leg had nerve damage. The pain was excruciating. I developed a way of easing the pain. By touching my thumb with each finger of the same hand and counting each touch, the pain eased. My thoughts were directed away from the pain, making the pain bearable. For hours on end, I touched my thumb with each finger, counting each touch. When my hand became too tired, I did it with my other hand. A man was charged in the shooting. In the courtroom, I was not absolutely certain the accused was the one who shot me. I had been too inebriated that night. The judge dismissed the case. About six months after I was shot, I was admitted into the hospital for an extremely painful operation. It was worth the agony.

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The operation alleviated the pain a great deal, although to this day, at times I still feel pain in my leg. At the age of seventeen or eighteen, I returned home from Ontario. My best friend was a black fellow named Bob. He and I went to a church dance. We were both quite drunk. When I was drunk, at times I tended to get disruptive. Bob and I got into an argument and we went out into the yard. Bob stabbed me three times in the midsection. I was wearing a pure white shirt. I looked down and saw blood. I got scared. I ran back into the dance. I saw a man and said, "I'm bleeding." "You were looking for trouble and you found it." "Call a taxi." I grabbed my jacket and went outside, awaiting the taxi. My blue jacket covered the blood. I was living with my parents and that's where I went. At home, Morn and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table. I unzippered my jacket. Morn said, "Oh God! Look, Bob!" I looked down. Blood saturated my shirt. I sobered up pretty quickly. I took a taxi to the Emergency Unit of the Saint John General Hospital. I was taken into a room and put on a table. A doctor came in. He said, "It can't be frozen. It will have to be stitched without freezing." The doctor stitched the open wound. It was painful. In the corridor, I was detained by a large man in a suit. "I'm a police detective. I want to know what happened." "I was underneath the viaduct leading to the North End and some guys jumped me. " The detective left and I went home. I started to drink excessively, mostly cheap wine. Police often picked me up on drunk charges and put me in the drunk tank. I spent so many weekends in the drunk tank I would not drink on Friday night, fearing if I did, I'd likely end up there for the weekend.

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Manny nights, drunk, my legs wobbly, I walked home. Every step of the way, I worried the police were going to pick me up. About a hundred yards from home, fearing the police were going to come at any time, unable to contain my anxiety, I ranted and raved, hollered and swore, saying nasty things about the police. Sometimes I made it home. Other times, the police picked me up. Sometimes a squad car quietly crept behind me, expecting a verbal barrage, waiting to arrest me. Sometimes I noticed they were there. Other times I let loose. When I did, they picked me up and carted me off to the drunk tank. Notorious as a drinker, a fighter and a tough guy, some tough characters chummed with me. I was jailed on numerous occasions, usually on a drunk charge or for stealing. I didn't work much. Occasionally, I partook of hashish or marijuana. I spent most of my time drinking. It was at this time of my life that I started expressing my opinions and beliefs about the Bible and religion to others, totally convinced as I was that God did not exist. My mother and I got into many discussions and arguments over our convictions. I rather enjoyed these confrontations. They gave me opportunity to elaborate on my beliefs and to express myself. I avoided Christians as I had very little regard for them. Many times, I got into serious disputes over religion. In bars and taverns, while friends and I were drinking, at times the conversation turned to religion. V/hen this happened, I dove in with all my beliefs. My convictions were so strong I dominated the conversation. When I came up against someone who would not sway from their beliefs, I stood up, raised my glass in the air and said, "If there is a fucking God, let him strike me dead." After a brief pause, I looked at their shocked faces. I took a drink of beer and slarnmecd the glass onto the table. Then I turned and walked out.

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THREE

One night, some friends and I were at a restaurant called Berthas. Drunk and out of booze, we were trying to put enough money together to buy a bottle of wine. A black fellow by the name of Wilfred sat nearby. Wilfred had been a friend of my brother, Donnie. He'd recently been released from prison after serving time on a murder conviction. Someone said, "Why don't you ask Wilfred, CordellP" I said, "I wouldn 't ask that nigger for anything. " I was drunk. I didn't truly dislike Wilfred. At the time, though, drunk as I was, I meant what I said. Wilfred came over, glaring at me. He said, "There's something in my pocket for you, Cookie." Wilfred carried a knife. At the time, so did I. I returned his glare. "There's something in my pocket for you, Wilfred." Wilfred turned and went back to his seat. One day, a couple of weeks later, after serving five or six days on a drunk conviction, a friend bailed me out of jail. At about three o'clock that afternoon, I saw a pretty young woman with dark hair sitting on a park bench in King's Square uptown. She was dressed to the hilt. I was struck by her sharp dress and good looks. Having been around, I pegged her as a prostitute. She said, "It's a beautiful day." I was not in a good mood. "What's so fucking beautiful about it?" I kept walking. About two weeks later, at about four o 'clock in the morning, after some friends and I had spent most of the night drinking, I was walking through the Square. I saw her standing beside the Bank Of Nova Scotia. This time she was scruffy looking.

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Even so, she was still quite pretty. I approached her and said, "Hello." "I know you, " she said. "You're Cordell Cook. I want to tell you something. Wilfred is out to get you." "Slut on him. " "He says he 's going to get you down at Bertha 's Restaurant. " I was glad she told me. I liked this girl. I learned her name was Frances. "Let's go over to the Diana Restaurant, Frances. I 'll buy breakfast." At the Diana, Frances told me she had just gotten out of reform school. "I have no place to stay. I've been sleeping in a parked car." I was staying at the home of a friend. After breakfast, we went there and had sex. Then we slept. Always out to make a buck, I figured with her good looks, she could be hustled. We rented a room and went about the business of prostitution. Frances did really well as a prostitute. For the next five or six months, we made a lot of money. I stayed drunk most of the time. We lived in rooming houses and hotels. Frances and I fell in love. It bothered me that she was having sex with other men. I put an end to the prostitution. One night, Frances and I were at Bertha's Restaurant. A fellow named Wayne came in. "Hey, Cookie," he said. "Would your lady and you like to go for a drink at the gravel pits?" "Good man." A car was parked in front. Two men were sitting in the front seat. I did not know the man behind the wheel but I knew the man on the passenger side. -Wayne got in the front. Frances and I sat in the back. At the gravel pits, a bottle of rum was opened. We all had a drink. Wayne said, "Say, Cookie. What would you do if we tried to screw your woman?" At that time, I carried a small bottle of Javex. I withdrew it from my pocket and said, "I'd blind you with this. While this guy

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driving was beating on me, I'd grab that bastard and choke him to death." They didn't want to take the chance. We drank the rest of the rum as if the conversation had not taken place. Then Frances and I were driven back to Berthas. Frances and I often talked about going away and starting a new life. My sister, Patsy and her faunily lived in Streetsville, Ontario, near Toronto. One night, Frances and I were lying in bed. I said, "Flow would you like to move to Ontario, Frances? We could start a whole new life." Frances was thrilled. A few days later, we took a train to Ontario. Upon our arrival at Patsy's, my brother-in-law, Doug Pyrke, was the only one home. He welcomed us with open arms. Soon after mu- arrival, the children and Patsy came home. Patsy was glad to meet Frances and happy to see me. However, she made it clear that she did not want Frances and me having sex in her home unless we were married. Like our mother, Patsy was religious and very firm in her convictions. Frances got a job as a waitress and I worked at a dog food company called Elder's Packing. We tried to be inconspicuous in our lovemaking but Patsy knew. She pressured me to many Frances. I didn't really want to get married but to appease Patsy, I asked Frances to many me. A Reverend Busby married us. It was a very small ceremony. Patsy and Doug were the only ones who attended our wedding. On our wedding night, I developed strept throat. A party was held for us at the Royal Canadian Legion where Doug worked as a bartender, but I was too sick to go. A couple of weeks later, Frances and I moved into an apartment downtown. About three weeks later, both of us felt homesick. We moved back to Saint John. Frances got a job as a waitress at Dan's Restaurant. My old friends and I started hanging around together again and I resumed my heavy drinking. I didn't look for work. Frances and I moved

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from rooming house to rooming house. We were always getting kicked out because of my drinking. Sometimes we lived with my parents. At times we stayed with friends. IL bothered me before but it began to bother me deeply that Frances had been a prostitute. I was ashamed of her and ashamed of myself for marrying a former prostitute. I felt I could not hold my head high around my friends. They knew what Frances had been. I drank constantly. When I was I drunk I berated her sorely. Yet I was still in love with Frances. When I sobered from a drunk, I let her know how miserable I felt for treating her so badly. The next time I got drunk, my ill feelings resurfaced and the badgering resumed. She started to harden towards me. Frances got pregnant. We were staying with a friend when the time came for her to go into the hospital. A. few days later, in anticipation of becoming a father, I stopped the heavy drinking. Things were not good between Frances and me but I believed with the responsibilities of being a father, I could mend my ways and make life better for us. Frances gave birth to a baby boy. We named him Kevin Dwayne. With no income whatsoever, I went to the Department Of Social Services and applied for Social Assistance. At a meeting with a social worker, I told him our situation. He said, "Find a place and we will provide vouchers for you." I found a room and returned to the office. I was given vouchers for clothing and accessories for the baby, and vouchers for food and rent. I gave the voucher for rent to the caretaker. With the other vouchers, I purchased clothing and necessities for the baby and some groceries. I arranged for Frances to meet me at my parents upon her discharge from the hospital. The night before she was to be discharged, I spent the night with Mom and Dad. The next day, Frances came to my puents ' home and the four of us spent the clay oohing and aahing over the baby. In the evening, Frances and I took a taxi home.

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Somebody, I cannot recall whom, gave a crib to us. I landed a job painting oil tanks at Irving Shipping and Storage. I felt a sense of pride in being a father. One evening, about two months after Kevin was born, I came home from work to find an empty room. A woman who lived down the hall came to my door. She said, "Your wife left your baby with me, Mr. Cook." I took the baby. "Do you know where Frances is?" "No. " I took Kevin to my parents home and spent the evening discussing what happened with Mom and Dad. Mom kept the baby. She loved him dear Three or four clays later, on a Friday evening, a friend told me he had seen Frances in West Saint John. I knew she used to babysit for a man in the Lower 'Vest Side. I knew where he lived. On Saturday, my boss and I were the only ones at work. The previous day he had asked me to come in. While I worked, it kept going through my mind that Frances was most likely staying with the man for whom she had babysat in West Saint Jolm. As far as I knew, she knew nobody else in that part of town. I told my boss the circumstances and said, "She's over there. I'm sure of it. I've got to check it out. " I took a bus to the Lower 'West Side and went to the man's place. I banged on the door. A man answered. I saw Frances sitting at the end of a kitchen table. I pushed the door open and said to the man, 'just stay where you a re. I came to get my wife. If you're wise, you won't flick with me." The man took a seat at the table. "What's going on, FrancesP" "You don't love me, Cordell." "Put your coat on. We 're going home. " Frances didn't argue. She got her coat and we left. At work, a couple of days later, I decided to do something to show Frances I loved her. Although it was the middle of the week and pay clay was a couple of clays away, I told my boss I
ly.

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wanted my pay that clay. He didn't want to pay me until pay clay. I said, "If you don 't pay me now, I'm quitting. " Two good friends of mine, brothers Emille (Emo) and Dennis Doucette, were working with me. They knew die jeopardy my marriage was in. They told the boss they 'd quit, too, if he didn't pay me. The boss considered the circumstances and paid me. That night, I took Frances out on the town. We went for drinks at the lounge at the Riviera. After that, we went to the Pogoda Restaurant, renowned For serving delicious meals, for dinner and drinks. At home, I put all my heart into making passionate love to Frances. In the morning, I woke up alone. My wallet was lying on the floor. Sifting through it, I discovered that some money was taken. A photograph of myself was also missing. 'Without Frances, I felt lost. My alcohol consumption increased. I worked at many jobs, mostly as a labourer or construction worker. I worked during the day and drank in the evening. I held a job for a while, saved some money, then went on a drinking binge. A lot of jobs were available in those days. Morn and Dad took care of Kevin. I made many trips to Ontario, never staying long. 'When I returned to Saint John, I stayed with my parents. I spent most of my free time drinking. My religious conceptions never wavered. It became almost an obsession to challenge people on their religious beliefs, especially Christians. In September, 1968, I enroled in an upgrading/motor vehicle repair course called an MV Special at the Moncton Institute of Technology. Travelling by bus to Moncton, I met a man in his mid-thirties named Chuck who was also newly enroled at the Institute Of Technology. On the trip to Moncton, Chuck and I got to know each other. He was a nice fellow. We decided to look for residency together. We arrived in Moncton at about ten in tlhe evening.

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Neither of us had a place to stay. 'We went to a police station and spoke to an officer. Chuck said, "We're in town to attend classes at the Institute Of Technology. Classes start tomorrow. Tonight we have no place to stay. The officer told us to go to a certain hotel. "I'll call and make arrangements for you to spend the night." In the morning, Chuck and I went to the Institute Of Technology. We took orientation. Some of us, including Chuck and myself, were given money for rent. We were given the afternoon off from classes to find a place. We found a room in the home of a f'iunily. Chuck and I received cheques every second Friday. Chuck met a young woman named Nancy who was going to our school. They started dating. A friend of Nancy's named Sandy Piercy, who was taking a clerk/typist course, was introduced to me. Sandy and I started dating. She had a daughter whom she boarded in Lincoln, New Brunswick. About a month after Chuck and I moved into the home of the family, the four of us rented a furnished house on Maple Street, not far from school. I spent weekends either at home in Moncton or with my parents in Saint John. On Friday nights in Moncton, I bought twenty-four beer and stayed home. Nancy and Chuck usually went to bed early. I told Sandy I wanted to be alone and she went to bed at about ten o'clock. I set the case of beer on one side of the big chair and the record player on the other. I played records by Wilf Carter and Bill Anderson. I drank beer, listened to music and thought of Frances. It wasn't until she left me that I realized how much I was in love with her. My heart ached while I listened to songs of heart break. A special favourite was a song called "3 am ", by Bill Anderson. Listening to it, tears carne to my eyes. At times, the tears poured down my face. Eventually, I got in bed beside Sandy and fell asleep. The next morning, I drank the remaining beer and usually bought more. I also drank one or two nights through the week. Usually I spent all my money, then Sandy gave some of hers to me.

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The weekends in Saint John, Sandy came with me and we stayed with my parents. I usually drank draft beer at taverns. At that time, women were not allowed in taverns. Sandy usually ended up asking somebody to go into the tavern to get me. One Friday, Sandy and I decided to go to Saint John. I brought a pint of rum for the trip on the bus. By the time we arrived, I had finished the pint and was buzzing. We went to my parents home. I went to a bootlegger's and bought two bottles of cheap wine. Back at my parents place, I sat at the kitchen table downstairs, drinking wine. The baby, Sandy, Mom and Dad were upstairs. About an hour passed. I was pretty drnk. Leaning back on the chair, balancing on two legs, I was just reaching for the bottle when Sandy and Dad started coining downstairs. Sandy was saying, "You know, Dad. Fin going to marry Cordell. " At that instant, I picked up the bottle and the chair tipped over, spilling me backwards. I went head over heels into the corner, still holding the bottle of wine. Dad glanced at me and said, 'You're kidding." After going to school for about two-and-a-half months, Sandy and I got into an argument. We both quit school. We patched things up between us and took a bus to Saint John. Sandy rented a room and I moved in with my parents. I slept at Sandy's place. We made plans to move to Toronto. After a couple of weeks in Saint John, Sandy left a note for me in my parent's mailbox. She wrote that she couldn't handle a relationship with me any longer because I drank too much. She said she had to put her daughter ahead of me. For the next couple of years, I picked up work here and there. I applied for Social Assistance when I needed it. I drank almost every night. I had a lot of drinking friends who paid for the booze when I didn't have any money. I picked women up at bars, night clubs and restaurants. I had many one night stands. I was not

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interested in a steady relationship.

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FOUR

One night, in the spring of 1971, I was at the Air Force Club in the South End of Saint John. I was dancing, having a good time. This night, I was not drinking. I had money on me but I didn't feel like drinking. A dance ended and I stood on the dance floor, listening to the music. My friend, Dennis Doucette, came over to me. He said, "I want you to go to a place with me, Cordell." "Where do you want to go, Dennis?" "It's a religious place on Canterbury Street called The Way Out." I looked at him for an instant without saying anything. Normally, if someone invited me to a religious place, I would tell the person to go to hell. This night, I said, "Sure, Dennis. Let's go." Along the way, Dennis said, "I was there last week. I want to go back." When we got to the building, I noticed a sign in a window with a cross and the words, "The Way Out". We went up a set of stairs and opened the door. A long hallway was in front of us. Down the hallway on the left was a room full of people. On the right were two unopened doors. At the end of the hallway sat a table with a coffee urn, cups and condiments. We walked down the hallway. Dennis went into the room. I helped myself to a cup of coffee. I walked to the doorway of the room Dennis had gone into and stood there, drinking my coffee. A man approached me. He was very thin, wea ring a sweater and slacks. He asked, "Are you saved? " I looked at him. "Saved from what?" He took a step forward, close enough that I could smell his breath, and smiled. "Do you know Jesus Christ as your Saviour?" I responded abruptly. "I don't believe in that shit."

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He stepped back. "I suppose you don't believe in God." "Not in the least." "What's your mune, Young Fellow?" "Cordell Cook." He told me his name which I have since forgotten. "Look, Cordell," he said. "There's a room down the hall. I'd like to talk to you in there." We walked to the room. I knew what was coming and looked forward to the challenge. If this guy wanted to play "questions and answers " , I was game. The room was empty except for a chair in the middle of the floor. The man said, "Have a seat, Cordell." I sat on the chair and he stood in front of me. "Tell me, Cordell. Why don't you believe in God?" I proceeded to tell my views on religion, Jesus and God. I told him the Bible made no sense, that Jesus was a mad man and that God did not exist. All the while, he stood there saying nothing. When I finished, he didn't speak for a moment. He didn't even move. A smile began to steal across his face. I knew all I said had left no impression. He said, 'You're tired, Cordell, tired of your way of life. I can show you how to have a new life, a wonderful life. Wouldn't you like that, Cordell? Never having to feel alone?" This man had my attention. Deep down, I knew he was right. I was tired of my way of life. The constant drinking, having been beaten, knifed and shot, the lack of direction and the sense of non-purpose: my life was a living hell. This man was right. I was tired. I sat there and listened. 'You say you don't believe in God. I know how you feel. Not long ago, I felt the same way. But I wasn't really alive. There was something missing in my life ... and that something was God. With God, my life took on new meaning. "You can have new meaning in your life, Cordell. I'll show you how." Yes, this man had my attention.

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"Get clown on your knees, Cordell. Tell God you don't believe in Him. But ask Him, if He is real, to reveal Himself." I stood up and knelt before the chair. With all sincerity, I said, "I don't believe in you, God. But if you are real, please reveal yourself. Like this man said, I'm tired. " For more than a minute, I knelt there with my eyes closed. Nothing happened. I felt let clown. I had been expecting some kind of miracle to take place. I stood up and turned to the man. I said, "You are a fucking nut." I made my way to the door. As I put my hand on the doorknob, the man said, "Give it: time, Cordell." "Fuck you." I walked out. Outside, I was very angry. I said to myself, "What the hell does that nut know?!" This strengthened my conviction that God did not exist. A week passed. On a wet Friday night, I was uptown. I was broke. Walking up Charlotte Street, I saw a good friend standing outside Dan's Restaurant. "Hey, Leo," I hollered. "How are you off for bread?" "Haven't got a cent." I walked over to him. "Listen, Leo. I know a place where we can hang out and score some free coffee." A little while later, Leo and I were helping ourselves to coffee at The Way Out. This time, I went into the room Dennis had gone into the week before. Leo followed. Two nice looking young women were standing at a piano. 'What do you think of them, Leo?" "Not bad, Man. Not bad at all." "Let's go talk to them. " We went over. "Nice place," I said. "This is my friend, Leo. My name 's Cordell. " The young woman I spoke to asked, "Are you saved? " "Yeah, sure." She looked at me doubtfully. A small booklet was in her hand. She passed it to me.

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"Would you read this?" I took the booklet and put it in my back pocket. Turning to Leo, I said, "There's nothing here for us, Leo. These girls are Christians. Let's screw off." Outside, I said, "I'm taking off home, Leo. Catch you later." Leo headed uptown. I went home and sat on my bed in my room. I laid down. By now, the rain had turned into a thunderstorm. I remembered the booklet and took it out of my pocket. The title was "Chicken". I began to read. It was the story of a young man - a drinker, a fighter, a tough guy, the leader of a gang - who, deep down, was really scared. I was in awe. I closed the booklet and lay there thinking how much it sounded like my own life. Reading on, the last part of the story told how Jesus had died for the sinner. I became aware of the thunderstorm and went over to the window. Thunder roared and lightning flashed. As I looked at the sky, I heard what I can only describe as a voice in my mind speaking to me. It said, "If I'm not real, who's doing this?" I began to tremble. Falling to my knees, I cried out, "I believe in you, God! Forgive me! Come into my heart, Jesus! Save inc!' Immediately, I became calm. I rose from my knees and laid on my bed. I was asleep instantly. In the morning, I awoke, the experience of the previous evening completely forgotten. I dressed, had breakfast and headed for Dan's Restaurant. A friend of mine stood at the entrance. "Hey, Cookie," he called to me across the street. "You got a quarter?" "I haven't got a fuckin' cent." Suddenly, a feeling carne over me like I had clone something wrong. I felt really guilty. For the first time since I was a little boy, I bowed my head and asked God to forgive me. For the rest of the day, whenever I did something I felt was

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wrong, I asked God's forgiveness. This was all new to me. I felt a tremendous compulsion to find out what this was all about. In the evening, Leo and I went to The Way Out. I told a man about my experience of the night before and my desire to seek God's forgiveness whenever I sinned. The man said, "You're saved! Jesus Christ died on the cross so you could have eternal life. Jesus is your Saviour and Lord!" I talked to the two young women who were there the previous evening. They invited Leo and me to go to church the next day, a Sunday. In the morning, the four of us went to a Baptist church in the South End. In the evening, I went to The Way Out by myself. Someone gave a Bible to me, "Good News For Modem Man". I was on an emotional roller coaster and I was confused by all that was being told to me. I was full of joy and happiness, yet at the same time, I was sad and sorrowful. I felt accepted by my new friends and loved by God. Yet whenever I thought of Jesus dying on the cross to save my soul, I cried. That night, I met a man named Mick and his girlfriend, Carol, who were living together. I preached to them about Jesus. They invited me to their apartment. We sat up till late, discussing the Bible, talking and praying. That night, I slept there. The next day, I went home and preached to Morn and Dad about Jesus. In the evening, I went to The Way Out. Later, Mick, Carol and I went to their apartment. This time, others came with us. This became almost a nightly thing. We played gospel records, and held Bible meetings and prayer meetings. There were usually three or four others, aside from Mick, Carol and myself. I was learning quite a lot about the Bible, Jesus and God. I led the prayer meetings. Several of my friends, including a good friend named Dave Sugden and my good friend, Emo Doucette, became Christians as a result of my preaching. A mentally challenged friend named Francis Gabriel, whom I had known since childhood, came

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to fellowship with us. Several times, we laid our hands on his head and shoulders and prayed for him, trying to heal him. One night, after a prayer meeting at Mick's place, Dave Sugden and I were invited to stay the night. Dave went to sleep in a bedroom down the hall. I was to sleep on a cot in the livingroom. After everything quieted clown and I was alone, I knelt at the side of the cot. It was very dark. As I knelt there, praying, it seemed as though an intensely evil presence was behind me, watching me. It was as if the eyes of' an evil being were boring right into my soul. I was terrified. Christian friends had warned me that evil spirits might attack me. I had been taught to rebuke evil spirits in the name of Jesus. Over and over I said, "I rebuke this in the name of Jesus." After a few minutes, the evil presence seemed to be gone. I climbed into bed. I had never been so scared in my life. I settled into a Christian way of life and became a parishioner of a church uptown called the Full Gospel Assembly, the first Pentecostal church in Canada. I attended church every second night and The Way Out every other night. I loved God and felt loved by God. Day and night, I studied the Bible feverishly. At The Way Out, I counselled others. I spurned old friends who continued in their sinful ways. My parents saw the great change in me. The day I was to be baptized, my mother was so happy she cried tears of joy. My pastor, Sister Carro Davis, became very interested in me. In church, she often called on me to testify. I stood proudly and told the congregation of my wayward past: of my heavy drinking; of hustling a prostitute; of my criminal past. I told how God had given a new life to me. During my testimony, sometimes I told the congregation I still smoked and asked them to pray to God to deliver cigarettes from me. Quite often, I ended my testimony by saying, "Man says the greatest walk for mankind was man's walk on the moon. I believe

28

the greatest walk lhr mankind was Jesus ' walk to Calvary. " I felt accepted, respected and loved by my new friends. A fellow Clu-istia n gave me a job putting siding on his house. One afternoon, feeling a desire to pray, I walked into the Full Gospel Assembly. Sister Davis was the only one there. She was seated, praying. I quietly walked past her and entered the prayer room. Kneeling at a chair, I began to pray. As I thought of Jesus suffering on the cross, tears began to pour down my face. All of a sudden, I started speaking in a strange language. Words poured out of my mouth of which I had no understanding. Getting to my feet, I raised my hands over my head and walked back and forth, speaking in this strange language. This went on for about an hour. Then I left the prayer room and walked over to Sister Davis, who looked up at my approach. "Excuse me, Sister Davis. Something strange just happened. It never happened before." 'What was it, Cordell?" "While I was praying in the prayer room, I began to speak in a strange language. It lasted a long time." Sister Davis' face lit up. Her eyes brightened. "Praise the Lord, Cordell! You've received the Baptism of the Holy Ghost! By the power of His Holy Spirit, God has come into you! Speaking in tongues is the evidence!" My heart rose. To think...God loved me so much, not only that He died for me but that He gave such a precious gift to me. I walked out of the church on cloud nine. I crossed the street to King's Square and sat on a bench. A woman was walking a dog. As she came near, I said, "Its a beautiful day and God loves you." She smiled and walked past. For the rest of the clay, I looked forward to sharing this with my friends at The Way Out.

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FIVE
At about five o'clock, I bathed, then dressed. I put on a green shirt and a green tie to go with my grey suit. I felt good and I wanted to look good. At about seven-thirty, I departed. I was on pins and needles to get to The Way Out. When I got there, only a few people were present. Making my way to the prayer room, I walked in. I walked back and forth in the prayer room, my hands over my head, speaking in my new tongue. I felt immense joy. At times I spoke in English, thanking God for what had taken place in my life. After perhaps forty-five minutes, I left the prayer room and went into the hallway. Seven or eight children were in the hallway, playing noisily. Feeling they were distracting the adults, who were in a room having a meeting, I gathered the children up and took them into the prayer room. Seating the children, I played a question and answer game with them. I asked questions such as, " 'Who was Jesus?" and "What was Jesus mother's name?" The children took turns answering. We were having a delightful time. After about fifteen minutes, the head of The Way Out, Bill Watson, came into the prayer room. Two of his friends were with him. Bill Said, "We want to talk to you, Cordell." "Sure, Bill." "Not here. Come down the hall." We went into the room the thin man (whom I never saw after the first night I was at The Way Out) and I had gone into. I walked to the middle of the floor and turned around. I was semi-surrounded. Hostility was in the air. Bill Watson stood before me. "You are not to come here anymore. " I was shocked. I began to feel warm. "What's wrong, Bill?" "We don't want you to come here anymore, Cordell."

30

I loosened my tie. "But why?" "You are in the wrong spirit. We want you to leave and we don't want you to come back. " "What do you mean, Bill, I'm in the wrong spirit? Just today Sister Davis told me I received the Baptism of the Holy Ghost." "We're not interested in what Sister Davis said, Cordell. You're in the wrong spirit. You're to leave and you're not to come back." The two men with Bill hardly said a word. I felt Bill wanted diem there for reinforcement in case a fight broke out. "I don't understand, Bill. I love the Lord. I pay my tithes. I'm thinking of going into the ministry." "Look, Cordell. A lot of people go to church but that doesn't mean they're saved." "But what makes you think I'm in the wrong spirit, Bill? You must have a reason." 'You read the Bible and hold prayer meetings all night long. The Bible says not to burn the candle at both ends." "That's right, Bill. I told you, I'm thinking of going into the ministry. I need to know the Bible. "I had an awful time with alcohol but I'm not drinking anymore. The Lord took that away from me." 'You smoke, Cordell. " "I know, Bill. But I pray about it every clay. I ask people in the church to pray for my smoking to be delivered from me." "The Bible says, "You'll be known by your fruit and your fruit shall remain." The people you bring here become Christians, then quickly fall away. " It was true. Some did fall away. Yet there are people I led to Christ who are still Christians. At the time, neither Bill nor I understood the scripture. According to an ordained minister with whom I discussed this scripture years later, the fruit meant the goodness one brings forth when saved.

31

"You are in the wrong spirit, " Bill said. "You're to leave and you're not to come back. " Feeling warm and spent, unable to think of anything else to say, I headed for the door. In the hallway, Dave Sugclen and Emo Doucette were having coffee at the coffee table. Instead of turning to leave, I walked clown to my friends and said, "They don't want me here anymore, Emo. They told me to leave and not come back." Emo set his cup on the table. "You're putting the wrong man out of here, Bill. What's going on?" "This does not concern you, Emo." Bill then turned to me. "Before you leave, Cordell, do you want me to pray for you?" 'Yes, Bill." I bowed my head and closed my eyes. Bill placed his hand on my head and began to shout, "Glory! Glory! Glory!". He repeated the word about ten times, then took his hand from my head. I looked at him. He said, "Leave now. Don't come back."

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SIX
As I headed for the door, my head felt light. I felt like I was going to stagger. Outside, I took a couple of deep breaths. Not sure where to go, I headed home. Tears streamed from my eyes. I climbed the stairs to my parents' flat. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table. As she looked at me, concern crept into her face. Neither of us spoke. I made my way to my room and knelt at the foot of my bed. "Oh God," I cried. "What's happening to me? Help me, Dear God." My Bible was lying on my bed. I picked it up and prayed aloud. "When I open your word, let me find something that will help me." I opened the Bible and put my finger on a scripture. I read, "They shall turn you away from the synagogue and do it in my name but they neither know me nor the Father." I did not know what to make of this. I closed the Bible. I knelt there saying, 'Jesus, Jesus," over and over. Although it was early, I undressed and got into bed. At about four o'clock in the morning, I awoke, feeling like I was coming off a drunk. The house was very quiet. Kevin, Mom and Dad were asleep. I made a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table, trying to come up with answers. I did not go back to The Way Out. Although it was very difficult, I continued to attend church. I came to interpret that being in the wrong spirit meant the spirit of the devil was in me. Whenever I came into contact with Christian sisters or brothers, I wondered if they believed the spirit of the devil was in me. I could not bring myself to speak to Sister Davis. I was too ashamed. After a few months, I stopped going to church. The

33

thought that I was possessed by the devil began to play heavily on my mind. Like a recording, a voice in my mind kept repeating, "You're the devil and you're going to hell." No matter what I was doing, I heard this in the back of my mind. At times it was so intense I thought I would go mad. I needed someone to talk to. Frances kept coming to mind. The last I heard she was prostituting at the bus station on Bay Street in Toronto. I thought if I found her and witnessed to her, and led her to Christ, maybe she could help my state of mind. For a month or so before making the decision to look for Frances in Toronto, I had been working at Chernic Engineering. My job consisted of passing out tools and accessories to workers. At times, with the voice in my mind, it was extremely difficult just to count nuts and bolts. I quit my job and drew my pay. Adding this to my savings, I had over six hundred dollars for the trip. In 1971, that was a lot of money. I bought a train ticket to Toronto and went home to pack. I told my parents where I was going, kissed the baby and said goodbye. I took a taxi to the train station. I boarded a train to Moncton, where I would transfer. Seating myself, I saw two young women and a young man sitting a few seats away. The women were sharing a pint while the man played guitar. One of the women motioned for me to join them. Bible in hand, I lifted it into the air. She laughed. The other woman waved me off. I turned my face to the window and looked at my reflection. 'You're the devil and you're going to hell," the voice said. 'You're the devil and you're going to hell." I felt like screeching. When we finally reached Moncton, I left the train and went into the station. While awaiting the train to Montreal, my mind was in a turmoil. I was apprehensive about going to Toronto by myself as I did not know the city very well. I wasn't sure if I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do. The voice in my mind wouldn't stop and it was making me believe all was hopeless. At last, the train arrived. I eagerly got aboard. I found a

34

seat and put my suitcase on the rack above. I sat there, trying to read my Bible but I was too screwed up. The tram lurched. I jumped up and grabbed my suitcase. The train was gathering speed. I jumped off, falling to my hands and knees. I picked myself up and brushed myself off. I needed to ease my mind. Ever since I had become saved some five months before, I had stayed away from alcohol. Now I wanted a drink like I never did before. Throwing myself under the train seemed like the only alternative. At: a half run, I went into the train station and out the front door to a taxi. The driver said, "Where to, Pal?" "Take me to a hotel." We pulled up to a hotel and I told the driver to wait. I went into the hotel and rented a room, setting my Bible on the bed and my suitcase on the floor. Back in the taxi, I said, "Man! I need a drink. Take me somewhere where I can get one." At a bar, I sat down and ordered a double Canadian Club whiskey and 7-up. I downed it and passed the glass to the bartender, who glanced at me, knowingly. I downed that one and ordered another. The tension eased. I was beginning to catch a buzz. I took my time with the third drink. Leaving the bar, I got into a taxi. I said, "Take me some place where I can find a woman." He drove me to a restaurant. "Go in there and buy a drink. You'll find someone." I walked in and went downstairs to the lounge, taking a seat at a table. I was very well dressed, wearing a nice suit and expensive cufflinks. I looked like a man of means. The waitress took my order, a double C. C. and 7-up. Enjoying the drink, I looked around. An attractive woman of about twenty-five, an older woman and a man in his thirties were sitting across from me. I ordered one more drink. Finishing it, I was ready for action. I walked over to their table. I said to the young woman, "I want to go to a dance. Do

35

you want to come with me? " "Sure," she said, smiling. I took her by the hand and we left the restaurant. I was having great luck with taxis. There was one outside the restaurant. Inside the cab, I asked the driver, "Do you know where there is a good dance?" "There's one at the Beausejour Hotel." "Let's go. " By this time, I was quite cunk. The rest of the night is a haze. At the dance, I vaguely remember talking to a woman who was a childhood friend, the sister of my friend, Freddie, who was with me when I got shot. Anne Made, the young woman I met at the restaurant, stayed by my side all night. The next morning, I awoke on a small cot in a tiny room. Anne Marie was lying on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. I could not recall having sex the night before. Shaking Anne Marie gently, I woke her up and asked, "Where can I get a glass of water?" "In the washroom down the hall." Anne Marie and I walked to a Chinese restaurant for breakfast. Then we walked to a bar and drank lightly for several hours. At about five o'clock, I bought a dozen quarts of beer and we went to the home of a young couple who were friends of Anne Marie. In the evening, I invited them out to dinner. The four of us went to the High Tide Lounge where we drank beer and enjoyed a steak dinner. Later, Anne Marie and I took a taxi to her place and had sex. When I awoke in the morning, Anne Marie was again lying on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. We went to my hotel room so I could clean up and put on clean clothing. While I was changing, Anne Marie picked up my Bible. Many pages of loose paper filled with notes were crammed under the front cover. Anne Marie looked at me, a shocked expression on her face. "My God! Are you a priest?" All of a sudden, the pleasant feeling I had went away. For

36

the past couple of clays, although an apprehensive feeling had persisted, I had not heard the voice. With Anne Marie's words, the voice came back in full force. I felt sick. I wanted Anne Marie's company no longer. After I changed, we went to a restaurant for coffee. I told Anne Marie I was leaving. I gave some money to her for taxi fare. I returned to my hotel room feeling dirty. I ran a bath and got in the tub. No amount of water could have made me feel clean. Taking a bus, I returned to Saint John. Quite hungry, I went to the Riviera Restaurant and ordered two hamburgers, a plate of fries and gravy and coffee. I was just beginning to eat when Bill Watson entered the restaurant. Two women and a man were with him. They sat at a table. I lost my appetite completely. I disliked this man intensely. Because of him, my life was a total mess. I felt like going over and giving him a terrible beating. Instead, I paid my bill at the cash and went home. For the next few years, all I did was work at jobs, drink and party. I stayed away from Christian friends. I went out of my way to avoid them. Although I lived with the dread that I was possessed by the devil and was destined to burn for eternity in the Lake Of Fire, I was able to hide my fears from my drinking friends. Eventually, Dave Sugden and Emo Doucette backslid from their Christian walk and stopped going to The Way Out. It saddened me to see Emo uptown, drunk. I was in no position to witness to him as I had fallen away myself. Several years later, Emo was shot to death. At the time, I was so mentally ill I could not attend his funeral. A woman named Joyce Magouey became Dave Sugden 's girlfriend. Joyce was the mother of seven or eight small children. They lived in a flat. Dave moved in. I went to their place three or four times a week. They held many parties. At other times, Joyce prepared meals while Dave and I drank wine. Everyone liked Joyce. She had a really nice personality. Joyce became one of my

37

closest friends. 'When I was drinking, things weren't too had, except for the guilt. There were times at parties when I went off by myself. Half drunk, I got clown on my knees and cried out to God. But I received no solace for my soul. I felt God had forsaken me. No matter how hard I tried, I could find no peace in my heart. I constantly thought of hell and what it must be like. Half mach, I reached for any bottle that came my way. In my mind, I cursed those who gave me a drink. I worked at jobs for a while, then quit and went on a drunk. Most of the time I was totally neglectful towards my son. My parents saw to his every need. At times, when sober, I took him for a walk. I was very proud to have him as my son. I came to believe that after the Second Coming Of Christ, the devil inside me would manifest, taking complete control of me. There was no doubt in my mind that this was going to happen. There was so much I wanted - children, a woman, a home before this terrible event. I began to live a race against the Second Coming. I believed that after the devil took full possession of me, I would have no will of my own.

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SEVEN

One day, I was at the Department of Social Services. I had finished a job putting out forest fires in Musquash, New Brunswick and was looking for more work. I paced the floor, waiting for my interviewer. A young woman was sitting on a bench. She was rather pale and her hair lacked lust re, yet I found her attractive. I went over and sat clown. She was reading a magazine about the Vietnam 'War. There were pictures of dead soldiers. I said, "Terrible thing, isn't itP" She looked at me. "The war," I said. "It's terrible. " She was about to reply when a social worker came to talk to her. Sitting there, I could not help hearing their conversation. I learned she and her husband were separated. She had four small children in Foster Care and she had just gotten out of the hospital after a bout with hepatitis. After hearing all this, I said to myself, "This is the woman for me." The last part of their conversation clinched it. The social worker asked, "How are you feeling nowP" "Not very well." 'You're just suffering from the Hawaiian disease: lacko'nookie." He laughed as he left. I asked, "What's your naive?" "My name is Linda Kelter." "I'm Cordell Cook. I'd like to take you out." Linda wrote her phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to me. Then she left.

39

Later that clay, I called her and asked if she wanted to go to a party. I gave her Dave Sugden's address. "Meet me there at seven o'clock. I'll pay the taxi fare." I went to Dave's and drank a few beer. At about six-fortyfive, I went outside. Close to seven, a taxi pulled up. Linda stepped out, wearing a pink sweater and white slacks. She looked nice. Inside, I gave Linda a bottle of beer. "Mix, Linda. I'm going to play poker." Linda mingled for a little while, then came and stood beside me. For the next couple of hours, I drank and played poker. Luck was with me and I was winning. Linda was very attentive to me. She got my beer and stood beside me while I played cards. At the start of the game, we had agreed we could quit any time we wanted to. "Well, Gentlemen," I said, "that's enough cards for me. There's a lady here who needs some attention." I put my winnings in my pocket and took Linda by the hand. I led her out into the darkness of the hallway. We sat on the stairs and necked. Soon, a black man named Frank, who was at the party, came out and stood in the hallway, looking at us. I said, "Fuck off and leave us alone." Frank went inside but in a little while, he returned. I said, "Fuck off. Leave us alone." He went back inside. He returned every fifteen minutes or so. I didn't want any trouble right then so I decided to settle it later. Linda and I stayed in the hallway for about an hour. Then we went back inside. Linda called a taxi and went home. I laid down on the chesterfield and fell asleep. The next morning, I woke up late. I went to the liquor store and bought a pint of rum. Linda was staying with friends in West Saint John. I took a taxi and went over. I knocked on the door and Linda answered. She invited me in and introduced me to a young couple with whom she was staying. They were on their way out. Linda had been mopping the floor. She resumed her task.

40

I sat on the chesterfield and withdrew my pint. While watching Linda work, I drank from the bottle. 'We didn't talk. I was enjoying watching Linda mop the floor. It made me feel good. She looked like a housewife. I drank about half the pint, then asked Linda to call a taxi. The taxi came and I kissed her. I went back to Dave's. I opened Dave's door and saw Frank. I said, "Listen, you fuckin' asshole. You ever bother me when a woman's with me and I'll beat your damned head off If you don't think I can do it, just step outside with me now." Frank raised his hand. "I don't want any trouble, Man." "Chicken shit." I walked over to the chesterfield and laid down. When I awoke, it was dark outside. There was a party going on. A friend named Ronnie came in. A friend of his was with him. Ronnie said to Dave and me, "We're going to do some drinking in the country. Do you want to come?" We both agreed to go. I said, "I'll go but I want to call Linda and see if she wants to come." I called Linda and told her our plans. She wanted to come. We drove over to West Saint John and picked her up. She settled into the back seat with me and asked, "Would you buy two bottles of Cracklin' Rose wine?" "Of course, My Lady." 'We drove to a liquor store. Ronnie's friend, who was driving, Ronnie and Dave bought beer. I bought the wine plus twenty-four pints of beer. Along the way, everybody drank. Linda and I drank and necked. We reached the cabin and settled inside. Somebody suggested we play strip poker. Everyone was game, even Linda. A half-hour later, Linda was stripped naked. Each of the guys wanted her to have sex with him. Linda said. "I don't want to have sex with you guys. I'm here with Cordell." I stood up and pushed the table. "That's right. Linda's with me." I went over to my case of beer and withdrew eight pints.

4.1

"Come on, Linda. Open the door." 'We went outside and got into the back seat of the pa rkecl car. We sat there, drinking beer. Linda and I had sex several times that night. The next morning, we all went to a creek and bathed. In the afternoon, we drove back to Saint John. Linda and I were very compatible. She became my steady girlfriend. We saw each other every day. We had a wonderful sex life. We fell in love. Linda told me she was looking forward to getting her children out of Foster Care. I told Linda about Kevin and how much I wanted him to be with me. 'We began making plans to put a home together. Linda told me she had married a drunk and would not put up with a drunken man. I decided to curb my drinking. We went to the Department of Social Services and spoke with a Mr. Watters. After hearing our plans, Mr. Watters said they would help. Over the course of the next few months, Social Services provided a great deal of Assistance for us, running into the thousands, to help cover the costs of putting a home together. Linda got a job as a waitress and I got a job with the Department Of Natural Resources, cutting down trees and building bridges. Linda and I moved into a room on Ludlow Street on the Lower West Side. I was very happy. I drank much less and the voice in my head spoke less frequently. We moved to a small flat on Queen Street in the South End. Mr. Watters brought Linda's three young boys, David, Chris and Jamie, to live with us. I picked up Kevin and brought him to our new home. The flat was much too small for all of us so we moved to a large flat on Milliclge Avenue, where Mr. Watters brought Linda's youngest, Mary Ann, to live with us. A few days after Christmas of 1972, we moved to a wonderful townhouse in the North End called Salisbury Manor. My new family was an absolute joy. I loved the children

42

tremendously. Each night, Linda bathed and dressed them for bed. Linda lined them up, hair combed to perfection and faces glowing, and they took turns coming to me for a big hug and a kiss goodnight. Linda and I both stopped working. Linda's hands were full taking care of the children. The years of stress started taking a physical toll on me. A pain developed in my side that would not go away. Social Services covered all expenses. Mr. Watters told me I was the highest recipient of Welfare in Canada. I got suspicious as to why. For years, social workers at the Department of Social Services knew me as an unstable, unsupportive drunk. I wondered why they were doing so much for me. The pain in my side plagued me constantly. It steadily got worse. My physician, Dr. Parlee, did his best to cure me but the pain would not go away. Finally, I was hospitalized at the Saint John General Hospital to have some tests taken. The attending physician, Dr. Keyes, said, "You have ulcerated colitis, Cordell. This is a disease of the bowels which can be very serious. I'm going to discharge you from the hospital and set an appointment for you to see me at my office." I went home and told Linda about my condition. She grew concerned. At the appointed time, I went to Dr. Keyes office. "As I told you, Cordell, ulcerated colitis is a disease of the bowels. It is very serious. You must avoid stress at all costs. The best thing you could do is leave the children and Linda. Perhaps you should go fishing." At home, I told Linda what Dr.Keyes said. Linda called Dr. Keyes at his office. "I'd like to fund out more about Cordell's condition, Dr. Keyes. Could we meet together at the hospital this evening?" At the Saint John General Hospital, we were ushered to a room. A few minutes later, Dr. Keyes came in, a chart in his hand. "There's no doubt, Linda. Cordell has ulcerated colitis. He must avoid stress at all costs. It would be best for his health for him to

43

leave the children and you." That night at home, I told Linda I would never leave. Although the voice was not as prevalent as in the past, it constantly reminded me that I was going to hell. I told Linda nothing about my belief that I was possessed by the Devil. I was afraid that she if she knew, she would think I was deranged and leave me. I loved the children and Linda and I wanted them with me as long as possible, until the devil took over my soul at the Second Coming, which I believed might happen at any time. While living at Salisbury Manor, our daughter, Spring Hope, was born. The moment I laid eyes on her, I fell madly in love. She was the sweetest child I ever saw. At my last appointment with Dr. Keyes, he reiterated his opinion that I should leave the children and Linda. "Your condition could lead to an operation called a colostomy. Your bowel would be taken out through your side. It could lead to an early death." I maintained my decision to stay. My family was my greatest joy in life. I no longer needed alcohol to cope with my mental state. Nor did I associate with my old gang of friends. I was happy being a family man. Although I was bothered by my belief that I would spend eternity in the Lake Of Fire, I adopted the phrase, 'What will be, will be". With the children and Linda in my life, I was able to hang on to my sanity. I decided to stop seeing Dr. Keyes and started seeing Dr. Parlee again. Soon after Spring was born, we moved over town to King Street East to be closer to Dr. Parlee's office. One clay, in Dr. Parlee's office, I said, "I'd like you to retrieve my files from the General." Dr. Parlee set an appointment for me to come back in a week. A week later, in his office, Dr. Parlee said, "There is no record of your hospitalization at the Saint John General Hospital." Paranoid, I was shocked. There was no doubt in my mind the records were taken by Social Services. I could not understand why the Department of Social Services put small children into the

4,4

care of a proven unsupportive drunk like I was and then give so much Social Assistance to me. I came to the conclusion that the missing records somehow tied in with their actions as part of a scheme: perhaps to get me off Welfare; perhaps something deeper. I decided to accept the pain in my side and stopped seeing Dr. Parlee. I came to believe the voice in my mind was the voice of God. I knew if things were to go on the way they were I'd go mad. Once in a while I considered seeing a psychiatrist but because I was so sure my beliefs were reality, I felt psychiatric treatment could not help me. I had a terrible fear that if I disclosed my beliefs to a psychiatrist, I would be locked up. Losing my freedom would have been too much for me. I decided I'd rather lose my sanity than my freedom. I believed the Second Coming was nigh and I was going to lose everything anyway. It did not enter my mind that there was medication that could help. Although my mind was in constant turmoil and the pain in my side intense, I managed to pick up some work, painting and minor property repairs, from my landlord. With the Social Assistance cheques and Family Allowance Benefits, we were financially pretty well off. Considering my medical condition and my mental state, I was happy. My love for the children and Linda and the joy of my home life gave me a sense of peace. I had my heart's desire: six lovable children, the love of a woman and love for a woman and a nice home. Our best Christmas was in 1973, in our flat on King Street East. Linda and I started buying presents in July. We decorated the Christmas tree with strands of silver and gold garland and large round silver and gold glass ornaments. On the wall behind the tree, I taped hundreds of pin lights and taped blue crepe paper over them. With artificial snow, I stencilled a star over each light. Below the lights, I stencilled a village and above the village, Santa Claus and his reindeer coming down from the sky. The Christmas tree and the wall, the lights flashing behind the stars, was a sight to

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behold. Christmas Eve, after we finished decorating, Linda and I stood looking at our creation. I took Linda into my arms and said, "I love you more than anything in the world." Linda looked at me in quiet response. Christmas Day was a wonderful time. The gifts delighted the children. Linda cooked a huge turkey with all the trimmings. In the evening, Priscilla, Morn and Dad came to visit. Dad, who had gone blind several years earlier, listened as Priscilla and Morn described the Christmas room in detail. Linda and I were proud of ourselves. After Priscilla, Morn and Dad left, Linda cleaned up the lunch while I sat on my rocking chair. The children were asleep. I looked at what we had created and felt very happy. All of a sudden, water started pouring down on everything. Linda and I ran upstairs to the empty fiat above. The door was locked so I kicked it in. About two inches of water covered the floor. I went into the kitchen and bent the broken water pipe, stopping the flow. Our place was ruined. I felt cursed. No home we ever lived in brought the joy of our flat on King Street East. In our haste to find a new home, we moved into an unsatisfactory flat on Duke Street West.

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EIGHT

In July of 1974, a very strange occurrence took place. To this day, I have no idea what happened. Neither Linda nor I were taking drugs. Nonetheless, what is presented is what took place. One day, I was working on my car, a lemon I had purchased. It was very hot. The evening brought very little relief. I went into the house and Linda said, "I've got to get out of the house and away from the kids, Cordell." Linda was a good mother but at times the children tended to get on her nerves, especially in the heat. Once in a while, a woman in the flat above minded the children for us. I told Linda to go upstairs and see if she would come down for an hour or so. Linda returned disappointed. The woman was unable to mind the children. Just then, my brother, Paul, came to the door. I said, "Would you mind staying with the children for a while, Pauli Linda and I want to go over and see Mom and Dad." "I'll stay. I don't mind." My parents lived with Priscilla and her family on Douglas Avenue. Linda and I left our place at about 9:20 pm. The walk from Duke Street West to Douglas Avenue took twenty to twentyfive minutes. We arrived at about 9:45 pm. Priscilla was out for the evening but Morn and Dad were home. Linda prepared tea and we spent some time with my parents. Presently, Linda said, "I think we should get going, Cordell. I don't want to leave the kids with Paul too long. " Paul had mental and emotional problems. At times he got very angry with impatience. MTe left at about 10:20 pm and should have been home by

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10:45 pm. We descended the stairs to go out. The next thing I remember, I was standing in a hunched position beside the Reversing Falls Bridge. Linda was standing to my left, a dazed look on her face. I straightened and turned to Linda. I said, "Do you remember walking here?" She looked confused. "No," she said. "I don't." "Hell. It's funny we don't remember anything." I asked her again. "Do your" "No." Linda and I went on our way in considerable silence. I was trying to think of something we saw or discussed on our way to the bridge. Judging by how quiet Linda was, I suppose she was doing the same. I asked Linda again. She could think of nothing. I found it very strange that neither of us could remember what we saw or talked about along the way. Walking down Duke Street West, I saw my brother standing in the doorway. As we got closer, I could see that he was angry. "What in hell kept you?" "What in hell do you mean? It's no more than eleven o'clock." "The hell it is! It's one o'clock in the morning!" I looked up at the clock on the church across the street. The hands pointed to one o'clock. I went into the house and turned the television on. The one o'clock late show, was just starting. Fuming, Paul left. Linda and I sat down in the livingroom. We tried again to recall something we saw or said but could remember nothing. Finally I said, "Somehow we lost over two hours, Linda. Tell nobody about this. We'd be called nuts." Linda agreed to say nothing.

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NINE

One afternoon, my mother called me on the telephone. "There's a faith healer at the Full Gospel Assembly, Cordell. Your Dad wants you to take him up to he prayed for." The last place I wanted to go was die Full Gospel Assembly. But if there was a chance my father could regain his eyesight, I would do all I could to help. This might be his last chance to see again. After a brief pause, I said, "I really don't want to go there, Mom, but I'll take Dad." At times like this, when I was reminded of church or religion, the voice in my mind intensified. It was very hard to subdue. The pain in my side increased in severity. A few evenings later, Linda and I took Dad to the Full Gospel Assembly to be prayed for. I did not want to stand out or be noticed so we sat in the back row. The time came to go forward. Linda and I led Dad down the aisle. I looked neither to the left nor to the right, just straight ahead. Many thoughts were going through my mind. I worried about being recognized by friends I had made during my Christian walk. I didn't want to talk to them because I was ashamed that I had fallen away. As well, I was living in a common-law relationship, which went against the Pentecostal doctrine. I also wondered if anybody in attendance thought I was possessed by the devil. When we got clown to the front of the church, the faith healer had his back to us. As he turned around, I began to sob very deeply. The faith healer looked at me, compassion in his eyes. "What is it, Son? " "I've backslidden," I cried. I fell to the floor, wailing profoundly. I had no control over my emotions. I laid there

49

sobbing, unaware of anything around me. Finally, the crying subsided. I picked myself up from the floor and took a seat. At home, later that evening, Linda told me that: while I was crying, the whole congregation sat clown and prayed. After she told me this, I made a commitment to try to serve the Lord. The fact that my father was still blind did not deter my belief that somehow God would help me. That night, under my guidance, Linda gave her heart to Jesus. I felt quite apprehensive about going back to church. I was not sure how I would be received. Two nights after Linda and I took Dad to the Full Gospel Assembly, the church held another healing service, conducted by the same minister. Linda and I attended. The time came to go forward. Linda stayed in her seat and I walked clown front by myself. When it came my turn to be prayed for, the minister carne over and said, "What's your problem, Son?" "There's a pain in my side that's been bothering me a long time." "Which side?" I indicated the painful area. The minister placed his hand on my side and prayed aloud. His hand felt very hot. When he finished praying for me, I went back to my seat. The pain was still there. Linda and I began to attend church regular My concern over how we'd be received by members of the church who knew me disappeared when we were made to feel welcome. The congregation liked Linda very much. One night, in the prayer room, my childhood friend, Geraldine White, a member of the congregation, said to Linda, "Your face is glowing. The Lord is with you. " I felt very happy. However, things were not the same as before. Sister Davis was semi-retired and almost blind. I was not called on to testify. The assistant pastor, Reverend Tompkins, became especially interested in Linda and me. He picked us up for services
ly.

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and came to our home to visit. One night, Reverend Tompkins preached about the blaspheming of the Holy Ghost, a sin that, according to the Pentecostal doctrine, God will not forgive. The blaspheming of the Holy Ghost is to speak against the Holy Ghost, to attribute works of the Holy Ghost to the devil or to curse the Holy Ghost. I was sure that somehow I had committed this sin. The following Sunday, Reverend Tompkins preached about wilfully sinning. I thought I had done this, too. I thought I had committed these sins and there was no way I would be forgiven. Thoughts of hell and the burning Lake Of Fire plagued my mind and the voice started to torment me again. If I thought, "I didn't commit that sin" , the voice said, "Yes you did." If I said to myself, "I'm happy", the voice said, 'You're nuts." In our flat on Duke Street West, the chimney was in disrepair so Linda called the Fire Department. They came to inspect it and ended up giving a list of repairs that needed to be made to the landlady. The landlady became very angry at us over this. She wanted us to move. Nor did we want to stay. We moved from one dump to another, a cold-water flat on City Road. With our meagre income, we could not afford new clothing for the children to wear to Sunday school. An elderly couple we met at the church provided new clothing for them. A few weeks after Linda became a Christian, she was baptized at Lily Lake. My concern for the salvation of the children and Linda was very prevalent in my thoughts. The fact that Linda and I were living in sin gave me cause to have grave concern for Linda 's salvation. As for myself, I believed there was little, if any, chance for me. I still believed that after the Second Coming, the devil would take full possession of me and I would become the Antichrist. Linda and I discussed our relationship with each other and olu- relationship with God. She agreed with me that it would be best for me to leave. One day, after prayer with Reverend Tompkins at our home, I said, "Linda and I are living in sin, Reverend Tompkins.

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We've decided it would be best for me to leave." "If you leave Linda, Cordell, you will burn in hell. One day I will stand before God for what I am saying. The best thing you could do is to marry Linda. I, myself, will perform the ceremony." "I'll have to think about it." That night, Linda and I attended church. A Reverend Post was preaching. After the service, Linda and I went into the prayer room to talk to Reverend Post and ask his opinion as to what to do. After I finished speaking, Reverend Post said, very sternly, "You must not stay with the children and Linda. If you do, you will burn in hell." As we left the church, I was shaken up and utterly confused. According to one minister, I was damned if I left. According to another, I was damned if I stayed. I was completely at a loss as to what to do. For the next few days, I tried to figure out what would be best. Finally, Linda and I decided it would be best to stay together and see what happened. I felt that through prayer, things would work out. We met a woman at the Full Gospel Assembly named Dorothy Johnson. Dorothy liked Linda very much. She told Linda she reminded her of her daughter. Dorothy carne to our home with her friends and held prayer meetings. Dorothy led us in prayer. All the while I was becoming more desperate. I told Dorothy of an idea I had come up with. "I'm going to go into the woods and pray for forty days and forty nights. Perhaps Jesus will deliver me from my problems." "You must pray for the perfect mind of Christ, Cordell. Only then will you find peace." This was something I hadn ' t considered. I had heard something about it in church but I had never tried it. I thought, "Perhaps this is all I need to do, then everything will be okay." After Dorothy left, I told Linda I wanted to be alone and asked her to go to bed. The children were already asleep.

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I sat on my rocking chair for a while. Then I placed a kitchen chair in front of the fireplace and knelt before it. I bowed my head and prayed. "Dear God, please give me the perfect mind of Christ." I began to speak in tongues. A strange, scary feeling came over me. It seemed as though the devil was inside me, looking out, seeing what I saw. In my mind, I heard what I feared was all the demons of hell laughing at me. I was terrified. I jumped up and ran into the bedroom. Hugging Linda's sleeping form, I pulled the blankets over our heads. In a little while, I fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I awoke, yelling, "God, God," over and over. "What's the matter?" Linda asked, concern on her face. "I had a dream, Linda." We got up and went into the livingroom. Linda sat on the couch. I sat on my rocking chair. "I dreamed Jesus was on the cross. I was kneeling at his feet, crying profoundly. Blood was pouring from his side. It was pure red, making a pool around me. "The next instant, I was on the cross and Jesus was kneeling at my feet, laughing hideously. The blood pouring from my side was pitch black. "That dream terrified me, Linda." "It was an awful dream, Hon, but it was only a dream. Let's go back to bed." We went into the bedroom and went back to sleep. I bolted upright. Sweat was on my forehead yet I was quite cold. The voice in my head had spoken in a loud distinct voice. "You are puke on the throne of God." I got up and sat on my rocking chair. I sat rocking for about an hour before going back to bed. In early November, 1974, I was sitting on my rocking chair, suffering the intense pain of my side. Suddenly, I felt trembling spasms right where the pain was. The spasms were so intense I thought I was going to be knocked

53

out of my chair. After perhaps thirty seconds, the spasms stopped. The pain was gone. I pushed my side where the pain had been. There was no pain. The pain never returned. It had been about three weeks since the faith healer had placed his hand on my side and prayed for the pain to go away. As I sat there, free of pain, I believed I had been healed by God. I was very confused. I thought, "God healed me, yet I am going to hell." I believed the voice that told me I was puke on the throne of God was God. On one hand, I believed he was tormenting me. On the other, I believed he was healing me. Yes. I was very confused.

TEN

It was around this time that I started walking around town, stopping people on the street, telling them that if they didn't repent, they would go to hell. Several times, Linda and Reverend Tompkins came looking for me. They found me and brought me home, where I sat on my rocking chair and stared at the ceiling. In my mind, I received revelations about the Bible. Scriptures came to mind and I interpreted them. I thought of the rich man in hell in one of the stories of the Bible, who wanted to warn his brothers about the terrible place he was in. My heart went out to Priscilla, Morn and Dad. I wanted them to be saved from my fate. One instant, I thought I was going to hell, the next, I thought I was a special agent of God. It carne into my mind that I had come into the world for a special purpose, that I would be one of God's witnesses during the time of tribulation at the end of the world, preaching about the coming of the end. Dorothy Johnson continued to visit. Early one evening, Linda put the children to bed. Dorothy and Linda left the flat. They were to go to church that evening. All alone, silting in my rocking chair, staring at the ceiling, it came into my mind that the rapture had taken place. Christianity teaches that the rapture is the event that occurs when born again Christians are taken to heaven at the Second Coming Of Christ I believed Linda was taken in the rapture. I ran clown the street to a neighbour's home and banged on the door. 'When the woman came, I said, "There's an emergency. I need you to mind the children." She got her coat and we hurried to my home. I ran to Dorothy's house and banged on the door. Linda answered. I was never so glad to see her. As I kissed and hugged her, I was almost

55

in tears. My mental state was getting worse by the day. I didn't know what to do about it. I knew I would either go completely mad or I would end my life. One day in early December, I went into the cellar to get some coal. On my way back up the stairs, I dropped a piece. I went up the stairs, not bothering to retrieve it. The voice in my head said, "Pick up that piece of coal." I tried not to pay attention to it and continued up the stairs. Very harshly and loudly, the voice said, "Pick up that fucking piece of coal, I said." I ran down the stairs and picked it up. I was scared. The voice was starting to take control of me. The fact that my mother and father were not saved according to the Pentecostal doctrine tore at my heart. I refrained from telling them I believed I would become the Antichrist but I did tell them there was no hope for my salvation, that I didn't want them to suffer the pains of hell destined for me. My parents had studied with Jehovah's Witnesses for years and did not believe in hell. No matter how hard I tried to sway them, they wouldn't budge. Nor could they persuade me to their way of thinking. Finally, I said no more about it. Priscilla was not a religious woman. She did not know what to say or do but she looked at me sympathetically, knowing I was going through a very troublesome time. I spent most of December, 1974, either at my parent's home or sitting on my rocking chair. I ate very little. I was afraid the food was poisoned. Reverend Tompkins gave some steaks to us but I would not touch them. I didn't think he was trying to poison me but that the food itself was poisoned. I smoked a lot of cigarettes and drank a lot of coffee. Each time I went to see my parents, they gave money to me with which I bought beer. In the evening, I sat in my rocking chair, drinking beer, staring at the ceiling and thinking till I passed out.

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That year, Morn and Dad supplied everything for Christmas: food, toys, even the Christmas tree. Day in and clay out, all I could do was sit and think. One evening, while sitting in my rocking chair, little Spring came and stood before me, wearing a polka dot dress. The next instant, she was gowned in a white robe, having the appearance of an angel. I bowed my head and prayed, "Dear God, let me keep her until I need her no longer." I had a feeling things were going to get much worse. Christmas Eve, Linda did all the decorating and preparation. I sat and rocked. Christmas Day was the same. My brother, Donnie, cane to visit but I do not recall any of the conversation. On the Fifth of January, 1975, I decided to end my life. Either I was mad or this was all real. I didn't know. I only knew I could go on no longer. I made up my mind to walk over to the Reversing Falls Bridge in West Saint John and jump off. At around three o'clock that afternoon, I kissed the children and Linda goodbye. Walking up Garden Street on my way to the Bridge, it crossed my mind that I had never killed but by ending my own life, I was about to, thus breaking another commandment. I had a habit of walling with my head bowed. I looked up. A police car was parked in front of me.

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PART TWO

ET EVEN

As I neared the police car, I began to feel apprehensive. I grew up fearing the police because of my mother's method of finding out if I was guilty of whatever I was accused by saying the police were coming. This fear of the police never completely went away. The police car was parked on the corner of Garden and Charles. Lowering my head, I continued. I thought the police somehow knew I was going to the Reversing Falls Bridge to end my life and were going to arrest me. Fear gripped me. There was a lone police officer in the car. He spoke to me. "Are you Cordell Cook?" Looking up, I saw that it was Detective Robertson, whom I knew. Although he was a plain clothes detective, on this occasion he was wearing the uniform of a constable. This made me ill at ease. It was even more disturbing that he asked me my name, even though he knew I was aware that he knew my name. "Yes, Sir," I said. "I'm Cordell Cook." "Would you mind getting into the car, Cordell?" I got in on the passenger side. The fact that it was Detective Robertson relaxed me a little, as I knew him to be a nice man. One time, when I was picked up on a drunk charge and put in the drunk tank, he gave four cigarettes to me. I also knew him from Dan's Restaurant. He carne in for coffee. We spoke on several occasions. He seemed to be quite a nice man. "Tell me, Cordell. Do you have any dealings with Downey Motors at Ten Crown Street?" "No," I answered. Then I remembered. "Oh, yes. Once in a while I rent cars from Downey's." 'Would you mind accompanying me to Downey Motors,

59

Cordell?" "Why?" "Oh, there's a certain matter of a cheque we're looking into." I became fearful. At the same time, the voice in my head ceased. My mind was clear. We drove through town. Neither of us spoke. I sat quietly, wondering why Detective Robertson was wearing the uniform of a police constable and what this was all about. After a few minutes, we arrived at Downey Motors. The car stopped and I started to get out. Detective Robertson said, "Stay here." He got out and went into Downey Motors. I waited about ten minutes, then got out of the car and walked over to the front door. Looking through the glass, I saw two men talking with Detective Robertson. I opened the door and stepped in. Detective Robertson hurriedly walked towards me. I quickly stepped back outside. He came out. He was very stern. He began reciting my rights. "You have the right to remain... " I broke in. "Are you arresting me?" His whole manner changed. He smiled, "No, no. There's a certain matter of a cheque we'd like to clear up. The detectives would like to see you uptown. " We got into the police car. We quietly proceeded to Police Headquarters at City Hall. Inside the police station, Detective Robertson said, "Have a seat," indicating a bench by the door we had come through. I sat down and Detective Robertson left me. A detective sitting at the desk began asking a lot of questions about my wife, Frances: "Do you know where your wife is?"; "Have you seen her the past few years?" I answered to the best of my knowledge, all the while wondering what these questions were all about. A man approached inc and introduced himself as Detective O'Toole. "You're to come with me."

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VVe went into an office. Detective O'Toole went around the desk and sat clown. I sat in a chair opposite him. Pushing a small piece of paper across the desk, he said, "Have you ever seen this before?" I looked at it. It was a personal cheque made out to Linda in my hand writing, dated July, 1974. "Yes. It's one of my personal cheques. I made it out to Linda." "Do you know where it was cashed?" "It would have been cashed at the Bank of Nova Scotia on the West Side." When Linda and I lived on Duke Street West, whenever we needed money, I wrote a cheque to Linda and she cashed it at the Bank of Nova Scotia on King Street West. This cheque was in the amount of ninety dollars. Detective O'Toole turned the cheque over. On the back, it was stamped, "Downey Motors." Detective O'Toole said, "This cheque was cashed by Linda at Downey Motors." "That's impossible. Linda doesn't have enough ID to cash a cheque." He asked, "Do you know why this cheque was written out to Linda?" "It might have been for the rent." We left his office and returned to the bench. "You wait here," he said. "I'm going clown to talk to Linda." He returned in about half an hour and said, "You may leave." I said, "I'll go home and try to think of the reason I wrote that cheque." When I got outside, I ran all the way home. "Was a detective here, Linda?" "Yes. He asked a lot of questions about a cheque. He wanted to know if I cashed it at Downey Motors. I told him I didn't. "He had a clipboard. He wrote down everything I said." All day Saturday, I sat on my rocking chair, trying to figure

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out why I wrote that cheque. I checked my rent receipts and found that rent was not the reason. Saturday night, I got very little sleep. Sunday came and I sat rocking, trying to remember. Then, Sunday afternoon, I remembered. My sister, Patsy, in Ontario, told Mom she was coming to Saint John for a visit. Two of her children were to stay with me. I wrote the cheque to pay for extra groceries we would need. Patsy came to Saint John but her children did not stay with us, which was why it was so difficult to recall the reason for writing the cheque. Monday morning, Linda got the children ready and we all walked up to Police Headquarters. I wanted Linda to help clarify things with the police. We had no one to babysit so we brought the children with us. Inside, the children and Linda sat on the bench. I went to the desk and said, "I'd like to see Detective O'Toole." The man at the desk said, "Detective O'Toole is not in. " "I'll wait. " I stood by the bench where the children and Linda were seated. Moments later, a detective, whom I recognized, motioned me into his office. I went in and he said, "Hello, Cordell. I'm Detective Humphrey. Did anyone tell you to come here this morning?" "No, but I remember why I wrote that cheque and I want to explain it." I proceeded to tell him how it carne about. When I finished, Detective Humphrey said, "Linda cashed that cheque at Downey Motors, Cordell." Then he smiled and said. "But don't worry about it for now. " Paranoid, I didn't say a word. I just stood up and walked out of the office. On the street, I said, 'You and I know you cashed that cheque at the Bank of Nova Scotia, Linda. The only way the police could have got that cheque was to get it from the bank themselves...for reasons of their own. " I looked at Linda and said, "I don't know what they're up

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to, Linda, but somediing's wrong. Something's really wrong. " "I know, Cordell."

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TWELVE

When we got home, I sat on my rocking chair. Thoughts of suicide and being possessed by the devil were no longer prevalent in my mind. My mind was occupied with trying to come up with an answer as to what the police were up to with that cheque. I believed something was terribly amiss. Unless I missed my guess, which did not enter my mind at all, the police must have taken the cheque out of the bank, brought it to Downey's and had it stamped. I could think of no other way they could have obtained it. Detective Humphrey told me not to worry about it for now. If not now, when? As feu- as I knew, it could be any time. I thought perhaps the Department of Social Services and the Saint John Police Department were working together to scare me off Social Assistance. With this in mind, I decided to look for work. I wasn't about to mess with Social Services or the police. If they wanted me to go off Social Assistance and get a job, I would. The next clay, I went to the police station at City Hall to apply for a taxi driver's license. I spoke with a uniformed police officer. He said, "Wait here. There are a few things I have to check out." He returned and said, "Dr. Parlee told us you were in a mental hospital and that you just got out." I was scared to death. I had never been in a mental hospital in my life. I asked myself, 'Why is he saying this?" "It's okay, though. Go downstairs and see a Commissioner of Oaths." I was too scared to see the Commissioner Of Oaths. I went out of the office and left the building. I had no idea what was going on. At home, I told Linda what the officer said. She, too,

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became scared. That night:, I went through hell wondering what was going on. I didn't get much sleep. A few weeks prior to this, I had been approached by my social worker about attending a workshop in East Saint John to learn how to build furniture. Half macs at the time, I declined. Now it seemed like a good idea. In the morning, I went to Social Services to talk to my social worker. "I've reconsidered about going to the workshop, Brian. I'll do it. " "I'll see what I can do. " A few days later in his office, Brian told me to see a psychologist at the workshop who would give me some tests. The following Saturday, Linda and I went to the workshop. I went into the office. Linda waited for me in the workroom. A woman psychologist met me and gave me a diagnostic test. I put puzzles together and answered questions on current affairs, such as: "Who's the Prime Minister of Canada?'; 'Who's the President of the United States?" There was also a mathematics quiz. When I finished the exam, she said, "Return two weeks from today at seven o'clock in the evening for another test." For the next two weeks, Linda and I stayed in the house. We feared that if we were out on the street, we would be arrested on some trumped up charge or framed for a crime we did not commit. We thought the safest thing would be to stay at home together. We were both scared but I assured Linda that as long as we did whatever they wanted, everything would work out. We believed that if we didn't, the police would come down on us. We stopped receiving visitors and stopped going to church. On Reverend Tompkins last visit, I was very distant toward him. My attention was focused on what was happening and why. I felt I was fighting for Linda's and my freedom. The time came for my appointment. Linda stayed home to take care of the children. I took a taxi to the workshop. The psychologist was waiting for me. "I have a questionnaire for you,

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Cordell. Try to answer the questions as best you can." She left the office and I was alone. I opened the questionnaire. All of the questions required a "yes" or "no" answer. I proceeded to answer the questions. Some of the questions made me paranoid. Early in the questionnaire, one asked, "At times do you feel warm?". I began to feel quite warm but I put "no". Some questions I was not afraid to answer truthfully, such as, "Do you love your mother? " I put, "yes. " There were many questions on the Bible, such as, "Do you believe Jesus turned water into wine?" I believed Jesus turned water into wine but I put "no." Other questions related to the police, such as, "Do you believe the police are following you?" I believed the police were following me ever since the day Detective Robertson picked me up but I put "no." Any question I feared made me look insane by answering truthfully, I put the opposite response. I felt if they were out to get me, I'd take the chance of lying on the questionnaire, getting caught and charged with a criminal offense and going to jail or prison rather than telling the truth and being locked up in a mental hospital. Altogether, there were over five hundred questions. There was one question I was afraid to answer truthfully but did so. It was, "Has anything peculiar ever happened to you?" I believed this question was designed to trap me. If I answered "yes", they'd say I was crazy because I believe peculiar things happen to me. If I answered "no", they'd say having been given this test was peculiar and they'd have me that way. I answered yes. For many years I was bothered by the answer I gave, fearing this was enough for the government to put me in a mental hospital. When I finished, I went to the doorway and called to the psychologist, who was doing some papenvork in the workroom.

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She came in and I handed her the questionnaire. She said, "Call Mr. Hill at Social Services and have him set an appointment: for you to see him to discuss the results of the tests." She offered me a drive home. I accepted. In the car, my nerves were on edge as a result of the questionnaire. I wanted a drink to calm my nerves. I was afraid to let the psychologist know the tension I felt so I told her I wanted to buy a fire log at Towers Department Store in Prince Edward Square Mall, where there was a liquor store. She dropped me off and I went into the mall, pretending to go to Towers. Momentarily, I went to the liquor store, bought a dozen pints of beer and walked home. Linda was in bed, watching television. I said, "They're trying to prove I'm insane. " 'What happened, HonP" I sat on the bed and told her. Linda was very concerned. "Why did they give you that kind of test, Cordell?" "I told you, Linda. They're trying to prove I'm insane." I told Linda how I'd lied on some of the questions. "If they're out to get me, I'd rather go to prison than a mental hospital." I set a chair beside my side of the bed and got undressed. Setting the case of beer on the chair, I got in bed. Linda and I watched television and I drank beer. I was not really into the program. My mind was preoccupied with the latest event. While we were watching, voices unrelated to the program, yet coming from the television, started talking. I said, "The government has the house bugged, Linda. They're letting us know they're listening to us by putting those voices on the television. " "No, Cordell. That's a c.b. radio cutting in on the frequency." "No, its not. They're letting us know they can hear what we're saying. " Linda didn't want to argue. She turned over and went to sleep. I turned the television off and sat in bed drinking beer, feeling all alone in the world. Linda and I continued to stay in the flat. About a week

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later, I called Mr. I Iill to set up a meeting. He spoke in a very low voice, almost a whisper, telling me the time of the appointment. One of the questions on the questionnaire was, "Do you believe people are whispering?" I was so scared I was unable to reply. I hung up. At the meeting in Mr. Hill's office, he said, "The psychologist found you to be unstable, unpredictable, hostile to authority and a manipulator of people." That sounded like the makings of a mad man. I said, "Well, I disagree." "It's unimportant. Go home. We'll be in touch." About a week later, after an unsuccessful attempt to find a part for the oil stove uptown, I returned home. It was about three o'clock on a Friday afternoon. Linda said, "Mr. Hill called. He wants to see you in his office this afternoon." When I got to Social Services, Mr. Hill was in his office. Three men were with him: a man whom I knew only as Charlie, a Mr. Papman and a Mr. Duffee, both of them I knew well. They were all social workers. A large bandage was on Mr. Duffee's hand. Mr. Hill said, "What happened to your hand, Dick?" "I cut it on a cup." Mr. Hill then turned to me, "I want you to be in my office at eight o'clock, Monday morning, Cordell. You'll be taken to the workshop." Mr. Hill had nothing more to say to me. At home, I said to Linda, "The whole thing was set up, Linda. When I go to Mr. Hill 's office on Monday morning, he'll tell inc there's no reason for me to be there. I'll say he told me to be there and he'll deny it. I'll say the three men were witnesses and refer to the cut on Mr. Duffee's hand. There will be no bandage and no cut. They'll say I imagined the whole thing and belong in a mental hospital. "I wish I'd had a tape recorder at that meeting to prove it took place."

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Most of the weekend, I tried to come up with a sound excuse for not going to the Welfare Office Monday morning. Sunday afternoon, I came up with a good one. I decided to simply call Mr. Hill Monday morning and tell him Linda was sick and I had to look after the children. Shortly after deciding what to do, a woman came to our door. A little girl was with her. I knew the woman slightly. She lived with a friend of mine. I had introduced her to Linda on a chance meeting at the Welfare office. She was very happy to see Linda and greeted her like her long lost daughter. We all sat down in the livingroom. As the conversation progressed, the woman said, "I wish I had a tape recorder." I became very suspicious. I got up, went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I returned to the livingroom and sat on my rocking chair. The woman said to Linda, "I must be going now, Dear. If you ever need a babysitter for any reason, I'll leave you a number." She wTote the number on a match card and put it on a table that was against the wall. After she left, I picked up the match card. Simultaneously, Linda and I read the number. It was the phone number of the Welfare Office. Fear gripped me. I saw fear on Linda's face. After careful consideration, I decided to go to the Welfare office and accept what happened. The next morning, I was up at seven o'clock. Shortly before eight, I left home and started up Garden Street. A green detective car, sirens blaring, roared passed me towards my place. Fearing for Linda, I ran home. The police were not there but I was too disturbed to go to the Welfare office.

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THIRTEEN

The more convinced I became that we were victims of a conspiracy, the more I discussed it with Linda. The more I told her, the more she believed it was so. As Linda accepted what I said, the beliefs became convictions in my heart, mind and soul. I became convinced the questionnaire was part of the government's plan to put me in a mental hospital. I believed the questions intended to manipulate me into doing what they wanted me to do. I also believed they were trying to manipulate me into believing that the answers to the questions on the questionnaire were true, such as, "Do you believe most police officers are dishonest?" It was my belief that they were trying to make me believe most police officers are dishonest. Day after clay, I went over the questions in my mind, trying to come up with the correct answers, in case they wanted me to do the questionnaire again. Some of the questions were maddening. One was, "Do you lock your door?" I had an awful time with this question. I didn't know whether to lock my door or leave it unlocked. 'When the children, Linda and I left the flat, I locked the door. Halfway down the stairs, I ran back to unlock it. I got halfway clown the stairs and ran back to lock it again. Sometimes this took the better part of half an hour. The children cried and Linda grew impatient while I ran up and clown the stairs. Finally, I locked the door and left the house. Another question was, "Do you keep a diary? " One day, I wrote clown what I believed was happening to us. The next clay, fearing it would be found by the authorities, I destroyed it, only to write it again the next clay. This went on and on. I was in constant turmoil trying to decide what to do regarding

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these questions. Linda and I began to live in absolute fear, believing each moment may be our last together. We started eating huge meals to keep our minds off our fears. Linda cooked four pounds of pork chops at a time, of' which I ate the greatest portion. I gained a lot of weight. Linda and I made long lasting, passionate love, believing it could be the last time. After making love, we held each other, crying, believing we might be lost to each other at any moment. We came to believe the government was conspiring against us to create a case whereby they could change the Child Welfare Act. We believed they were trying to prove the Child Welfare Act had to be changed because the way it was at the time allowed for children to be put into the care of an insane man. To ensure this did not happen again, they would change the act. We believed their real motive was so they could raise the children, instead of institutions like Foster Care or adoptive parents. We were certain that behind the scenes, the government was endeavouring to create a communist state and the children would be brought up with the communist doctrine. In our minds, that's what this was all about. We both felt our freedom and our lives were in jeopardy. Piece by piece, we began selling our furniture, believing it was just a matter of time before they did whatever they were intending to do to us and it would be of no use to us anyway. We paid no rent nor electric bills. Our lights were cut off but nobody came looking for rent. To keep our minds occupied and alleviate the fear, we read constantly, mostly at night, by candle light. The toilet broke and I was unable to repair it. I didn't report it to the landlord, as the rent was in arrears and we wanted as little contact with people as possible. We believed anybody could be in the conspiracy, including the landlord. We did not hire anybody to repair the toilet for the same reason. When the toilet was full, we put our feces in garbage bags and set the bags in the cellar. We urinated in the toilet. Fortunately, it somehow went out

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through the pipes. The stench was disgusting but our fear was such that we could come up with no better solution. We were too scared to go outside and dispose of the bags away from the house. We bought no oil for the stove. For firewood, Jamie gathered sticks and I tore boards off the walls in the cellar. Little Cordell was born in May. I believed loving this child would result in heartache, as I expected the government to make their move at any time. I refused to hold or even look at him. Several times, Linda brought him to me and I told her to take him away. It was hard enough believing the other children would be lost to me one day. Jamie gathered bottles at City Laundry next door and ran errands to the store for the workers, who paid him in change. He brought the money home, enabling us to buy milk for Cordell and food for the rest of us through the month. We often survived on mustard sandwiches. It was in the month of May that I began to rent cars again. I got it into my head that if we were all in a car, they would not drive us off the road nor shoot us for fear of harming the children, which would have made them look bad. I believed if it was just me or Linda and me in the car, they would not hesitate to shoot us or otherwise do us harm. Everywhere we went in the car, we made sure the children were with us. At the beginning of each month, I went to a car rental company at the Colonial Inn across the street. We went for long drives. We had picnics at various places, most often at a spot along the McKay Highway or at a secluded area near Mispec Beach. We always stayed within an ann length of the car for fear that the police might come for us. We gave no thought to the value of money. We believed our freedom or lives could end at any time so we enjoyed life while we could. 'We bought whatever we wanted. If the children wanted pop or chips, they got what they desired. If I wanted tailor made cigarettes rather than tobacco, I bought them. If we wanted to buy steaks for a barbecue, we did. We spared no expense. We went to

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the Dairy Queen and to many fast-food take-out places. We did not eat in restaurants. We ate in the car or at picnic spots. When our money ran out, we went back to our hell-hole. I told my family what I believed was happening. I pointed my finger directly at members of my immediate family and said, "You are in danger because you know about the conspiracy. You're a menace to them because if they do anything to us, you have knowledge about the conspiracy. Thus, you're a threat that must be taken care of." My family knew of our living conditions. One day in the summer, Jamie could find no bottles nor collect any change. I asked Linda to go to see my brother, Donnie, and ask him for two dollars to buy mustard, milk and bread. At Donnie's, Linda was invited in. She joined Donnie at the kitchen table. Donnie's wife, Betty, served tea. Linda asked Donnie for two dollars and told him what we wanted it for. "Now, Linda," Donnie said. "You don't really believe what Cordell's saying, do you?" "With all my heart." Donnie told her to leave. We all went hungry that day. About a week later, I went to see my parents. While visiting, I heard a siren. I was terrified of sirens, as I believed the sound meant the police were coming for us. I ran home. I said to Linda, "I'm tired and I can 't go on any longer." Linda felt the same way. I dictated a letter. Linda wrote it down. It was written to the Saint John Police Department. It began with the words, "Mrs. Linda Kelter and I, Mr. Cordell Cook, are the victims of a conspiracy created by the Saint John Police Department and the Department of Social Services." The letter told of the deprivation of our seven small children, of our financial ruins and the deplorable state of our living conditions. It ended with, "Please help us. But because this is true,. you bastards will do nothing." Linda and I signed it twice to emphasize we needed help. Linda took the letter to my mother. I wanted Mom to be the go-

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between twixt the Police Department and us. The previous tenants in the flat left behind a telephone that usually did not work but at times did. One such time was when my mother called shortly after receiving the letter from Linda. "I gave your letter to the detectives, Cordell," she said. "I had no choice. You and Linda can't go on like this. The children have suffered long enough. The detective read your letter and told me the boys in blue would be clown to see Linda and you." "Every word on that letter is true, Mom. I don't know what its all about but mark my words - nobody from the Police Department will come." Nobody carne. Two weeks later, Morn told me Dad called the Police Department to find out what they were doing regarding the letter. He was asked, "What letter?" About a week later, a good friend named Harry Dawson returned home from Vancouver. He came to visit and saw the condition of our home. I told Harry what we believed was happening to us, and that we feared for our freedom and our lives. I told him it was taking place so the government could change the Child Welfare Act. At this point, I dictated a letter and Linda wrote it down. This one was written to the Department Of Social Services. It was worded much like the one we wrote to the Saint John Police Department. After the letter was finished, I decided not to give it to the Department Of Social Services, fearing retribution. Instead, we gave it to Harry and told him that in the event of our disappearance or deaths, to give it to the minister of a church, in hope that their would be an investigation. Harry took the letter to friends of ours, Karen and Dave Stevens. After reading the letter and having a discussion, the three of them came to the conclusion that Linda and I were mad and that our children could be in danger. Harry went to see the head of the Department of Social Services, Mr. Finnigan. Harry sat in his office while Mr. Finnigan read the letter. When he finished, he said,

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"We're not going to do anything about this." Harry came to my home and the two of us went to sit on Hospital Mill where he disclosed what he had done with the letter. I was hurt and angry. I felt betrayed. I felt like punching him in the mouth. Instead, I called him Judas and walked home. This made me more convinced of a conspiracy. It led me to believe they were going to end it in their time and in their fashion. I told my parents what Many told me he did with the letter. After this, my mother became more open to what I was telling her. I was sure she believed Linda and I were the victims of a conspiracy. Morn told me she told Donnie of these events and he said, "We want no part of that, Morn. I have a family to think of." Linda's parents lived in Bristol, New Brunswick. Her father, Mel Hutchinson, was the mayor. We went to visit them and stayed the night. I tried to explain what we believed was happening in our lives but they believed none of it. Linda's father believed it was all in our minds. He said, "If you don't do something about this, I will. " I got scared. I did not know how to take this. I thought, "He could be in the conspiracy. " We left in the morning and never returned. I wanted nothing to do with them. They carne to visit but we turned them away at the door with the excuse that we were on our way out. I did not want them to see the state of our living conditions, fearing they would report what they saw to the authorities. One day, the children, Linda and I were visiting my parents. Linda left, taking the children, while I stayed to visit Mom and Dad. A couple hours later, I went home. Linda was lying on our bed. The children were asleep. I assumed Linda was sleeping. I went into the kitchen. On the table was a note from Linda. It read: "Cordell, I love you and the children but I can't go on. I took all the pills in the medicine cabinet. Goodbye. I love you. Linda." I ran to the bed and turned her over. Her tongue was

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protruding and she was as white as chalk. My heart pounding, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of coffee. I dumped half the coffee into the sink and turned the faucet on for some water. I stirred the coffee and water into a thick paste. I ran back to the bed. I pushed her tongue in with my finger and poured the mixture into her mouth. I sat her up. In a few minutes, she began to vomit, coffee and pills spewing all over. For an hour, I held her up and walked her around the floor. Finally, she came around. I said, "Everything will be alright, Linda." I mustered the courage to run across the street to Steve's Fish & Chips and bought a coke for her. I knew we could not go on like this.

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FOURTEEN

At the end of August, we received Social Assistance for the month of September. I rented a car and we had a few days of good living. When our money was gone, except for a couple of dollars, we went back to our flat on City Road. The weather was getting cooler and it would soon be time for the children to go to school. After enduring a living nightmare for so long and fearing Linda would try to commit suicide again, I decided we had come to the end of the line. Linda agreed. I sent her uptown to get some Bristol board and a marker. When she returned, I got her to make signs. They read, "We are the victims of a conspiracy" and "Communism is on the move." She made two of the former and one of the latter. Linda dressed the children and we walked uptown to Prince Edward Square. It was about one o'clock in the afternoon. We stood outside the main doors of the mall, holding our signs. Linda held the baby and two of the children and I held the signs. After about fifteen minutes, a man in a white shi rt and a tie carne outside and said to me, "The manager of the building would appreciate it if you move. This is bad for business." I did not want to cause problems for anyone so we went to King Street North beside the Bank of Nova Scotia across from King's Square and stood there with our signs. The children were bewildered but did not fuss. We stayed there the rest of the day. The children and I took turns holding the signs. We refused all offers of food and drink. I wanted people to know how desperate we were and that we were being ignored by the authorities. A woman offered a blanket to Linda for the baby. I said, "No, thank you." Throughout the day, news media, social workers from

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Social Services and police officers drove around King's Square but nobody stopped to talk to us. At about seven-thirty, it started to rain so we moved clown King Street North to stand under the overhang at Calp's clothing store. At about nine o'clock, a detective car pulled up. The detective on the passenger side said, "Get in the car. " 'When we were all inside, Linda began to cry. I said, "What's written on these signs is the truth, Linda. These assholes aren't taking us anywhere." I turned to the driver and said, "Look, you bastard. I know right fucking well you 're not taking us to the police station so take us back where you got us." "You better go home, Cordell. That tavern down the street will be closing soon. If you're still standing there, those guys are going to kick your head off." "I don't give a shit." They drove us back to Calp's. After a while, it stopped raining and we returned to stand at the Bank of Nova Scotia. At one o'clock in the morning, a police car stopped in front of us at a red light. The light turned green and the police car started to go on it's way. A man stepped in front of it and said, "You can't let these people stand here any longer." The officer told us to get in and drove us to Police Headquarters at City Hall. Inside the station, the children were seated on the floor. Linda and I were taken into an office. A police sergeant said, "I want you to take the children and go home, Cordell." We have no fit home to take them to. What's written on these signs is true. If its not, then I'm crazy and should be locked up. They brought social workers in who tried to convince us to take the children home. Exasperated, I said, "You're not making any sense. Either I'm crazy or I'm not. If I am crazy, I need help. If I'm not, then this

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is true and Linda and I don't stand a chance." Unable to convince us to take the children back to our flat on City Road, the social workers left us. At about seven o'clock in the morning, I said to the sergeant, "You have no reason to keep us." We left the office and went out into the hallway. The children were gone. They must have been taken by the social workers some time in the night. On the street, Linda began to cry. Holding her to me, I said, "We did what we had to, Linda." Sniffling, she said, "I know." We had no intentions of going back to the hell-hole on City Road. We went to stay with Karen and Dave Stevens. Karen, Dave, Harry, Linda and I began spending a lot of time together. Karen, Dave and Harry were Christians. Outside our families, they were the only people we confided in regarding our beliefs. Dave was a very religious man. He believed the devil was tricking us into believing what we were thinking. He told us prayer was the only answer. Karen and Harry were of the same mind. At their invitation, a Reverend Warren Brothers carne over to pray for us. I started to believe the conspiracy was created to bring about the downfall of the Pentecostal Church. I believed they were trying to prove that Karen, Dave, Dave's brother, Brian, Hany, Linda and myself were unstable, unpredictable, hostile to authority and manipulators of people, that we came to be this way because of the teachings of the Pentecostal church, thus enabling them to make a case whereby they could prove the Pentecostal doctrine is harmful to society and bring about its ultimate downfall. I didn't have it all worked out but I felt this was basically why the conspiracy was taking place. At the time, my mind was all over the place, trying to come up with answers. Sometimes I believed my friends were in the conspiracy. At times, I even thought Linda was in it. I didn't want to think this but at times I

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couldn't help it. However, at night, when Linda and I were alone, I took her into my arms and we made love, at times, both of us crying. At times like this, I trusted Linda completely. Linda and I lived in absolute fear. On rare occasions when we went out, each of us carried our ba re essentials - Linda's sewing accessories, my tobacco, our books - in a plastic bag, in case the police picked us up. Dave kept trying to convince us the devil was tricking us into our beliefs but Linda and I would not listen to him. We were insistent that the government was conspiring against us. I was adamant that the devil was using people employed by the government to carry out his scheme and that those people were devil worshippers. Dave would have none of' this. At times, he got quite upset at me. In turn, I got upset at him. At the end of September, Dave told us to leave. Linda and I went to stay with a friend named War ren Gillis. 'Warren was a drinking man. I was not drinking at the time so I was not happy to be there. After a week, Dave came down and invited us back to his place. We stayed till the end of October. Then Linda and I moved into a room on Orange Street. Our children were in Foster Care and were sadly missed. At the end of the month, I rented a car and Linda and I picked up Mary Ann and Spring, who were in a Foster Home on the Kingston Peninsula. This became a monthly event and the highlight of our lives. We took them out for ice cream, then took them for a long drive. We usually parked for an hour and amused them by getting them to sing and I sang to them. When the time came to take them back to their Foster Home, Linda became very quiet. After we drove them back and they were taken into the house by their Foster mother, Linda looked at me with tears in her eyes. It broke my hea rt to see her this way. I knew she was hurting. Linda loved those children very much. On the drive back to the city, Linda and I sat in silence, except for an occasional sob from Linda. As I drove along Rothesay Avenue, tears poured clown my face.

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I bought a tape recorder and made a tape of the four of us. In our room, Linda and I often listened to the tape for hours. Linda cried and I took her into my arms. As we listened, we both cried. We loved those children very much, especially Spring. We loved all the children but Spring was our special child. She was a beautiful child with golden hair and the fairest of skin. While living on City Road, sometimes we put all the other children to bed and kept Spring awake purposely. 'We played games with her for hours. Sometimes Linda took her her into a room and I hid in another room. Spring came looking for me. When she found me, I picked her up and swung her in the air. Spring howled with delight. Listening to her voice on the tape caused a lot of heartache. Finally, we stopped playing the tape and put it away. Never was a child so missed.

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FIYI'EEN
In our room on Orange Street, we lived in fear, always expecting the police to come to our door. When a car pulled up outside, we had to check to see if it was the police. Sometimes Linda looked out the window but usually it was me, my heart in my throat. When I saw that it wasn't the police, I felt immense relief. We stayed up all night long. We felt safe at night and on Sundays. I believed that if the police were going to frame us, they would already have created the crime. It just seemed logical to me that they would do it during business hours on a week day or Saturday. Perhaps it was my mind creating this reasoning to protect me from going completely out of my mind. After sleeping all day, we got up at four or five o'clock in the afternoon. We ate a meal, usually sandwiches, sometimes canned beans or canned soup. We ate a lot of sardines, bologna, and hard boiled eggs. We made toast on the hot plate. We drank tea. Then we watched "The Price Is Right" on our rented twelve inch black and white television. At other times, we played cards, watched television or read. I invented a board game called Garage. For game money, I cut up pages of magazines into different sizes. We used buttons or pennies to serve as playing pieces. I cut up a curtain to use as a playing surface. We began playing at seven o'clock in the evening and played until six in the morning. At times, we played the game eighteen hours straight. Usually we watched the late show, then went to bed and made love. At seven in the morning, we watched a program called "The Trouble With Tracy". After that we went to bed and slept until late afternoon. We slept on a bare mattress and used the curtain as a blanket. We put a garbage bag over the window to

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block the sunlight. Linda clung to me and I clung to her. We hardly ever took a bath in the community bath room because we didn't want to be out of each other's presence, fearing the police would come and one of us would be arrested. The last thing we wanted was to be separated by the arrest of one of us. Nor did we like to take a bath together, as we didn't want any trouble with other tenants who might call the police. Sometimes Harry came to visit. Once in a while, Dave Stevens came to see us. I tried not to say anything to disturb them. Linda and I rarely went out. When we did, we went together, both of us carrying a plastic bag containing our bare essentials. Once in a while, Linda and I went to Dave's and then walked home. Occasionally, we went to see Mom and Dad and they gave money to us. I never drank. I didn't want to take the chance of getting drunk and doing something foolish, like _getiing into a fight and getting arrested. I believed the police knew my every move, my every action. In case they came and I wanted to put up a fight, I knew I'd have little chance against them if I was drunk. In November, Linda and I went to court in regards to the children. Judge Torn Bell recommended that we give them up for adoption. Linda and I could see no hope for the future so we agreed to sign the adoption papers for all the children except Spring. We reasoned that if things stayed the way they were in our lives, my sister, Patsy, in Ontario, would keep Spring with her and we would be able to see her from time to time and if we ever came out of this, she would still legally be our daughter. Judge Bell ordered Linda and me to see a psychiatrist separately at the Mental Health Clinic. The first time I saw Dr. Roy Pike was in his office at the Mental Health Clinic. I took a cigarette out of my pack and was about to light it. Dr. Pike said, "I don't allow smoking in my office." I was very nervous and wanted a cigarette. Reluctantly, I put it back in the pack. I didn't know whether to wait for him to begin or start talking, so I just sat there. Dr. Pike sifted through

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some papers, then looked directly at me. He said, "I'm not here to prove or disprove a conspiracy, Cordell. I'm here to help you." I remember thinking, "How can you help me if we don't discuss the conspiracy?" Dr. Pike then asked some questions. "What does it mean "People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones"?" I don't remember what I answered but whatever I said seemed to satisfy him. We talked about Linda and our relationship. Then Dr. Pike asked, "What are you going to do when your friends come to know you have a mental illness?" I didn't believe I had a mental illness in the least but I didn't tell him that. I thought he was as much a part of the conspiracy as anyone. I said, "If my friends are really my friends, they'll understand." Dr. Pike seemed to like this answer. He then said, "I'm going to give you some medication. It's called stelazine. Let me know how it makes you feel. There will probably be some side effects. You may experience restlessness. " Dr. Pike handed me a bottle of pills and set an appointment for me to see him again. Linda was waiting for me in the lobby. As we walked home, I told Linda of my conversation with Dr. Pike. I took the pills as prescribed for about three weeks. I was as paranoid as ever. Fearing that by giving these pills to me, the government was trying to make a vegetable of me or were trying to poison me, I flushed the remaining pills down the toilet. I continued to see Dr. Pike every two weeks, as Judge Bell ordered. I was too afraid of the repercussions not to. I lied to Dr. Pike about the medication, telling him I was taking it regularly. One day, a few months later, Linda had an appointment to see Dr. Pike. The same clay, it was our clay to have Mary Ann and Spring. Upon returning the children to their roster home, I drove to the Mental Health Clinic. Linda went in to see Dr. Pike. I waited in the car in die parking area. After about an hour, Linda

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came out and got into the car. She said, "I'm not going to see him anymore." "What do you mean, Linda?" "I'm not going to see him anymore. I don't like him." I started the car and drove towards home. "Why don't you like him? What did he say to you?" "Oh, he asked me questions about you." "What sort of questions, Linda?" "Well, questions like, "Does Cordell tell you things? Do you always listen to Cordell?" "What did you tell him?" "I told him I listen to some things." "You seem upset. I -low did he upset you?" "Oh, he said, "People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones," then he asked me what it meant." "What did you say?" "I told him I didn't know what it meant. I'm just not going to see him anymore." I wasn't sorry to hear this, as I didn't want Linda seeing Dr. Pike. But I was afraid if she didn't go, it would cause trouble for us. "You know, Linda, if you don't go to see Dr. Pike, it may get us in some kind of shit." "I don't care. I'm not going anymore." I let it drop and we went home. I knew that once Linda made her mind up about something, she wouldn't change it. Past experience had shown that Linda was a very strong woman. Although she was scared, she did not live in fear like me. She told me she believed what I told her to be true, yet she did not have the fear I did. Her fearlessness was very evident the time she gave birth to Cordell. I was totally convinced Linda would be murdered in the hospital and I told this to Linda. I felt that because she was a witness to what the government was doing to me that she would be murdered and it would take place while she was having the baby in the hospital.

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I, on the other hand, was prepared to kill myself if anything happened to Linda. I could not have faced what was happening alone. I had a rope and was ready to go into the shed and hang myself if I received word that Linda had been killed. Yet what I said about her being killed in the hospital did not seem to bother her in the least. 'When Linda went into the hospital, she showed no fear. At times, Linda and I had no money for the weekly rent. In sub-zero weather, we walked to Priscilla's to see Morn and Dad about getting some money, only to be turned away at the door. As children, Priscilla and I were very close. 'We stayed close all through our teenage years. Our close relationship ended with Priscilla's marriage to Art Raynes. For reasons of his own, Art wanted nothing to do with Priscilla's sister or brothers. This effected Priscilla's relationship with me. She adhered to Art's ways and detached herself somewhat from me, although she still loves me and I love her. The fact that we were telling stories of government conspiracy lessened our welcome as far as Priscilla's family was concerned. When Linda and I showed up at their door, Priscilla would not defy Art to open their door to us. After we were turned away, Mom knocked on a window and gave some money to us. This happened several tunes during the winter of 1976. In April, Linda and I did not receive a Social Assistance cheque. For five or six days, we stayed in our room, mounting the courage to go to Social Services. We were miserable that Spring was not with us. The time had come that we no longer wanted to endure not having Spring in our lives. Linda and I went to Social Services and met with our social worker, Brian. I said, "Unless we get Spring back, Brian, we are taking no more. You people are a bunch of fucking monsters. I want vouchers for food, clothing, household and personal, and I want our little girl back tomorrow." 'We were given the vouchers and we went shopping. We bought pillows, sheets and a good grocery order. At home, we ate a quick meal of sandwiches and milk and got into bed. After months

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of sleeping on a bare mattress and using an old curtain as a blanket, it was an immense pleasure drifting off to sleep between those clean white sheets. A few clays later, Brian brought Spring to our room. Spring, Linda and I were ecstatic at being reunited as a family. Brian told me of a job for me, driving truck at Atlantic Rentals on Rothesay Avenue. After Brian left, the three of us cried for joy. With renewed hope, we began to rebuild our lives. The following clay, I went to Atlantic Rentals and went to work, driving truck. Linda got a job as a waitress at Sonny's at the corner of Union and Waterloo. VVe put Spring in day care and moved into a furnished apartment on Wentworth Street. 'We sought no financial assistance from Social Services. After a couple of months, my nerves frayed from my belief that every large car with two men in it was a detective car following me, I could no longer work. We moved into a room on Leinster Street. I was very confused. I couldn't understand why Social Services had been so good to us in returning little Spring and funding work for me after all they had put us through. I had not been imprisoned or put in a mental hospital and the Child Welfare Act had not been changed. I could come up with no reason as to the purpose of the conspiracy. After asking myself time and again what it was all about, I carne to believe the actions of the Department Of Social Services and the Saint John Police Department somehow related to my experiences as a Christian and my belief that I was possessed by the devil and would become the Antichrist. At the end of August, Linda and I moved to Mississauga, Ontario. We left Saint John with a thousand dollars. Patsy and Doug made us feel welcome. We gave some of our money to Pat and Doug. Patsy and Linda hit it off right from the start. Patsy fell in love with Spring. Linda got a job as a cashier at a supermarket and I worked as a labourer at Cardinal Meats. Linda and I told Patsy nothing about our belief that we

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were victims of a conspiracy, although my mind was just as troubled. I was living like a condemned man who was told he's going to die and not told when it's going to happen. The walk to work was a real struggle. I feared every car was the police coming to arrest me on some trumped up charge. At work, each morning the boss went through the plant carrying the cash-box. I feared the box would end up missing and I would be accused of stealing it. I believed just about everyone was in the conspiracy. It didn't matter that I was almost half a continent away from Saint John. However, with all this going on in my mind, I still found joy in Spring and Linda. Like when I was tormented by thoughts of going to hell, I took one day at a time. Linda and I no longer cried when we made love. We enjoyed our lovemaking without the tears. Spring was a delightful child and caused no trouble for anyone. Everybody loved her, including my sister's children. After about two months in Mississauga, I began to believe the government was ready to make their move and the conspiracy was about to come to an end. I didn't want it to end in Mississauga, where I would be jailed or hospitalized among strangers and, aside from family, virtually friendless. I told this to Linda and she agreed to come home to Saint John. In late October, Doug drove us to the train station in Toronto. Patsy and Doug saw us off. The day we arrived in Saint John, we began looking for a room that would accommodate the three of us. This was not easy. Finally, we found a place on Carmarthen Street. It was a small room with just a cot to sleep on. Spring and Linda slept on the cot. I slept on the floor. A few days later, we found a large room on Wentworth Street. It was a nice room with a double bed, dressers, a table and chairs. That afternoon, we went to the Salvation Army and bought a roll-away bed for Spring. We set up housekeeping. Christmas was coming and I was hoping Spring, Linda and I could have Christmas together before the government made their move. Linda got a job at the Riviera Restaurant. She made really good money. We saved all the change Linda received in tips in containers. I did not look for work. I would have been too

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distressed to hold a job had I found one. I was too afraid to apply for Unemployment Insurance. I wanted nothing to do with the government. I stayed home and minded Spring. Minding Spring was a real pleasure. As Christmas approached, my anxiety grew. I wanted Spring and Linda to have Christmas with me so much. Linda began buying presents for all of us. Two weeks before Christmas, she bought a four-foot Christmas tree which we stored in the closet till it was time to decorate it. I had no income so I could not monetarily contribute towards things. With Linda making fifty or sixty dollars a day in tips, things were pretty good financially. The day before Christmas, we rented a car. Our friends Karen and Dave Stevens were living in Prince Edward Island. We planned to drive there and visit them on Christmas Day. On Christmas Eve, we put Spring on our bed to sleep and put her roll-away bed in the corner. Linda set up the Christmas tee where Spring usually slept and decorated it while I assembled a doll carriage. At around nine o'clock, I was sitting in the middle of the room, working on the doll carriage. A knock sounded on our door. Fear gripped me. I opened the door. A policeman stood there. I thought, "This is it." I felt as weak as a kitten. I looked at Linda and saw apprehension on her face. The policeman asked, "Who owns the car parked in front of the door?" "It belongs to the man upstairs," I said. He said, "Thank you," and left. I closed the door and walked to the chair. I gripped the back of it for support. My knuckles turned white. I felt woozy. Linda didn't say a word. Relief was flooding me. "My God, Linda. I thought he was going to arrest us." I saw relief on Linda's face. Linda was sitting on the bed. I went over and sat down beside her. I took her into my arms and held her, stroking her hair. When I felt calmer, I said, "We're going to cook the

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Christmas dinner, Linda." Linda and I went about cooking a duck with all the trimmings. At about one o'clock in the morning, we woke Spring up and told her Santa Claus had come. When Spring saw the tree and the presents, she jumped out of bed and ran to the tree. After the gifts were opened, we ate our Christmas dinner. We stayed up till about four in the morning, playing with Spring. At nine o'clock, we got up and packed a lunch. We got into the car and headed for Prince Edward Island. We arrived at Dave's that night. Karen and Dave were very pleased to see us. Dave was out of work and things were pretty bleak for them. We presented them with gifts. They were very glad to receive them. The following day, Linda thought it would be nice to celebrate my birthday. Dave and I drove into Sunnnerside and did some shopping. We went back to the house with candles, pop and pound cake. The five of us had a small party. Then Linda put Spring to bed. Karen, Dave, Linda and I drank tea and talked for a few hours. Linda and I did not mention the conspiracy, nor did they. We talked about Linda's work, the car we had rented, how tough it was being away from home and out of work. Linda and I went to bed. While Linda was lying in my arms, I said, "If I ever get out of this mess, Linda, - whatever it is I'm going to write a book." The next morning, after breakfast, we said goodbye to Karen and Dave and headed back to Saint John. The ferry ride across the Northumberland Strait was not a pleasant journey. There were two large men dressed in suits. I thought they were detectives watching me. I was very glad to reach shore. Linda continued to work at the Riviera and we lived in our room the remainder of the winter. Early in the spring, we moved into a small apartment on Elliot Row. Mustering the courage, I applied for Unemployment Insurance benefits. 'When my claim came through, Linda and I were quite well off financially. 'We moved into a large apartment on Leinster Street. Linda started a

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credit account at Holtzman 's and began buying some nice furniture. In a matter of a month, we had a really nice home. However, I could sense something was wrong in our relationship. Linda was becoming very independent and she no longer seemed to care For me. She was very quiet around me. When I wanted to make love to her, she did not respond to my touch. She was distant toward me. When I wanted to make love, she said she was tired or didn't feel like it. One evening, I was having a coffee at the Diana Restaurant. A long time friend named Paul Goldie came in and joined me. In better days, Paul was a good friend of Linda's and mine. I said, "I'm afraid I'm going to lose Linda." 'You're crazy, Man," he said. "That woman loves you with all her heart." "No, Paul. She did but I don't think she does anymore. I'm telling you, I'm losing her." Paul seemed very concerned. "Hell, Cook. I hope everything works out. " I said, "I'll see you later." I headed home.

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SIXTEEN

In early October, 1977, it was hurting me deeply that Linda was rejecting me. I loved her very much. Deep in my heart, I knew she was going to leave me. I tried desperately to push the thought aside. Day after day, I sat and tried to figure things out regarding the conspiracy, getting nowhere. One day, I asked Linda why nothing seemed to bother her anymore. She said, "I don't care what they're doing, Cordell. I love Spring more than anything in the world. I'm going to raise her as long as she's with me, regardless of anything else." After this, Linda became more and more distant towards me and my mental state got worse. I was listening for messages on the radio and television. If I heard someone say, "Good night", on a program, I believed the government was telling me to go to bed, that they weren't going to bother me that night and I went to bed. My Unemployment Insurance ended and I would go nowhere near the Welfare Office, so I was becoming a financial as well as a worrisome burden to Linda. Trying to keep my home together, I went to Manpower, although I knew I had small chance of holding a job. I checked the boards and saw nothing that was suitable for me. I came home and saw a five dollar bill sticking out from beneath the Bible. I knew Linda had left me. I sat on the chesterfield, waiting for the phone to ring. It did and it was Linda. "I'm not telling you where I am, Cordell. I've got Spring and we're not coming back." I tried to convince her to come home. "Come on, Linda. I'll get a job. We'll work things out somehow. Just come home." Before I could say any more, Linda hung up.

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Ever since the trouble over the cheque started, I drank only on rare occasions. When I did drink, I never got drunk. Now I felt like getting drunk in the worst way. I walked uptown, looking for someone with whom to drink. I met a friend named Jerry. "Hey, ,Jerry. I -low do you feel about getting drunk today?" "I'm broke, Cookie. " "I've got money, Jerry. " Jerry and I went to my place. Linda and I had spent all the change we had saved, except the pennies, on our trip to Prince Edward Island to see Karen and Dave Stevens. Jerry and I rolled twenty-nine dollars worth of pennies. I sent Jerry to the bank to cash them in and told him to pick up twenty-four beer. We drank all afternoon and into the evening. Linda still worked at the Riviera Restaurant and was now also working at die Image. I knew Linda was at her second job. "I'm going down to the Image, Jerry. " "Geez, Cordell. You don't want to go down there starting any trouble." "I don't want to cause any trouble, Jerry. I just want to go down and see Linda." "Okay. Let's go." Jerry and I walked down to the Image. When we got inside, I saw Linda serving beer. Jerry and I sat down at a table. A friend of Linda's came over and took our order. "You don't want to start any trouble here, Cordell." "I'm not looking for any trouble." The waitress brought our beer. I was hoping Linda would come over and talk but she stayed clear of me. Jerry and I had a few more beer and Linda continued to avoid me. I did not go over to talk to her. Linda had a lot of friends there. I didn't want to get beaten up. "Fuck it, Jeny, " I said. "I'm going uptown." Jerry and I left the Image and walked up to Capt'n Submarine on King Street. Three-quarters drunk, I wasn 't afraid of the law. I didn't even have the conspiracy on my mind. I only had thoughts of Linda. At the restaurant, I vaguely remember having a

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sub. The next thing I remember, I was in bed in my apartment. I looked at the clock. It was six o'clock in the morning. I got up and made a cup of coffee. I was hungover. The whole clay, I sat around the apartment, drinking the remaining twelve beer in the case, hoping Linda would change her mind and call me. I had no idea where Spring was but I knew Linda would take good care of her. 'When the twelve beer were gone, I bought more. For the next couple of days, I stayed drunk. The following Sunday, Linda came to the apartment with a woman and told me she was taking the furniture. Some of her friends loaded the furniture onto a truck. I told Linda I was taking Spring for a walk and took Spring to Patsy's. Patsy and her family were now living in Saint John. I asked Patsy if I could stay there with Spring for a while and Patsy said it would be al right. At about eight thirty that evening, Linda came to the door with a policeman. The policeman asked, "Are you Cordell Cook?" "Yes," I answered. I was filled with anxiety and fear, thinking he was going to arrest me. "Do you have this woman's daughter here?" "No. I have my daughter here." The officer looked at Linda, who was behind him to his right, and asked, "What name does she have?" "Cook," I answered. He then turned to Linda and said, "There's nothing I can do about this." He turned back to me and said, "Linda would like to have her daughter, Mr. Cook." I was ready to accept losing Spring to Linda but I would not give her up without knowing where she could be reached. "If Linda would tell me where she was taking Spring, I'd let her take her." He looked at Linda and said, "I suggest you tell him." Linda wrote down her phone number and address and gave it to me. Then we made arrangements for me to have Spring once a week. Linda would bring Spring to my parent's room at

Priscilla's and I would meet them there. I would have Spring for the clay and Linda would return in the evening and pick her up. Patsy and Doug let me live at their place. A day or so later, feeling depressed and lonely, I went to see Dr. Pike. I said, "Linda left me and I feel terrible." Dr. Pike wrote out a prescription for one-hundred milligram largactil tablets and gave it to me. I went to the drug store, picked up the bottle of pills and went home. For the next two weeks, I took the pills and slept. I ate very little. When I was awake, I smoked cigarettes and drank coffee constantly. My mouth was burned from smoking so many cigarettes. I drank so much coffee I was throwing up two or three times a day. Then one night, Doug came into my bedroom. "Cordell. Wake up. " Drugged up on largactil, I didn't know what was going on. "Cordell. Wake up." I could hear Doug's voice as if from a distance. "I made a nice beef stew." His voice was very kind. "I want you to have some. " "I don't want any, Doug." "Come on, Cordell. You've got to eat. Come on, now. " Reluctantly, I got out of bed and went to the table. Doug placed a bowl of stew in front of me. "Eat that, Cordell. You'll feel better. " I took a few spoonfuls. It was good. Doug was right. I did feel better. I finished the bowl and asked for more. After supper, I decided to shave. I stopped taking the pills. A few days later, I was feeling quite a bit better. I began thinking about moving into a room. At the end of October, I got my Social Assistance cheque from my former landlord on 'Wentworth Street. I went uptown to the Diana Restaurant for coffee. An acquaintance named Bruce Stevens came in and sat at my booth. He said, "I'm looking for a room. "

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I trusted Bruce because he had a mental illness. I believed the government would not use a person who has a mental illness against me. I said, " I'm looking for a room, too, Bruce. Do you want to share one i'" Bruce and I went to the rooming house on Orange Street where Linda and I had lived. The caretaker knew me and rented us a room upstairs. She put an extra bed in the room for Bruce. We stayed together till the middle of November. Then Bruce got a job with Kent Lines, working on a ship. He left and I stayed alone in the room. I spent my time drinking tea and reading books I bought at a used books store on Union Street. I read one book after another. With my Social Assistance for the month of December, I wanted to buy something special for Spring for Christmas. I went uptown and bought a nice pair of white ice skates for her. Financially, this hurt inc. After I paid my rent and bought my tobacco and groceries, I was broke. I will never forget Christmas Day that year. I awoke at about seven in the morning. It didn't feel a bit like Christmas. Nobody had invited me to Christmas dinner and I had nothing special for Christmas dinner. I sat on my bed smoking cigarettes and drinking tea. I was so lonely I felt like crying. At about eleven o'clock, I opened a can of beans. My hot plate wasn't working so I sat on the bed eating cold beans out of the can. Tears started to pour down my face. My friend, Jerry, was living in a room downstairs. I went down and knocked on his door. Jerry hollered for me to come in. He was standing at the stove cooking a can of cheddar cheese soup. I wasn't the only one who had nothing for Christmas. The fact that I was not alone in misery made me feel better. After Jerry ate, we went uptown for a walk. I believed the police would not bother me as it was Christmas Day. Jerry and I stayed together the whole day, walking around town. At about four o'clock, we went back to the rooming house. I went to my room and finished my can of beans.

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The only days I had any peace and joy were the days Spring was with me. We played in the yard at Priscilla's or went to the park or went on a bus ride. We loved to go for walks together. When I had money, I took her bowling or to a movie. We usually went to a restaurant. Alone in my room, I lay on my bed thinking about Linda, longing for her, scared out of my wits and lonely as hell. One day, a policeman was downstairs talking to the landlady. In my mind, I said, This is it. They're going to shoot me." I called my mother. "The police are downstairs, Mom. They're going to shoot me. " Priscilla carne over in a taxi and we went to Patsy 's. This let me know Priscilla still cared about me. Patsy and Doug separated in June, 1978. Doug moved into a cold-water flat on Canon Street and I went to stay with hum. It came into my mind that the police were going to kill inc and say I committed suicide. I wrote a letter to my father stating that I was feeling fine and not thinking of suicide. I gave the letter to Dad, only to return a few hours later to retrieve and dest roy it, fearing the Department of Social Services or the police would somehow obtain it and put me away. This procedure was repeated day after day. I no longer knew what was real and what wasn't. I had no idea I was schizophrenic and that the disease was controllable. It took many long years for me to understand this. Before I came to this realization, I died a million deaths. One such instance occurred while I was visiting Priscilla, Mom and Dad. I sent Priscilla's daughter, Brenda, to the store for a loaf of bread. After eating, I became convinced the bread was poisoned. I became lightheaded and noxious. I went into the washroom and forced myself to vomit into a bottle. I placed the bottle behind the toilet and told Dad to have the contents analyzed if I died from poisoning. I went home and laid on my bed, waiting to die.

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Strangely, I was at total peace. I didn't believe I was going to heaven, nor did I believe I was going to hell. I believed I would die there and go out of existence. One of the questions on the questionnaire was, "Do you believe you are a special agent of GodP" As I lay on my bed waiting to die, I did believe this. I believed I came into the world to perform a special task. I believed that task, whatever it was, had been accomplished. Now I would die and go out of existence. My peace was shattered when I heard a si ren. I got up and ran back to Priscilla s. Dad was sitting on the porch. I sat with him for protection. While living on Canon Street, I thought I would try to make a deal with the government. As in all other places I lived, I believed this place was bugged and government agents were listening to me. Aloud, I said, "I don't know what you people want or what you're trying to do but it seems to me you'll have to kill me in the end. I don't think this is a good idea because the person who kills me also becomes dangerous to you. The person who kills me could become a Christian and change his ways and talk. "Give me one week with Spring and Linda and I'll end my own life, if that is what you want." I figured the government could do anything. "I want a car, some money, motel accommodations and I want Spring and Linda to be with me for one week. At the end of the week, I'll drink poison and kill myself." I spoke these words many times when I was alone, hoping, wishing and praying they would accept this deal. The fact that Linda wanted nothing to do with me did not enter my mind. I held a hope that some day Linda and I would be together again. Then one Sunday, Spring told me Linda was sleeping with a man. I could not accept this. Then and there, I decided to kill Linda. There was no doubt in my mind I was going to do it. I was hurt, jealous and I didn't care what happened anymore.

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Spring spent the day with me and Linda came to pick her up. When they left, I went home and started planning the murder. The following Sunday, I wore rubber boots on Spring's day with me. I put a large butcher knife in one of my boots. After Spring spent the clay with me, I asked Linda to drive me home. When we got to Canon Street, I said to Spring, "Wait outside, Dear, while I talk to your mother." Spring got out of the car and closed the door behind her. I wrapped my left arm around Linda's neck and put the point of the knife to her throat. 'You're going to die, Linda," I said. "You're going to die right now. " "Please," she cried. I was set to plunge the knife when I heard Spring yell, "Daddy!" I turned and saw the horrified look on Spring's face. Taking my arm from around Linda's neck, I lowered the knife. Linda was as white as a ghost. I said, "Go home right now." I got out of the car and went into the house. Alone in the livingToom, I put my hands on the wall and banged my head repeatedly against the wall.

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SEVENTEEN

I knew Spring and Linda were living on Mountain Road in Forest Hills but I didn't know the address. I went out to Mountain Road and looked around, searching for something that might tell me where she lived. I was not sure of my intentions. Perhaps it was to hurt her. Perhaps it was to try to reconcile with her. I knocked on the door of a house. A man came to the door. A little girl of about Spring's age was with him. I said, "Do you know of a woman named Linda who has a little girl named Spring? They recently moved into a house on this street but I don't know which one." The man said, "No," but the little girl said, "I know Spring. She lives in that house up the street." She pointed to the house. I went over to the house and walked around it, looking in the windows for something that belonged to Spring or Linda. I saw two small die-cast stoves I had bought for Linda on the window sill in the basement. I knew they were living there. I went home. A few days later, I went back. I knew a knock would not have been heard on the heavy door so I pounded hard. Linda's voice sounded from the other side. "I already called the police, Cordell. I saw you coming. You better leave." I got scared and left. I was walking down Mountain Road when the police stopped. After years of dread, my fear of being arrested was about to be realized. They picked me up and took me to the police station at City Hall. I went to court the same day. When Linda finished her testimony, I stood up and said, "Your Honour. Everything Linda said is the truth. " The judge ordered that I was to stay away from Linda and that I was to have Spring only once a month. I was relieved yet

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confused. I had been sure I would be sent to jail. They had me and they were letting me go. Linda called Priscilla and told her that from then on she would no longer bring Spring to me. She wanted Spring to meet me at the Diana Restaurant. Ilex boyfriend, Bill Savoie, would bring Spring to the Diana where I was to be waiting. Now that Spring was with me only once a month, our time together was even more precious. The days were filled with both terrible anguish and sheer joy. Because of the anxiety I endured, believing I might be arrested before Spring's time with me, many times I almost messed my pants. Often, I just made it to the washroom at the Diana Restaurant in time. After Spring and I were together, I was able to set my fears aside. Our days together were wonderful. On cheque day, I set aside fifty or sixty dollars for Spring's day with me. I did not touch it under any circumstances, even if it meant picking butts up off the street or going without a decent meal. One day, after bowling, Spring and I were sitting in the Bowlivama Restaurant. She was eating a hamburger and I was drinking coffee. Spring looked up at me and said, "Bill's not my father, Daddy. You are and I love you as big as the world," and she spread her arms as far apart as she could. I loved this child with all my heart. During this period of time, my mind came up with many reasons as to why the government created the conspiracy. I was more convinced than ever that their purpose was to make me the Antichrist. I was sure everyone involved was a devil worshipper. At times I believed I would be put in a jail or a mental hospital and somehow they would turn me into the Antichrist. At other times, I believed they would murder me and the spirit of the devil, already in me, would resurrect me as the Antichrist. Every time someone knocked at the door I was sure it meant my death. Any man sitting in a parked car near my home was a detective who was going to arrest me or a devil worshipper

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waiting to kill me. Whenever I heard a siren, I ran to Priscilla's to be with my parents. I told them the government was trying to make me the Antich rist, that it was a Satanic plan being carried out by devil worshippers. At times, I went to Priscilla's door at three or four o'clock in the morning, begging to be let in, insisting that what I was saying was the truth. It was a living hell. Outside my family, I had no friends. One day, in early June, 1978, I was at Priscilla's, terrified that the government was going to make me the Antichrist. Priscilla told me she would help in any way she could. That same month, Doug moved to Ontario and I moved into Patsy's place. 'While living at Patsy's, I told her of the events that had transpired throughout my life: my Christian life and the life Linda led with me. Patsy could not explain these events and agreed that strange things had happened. I told Patsy I believed God, in His fairness, allowed the devil to persecute me but made him make me aware of what he was trying to do so I could counteract the actions of the devil worshippers. I believed if they won and I lost, I would become the Antichrist. Fear stopped me from going to Social Services to fill out a Change Of Address form when I moved to Patsy's so I did not receive a Welfare cheque. I had no money to pay my board at Patsy's so I gathered the courage to go to Social Services and ask for vouchers, which I was given. I went to the Dominion supermarket with the food voucher and got half the value in groceries and a receipt to get the remainder of the value of the voucher at a later time. I examined everything that carne into my possession, looking for messages. I examined letters, newspapers, anything with writing on it. I looked at the numbers on paper money to see if there were three sixes, which I believed was the devil's number. If there were three nines, I considered these to be inverted sixes. Whenever I saw three sixes or three nines in any number, I became more convinced I was the Antichrist. I sat clown at the kitchen table at Patsy's and examined the

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receipt for the grocery order. Patsy was sitting across from Inc. On the receipt, every "t" was a perfect upside down cross. In the numbers, I showed Patsy her street number and her telephone number. At the bottom, instead of the word "total" was the word ante"". I saw fear in Patsy's face. I was terribly worried about Patsy, as I was about all members of my family whom I told about the conspiracy because of my fear that as a result of what I told them, they were witnesses to what was happening in my life and would be done away with when the government made their move. I told Patsy everything I believed was happening to me. Patsy listened to me, saying neither that she believed nor disbelieved what I was saying. She just sat there and listened. One night, Patsy went to bed early. I sat at the kitchen table, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. After about an hour and a half, Patsy called from her bedroom doorway, "Cordell." I turned and saw her standing there. "VVhat, Pat? " "While I was sleeping, the most beautiful poem came into my mind. I've got to write it down." Patsy got some paper and a pen. She sat at the table and wrote the poem down. It was all about dying and saying goodbye to the world. I was fit to be tied. "Geez, Patsy. You 've got to tear that up. That sounds like a suicide note." I believed the devil put the poem into her mind to serve as a suicide note, that the government was going to kill her and say she committed suicide. Patsy got scared and tore the poem up. A flood of relief coursed through me. Patsy stayed up for a while and we drank coffee. At that time, I was having an awful time trying to sleep. Patsy went back to bed and I sat up for the rest of the night. When Patsy got up in the morning, I was still awake. Fed up with sleepless nights, I went to St. Joseph's Hospital to see a doctor about getting something to help me sleep. The doctor gave me a prescription for two pills. I went to the drug store and picked
h

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them up. It didn't matter that the pills might poison me. I didn 't care if I lived or died. A few clays later, I called Priscilla and said, "I need your help." 'What can I do?" "I want you to go to Dr. Pike's office with me. I want you to be there while I tell him what's happening." That afternoon, Patsy and Priscilla accompanied me to the Mental Health Clinic. After a few minutes, Dr. Pike came out and gestured with his hand for us to come into his office. The three of us went un. Patsy and Priscilla stood on either side of me. I said, "I believe I have an appointment with you today." Dr. Pike checked his calendar. "No. I don't see an appointment for you today, Cordell." 'Yes. The appointment was made December twenty-sixth, 1945." "That's your birth date, isn't it, Cordell?" 'Yes. You bastards have been conspiring against me ever since then. I not only believe I'm the Antichrist, I'm living it. My sisters are here to confirm what I'm saying." Dr. Pike looked at the three of us for an instant. Then he said, "You can't take any more right now, can you, Cordell? " My paranoia escalated to new heights. I looked at Patsy, who looked like she was about to faint. I believed he was letting me know me that indeed there was a conspi racy, that I couldn't take any more at that time. This instance - Dr. Pike's words and Patsy's reaction - turned my beliefs into concrete convictions. Dr. Pike told Patsy and Priscilla to take me to Centracare, the mental hospital in West Saint John. The three of us walked to Donnie's and asked him to drive us to Centracare. "I told you before," Donnie said, "I don't want to get involved in this. I'll pay your taxi fare." The drive to Centracare was terrifying. I believed the

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driver was in the conspiracy, that he was a devil worshipper. I believed the police were going to pull us over at the Reversing Falls Bridge, take me out of the taxi and throw me into the depths of the turbulent, whirlpool-infested waters of the St. John River far below. The devil worshippers would then retrieve my body and the spirit of the devil would resurrect me as the Antichrist. My heart was in my throat as we crossed the bridge. At Centracare, two men dressed in suits were standing on either side of the doorway at the main entrance. They were laughing. I believed they were detectives laughing at me, mocking me, letting me know they were getting the last laugh. I was in absolute paranoia. Patsy, Priscilla and I entered the building and sat on a bench against the wall. After a few minutes, Priscilla went over to the receptionist and told her Dr. Pike told Patsy and her to bring me over. Priscilla returned to the bench and sat with us. I was sort of bewildered. I just sat there and said nothing. None of us talked. Priscilla reached into her pocket and withdrew a handful of quarters. She passed them to me and said, "This is for phone calls." After about ten minutes, a man came to me and said, "Come with me." I was taken into a room and a physician gave me a physical examination. He asked me some questions but I cannot recall what he asked. I was in a bit of a haze. I was taken into another room. A man sat in a chair who liked the devil incarnate. His eyebrows seemed to be turned up. His eyes were glaring. He had a goatee and he was wearing a black suit. I was scared to death. I was taken to a ward. An attendant asked inc questions to see how coherent I was, such as: 'What's your name? '; "What day is it?"; "What month is it?" I answered the questions as best I could. He then asked, "Are you hungry?" I told him I was. He escorted me to the dining room and gave a sandwich to me. After eating, I went out on the ward and sat on a chair by a

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table. I didn't know what to expect. I looked around at the people on the ward. A young French woman was rolling on the floor, chanting. A young man was walking around saying, "Ifs better to commit suicide," over and over. Another young man sat down and started telling me he had been in a motorcycle accident and how he had lost his girlfriend. This made me think of a story Linda told me. Linda told me she once had a boyfriend who was in a motorcycle accident. He died in her arms. I thought he was telling me I was going to die. I believed they were all demon possessed. In my mind I said, You people can't hurt me. God is protecting me." I sat on the chair with my head down. I felt someone's presence beside me. I looked and saw a man I had known for years. "My God, Gerry, " I said. "Is that youP " "It's me, Cookie." "What are you doing hereP" "Oh, I had some problems with my nerves." Gerry had a big bandage on his hand. "How'd you hurt your hand, Gerry?" "I put it through a window." I was really glad to see Gerry. I started to settle down some. That night, I went to bed in a dorm with several beds. I was dead tired but I laid awake most of the night, expecting them to come in and inject a lethal substance into me or take me to the Reversing Falls Bridge and throw me off. Eventually, I fell asleep. The next day, my niece, Debbie, Patsy's daughter, came to see me. She was with her boyfriend. Mom sent over some pop, chips and tobacco. After supper, I asked the attending psychiatrist, Dr. Marcello, a woman, if I could go out on the grounds for some air. "You won't run away if I let you go out on the grounds, Cordell?" "No, I won't run away. "

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An attendant opened the door for me. I walked to the street and hailed an oncoming taxi. I went to Patsy's. I felt free ands safe. At least for the moment.

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EIGHTEEN

Early in July, Doug came and took Patsy and their children to Ontario. I stayed in the apartment by myself. 'With the intention of signing myself into Centracare, I sold the furniture to a second hand furniture dealer for ninety dollars. A young woman who had a baby lived downstairs. I gave all my groceries to her. I bought several pouches of tobacco and several packages of cigarettes. I went to Priscilla's to see Mom and Dad. Then I took a taxi to Centracare. When I got there, I asked to see Dr. Nlarcello. In a few minutes, Dr. Marcello came to see me. She and I went into a room. "What's the matter, Cordell? Why are you here?" "I'm thinking crazy and I can 't sleep." What do you mean, you're thinking crazy?" "I think the government is after me. I think they're trying to make me the Antichrist. I want to be hospitalized." Dr. Marcello would not admit me into the hospital. She said, "I want you to go home, Cordell. I'm going to give you some medication. Take one pill before going to bed." An hour later, I was back in the apartment. I took a pill and laid down on the bare mattress I was using for a bed. I had a good sleep. In the morning, I got up and headed to Priscilla's. One day, at Priscilla's, the landlady called and asked where Patsy was and why I was staying in the apartment. I told her the situation. She said, 'You can stay until the end of the month. Then you'll have to leave." With no groceries nor furniture, it was rough. I convinced myself the government was going to set the house on fire and say I did it. I spent my clays with Morn and Dad in their room. Each

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day, Dad gave two or three dollars to me to buy tobacco and food. At about seven in the evening, I went back to the apartment and ate peanut butter and crackers, sometimes a can of sardines. Then, hilly clothed, I laid on my bed. The sounds of the street tormented me: the opening of a door, the shuffling of a person's feet, each passing car. I fell asleep praying to God to let me die. On about the Twentieth of July, my brother, Paul, who was now married to a woman named Margie, came home from Calgary. They were broke and in need of a place to stay. I was glad to have them stay with me. Their presence eased my fears. I felt safe. There was another mattress in the shed. I had been sleeping in the livingroom. We put both mattresses in one of the bedrooms. Paul borrowed a portable black and white television from Mom. For the rest of the month, to pass the time, we laid on our mattresses and watched television. At the end of July, I moved into a room on Carmarthen Street. Margie and Paul moved into a room next door to me. I lived in this room for a few months. I spent most of my time sitting in Dan's Restaurant, bumming change for coffee and bumming coffees from people I knew who came in and sat with me. At about four o'clock, I went to my room and cooked a meal or made sandwiches. After eating, I went back to Dan's. Sitting in Dan's was hard. The people who carne and talked to me were my friends but at the time I trusted none of them. I believed they were sent by the government to manipulate me. One man stands out in my mind in particular. His name was Cornelius Gayle. I believed Cornelius was a government agent, working for the police department as an undercover cop, putting on an act as a man of grief and sorrow. In reality, he was indeed a despondent alcoholic and a poet. In later years, I trusted him and told him everything I believed regarding the conspiracy and my belief that I would become the Antichrist. At times, he gave me a place to stay. At other times, I gave him a place to stay. Cornelius wrote a beautiful poem for me to give to my daughter. He died the

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other clay. I'll miss him. After a few months, I moved into a room on Wentworth Street. One clay, in early December, I spent the day in my room. At about nine in the evening, a very strange feeling came over me. My nerves were going haywire. I didn't know whether to sit, stand or go for a walk. I couldn't coordinate my mind and my body. I didn't know what to do. I was having an extremely difficult time thinking. At about ten o'clock, I filled the bath tub. I got in the tub and got right back out again. I wanted to go to the Saint John General Hospital but I was afraid the police would think I was drunk and arrest me. I was aware of everything I was doing but I was having difficult} doing it. I found a piece of paper and a pen. I tried to write a note to give to the police in case they stopped me, telling them there was something wrong with me and that I was on my way to the hospital. I stood there trying to write the note but I just couldn't do it. My hand and my mind would not work together. I couldn't stand this feeling. I staggered to my bed and took the pills off the window sill. I wanted to knock myself out. I swallowed about ten largactil and ten stelazine and laid on the bed. I laid in the fetal position. I don't remember sleeping that night. I just remember lying there. In the morning, I was awake but I did not recall waking up. The feeling was still with me. Somehow, I managed to walk to the Mental Health Clinic. In a very slow voice, I said to the receptionist, "I want to see Dr. Pike." She said, "Dr. Pike's not in." "Oh my God." The next thing I remember, I was in a doctor's office. The doctor was making arrangements for me to be taken to Centracare. A woman drove me to Centracare and I was admitted. I sat all clay on a bench. A Christmas tree stood a few feet away. At around seven in the evening, I asked for a needle to help me relax. I was feeling nervous and very frustrated. I was taken into a room and given an injection in the hip. I returned to

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the bench and sat down. An hour later, I felt the same. The medication seemed to have no effect. A woman and a man were sitting on a chesterfield nearby. I picked up a large coffee table and raised it over my head. The man hollered, "My God! Don't throw that at us!" I threw the coffee table towards the front desk. I went over to the Christmas tree and started tearing it apart. A couple of attendants carne towards me. Glass ornaments littered the floor. Facing the attendants, I stepped on the bulbs, one at a time. One of the attendants said, "You've got to come with us, Cordell." I continued to stand there, stepping on the bulbs, defying them. 'We helped your brother, Paul, Cordell. We can help you. " This calmed me clown. I just stood there, my body limp. One of the attendants took me by the arm. He led me to the seclusion room. When I was inside, he locked the door. A bare mattress enclosed in a plastic covering was in the room. I laid down. The terrible feeling had left me. I was extremely thirsty. I found a spoon in the barred window sill. I put it in my mouth and sucked on it. It was cold. It helped a little. I laid back down. My heart started pounding at a feverish pace. I believed they had put something in the needle to bring on a heart attack. At first, I was very scared. Then I became calm. I didn't care if I died. I fell asleep believing it was my last night in the world. The opening of the door woke me up. An attendant came in, carrying a large glass of orange juice. He gave it to me. I drank eagerly. Nothing ever tasted so good. I was taken back to my ward. Of my own accord, I walked into the seclusion room on my ward and closed the door. I decided I never wanted to come out of seclusion. I just wanted to lay there and die. A few hours later, an attendant opened the door and came in. "We want you to come out, Cordell. "

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I did not respond. "We need this room, Cordell. Come on out with me. Everything will be alright." "I don't want to go out." "Everything will be alright, Cordell. Come on out." Reluctantly, I got up. I went out on the ward and sat on a chair. I began to adjust to life in the hospital. A friend named Fred Pascal and his friend Hazel visited on a few occasions and brought treats for me. Several days after I was admitted, I was in an office with Dr. Marcello. "What's the matter with you, Cordell?" "I believe I'm the Antichrist." "We're not going to talk religion, Cordell. What's causing your troubles?" I tried to explain to her about the cheque. With the drugs I was on and my state of mind, I was having a difficult time of it. "Would you like it if the hospital looked into it for you?" "I don't know." My paranoia got the best of me and I rejected her offer. I left the office and returned to the ward. On Christmas Eve day, Paul came to get me for Christmas and we went to his place. I had some money. I don't remember where I got it. Margie, Paul and I drank coffee. I desperately wanted to talk to Spring. I took a taxi to Priscilla's. I asked Mom, "Do you know how I could get in touch with Linda?" "Linda sold some Avon products to me. She left her phone number on the Avon book. " I found the number and called. Linda answered. "Can I talk to Spring, Linda?" 'Just a minute." Spring came to the phone. "IIi, Spring. This is Daddy." "IIi, Daddy." Spring and I talked for a few minutes. After I hung up, I

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felt both happy and sad. I took a taxi to Paul's and fell asleep on the chesterfield. On Christmas Day, Margie, Paul and I cooked a turkey for Christmas dinner. When it came time to eat, I was so sad and lonely for my daughter, I just picked at my food. At about seven in the evening, Paul drove me back to the hospital. I spent my thirty-third birthday curled up on a bed in Centracare, praying no one would bother me and ask me to get up. I was left alone. I do not remember being discharged from the hospital. Nor do I recall running away. I do remember picking up my cheque at the rooming house on Wentworth Street where I was living. For close to two years, I lived at a number of different rooming houses. I spent most of my time at Dan's and at the Villager Restaurant in Prince Edward Square Mall. Although I did consume alcohol, I drank very little. My fear of what I would do if I got drunk was greater than my desire to drink. On one occasion that I did drink, I was staying with my brother, Paul. Paul Goldie and I went into Dan's Restaurant and sat at a booth at the back. I looked up and saw a woman sitting at the front of the restaurant. A boy was sitting with her. I said, "That looks like my wife. " Paul looked. "You're crazy, Cook. That's not Frances. " "Yes it is. I'm going to talk to her. " I got up and went to their table. I said, "Hello, Frances." "Hello, Cordell." I sat clown. Dad had given some money to me. I said, "Do you want to go for a beer, Frances? I want to talk to you." "Sure." We went to the Paramount cinema and seated ourselves. The boy was Frances' son. I said to him, "Stay here. We'll be back." Frances and I went to the Marco Polo lounge. The waitress came to our table and I ordered beer for both of us. After

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she brought the beer and was out of earshot, I said, "Did anyone tell you to come here, FrancesP Anyone associated with the governmentP" "No. My boyfriend's in Fredericton. I'm in Saint John waiting for him." Frances told me she had no place to stay. I told her I would rent a room for her. After a couple of beer, we left the Marco Polo and got Frances ' son. I found a room and paid a week's rent. We picked up some beer and groceries, then returned to her room. Frances and I drank beer and reminisced. Later, Frances laid down on the bed beside her sleeping child. I reached for her. "Is there anything left between us, Frances P" "No." I withdrew and we both went to sleep. The next day, Frances demeanour let me know she was not interested in getting back together. I stayed in her room tmtil about four o'clock, then I left. A week later, we met again. Frances, Paul Goldie and I went to the Marco Polo and drank beer. That was the last time I saw her. I lived in separate worlds. My conversation was normal. My actions were normal. Anybody who saw or talked to me would think I was mentally and emotionally stable. I joked and laughed with my friends at restaurants. In my mind, I was going through terror. If I was sitting in a restaurant drinking coffee and a large man in a suit came in, I got up and left. In the rooms I lived in, I awoke at the slightest sound and got up to look out the window to see if the police were coming. I missed Linda terribly. Sitting or lying down on the bed, I continued to talk aloud in whatever room I was living in, trying to make the deal with the government. I continued to go over the questions that were on the questionnaire. One minute, I had an answer to one of the questions, then I changed it to a different

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answer. I moved into an awful rooming house on Cau marthen Street. It housed rowdy drunks. It seemed every night there was drunken hollering, arguing and fighting. The guy who lived above me urinated out his window every night. The yard stunk terribly. I learned a long time ago to mind my business. I stayed to myself and bothered no one and nobody bothered me. I had a room in the basement. Nobody came to visit me. I had very little contact with my family. One night, I came home from a restaurant and saw a rat run across the floor. I sat on my bed and thought, "That rat's probably as lonely as I am. " I placed a few small pieces of bread near the fridge. The next morning, they were gone. Each night, I left a few pieces of bread on the floor. In the morning, they were gone. In time, I laid on my bed and threw pieces of bread onto the floor. He came out, took them into his mouth and ran behind the fridge. He got fat from eating so much bread. As he crossed the floor, sometimes he stopped and looked at me, as if acknowledging me as a friend. I looked forward to coming home and feeding the little rat. One night, I threw some bread onto the floor. The rat didn't come. This went on for a few days. Then I realized he was gone.

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NINETEEN

In October, 1980, I finally decided I'd had enough. I wanted to be locked up in Centracare for the rest of my life. Even my love for Spring was not enough for me to want to go on. On the first of October, I paid two weeks rent on my room. About a week from then, I was to have my little girl one last time. I ate sparingly, saving my grocery money. I kept my smoking to a minimum. When my day to have Spring came, I had eighty-five dollars. I wanted our last day together to be a day we would both remember. At about eleven-thirty in the morning, Spring met me as usual at the Diana Restaurant. Spring and I went for a walk in Kings Square. There is a public memorial in King's Square in commemoration of a young man who drowned in Courtenay Bay while trying to save the life of a boy who was drowning. I had taken Spring to this memorial many times. She loved to go there and listen to me tell the story. We spent an hour in King's Square, at the memorial and walking around. "Are you hungry, Spring? " "I'm starving." I took Spring to the Riviera. When we were seated, a waitress came to take our order. I ordered a steak dinner for both of us. Spring said, "I want a bowl of tomato soup." 'We don't have any tomato soup, Dear," the waitress said. "If my little girl can 't have tomato soup, cancel those steak dinners." "I'll see what I can do, Sir." When she brought our dinners, she had a bowl of tomato soup for Spring. After we ate, we went across the street to the Marco Polo lounge at the Admiral Beatty Hotel and sat at a table. 'When the

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waitress came, I said, "My little girl will have a Shirley Temple and I'll have a beer." After we had our drinks, I raised my glass in a toast. When Spring raised her glass, I said, "Now take a drink of your Shirley Temple, Dear. " Spring took a drink. "Gee, Daddy. Am I drinking?" "Yes, Precious. You're having a Shirley Temple. Don't Get drunk. " When we finished our drinks, I ordered another Shirley Temple and another beer. We drank quietly. "Gee, Daddy. I think I'm drunk." "Now I told you. Now I'm going to have to carry you. " We walked out of the lounge. I could have sworn I saw Spring staggering a little. I picked her up and carried her to Dan's Restaurant. Spring had a small coke and I had a coffee. Sitting at the table I took Spring's hand. "Are you sober now, Spring? " "That was fun, Daddy. I got drunk." 'Yes, I think you did, Spring. " Later that afternoon, we went to a movie. Then I took her bowling. We then went to my room, which I was so ashamed of I told her I lived in the country and was using the room of a friend for our day together. I took Spring into my arms and began to cry. "Don't cry, Daddy." Tears were coming to Spring's eyes. "Daddy has to go away." My heart was breaking but I had to bring this hell to an end. 'We laid on the bed crying, holding each other. On the Fourteenth of October, 1980, I went to Priscilla's to say goodbye to my family. In my parent's room, I told Mom and Dad I was going into Centracare and was never coming out. My brother, Donnie, came in and I told him my plans. Donnie became very angry at me. He demanded, " When in hell is all this going to end?" His tone made me angry and I stood up. "This will end on

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or before January Filth, 1981. This is a Satanic plan and the devil works in sixes. This started on January Fifth, 1975, when I was taken to the police station in regards to that cheque. I believe it will end on or before January Fifth, 1981, and, you son-of-a-bitch, I'm going to tough it out. I'm not signing myself into Centracare. " My father had given two dollars to me. I used it to pay my bus fare home. The rent was clue the next day and I had no money. I had met a young woman named Theresa Ruther through a fellow who drank coffee with me. I went to her home and asked WI could stay with her until the end of the month. She agreed to let me stay. Theresa had a young son named Billy. At the end of October, I stayed there. Theresa and I developed a sexual relationship. It started as just lustful sex but we grew to like each other a great deal. I told Theresa what had happened in my life and my beliefs. We decided to move to Ontario and get married. Although I was living in a world of paranoia and fear, I was hopeful of living as normal a life as I could. I told Theresa to go to Patsy's in St. Catherine's, Ontario, ahead of me, that I had to stay in Saint John and see this through to the end. If I was still free and alive after January Fifth, 1981, I would journey to St. Catherine's and we would get married. After Christmas, we sold Theresa's furniture. Billy and Theresa boarded a bus to St. Catherine's. I stayed with my brother, Paul. Waiting for January Fifth to come was pure hell. I was so sure the government would make their move against me, I wrote a message on a small piece of cardboard: "What in hell took you bastards so long? I've been expecting you for a long time." I intended to pass this to the authorities when they came for me. The Fifth of January came. The day passed without incident. I had been so sure something would happen. I became confused. However, I was still sure the police were going to arrest inc or kill me and somehow make me the Antichrist.

11.8

A few clays later, I went to see Dr. Pike. I told him I was going to Ontario and needed a letter from him to give to Social Services so I could receive Disability in St. Catherine 's. Dr. Pike wrote a letter, sealed it in an envelope and gave it to me. I went to The Villager and opened the letter. It read: "Cordell is a schizophrenic, paranoid type, suffering delusions of persecution. " It went on to say I was not doing well in my progress to get better because I would not take my medication. For the next few months, I considered very seriously what Dr. Pike had to say in this letter. For the first time in a long time, I considered the possibility that I was sick. Years had passed and nothing had ever happened. The day after reading the letter, I took a bus to St. Catherines. Billy and Theresa were waiting for me at Patsy's. We moved into an apartment in Patsy's basement. Theresa and I lived there for about three months. Patsy threw a big preweclding party for us. I was still quite paranoid but the letter Dr. Pike wrote was now giving me hope. Then one night, Theresa and I were lying in bed. She said, "If I had the chance to go back to my husband, I would." I didn't say anything but then and there, I made up my mind that I would leave. Three days later, I told her I was leaving. A couple of clays after that, I hitchhiked home to Saint John. I stayed with Margie and Paul. In April, I got a Welfare cheque and moved into a room on Exmouth Street. A week later, I went to see Dr. Pike at the Mental Health Clinic. I said, "Can you really help me?" "Yes, if you're ready to cooperate." I told him I was. He considered putting me in Centracare. "Could I be treated as an outpatient?" 'We could give it a try. There 's a drug called modecate I think would do very well for you." From these words cane the start of a new life.

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PART THREE

TWENTY

Soon after my talk with Dr. Pike, I moved into the home of my friend, Fred Pascal. Fred's girlfriend, a woman named Janet, lived with him. I started taking biweekly injections of moclecate. Fred and I began spending a lot of time together, playing cards, shooting pool and drinking beer. Fred drank almost every day and I started to drink heavily again. Fred always seemed to have money so there was never any real problem getting beer. Janet was a little odd. She didn't say much. She was always trying to get Fred to get me to move out because she said I was getting Fred to drink, regardless of the fact that Fred was a heavy drinker long before I moved in. Fred did the cooking. He was a good cook. We had some nice meals. Janet wasn't much of a housekeeper. The place was usually quite messy, especially the kitchen table, where we spent most of our time. I brought Spring to Fred's once or twice. She liked Janet and Fred. While living at Fred's, Dr. Pike arranged for me to attend programs at the Mental Health Clinic. I enjoyed these programs. I liked getting together with the group and I liked the coordinators, psychologists John Palmer and Gary Cooper. I became more skilful at cooking, money management and assertiveness. At our cooking classes, we got to eat the food we cooked. VVe had a drama class where we did role-playing in sketches. In one program, we learned about current affairs and discussed our views on what was happening in the world. 'We also had a class on how to act on a date. They gave credits for doing odd jobs such as washing dishes, pots and pans, sweeping and mopping the floor and wiping ashtrays. A certain number of credits earned movie passes. Three or four months after I moved in, Margie and Paul

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came to live at Fred's. We put on big meals. Once in a while we had parties. My suspicions were starting to go away. My mind was no longer racing. I had stopped going over the questions that were on the questionnaire. Nor did I dwell on my past. I was not completely well but I was on the road to recovery. One clay, while at a session with Dr. Pike in his office, Dr. Pike asked me if I would be interested in living in a group home. Dr. Pike was the founder and chairman of a new non-profit organization called New Direction, which provides housing for mental health consumers. I wanted to stop the heavy drinking and work towards a better life for myself. In March, 1982, I moved into a group home that came to be known as Pagan Place, the street on which it was located. Pagan Place was a large house with two large furnished apartments, one upstairs and one downstairs. I moved into the apartment upstairs. Each apartment housed three male residents. On weekdays, from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon, a mental health worker provided counselling and also supervised the daily activities, making sure the cooking, cleaning and grocery shopping was done. After four o 'clock and on weekends, we were virtually on our own. We were given a phone number to call in case of an emergency. All the residents worked to keep the apartments clean and did the chores. In the apartment I lived in, I cooked the main meal of the day. The group home provided stability, after years of moving from place to place, security and companionship. I made friendships that will last a lifetime. A resident named Danny Kaye became a good friend. We often listened to music together. Meatloaf became one of my favourite musical artists. Every Wednesday night, Dr. Pike held a meeting in the livingroom downstairs. We discussed the events of our daily lives and any problems that came up between residents, such as one not doing his share of the work or one playing music too loudly. Dr. Pike enquired as to the kinds of meals we were having and made suggestions for meals. We discussed individual problems we were

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having. Dr. Pike became my confidante and I dune to like him a great deal. I felt he was sincerely interested in the wellbeing of the residents. Dr. Pike seemed to like me. At the meetings, he always asked me what: was going on in the house. One night, at a meeting, a resident was being very loud. Dr. Pike talked to him, trying to calm him down. I also talked to him. Afterwards Dr. Pike shook my hand and said, You helped a great deal." Dr. Pike asked me to do favours for him. One time, New Direction was opening a new home on the Lower West Side. Several new beds were put in the house. Dr. Pike said, "Would you spend the night there and see that the beds are not stolen, CordellP" "I'd be happy to, Dr. Pike." One day, John Palmer came to Pagan Place and told me of a film project the Mental Health Clinic was working on. He asked me to play the role of a drunken father whose daughter was contemplating suicide. I gladly accepted the part. The night it showed on television, Dr. Pike sat with the residents in the livingroom downstairs at Pagan Place and we all watched the program together. Dr. Pike complimented me on my performance. I brought Spring to Pagan Place for supper many times. I no longer spent the large portion of my monthly income on her. Sometimes we just stayed at Pagan Place and played games. I received one hundred and ten dollars per month, which I managed very well. I enjoyed my environment. I always had clean clothes to wear as we had a washer and a dryer. My mental health was improving every day and my life was starting to take on meaning. I was not suspicious all the time, although once in a while I thought about the events of the past and was fearful I had been the victim of a conspiracy and that it would all catch up with me one day. I was not suspicious of my new surroundings, nor of the people I was. getting to know. Most importantly, I was not dwelling on my past. The medication was helping me a great deal and I was able to live life in relative ease. I was making new friends. I had a few dollars

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to spend. For the first time in a long time, I was enjoying life. I spent my time going for walks, watching television, going to movies and especially, listening to music. On rare occasions, thoughts of going to hell crept into my mind. Sometimes I awoke in the morning with thoughts of hell on my mind. I had been reading some literature published by the Jehovah's Witnesses. They taught that hell does not exist. Their teachings allowed me to counter my thoughts of hell. However, for the most part, thoughts of hell did not enter my mind. My first Christmas at Pagan Place was a wonderful time. About a week before Christmas, I went to the Christmas Exchange, an organization of religious orders that gave help to needy people at Christmas time. I was given about seventy dollars in vouchers. I bought candy, apples, oranges and groceries for Christmas dinner. About four days before Christmas, we set up and decorated a nice Christmas tree. On Christmas Eve, I went to a party at New Direction's group home for women on Duke Street. On Christmas Day, I cooked a big turkey dinner for the residents and a few guests. In the evening, Danny and I drank beer and listened to Christmas songs. The next Christmas at Pagan Place, I organized a combination birthday party for Andrea, the daughter of resident Don Steen, and a Christmas party for Spring. The residents chipped in to help out and pay the costs. It turned out to be a total success. Patsy and Doug came and helped by cooking and passing out hot dogs and dishing out ice cream. As the children arrived, each of them received a number for a draw. One prize was a stocking full of all kinds of goodies. The other prize was about seventeen dollars worth of change. In the middle of the party, we held the draw. Andrea won the stocking and Spring won the money. When the party was over and some of the children and all of the adult guests had left, three or four children remained. They gathered around me as I sat in a chair talking to them. Spring climbed up on my knee. She put her arms around my neck and

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hugged me. She said, "This is my Daddy and I love him as big as die world." Later, Andrea, Spring, Don and I went for a nice walk. 'We ended up at Market Square and had a coke. I sent Spring home in a taxi. I went back to Pagan Place and reflected on the clay, feeling life was pretty good. On about the Thirtieth of December, 1983, I had Spring for the clay. We were having a pleasant day together. I was preparing supper. I was in a good mood. Spring looked at me very seriously and said, "You're big, fat and ugly. " I almost dropped the pot I was holding into the sink. I knew what she said but I hoped she was joking. "What did you say, Spring?" "You're big, fat and ugly and I don't like you." I was shocked, hurt and angered. I turned the stove off. "Get dressed, Spring. You're going home." I took Spring home in a taxi. She did not kiss me goodbye. I was very hurt. I could not understand what caused her to say that. On the taxi drive home, I was sorry for the way I had acted.

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TWENTY ONE

About the third week of January, 1984, I decided to write my autobiography. I felt I could work better if I had my own place so I started looking for a room. When I received my Social Assistance, I called the landlady of a rooming house on Carmarthen Street. "There's a room available but I want a reference." "Call Dr. Pike at the Mental Health Clinic." "Call me back at seven o'clock this evening." At about six-fifteen pm, I called Linda to arrange for Spring to see me. "I don't want you taking Spring out anymore, Cordell." "Why?" "Because you're always telling her you're going away." In the past, when I was sick, believing I would be locked up or murdered, quite often I told Spring I was going away. Since I moved into Pagan Place and had become more stable, I had stopped saying this to Spring. I didn't press the issue with Linda. I knew I would get nowhere. Past experience had shown that she would simply hang up. Linda did not want Spring seeing me but I had no idea as to what the reason could be. I believed things would get better in my life and I would see Spring on a regula r basis again so I decided to let things be for the time being and work towards improving my life. At seven o'clock, I went to the rooming house. The landlady said, "I called Dr. Pike. He gave you a good reference." I liked the room she showed me and the quietness of the place so I paid a month's rent and moved in that evening. The next day, I paid thirty dollars for a used typewriter at a hawk shop. Later that day, I sat clown and tried to write but I did not have the punctuation and spelling skills to perform the task. I

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decided to find somebody who had these skills to help write my story. There were two other men living in that section of the rooming house. We shared the bathroom and kitchen facilities. One man was seldom there. The other room was rented by a nineteen year old man who became like a son to me. His name is Paul Hayward. He is the co-author of this book. Almost from the beginning, Paul and I have been the best of friends. However, our relationship did not start out very well. The first day I saw him, I said to myself, "Uh-oh. This guy's going to cause problems for me." I figured he would be loud and rowdy like many young people living in rooming houses. Paul and his friends drank beer in his room and sometimes in the kitchen. They weren 't violent nor too loud but I was afraid that eventually there would be trouble so I avoided Paul as much as I could. I stayed in my room and listened to music on a stereo I owned or watched television on my twelve inch black and white t.v.. Sometimes I sat dunking or reflected on my life. At times, Danny Kaye visited, as did two friends named Doug Doiron and Mike Murphy. Doug lived in the downstairs apartment at Pagan Place. Mike and I met at a program at the Mental Health Clinic. One day, a few of Paul's friends and he were drinking beer in the kitchen. I used the washroom and was returning to my room. Paul said, "We're not making too much noise are we, SirP" The "Sir" caught my attention. It had been years since anyone had called me "Sir". "No," I said, "you're not making too much noise. " I went into my room and reconsidered my initial impression of this young man. I didn't think he was such a bad guy after all. I felt that if I talked to Paul about his drinking and partying that he would listen. One day, Paul and I were sitting at the kitchen table talking. I said, "Robert Frost wrote, "I followed the road less travelled and that made all the difference." "Friends are fine but I don't see you doing anything to

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improve your life." Paul told me he wanted to become a rock star. I encouraged his aspirations. We began spending a lot of time together, drinking beer and sharing meals. We sat and talked, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee, getting to know one another. Sometimes we talked all night and before we knew it, the sun was shining. Paul told me his mother died when he was five years old. His father was too ill to take care of him so the had been raised in institutions, including the New Brunswick Protestant Orphanage Home and the 'Wiggins Boys Home. At the age of seventeen, after graduating from Saint John High School, he moved into the home of the family of a friend in West Saint John, where he lived for a year-and-a-half. From there he moved into his room on Carmarthen Street. He was drawing Unemployment Insurance benefits. Over a course of time, I told Paul my story. He told me he found it fascinating and extraordinary. I said, "Would you like to work together to write my autobiography? " Paul said, "Sure." I recorded the story on a cassette tape while Paul sat and listened. When the recording was completed, Paul started writing from the tape. While we worked on my autobiography, I cache up with the idea of st<u-ting a poster business. Over the years, I had written a number of poems with religious themes. My idea was to pay a calligraphist to write each poem on a piece of Bristol board, have copies made by a printer and sell the posters door-to-door. Paul thought this was a good plan. Paul and I discussed it with Doug Doiron and Danny Kaye and asked if they would be interested in becoming equal partners. They both thought it would be a profitable venture and agreed to go into business with us. We chose a poem I wrote called, "The Destiny Tree", to become our first poster. It read: In the forest stood a tree

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Tall, straight and broad This tree had a destiny It was to bear the Son of' God The Hand of God made it His Spirit made it grow Yes this tree had a Destiny To Calvary one day it would go Then one day men took it And from it made a cross Upon which Jesus Christ had died For a world that was lost Yes this tree had a destiny And that destiny was fulfilled One day two thousand years ago On Calvary's sad hill Doug, Danny, Paul and I each put in seventy-five dollars to cover costs. Paul went to a calligraphist and placed our order. When it was finished, we paid the calligraphist fifty dollars and took the original to a printing company and paid one-hundred-andthirteen dollars for a thousand copies. Paul went to City Hall and paid forty dollars for a peddlers License. We set a price of two dollars per poster and later increased it to three dollars. The sellers would receive half of what they made. Doug, Danny, Paul and I would share the other half of the profits. We called our small business Poster Poems. The first day, about seven people went out to sell posters, including Doug, Danny, Mike Murphy, Paul and myself. I sold two posters: one to a woman who lived at New Direction's group home for women and one to Priscilla. Doug, Danny nor I could bring ourselves to sell posters door-to-door. Paul sold the most posters that clay. Doug and Danny decided they wanted out of the business so Paul and I gave them back their seventy-five dollars. Eventually, several of my nieces and nephews sold posters. My sister-in-law, Margie, Mike Murphy and Paul became the main sellers.

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Paul and I decided to combine our financial resources and moved into an apartment in the building where Priscilla, Mom and Dad lived on Douglas Avenue. Mike moved in as a boarder. Paul and I continued to work on the manuscript. Paul began a relationship with Priscilla's daughter, Brenda. Brenda did not like alcohol and stopped seeing Paul after a couple of months. One clay, we held a contest for our sellers: the one who sold the most posters got to keep all the money she or he made. There were about ten sellers in the contest. We made a lot of money that day. In January, 1985, the furnace broke down. The electric heaters the landlord provided were not enough to heat the place. We wore heavy coats inside the apartment to keep warm or wrapped ourselves in blankets. When Paul worked on the manuscript, he wore winter gloves, his feet on an electric heater. Two weeks after the furnace broke down, the three of us moved into an apartment on Elliott Row. Paul and I finished my autobiography in March. I wanted to know what a social worker would have to say about my story. We took the manuscript to the Department of Social Services and spoke to a female social worker. I said, 'Would you read the manuscript and tell us what you think of the it?" "Yes, I'll read it," she said. "Call me to set an appointment and IT give you my comments." Two weeks later, we were in her office. She said, "I read your manuscript. I don 't know what to think of it. It's very interesting. I don't know if it's publishable. " We took the manuscript and left her office. Outside the Provincial Building, we sat clown on a low stone wall, silent and dejected. After a few minutes, I said, "Fuck her. Let's go. " -We went home and I threw the manuscript into the garbage can. Paul took it out and said, "Hold on. We can put in dialogue and write it as a novel." "Okay. Let's try it." Paul and I began working on the new manuscript.

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In the mean time, Paul wrote a couple of songs, including one called, "Heaven Shines A Little Brighter", in comemmoration of his sister, who was killed in a car accident. It's one of the best songs I've ever heard. On a Saturday night in the late Spring, Margie and Paul came to see me. Paul was very excited. "Guess who called inc?' "Who?" "Guess." "I can't guess, Man. Who called you? " "Kevin. " "Kevin who?" "Your son, Kevin." I was completely taken aback. "Are you sure it was Kevin, Paul? " "Yes, it was Kevin. He wants to get in touch with you. He gave me a number to call." "You call him when you go home, Paul. Tell him to meet me at Donnie's at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Tell him to take a taxi and I'll pay the fare." I was not very proud of the apartment Paul and I lived in. Donnie owned his house and he had a nice home. After Margie and Paul left, I sat for a few hours with Paul, telling him stories about Kevin. The next day, Paul Hayward and I went to Donnie's. Donnie was out but Betty was home. Paul and I sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. At two o'clock, Paul and I went outside. After a few minutes, a taxi pulled up. Out stepped a handsome young man. I knew him instantly. Kevin and I stood looking at each other. "Come here, Son." Kevin stepped forward and I gave him a big hug. "It's been a long time, Son." "Yes, it has, Dad." We went into the house and sat at the dining room table talking for a few minutes.

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"Are you hungry, Kevin P" "A little." I asked Betty to call a taxi. Kevin, Paul and I went to the Diana Restaurant. As we walked from the taxi to the Diana, Kevin looked at the spot where we had stood holding our signs at the Bank of Nova Scotia on King Street North. "Did I used to picketP" "Yes, Son. You used to picket. Some clay I'll tell you all about it." In the Dianna, Kevin and I ordered chicken-in-a-basket and Paul ordered a hamburger platter. For drinks, Kevin had a coke, Paul had a pina colada and I had a beer. Kevin told me he lived with his adopted parents in West Saint John. He told me he couldn't stay very long as he had to return home. After our meal, we talked for a few minutes. I said, "Reach me through Donnie." I did not give him my address as I did not want him to see my humble home. Kevin went home in a taxi. After a while, Paul and I walked to the Loyalist Burial Ground and sat on a bench, smoking cigarettes. I started to cry. I was very happy to have seen my son. In June, Paul got a job as a steward at the Hilton Hotel. I continued to receive Social Assistance. With the money we received from Mike's board and the money from Margie 's and Mike's poster selling, we drank beer two or three times a week and I cooked really good meals. In October, we moved into a boarding house on Mecklenburg Street. Although we were still working on the manuscript, we wrote to several publishing companies outlining the story. They all replied in a like manner, stating in their letters that they did not accept unsolicited material. In March, 1986, Paul and I moved to Fredericton to sell posters. Paul stayed with his brother, John. I moved into a room in a small rooming house. In May, we returned to Saint John and moved back into the boarding house on Mecklenburg Street. I received a phone call

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from a woman at the Mental Health Clinic. "The Canadian Mental Health Association is having a seminar, Cordell. We'd like you to speak on what it is like to be a mentally ill person in today's society. Would you be interested in speaking?" "Indeed I would." Paul helped me to prepa re a presentation. At the seminar, students, social workers, mental health workers and doctors were in attendance. The main speaker was the head of the C.M.H.A. in Canada, Dr. John Trainer. Dr. Trainer, myself and a psychiatrist spoke in turn. A reporter asked me, "What do you feel is the worst part of having a mental illness?" "The loneliness." At the end of my presentation, I put both of my hands on the podium and leaned towards the audience. I said, "At one time, I believed all you people were my enemies. Now I realize you're my friends." The audience applauded. Although it seemed impossible for me at the time, I made up my mind that this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, to do public speaking and be the voice of the mentally ill. The next day, an article on the seminar appeared in the Telegraph Journal, the local newspaper. The headline read: "Loneliness Worst Of All. " After a couple of months, Paul and I moved into a large room in a rooming house on Princess Street. We continued our work on the manuscript. I decided to give a lecture on my own on what it is like to be mentally ill in today's society. Paul and I rented the Assumption Centre, a hall in the Lower West Side. We rented a p.a. system and advertised in the newspaper and on the radio. -Ve provided tea, coffee and cookies. A few of Patsy's children came and Patsy herself, as did my son, Kevin. That same night, a function was held at Centracare for mental health workers. Very few people came to my lecture. I was disappointed and felt very discouraged.

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Afterwards, Kevin came to my room and we talked. After this, he became a regular part of my life. A few clays after the lecture, I discussed my disappointment with Dr. Pike. I said, "I Bailed. " "No, Cordell. You just got started." Dr. Pike's words encouraged me. I decided to hold off on lecturing until a future time. A couple of months later, Paul and I moved into a room in a another rooming house on Princess Street. Kevin often came to visit me. However, I did not really have a fatherly feeling for him. I discussed this with Dr. Pike. He told me not to worry about it, that it was normal under the circumstances. For years, my mental state had been on an even keel. It would not be so for much longer.

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TWENTY TWO

I started to get suspicious of Dr. Pike. I thought he was going to have me put in Centracare. I stopped going to the Mental Health Clinic for my injection of modecate. I wrote Dr. Pike a letter stating I didn't feel I needed medication. In reality, I was too afraid to see him. Then one day, Mike Murphy came to visit. He gave a wilted flower to me. When I asked him why he gave it to me, he laughed and said, "I don't know." I thought the devil put it into his mind to give the wilted flower to me to let me know the government was going to kill me. After this, I started thinking about the events of the past. I believed the conspiracy was starting again. I also returned to the belief that I was a special agent of God. It came into my mind that Paul was a victim of the conspiracy and that I was to protect him at all costs. About two weeks into this psychotic episode, I stayed awake for nine days receiving revelations. Thousands of thoughts and visions came into my mind. I saw myself visiting Linda in a mental institution. Then Linda turned into Paul. I saw Paul wearing a hospital shirt in a mental institution. I saw Paul and myself in a mental institution. I also saw myself in a hospital being held down while a doctor gave me an injection. I believed they were trying to kill me. After staying awake nine days, I bought twenty-four beer and drank them all. I considered getting more but sleepiness overcame me and I fell asleep. One Saturday, Paul went to Fredericton to visit his family. After he left, an awful fear crept over me. I was afraid the police would come for me, drive me over to the Reversing Falls Bridge

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and throw me off. As the day wore on, the fear grew worse. I felt so vulnerable in my room. I stacked furniture up against the door but I did not feel safe. By one o'clock in the morning, I could stay in my room no longer. I went upstairs and knocked on the door of a woman named Lorraine who'd had a relationship with Paul. When she answered, I said, "Would you call my brother, Donnie, Lorraine, and tell him I have pains in my chest? Tell hin I want him to take me to the hospital." The fact of the matter was I just had to get out of that room. Donnie picked inc up and drove me to St. Joseph's Hospital. I walked in and told the nursing staff I had chest pains. Immediately, they put me on a stretcher and poked a large needle into each of my arms and legs. The needles were hooked up to an intravenous. The nurses returned to their station and I was alone. It cane into my mind that they were trying to poison me. Instantly, I was off the stretcher, hauling the needles out of inc. Blood spurted all over. I hurried out of the hospital without my shirt. The nursing staff tried to stop me. I took a taxi to Donnie's. Donnie paid the taxi fare. I told Donnie what I had done. He looked at me, shaking his head. After we had coffee, Donnie gave me some money and I took a taxi home. I stayed awake the rest of the night, still full of fear that the police were going to come for me. At about eight thirty, I went upstairs and asked a friend named Ron Bernard to drive me to Priscilla's. I got Priscilla to call Paul in Fredericton. She told him of the shape I was in. Paul told her he would come. After a while, Priscilla's son, Robert, went to the bus station with me. Soon, Paul returned to Saint John. His presence alleviated the fea r. One clay, Kevin cane and gave a can of tomatoes to inc. He said, "The police just dropped me off. They picked me up and asked me some questions." I was extremely paranoid, of the police and of Kevin. I

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said, "What did they ask?" "They asked, "What's your name?"; 'What were you doing a little while ago?"; "Where are you going?" "I told them I was coming here to see you and they gave me a drive." My paranoia compelled me to believe Kevin was in the conspiracy witlh the police. I believed the police gave him poisoned tomatoes to give to me. One clay, I was watching the news and a story came on about a man who died as a result of a bee sting after swallowing a bee. I became convinced the government was going to kill me this way. I put a piece of masking tape over my mouth and wrote a note to Paul to help me look for a bee. Paul looked at me incredulously. He knew I was sick and that I would get no peace unless we searched the room to ensure that there was no bee so he pretended to look for one. We searched high and low, in the cupboards and in the dresser drawers. We even pulled my bed out from the wall. Finally, I concluded that there was no bee. A couple of days later, I decided to talk to the head of the Canadian Mental Health Association in Fredericton. I met him one time and I trusted him. I wanted to tell him what I believed was happening to me. In the morning, I bought a bus ticket to Fredericton and boarded the bus. The driver came around to take the tickets. I decided not to go. I got off the bus, cashed the ticket and went home. Paul was laying clown. "I decided not to go to Fredericton." 'What did you want to go to Fredericton for, Cordell?" "Oh, I just wanted to talk to the head of the C.M.H.A." "What did you want to talk to him about?" "Things. Listen, Paul. -Ve're going to rent some movies." Paul went to the video shop. The moment he was gone, I got scared he was going to call Dr. Pike. I hurried to the store up the street to see if Paul was using the pay phone. He wasn't. Relieved, I went home. Five minutes later, I ran back. When Paul

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came home, I asked him if he'd called Dr. Pike. "No, Cordell. I didn't call Dr. Pike." For the rest of the day, we watched movies. A few clays later, I was so paranoid and scared I didn't know what to do. The fact that Dr. Pike was able to help me in the past led me to call him. "I'm sick, Dr. Pike. I need my medication but I have a sore knee and can't walk to the Mental Health Clinic." A few hours later, Dr. Pike came and gave me an injection of moclecate. After a couple of clays, the paranoia went away. When the psychotic episode ended, Paul and I resumed our work on the manuscript. Paul was now working at the Saint John Trade And Convention Centre. When we finished writing the story, Paul wrote to Dr. John Trainer, whose office was in Toronto, and asked him if he would read the manuscript. We wanted to know if the C.M.H.A. would publish the story. Dr. Trainer responded with a letter requesting us to send it to him. In his letter, Dr. Trainer told Paul I had given one of the best lectures he had ever heard. We sent the manuscript to him. A few weeks later, Dr. Trainer wrote and said there was no chance of getting it published through the C.M.H.A. but he said he would send it to a friend at a publishing company. In July, 1988, Paul decided to move to Windsor, Ontario. He felt he could find a better paying job there and work towards his music career. His brother, Murray, was living in Windsor and was willing to give him a place to stay. Paul said, "Let me know if the publishing company is interested in publishing the story." On the Thirty-first of July, Paul said goodbye. He bought a train ticket to Windsor and left that day. I continued to live on Princess Street. Kevin came to live with me. The publishing company sent the manuscript to me. Enclosed was a letter stating that it was a very interesting story but was not written in a publishable manner. I felt that if Paul read this letter it might give him the incentive to re-write the story. I decided to go to Windsor. I called Paul and told him I would be up to see

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him. In September, Kevin and I took a bus and arrived in Windsor at about seven-thirty in the evening. Murray put us up for the night. The next clay, Kevin and I went to stay at the Salvation Army. I showed the letter from the publishing company to Paul and asked him if he wanted to re-write the manuscript. He was adamant that he did not. After about a month, I became depressed. Thoughts of suicide began to play on my mind. One morning, while having breakfast at the Salvation Army, I thought the food was poisoned. I got depressed over the thought that I would have to go through a mental hell again. That night, I took my bottle of high blood pressure pills and started popping them into my mouth, one after another. I stopped myself. I decided to talk to a physician whom I met at the Mental Health Clinic when I had gotten my injection of modecate. His name was Dr. Shanova. I called him and told him about my depression and what I had done with the pills. Dr. Shanova admitted me into the Hotel Dieu Hospital. I was in-hospital about eighteen days. Kevin made some friends and lost contact with me. He had spoken of going to Toronto. I assumed that's where he went. Paul came to see me almost every day. He brought pop, cigarettes and other treats for me. After a few days in-hospital, I began to feel better. Upon my release, I moved into the Oulette Avenue Rest Home. It was an appalling place. The food was lousy. There were many mentally ill people who were very sick. The staff members were not qualified mental health workers. I went to the C.M.H.A. and applied for residency at one of the group homes owned and operated by the C.M.H.A.. I reported the intolerable state of the Oulette Avenue Rest Home. A few months later, the woman who owned it went out of business. After a few interviews, I was accepted by the C.M.H.A. for residency. I moved into a home on Dougall Street. It was run much like Pagan Place, except women and men lived there. It was

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a nice home with good quality furnishings and furniture. I met some very good people. A resident named David St. John became a good friend. I enjoyed living in this group home. Paul visited every two or three nights and we played cards or listened to music and drank beer. However, after a few months, I got homesick and returned to Saint John on a bus. Upon my arrival, I rented a room in the third rooming house I lived in on Princess Street in the past few years. It was a large brick building. I lived on the third floor. On about the fourth night, I butted out my last cigarette of the night and pulled the blanket over my shoulders. Suddenly, the fire alarm went off Springing from the bed, I pulled on my sweater and pants and stepped into my shoes. I ran out into the hallway and was met by thick smoke. I found my way to the stairs and descended them rapidly. At the bottom of the stairs, an elderly man was standing there. He said, "What do I do? What do I do?" I said, "You get the flick out." We ran out the front door, onto the street. I looked up at the building and saw flames reflecting on the windows of the second storey. Fortunately, my wallet was in my pocket, containing what little money I had. I went to the store on the corner of Princess and Sydney and bought a pack of cigarettes, then returned to the rooming house. Firemen were everywhere. People were standing on the street, some half naked. One man was standing in his underwear. Through the windows, I saw that the interior of the building was in total darkness. Half the windows were smashed out. I knew there was no hope of going back to live at that place so I walked to the home of my friend, Don Steen, who lived in the room Paul had lived in before moving to Ontario. I told Don what had happened. He let me sleep at his place that night. The next morning, I called Dr. Pike and told him what happened. I told him I had no clothing, no money and no home. Dr. Pike arranged for me to move into the group home on Maple

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Row in West Saint John where I had spent the night seeing that the beds were safe. New Direction bought several hundred dollars worth of new clothing for me. 'While living in this group home, Mike Murphy told me the fire at the rooming house had been set by a man who was mentally ill. When the police had him in custody, he told them he did it for Jesus. He was sent to Centracare and later went to jail. Ever since Paul told me he was not interested in rewriting the story, I had felt a terrible sense of nonpurpose. I had been out of the work force for such a long time I had no desire to work at a job. I was used to being supported by society. After about five months, Paul called me and invited me to come to Windsor. Murray had moved out and Paul had taken over the apartment. With no plans, I decided to go to Ontario. Mike Murphy and I took a train to Windsor. I called Paul at the train station in 'Windsor and he met us within a few minutes, as he lived nearby. Mike and I moved into Paul's apartment. Paul had a job as a fork-lift operator/machine operator at a printing company. Mike and I went on Social Assistance. At around this time, Paul met a young woman named Louise Thomas. She had a pleasant personality and good looks. Secretly, I was a little in love with Louise. It was also around this time that I went off my medication. It was so hot and humid, I would not go outside. I did not go to the hospital for my injections of modecate. I felt very well mentally. I convinced myself that I did not need medication. The highly uncomfortable weather lasted a long time. Mike stayed for about a month and then went to Hamilton to see his mother. Louise and Paul seemed to be getting rather serious in their relationship, as there was talk of them moving in together. After living in 'Windsor a few months, I decided to return to Saint John. The night before I was to leave, Louise treated Paul and me to dinner at the Swiss Chalet. The next morning, Paul came to the train station with me

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and I went home.

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TWENTY THREE

In Saint John, I moved back to Maple Row. I wrote a letter to Dr. Pike, telling him I was not taking medication any more, that I felt I was well enough that I did not need it. This should have been an indication to myself that I was taking sick. Normally, I would go to see Dr. Pike. Soon after this, I started to feel nervous and a bit suspicious. In November, 1989, Dr. Pike and I, as well as a few mentally ill people, were working on developing a friendship club for people who had a mental illness. I came up with a name for the club: S.H.A.R.E. - Self Help: A Rewarding Experience. One night in late November, after a meeting, Dr. Pike and I were in his car. He was about to drive me home. I said, "I'm starting to feel a little nervous, Dr. Pike. I think I need my medication." Dr. Pike looked at me and said, "Don't panic, Cordell." I said no more about it. Dr. Pike drove me home. I did not go back on medication. By December, I was feeling pretty screwed up. I was not hearing voices, nor was I receiving revelations. However, I was having paranoid thoughts. I had gone too long without medication to realize I was taking sick. My outward manner suggested I was ah-ight. I put on a Christmas dinner for the residents at Maple Row. I was doing some work, painting and crackfilling, for New Direction. However, I was becoming quite paranoid. I was trying to decide whether to take a room in a rooming house or go to Windsor to see Paul. I called a landlord I knew and asked him if he had a room I could move into. Although there was about a week left in the month of December, he told me I could move into

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one of his rooms and begin paying rent in January. Before moving, the mental health worker at Maple Row, Reg Thomas, took me out for a coffee. At the Second Cup at Market Square, I saw a detective I knew and he said, "Hello, Cordell." I said, "Hello, Jim. " Reg and I went for a walk in Market Square and I saw Jim again. He said, "Hello." I thought he was following me. That day, I got my Social Assistance. I also received my pay from New Direction. I moved into the rooming house and bought twenty-four beer. I sat drinking for a while, thinking strange thoughts. I believed the conspiracy was still going on. I believed I was a special agent of God again. Mike came over and we drank into the evening. When he left, I went to sleep. The next morning, I called Paul and told him I was coming to Windsor. Later that day, I boarded a bus to Ontario. The trip was a nightmare. I believed people were sent by the government to manipulate me. I believed I was being followed and watched by the police. On the bus, I believed I was being taken to Detroit, where something bad would happen to me. A young woman was sitting across from me. I said, "Are you sure we're going to Windsor?" "Yes." "Are you sure we're not going to Detroit?" "I'm sure." I kept repeating these questions to her. Each time she told me we were going to Windsor, I didn't believe her. I could tell I was making her very nervous but I was almost in a state of panic. The only one I trusted was Paul and I was desperate to see him. When we finally arrived in Windsor, I called Paul, praying he wouldn't be out. "Cordell, 01' Buddy," he exclaimed. "Come on over. Take a taxi. I've got some cold beer waiting for you." That evening, while drinking beer with Paul, I said, "I'm going to write a book and call it, "Five Billion Enemies - One Friend. "

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By now, it was too late to think of doctors and hospitals. I had a dreadful fear of both. The delusions were back in full force. I was very afraid of Social Services but I was able to stifle my fear and call them. Before the social worker arrived, I asked Paul to stay with us during the interview. A few minutes into the interview, the woman asked Paul, "Could Cordell and I be alone?" Paul complied. My paranoia and fear grew. I did not apply for Disability, nor did I disclose my history of mental illness, as I was afraid I would be put in die hospital. I applied for General Welfare, which meant I had to look for work. She gave me a form and told me I was to look for work and write the names, addresses and phone numbers of each of the work places on the form. I was in no shape to look for work so I sat clown with the phone book and used some of the names, addresses and phone numbers of listed businesses. I sent the form to Social Services in the mail. Paul was out of work so things were pretty bad financially. Louise and Paul had broken up. Louise told Paul she wanted to ty to gain custody of her two children from her ex-husband and raise them with Paul. Paul wanted no part of this. He felt the children should be with their father. I missed Louise but it was best this way. In my state of paranoia, I would not have trusted her. Mike came to stay for a while but he only stayed about two weeks. I was very distant toward him. I did not trust him. I was glad to see him leave. When I am sick, I try to hide the fact. This was the case with Mike, as it was with everyone except Paul. Paul knew I was sick and tried to get me to seek psychiatric help but I was too far gone to accept his advice. I stopped him from calling doctors and hospitals. He wasn't sure what to do. I was too afi'aicd to stay on Social Assistance so I got a job in telemarketing. It lasted only a few days as I couldn't handle the paranoia I suffered travelling to and from work on the bus. I was also paranoid of the people I spoke to on the phone. Everything made me fearful. I believed the people coming to the apartment were sent by the government. At times, a woman came to use the phone. Her son almost always came with her. I

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believed she was a government agent. Paul's brother, David, came to stay for a while. This man terrified me. I thought he was constantly trying to manipulate me. One Saturday, Paul picked up some work with a cabinet maker. David sat in the big chair in the livingroom, flicking channels with the converter. Each channel seemed to relate to what I was thinking. I thought he was trying to manipulate me. I hid my illness from David. Then one night, I could take no more. I grabbed hold of him. I said, "You're in the conspiracy, too." David got scared but he didn't say anything. Somehow, Paul calmed me clown. David and he went out for a walk. I thought they were going to call the police and have me put in the hospital. I desperately searched the apartment for something poison to drink rather than be taken to the hospital by the police. I feared I would be murdered there anyway. I would rather have taken my own life. I found a bottle of Javex and set it on the diningroom table and sat down at the table. David and Paul carne home. Paul tried to get me to go to the hospital but I refused. David went back out and Paul went to bed. I sat up drinking coffee. Eventually, I laid down on the chesterfield and went to sleep. David did not return that night. A few days later, he received a Social Assistance cheque and got his own place. He bought a grocery order for us. Paul found no steady employment. He had applied for Unemployment Insurance benefits but his claim was yet in the midst of being processed. The rent was in arrears and things looked pretty bleak for us in Windsor so Paul and I decided to go to Toronto to look for work. On about the Fifth of April, 1990, the day before we were to leave, Paul sold some of his furniture to a second hand dealer. That evening, Paul smoked marijuana and we drank beer. Drinking was the only way I could get any kind of peace of mind. I was able to push thoughts of a conspiracy to the back of my mind and enjoy myself. The next day, Paul called a taxi. Paul had some marijuana

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he intended to take with us. I believed the police would stop the bus we would take to Toronto and find it on him. I tried to get him to flush it down the toilet. He refused. The taxi driver honked his horn. Paul said, "Come on, Cordell." "Flush it." "I'm not flushing it clown the toilet." The driver honked more vehemently. I sat down and said, "I'm not going unless you flush it clown the toilet." Reluctantly, Paul did. We arrived at the bus station in Toronto late in the afternoon. My psychotic mind was in a turmoil. I believed everyone but Paul was against me. Paul and I walked through the streets of downtown Toronto. I was full of fear. At times, Paul crossed the street against the light and I got upset, believing the police would arrest him and me both, because I was with him, and lock us up or murder us. We didn't know where to go. We had about twelve dollars. Paul called the Salvation Army and was advised to go to Seaton House, the largest hostel in the city. Paul wrote down the directions. We took a streetcar to Dundas and Jarvis. Walking up George Street, Seaton House looming before us, I felt as if I was walking into prison. I didn't know what to expect. I was full of dread and anxiety. I was sure I was going to suffer a bad time in this place. As we descended the stairs, the stench of dirty feet and unclean bodies assailed our nostrils. The place was filled with desperate men. Some were obviously very mentally ill. Some were alcoholics. Others were drug addicts. We signed in at the front desk and were given a pink form to fill out. There were questions on the form asking where I had been living the past few years, if and where I worked or had been working and if I was on Social Assistance. I was extremely paranoid of answering the questions. Fearfully, I filled out the form and handed it to the man at the desk. Paul filled out his form and handed it to the man. We were each given a meal ticket and assigned beds. The man at the desk said,

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"Put your luggage in the baggage check, then go to the cafeteria for supper. " As our trays were being filled, one of the servers smiled at me. The man was merely being friendly but in my mind, die government set it up for him to smile at me to let me know they knew we were there. All of the beds were bunk beds. I couldn't understand why they gave a top bunk to me, as I weighed over three hundred pounds and as slight as he was, they gave Paul a lower bunk. I was disconcerted over this. I tried to get up on the top bunk but I was unable. Without letting the staff know, Paul and I switched beds. The thought that the staff would find out and make trouble for us caused more distress. I did not get a good sleep that night. Although Seaton House had a reputation as a bad place and was known for outbreaks of violence, this was not what disturbed me. Physically, I could handle myself'. What scared me was my belief that these people were manipulating me. It was the weekend when we got to Seaton House so we had to wait a day or two before we could apply for Emergency Social Assistance cheques. On Monday morning, we went to the Intake Office. A number of men were in lines to see social workers. 'When it was my turn at the window, I said to the man, "I'd like to apply for an Emergency cheque. " "Show some identification, please." I handed him my ID and he said, "Have a seat." As I sat there on a bench, I believed they were watching my every move, especially a small thin man. I believed they were looking for an excuse to put me out on the street so the government could have me killed inconspicuously by having me beaten, knifed or shot to death by government agents dressed to look like violent criminals. My fear of being put out on the street was so staunch I would not smoke in tie Intake Office, as it was not a designated smoking area. Less than an hour after being told to have a seat, I was

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called by a social worker. We went into a small office. After a short interview he said, "You'll have to wait six to ten clays before receiving a cheque. You'll have to look for work." He gave me a form on which I was to write the names, addresses and telephone numbers of workplaces. The woman who interviewed Paul told him he was not eligible for Social Assistance because of his Unemployment Insurance claim. Paul told her his claim was in the midst of being processed, that he had to wait until it came through but this did not alter her decision. Paul went to the Canada Employment Centre on Front Street and transferred his claim to Toronto. He arranged for his cheques to be sent to the general delivery at the post office at the Esplanade. Paul and I wanted to work in construction. At a construction site on Yonge Street, near the Eaton Centre, I went over to a man wearing a construction helmet and carrying a clipboard. "How's the construction business in Toronto?" "Things are pretty good." "Could you use a couple of labourers?" "Yes. Are you in the union?" "No. We just got into Toronto." "I'm sorry. If you were in the union I could have used you." When I found out we would be unable to work in the construction field in Toronto, I decided to leave the city when I received my cheque. Early one morning, Paul and I went to a temporary labour agency and we were sent to work at a paper recycling plant. The agency paid our taxi fares both ways. We finished work in the afternoon and returned to the agency. Paul and I each received thirty dollars cash. Paul bought some hashish for himself and we bought cigarettes and tobacco. We kept the rest for spending money. We went back to the agency the next morning but no work was available. At Seaton House, we met a large middle-aged man. He

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hollered at people in restaurants and on the street. At chance meetings on the street, he wanted to chum with us. He wanted to go for coffees or just hang out with us. Paul and I were friendly towards him. However, I believed he was putting on an act. I believed he was really a detective put in my life by the government as part of their plan to make me the Antichrist. When I am sick, I could shake a man 's hand, look him straight in the eye and call him my friend. In reality, I would believe he was my worst enemy. This was the way it was with this man and for many other people I have known. I tried hard to avoid the man but it seemed everywhere I went, he was there. It did not enter my mind that he was simply a lonely man, down on his luck. I believed I was to protect Paul at all costs. One day, Paul got into a jam with three guys. I stepped in and made my presence known. Due to my size, they did not want to take on both Paul and me. Things were smoothed over and they walked away. As in Windsor, I wrote down names, addresses and telephone numbers of businesses listed in the phone book on the form I was given by the social worker. After about a week at Seaton House, I went to the intake office and asked about my cheque. "Pick it up in two days at ten o'clock in the morning at the Social Services office on Adelaide Street." At the appointed time, Paul and I went to the Social Services office on Adelaide Street and I picked up my cheque. I cashed it at the Cash Stop. Paul and I went to a restaurant and we each had a hamburger and a coke. Then we went to the Eaton Center and walked around. We went to Seaton House for supper. After we ate, we went to the smoking room. We had a couple of cigarettes. Then Paul told me a friend he made at Seaton House named Pete was going to smoke some hashish with him in a park. Pete had received an Emergency Cheque the same day. I stayed at Seaton House, worrying about Paul, fearful that he would get arrested or hurt. At two o'clock in the morning, Paul had still not returned. I went to bed. I awoke to the sound of a voice on the p.a. system. "Rise

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and shine, gentlemen. It's six-thirty. Time for second and last breakfast. Up and at it." I went to the dormitory where Paul's bed was. He lay there sleeping. I was relieved and happy to see him. I woke him up. Paul washed up and we went down to the cafeteria for breakfast. He told me Pete and he had gone to a tavern called Fillmore's where they shot pool, drank beer and watched the ladies strip. After breakfast, we got our luggage from the baggage check and went to the bus station. I wanted to get out of Toronto. I bought two tickets to London. Our bus pulled out of the station shortly after ten o'clock. I was never so glad to leave a city. I had been so afraid of being locked up in die mental hospital in Toronto because I had seen some rough characters on the streets who were members of the mentally ill populace. When we got off the bus in London, we found a hotel and rented a double room. I paid a week's rent. Paul wanted to buy some marijuana. I didn't want him going around the city but I couldn't stop him. I told him to meet me in the tavern downstairs. I sat alone drinking beer, waiting for Paul. I was very concerned about him so I drank a lot of beer. When Paul carne back, I was very relieved. He said, "I'm going upstairs to smoke up." "Okay, Paul. I'm going to have something to eat. I'll see you in a little while." I went to a restaurant next door and had a pepper steak and four beer. After I finished, I went up to the hotel room. I was very tired. I sat and smoked a few cigarettes with Paul, then went to sleep. I awoke in the morning to discover most of the money had been spent. I only had a few dollars. We bought a pack of cigarettes at the drug store, then went to a restaurant for coffee. We returned to the hotel room with no money in our pockets. For the next few days, I caught up on my sleep. After a week and a half in a bunk bed in a room full of strangers, it was nice to sleep in a regular bed. The only time I dared to venture from the hotel room was to go out and pick butts up off the street, which I broke apart and rolled into cigarettes with rolling papers. Our diet

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consisted of sandwiches Paul brought to our room, which he got from a hostel. I did not want Paul to go to Social Services for assistance, fearing he would be arrested. To avoid upsetting me, he did not go. Throughout the week, Paul went for walks. He returned from a walk one night and told me of a beautiful blonde policewoman he spoke to in a park. I did not take this as a pleasant 'encounter between a young woman and a young man. I believed she was sent there to talk to Paul to let us know they were watching us. Two days before our rent was clue, Paul told me he was going to hitchhike to Windsor on the chance that he would be able to collect his deposit at Windsor Hydro. I was unable to dissuade him from going. I was alone in London. I did not know if Paul would make it back. This made for one of the longest days of my life. I was worried sick. I vomited throughout the day. In the evening, I went to bed. A while later, Paul walked into the room. I felt immense relief. I was so happy to see him that I was not really disappointed that Paul had not received his deposit from Windsor Hydro. They told him they took it as a payment on the bill he owed. Shortly after he returned, there was a knock on our door. Paul went over and asked, "Who is it?" "City Police." I was terrified. Paul opened the door. A young policeman stood in the hallway. He looked around our room and said, "I'm looking for the man who lives down the hall. Have you seen him?" Paul said, "No. I haven't see him." The policeman walked away and Paul closed the door. I was wound up. I did not get any sleep that night. The day our rent was clue, Paul and I went to stay at the Salvation Army Hostel. During our stay there, I was tormented by one of the officers. He was a large middle-aged man who was always smiling. Whenever he saw me alone he asked, "Where's your friend?"

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I believed it was set up for him to smile at me and repeat this question over and over to torment me so I would become angry and go berserk so they would have just cause to put me in a mental hospital. I wrote to Priscilla and asked if the family would send a few dollars to me in the mail. I used the general delivery at the Esplanade Post Office in Toronto as a mailing address. I carne up with the idea of going out west to work on the farms and ranches. Paul thought this was a great idea. We were hired to work on the Salvation Army trucks, picking up furniture and appliances. We worked for two days. The following day, we received our pay and bought camping supplies. It was our intention that if Paul's Unemployment Insurance cheques were at the post office in Toronto, we would pay for our transportation out west. If they weren 't, we would hitchhike and camp along the way. We stayed at the Salvation Army Hostel for about six days. On the last day, some of Paul's belongings were stolen from his locker, including his identification. We went to a laundromat to wash our clothes and Paul called the police to report his stolen ID. A policewoman came to the laundromat to talk with Paul and wrote down the information. They met and talked at the front of the laundromat. I stayed completely to the back, keeping myself busy doing laundry. I was so paranoid I felt dizzy. I was terribly upset It took several hours for me to calm down. I had been sure I was going to be arrested in that laundromat. At about three o 'clock in the afternoon, we hit the highway and started hitchhiking. It was about the Twenty-fifth of April and still rather cool at night but that did not dampen our spirits. Whether by bus or by hitchhiking and working along the way, we were looking forward to travelling.

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TWENTY FOUR

In our travels, Paul and I walked many miles along the highway. Some days we walked twenty miles, carrying our bags, without getting a ride. We had a small red tote bag for our cooking utensils, a large grey hockey bag for our towels and bedding and two large suitcases for our food and clothing. The hockey bag was lighter so I usually carried it. I put my arms through each strap and bore it on my back. I carried the red tote bag in my hand. Paul usually carried the heavy suitcases. At times, I was overcome with fatigue and Paul carried the hockey bag on his back and a suitcase in each hand, while I carried the tote bag. Once in a while, Paul carried everything. At six-thirty or seven, we started looking for a place to camp. I was afraid to go on private property so funding a spot sometimes proved difficult. In places, there were many miles of fenced-off property along either side of the highway. On several occasions, Paul and I argued over going on private property but I was so fearful, we continued until it got too dark to travel safely on the highway. We passed through a number of communities along the highway. When we saw a group of houses ahead of us, we quickened our pace in anticipation of getting to a restaurant. After walking with our heavy loads for ten or twelve miles, it sure was nice to see the sign, "RESTAURANT". Usually we just had coffee but sometimes we had a meal. It was an immense pleasure relaxing over cigarettes and coffee. After an hour or so, we got back on the highway and continued our journey. The first clay, we did not get a ride. At about seven in the evening, after walking several miles, we spotted a good place to

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camp. 'We used a brick wall, three feet high, as a windbreaker. We ate a small meal, laid down a plastic sheet we bought in London to use as a ground sheet, spread our bedding and went to sleep. We slept together to keep warm. In the morning, we continued our journey. At about four o'clock, we hitched a ride. The man offered to drive us to downtown Toronto but we declined as we did not want to spend the night in a hostel. The man dropped us off on the outskirts of the city. We made camp in a little gully and went to sleep. We awoke to a cloudy day. I made a dicky - margarine wrapped in toilet paper, a trick I learned in jail - and we cooked breakfast. We enjoyed a meal of bread, fried bacon, eggs and hot coffee. Then we hit the highway. At about eleven o 'clock, we were hitchhiking on a bridge. The traffic was very heavy. An Ontario Provincial Police car pulled up. An attractive young policewoman stepped out of the car. I felt like running but I was frozen in my tracks with fear. My legs felt like rubber. The policewoman said, "Would you get into the car?" Paul sat in the front seat and I got in the back. The policewoman said, "It's against the law to hitchhike on a bridge. I'll drive you to a bus stop." I was so relieved I felt like crying but I was not certain I could trust her. The drive into Toronto seemed endless. The policewoman and Paul chatted a little. I remained silent. When she finally dropped us off, I felt like I was stepping out of a cage. We took a bus to downtown Toronto and went to the Esplanade Post Office. Paul's cheques were not there but there was a letter for me from Priscilla. The envelope contained thirty dollars and a note staling Patsy and she had sent five dollars and Dad twenty, as well as well-wishes from Priscilla on our travels. Paul and I took a Go Bus to Newmarket and walked north along the highway to get to the edge of town. I did not want to hitchhike within the town limits, fearing the police would stop and arrest us.

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Outside Newmarket, we went into the woods to camp, as it looked like it was going to rain. We put four branches about t reeand -a-half feet high into the ground and tied the plastic sheet to the branches with twine I had found along the highway. 'We ate a lunch and it began to rain lightly. We cut garbage bags into large sheets and placed them on the ground for our ground sheet and spread our blankets. We were very tired and fell asleep almost instantly. When we woke up, it had stopped raining. 'We broke camp and hit the highway. We walked most of the clay. We stopped and sat on the side of the road for smoke breaks. Occasionally, I had a cold cup of coffee. At about five-thirty, we thumbed a ride. Paul got into the back and I sat in the front. I noticed a Bible on the dash. I asked, "Are you a Christian?" "Yes. I'm on my way to church to give a presentation. I'm afraid I can't take you very far." "That's alright," I said. "This is a break from walking on the highway." As he was letting us out, he handed a ten dollar bill to me. "This might help a little," he said. "Maybe you could help somebody some clay yourselves." "Thank you very much," I said. Paul said, "Thanks a lot." Paul and I got out of the car and we walked along the highway. 'We've got a problem, Paul." 'What, Cordell?" "There's probably not another town for miles and all this land is fenced off. I'm not going to cross wire. " 'We've got to go on private property, Cordell. We 've got to camp." "No way, Paul. We'll just walk until we find some place to camp. We walked for an hour or so. I hated like hell to go on private property but it was getting too dark to travel safely on the

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highway. We crossed the wire and went up on a hill in a grove of trees to camp. There was a house about a hundred feet away. I was pretty nervous about camping there but the trees shielded us from view and that alleviated the tension. I made a dicky and we had beans and bacon for supper. We smoked a few cigarettes, then prepared our blankets and went to sleep. We woke up a little after daybreak. It was just beginning to rain. By the time we packed, it was raining quite heavily. Back on the highway, we saw a restaurant. We walked over but it was closed. We stood under the awning to keep dry. We had passed a variety store/gas station the previous day. It was about a quarter of a mile down the highway. After an hour or so, the rain let up considerably and we walked to the store. It was open. I bought us each a coffee and we went back outside. By this time, it had stopped raining altogether. We sat at a picnic table drinking coffee. A late model car pulled in for gas. The driver was the soul occupant. When he was getting ready to pull out, I hollered to him, "Hey Mister. You wouldn 't give us a lift, would you? " "I'm going into Barrie. I can take you that far." I had never heard of Barrie but I was happy for the ride. Paul and I got into the car. I said, "Thanks a lot, Mister." "That's okay, fellows. Where are you heading?" 'We're on our way to Sudbury, " I said. Paul and I had decided to go to Sudbury, look for work and stay there a while if we found any work. Little else was said until we got to Barrie. "Are you going anywhere near the Canada Employment Centre?" Paul asked. "I could drop you off there." Paul said, "That's great." At the C.E.C., Paul saw a card on a board advertising Woolworth's need for two labourers to work for two days. Paul asked a woman in the office for directions to the Salvation Army Hostel. At the hostel, there was a soup kitchen adjacent to the building. We were fortunate, as the line-up at the soup kitchen was

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just going in. We got in line. Inside, we sat at a table and were served soup and sandwiches. After lunch, Paul said, You wait here, Cordell. I'm going down to see about those jobs." Again, I had to face the dread of waiting. When Paul returned, he said, "I talked to the man at Woolworth's. I got jobs for both of us. We'll be working in the Garden Centre. He wants us there at one o'clock this afternoon." We went into the hostel and the man at the desk made arrangements for us to stay there for the night. The man had an attitude of self-importance I did not like. He said, "Your names will go on a "shit sheet". The police will come and look this sheet over and see if any of the transients staying here are wanted by the law." This information disturbed me but I was able to accept it as there was nothing I could do. Paul and I went down to Woolworths. We worked until five o'clock, carrying and stacking bags of soil and fertilizer. The man said, "Collect your pay from the paymaster in the office upstairs. "I can use you tomorrow if you want the work." We went to the office upstairs and collected our pay. Then we went to the hostel. The door was locked. We stood outside for about an hour. It had been a warm sunny day but it turned cool. The caretaker opened the door and we went upstairs. He gave us a razor and a can of shaving cream. We showered and shaved. The caretaker led a few other transients and us downstairs to the kitchen and he gave us a bowl of soup with bread. Then we went upstairs and went to bed. Each transient had his own room. In bed, I tossed and turned. I believed the police would see my name on that sheet and arrest me, framing me for something. Finally, I fell asleep. In the morning, we went to work without eating breakfast. We worked all day until five o'clock. We each got paid about fifty dollars. We had a coffee and smoked a couple of cigarettes in the Woolworth's restaurant, then I bought a pipe and some tobacco.

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Paul bought cigarettes. Then we went to a Chinese restaurant for hamburgers. After we ate, we went to the Salvation Army. We rang the buzzer and the caretaker came clown and unlocked the door. Paul took our clothes to the launclromat. A young transient went with him. I stayed in the hostel, worrying about the "shit sheet" and about Paul. The caretaker kept saying, "If those guys aren't back by the time I lock up for the night, I'm not letting them in." I was all worked up. Fortunately, Paul returned in time. My anxiety was relieved. 'We went to our rooms and went to bed. I was so exhausted, I fell asleep instantly. Early in the morning, the caretaker came down to die yard to see us off. It turned out he wasn't a bad guy after all. We talked a little, then we shook his hand and said goodbye. We went to a store and bought candles and garbage bags. We walked along the highway to the outskirts of town and started hitchhiking, due north. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Very few vehicles were on the highway. We walked and stopped to hitchhike whenever a vehicle approached that was large enough to give us a lift. In a small community, we went into a convenience store/restaurant. We bought cigarettes, bread, beans and sardines. We also bought two scratch tickets and won ten dollars with one of them. We sat at a table for coffee and we smoked a few cigarettes. There were small plastic packages of peanut butter on the table. "Excuse me, Miss," I said. "Would you be able to sell some of these to me?" I indicated the packages of peanut butter. "I'd like to buy a dollar's worth." She gave me a paper bag containing about ten packages. Back on the highway, we started to walk and hitchhike. 'We walked about a mile, then we saw a man working on a pick-up truck outside a garage. Paul had mentioned that he wanted to do some fishing if we had the gear and came upon a spot. I walked over to the man and said, "Excuse me, Sir. Do you have any line and hooks you could let me have? We 'd like to do some fishing. "

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He went into the garage and returned with a few hooks in a clear plastic case and some fishing line and gave them to me. I said, "Thanks a lot, Sir." We continued along the highway, enjoying the sunshine. A man in a blue half ton truck stopped and picked us up. A few minutes after we got into the truck, I could tell he was mentally ill by what he was saying, how he was acting and by his unkempt appearance and body odour. Usually when we got a drive, I believed it was set up by the government. I was uneasy and on edge the whole time I was in the car. In this case, I wasn't, as I believed the government did not use mentally ill people in their conspiracy. I began to relax. The man kept talking about a beautiful woman he was going to see. His whole manner indicated such a woman would not have had a relationship with him. He dropped us off and we walked a few miles. We saw a sign indicating we were nearing a place called Coldwater. We stopped for a rest along the side of the road and Paul made a couple of sardine and mustard sandwiches. I spied an elderly man working on a pick-up truck in a yard a little farther up the highway. While Paul ate, I went over to the man. He looked up at my approach. I said, "Excuse me, Sir. My friend and I are travelling on the road and we're looking for a bit of work. I was wondering if you had any work we could do." ' Vell," he said. What can you do on a Sunday?" 'We'll do anything you need clone." "Can you plant trees?" "Yes, we can plant trees." Two ten-foot coniferous trees were leaning against his house. He showed us where he wanted them, on either side of the driveway entrance/exit. Paul and I worked for about forty-five minutes, then we went over to where the man was working. We came to know his name was Nick. Nick handed me twenty-five dollars. Paul and I were very grateful. There was a sign on his front lawn advertising construction contracting. "Could you use us tomorrow, Sir?"

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"Can you be here for eight in the morning?" "We're going to camp clown the road. We'll be here at eight o'clock tomorrow morning." Paul and I walked along the highway. Crossing a bridge over a stream, we walked beside the stream a little ways and made camp. Paul went to a restaurant and came back with fries and gravy. Paul did some fishing, without any luck. In the morning, we went over to the restaurant. Paul had a breakfast of barn, eggs, toast and coffee and I had coffee. We met Nick and he drove us to a worksite. He was adding a second storey to an existing house. For some reason, I was not paranoid of Nick, not then nor ever. He was a little pompous, yet goodnatured. He did nothing to cause me any fear. I liked him. Paul and I worked all day, lifting plywood to the four carpenters working on top of the house, pick and shovel work and mixing cement. Although I had done a lot of this type of work in my younger clays, I didn't think I was capable of it any more. At about six o'clock, Nick drove us to his shop in Orillia. Nick's foreman, a man named Greg, came with us. Nick paid Paul and me, then opened a case of twenty-four beer. The four of us drank beer and talked. "You boys can sleep in the shop tonight," Nick said. "Use the back door if you want to go to the store or anywhere." When Greg and Nick left, seven of the twenty-four beer remained. Paul and I went to the store and bought submarine sandwiches and cigarettes. After eating, Paul made a bed on the floor. I spread my blankets. We were both extremely tired. Paul fell asleep instantly. I sat in a rocking chair drinking beer. Although I was fearful of the police coming and accusing us of breaking into the shop, I was comfortable and quite content. When the beer was gone, I laid down and fell into an exhausted sleep. Early in the morning, Paul and I awoke. Paul left the shop to get coffee. We were just finishing our coffee when Nick arrived. He drove us to the site and we worked all day. That night, we slept

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in the shop again. Upon awakening in the morning, we discovered it was raining very hard. Nick didn 't arrive until late in the morning. "Too much rain," Nick said. "No vork today." "We were planning to move on anyway, Nick, " I said. "Could we have our earnings from yesterday? " That afternoon, after saying goodbye to Nick, Paul and I went to the bus station in Orillia. In the station, we bought tickets to Sudbury and boarded the bus. As the bus entered Sudbury, I saw a sign that read, "Welcome to Sudbury. We've been expecting you." I became extremely paranoid. There was no doubt in my mind that the sign was a message to me from the government. Inside the bus station, I said to Paul, "We can ' t stay here." "What do you mean, we can't stay here?" "I want to move on." Paul got upset because I would not tell him why I did not want to stay in Sudbury. We bought tickets to Sault Ste. Marie. We arrived in Sault Ste. Marie at about eleven o'clock that night. We only had a few dollars left. Paul called the Salvation Army and was told to go to a certain hotel and they would make arrangements with the hotel for our accommodations. The next day, we walked to the Department of Social Services. It was a chilly morning. As we approached the building, a cold brisk wind was in our faces but I was so fearful, I felt sweat on my brow. A social worker interviewed us together. We told the man we were heading out west and were seeking assistance to pay our bus fare to Calgary. 'We can only pay for your transportation to the next major municipality, which is Thunder Bay. 'We'll give you some cash to pay for your meals. " Paul and I each received thirty dollars spending money and a voucher for bus fare. I looked at the value of the voucher I was given. It was worth sixty-six-dollars-and-six-cents. This represented the number of the Antichrist and the devil to me. I was so nervous and fearful I became confused. When I talked to the social worker,

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my speech was incoherent. Paul and I spent the clay in Sault Ste. Marie. Paul went to the courthouse to see a justice Of The Peace about obtaining a document to use for identification in place of his stolen ID. I waited at the bus station. I felt very nervous, worrying about what was happening with Paul. I went into the lounge and drank beer. A thousand thoughts went through my mind: "Did Paul get arrested?"; "Had he been killed?"; "Are they going to come for me?" I spent most of my money drinking beer but it was doing nothing to ease the tension. Finally, Paul walked into the lounge. Relief deluged me. I was so happy to see him. Paul came over and sat down but did not drink. He told me had been given a document to use as ID. At about seven-thirty in the evening, we boarded the bus to Thunder Bay. The ride was a nightmare. I couldn't get it out of my mind that something terrible was going to happen to us when we got to Thunder Bay.

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TWENTY FIVE
At about four o'clock in the morning, we arrived in Thunder Bay. We were both dead tired. Neither Paul nor I had slept during the long trip on the bus. 'We had about forty dollars between us. We sat in the bus station for over four hours, not sure of our next move. At about eight thirty, we decided to camp on the outskirts of town. We took a city transit bus to the edge of town near the airport and found a place to camp in a grassy area, about fifteen yards from the highway. Trees sheltered us from view. We camped there for three days. It was about the middle of May. We got water and supplies at a convenience store/gas station down the road. We also washed up there. On the fourth day, we cached our camping equipment in a wooded area near our campsite. Then we caught a bus to the city centre. Reluctant as I as to go to Social Services, we did so. We were interviewed by a man with a beard in his early forties. I was paranoid and full of fear. Paul did most of the talking. "Good day, Sir. We're on our way out west to work on the farms and ranches. We hitchhiked and bused our way from Windsor, Ontario. We worked along the way. In Sault Ste. Marie, Social Services paid for our bus fare to Thunder Bay. They also gave us each thirty dollars cash. We were wondering if you would pay for our transportation to Calgary. " "So many transients come to us to pay their way out west these clays, we just can't do it. The city would go broke. This is the last major mtunicipality before Winnipeg and the cost of bus fare from here to there is quite expensive. We can give you a couple of city transit bus tickets and you can take a bus to the edge of town and hitchhike." "Is there any way we can get General Welfare i'"

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"Not without an address." "What if we were to find a place?" "If you can get a landlord to fill out a form for each of you, stating you are residents in his building - have you received General Welfare this month?" "Not this month. Cordell received a cheque in Toronto in April. I haven't received any." "If you find a place, come back and we'll give you a form to give to the landlord to fill out." "Do you know of a hostel where we can stay until we find a place?" "There's a hostel in Fort William. You should be able to stay there. Go to the office out front. Each of you will be given a bus ticket." Thunder Bay was once two cities: Fort William and Port Arthur. In 1971, they conglomerated to form the city of Thunder Bay. The Department of Social Services was in Port Arthur. We caught a bus to the hostel in Fort William. Inside, we were given a meal. After we ate, we asked the young man at the desk if any beds were available. He said, "All the beds are taken. You'll most likely be able to get beds at the Salvation Army Hostel in Port Arthur." He gave each of us a bus ticket and we went to the Salvation Army Hostel. There we were each given a pink form to fill out. I didn't want to fill it out but I had little choice. It was a matter of either filling out the form or getting back on the highway and hitchhiking. After signing in, we ate supper. Then we showered and went to our beds. It was wonderful to be clean again and to have a nice clean bed to sleep in. The next clay, we went back to Social Services, hoping the Salvation Army Hostel could be used as an address for us. The social worker who interviewed us the previous day said, "You need a place where you would be paying rent." "I'll give you each a bus ticket to get to the highway." Paul and I went out to the waiting area and sat down, waiting for our bus tickets. Paul struck up a conversation with a

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young North American Indian fellow. I was sitting a short distance away. Shortly, Paul came over to me and said, "Torn just gave me the name of a landlord and the address of his rooming house. I've got it all written down. Tom says the landlord will sign the forms and give us each a room." I became very paranoid. I believed this Tom was sent by the government to manipulate us into meeting this landlord and moving into the rooming house. Fearful as I was, I decided to go to the rooming house and meet this man. Paul and I went clown to the rooming house on North Cumberland Street. The rooming house was a white two-storey house made of cement building blocks. In front of the building was a parking lot. To the left of the building was a yard. Five or six people were sitting there at a picnic bench. As Paul and I were going into the building, a man in his late twenties, who was sitting at the picnic table, said to us, "If you're looking for Terry, he's not here." Paul turned to him and said, "Do you know when he'll be here?" "Later this afternoon. " Paul and I walked uptown. We sat on a bench outside a drug store and smoked cigarettes. After an hour or so, we walked back to the rooming house. This time, only a very large woman was sitting at the picnic table. I asked, "Is Terry Nesbitt around?" "He'll be back in a few minutes." Paul and I sat down at the picnic table to wait for Terry. The woman kept talking to us but I wasn't paying any attention to her. Paul was friendly towards the woman and spoke to her. We learned her name was Cathy. I was very troubled. I didn't know what we were getting into. After about ten minutes a car pulled in. Paul said, "Is that Terry Nesbitt?" Cathy said, "Yes." Paul and I went over to Terry and introduced ourselves. I was very afraid of him and I did not trust him. I thought he was a

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devil worshipper. I stilled my fear and was able to talk to him. "Do you have two rooms available? We ' re both looking For rooms. " "Yes. I can accommodate you. There are a couple of rooms available." We went into the building and up a short flight of stairs. To the left was a hallway and doors to rooms. In front of us was a medium-sized kitchen. Terry's office was to the right, at the top of the stairs. Terry unlocked the door to his office and we went inside. After a few minutes, Terry said, "I'll call Social Services and set it up for a social worker to come and see you." Terry showed us the rooms, side by side on the top floor, and gave the keys to us. There were a number of rooms on the floor. Later, Paul went to the Salvation Army Hostel, a five-minute walk from the rooming house, and they gave him a couple of bagged lunches. 'We were both very tired so we went to bed early. The next day, a huge man named Chuck offered to show us a place where we could get some food to tide us over until we received our Social Assistance. A friend of Chuck's, who also lived on the top floor, a quiet man whose name I cannot recall, drove the three of us to a food bank at the Salvation Army in Fort William. We were given four bags of groceries. Then we went to a donut restaurant and Chuck paid for coffee. We sat in the restaurant and talked for a while. Chuck told us about Thunder Bay. We returned to the rooming house. Shortly after, Chuck said, "You look like good guys. I'll lend you ten dollars." Paul and I bought a pouch of tobacco and coffees at the Husky convenience store/gas station across the street. The next clay, Chuck invited us to a barbecue he was having in the yard. We had salad and barbecued chicken. We ate outside at the picnic table. I was hungry so I ate the meal but I believed I was being poisoned. I believed Chuck had been good to us the past few clays so we would trust him and eat the meal he was offering, thus enabling him to poison us. I told this to Paul before we ate but Paul told me it was all in my mind, to enjoy the meal. I was hungry so I ate, hoping I was not being poisoned. It was very

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good. Chuck was a good cook. A few days after we moved in, we received a home-visit from a social worker. I did not tell him I had been on Disability, nor that I was under mental health, as I feared he would have me put in the hospital. Paul and I were put on General Welfare and started receiving Social Assistance. Paul went to the Canada Employment Centre and transfer red his claim to Thunder Bay. When we got our cheques, we paid our rent and bought some groceries and beer. Without realizing or planning it, Paul and I fell into a life of existing without any plans. I was caught up in the conspiracy. I was too mentally ill to journey further. The rooming house turned out to be a cesspool of drinking, drug abuse and violence. Paul socialized with the rowdy residents. I stayed in my room most of the time. I made a friend of an elderly man named Stewy. He used a cigarette holder when he smoked. He put the butts of his unfiltered cigarettes in large plastic containers. He sold the butts to me for ten dollars per container. I sat in his room and we talked. At times, he told me about dreams he'd had. When he started telling me about his dreams, I got paranoid and left. I believed the rooming house was set up for me to be there to be manipulated by the residents. I was used to living in fear. With no place else to go, I stayed there. I did not want to leave Paul, who seemed content in his surroundings. A young woman named Kim, who had a son named Jason, was living with the man who had spoken to us from the picnic table the first time we were at the rooming house. His name was John. John was a pleasant person when he was sober but when he got drunk, he was quite aggressive. Sometimes he got violent. Kim often went to Paul whenever she saw him. This was of grave concern to me and added to my problems. On several occasions, I worked for the minister of a church named Reverend Orser. I chopped wood, cleaned up the yard, painted picnic tables and raked leaves. I went for short walks with Paul. Usually, we went to a park up the street and smoked

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cigarettes. Most of the time, I stayed in my room. I did not socialize with any of the other residents, except Stewy. Stewy told me he had spent time in a mental hospital so I felt I could trust him. I avoided the other residents because I believed they were in the conspiracy. I believed they were going to set it up for me to get into a fight and I would be 2urestecl. When Paul and I were together in his room or mine, I talked non-stop for hours, telling him what I believed was going on in our lives. Paul tried to get me to go to the Lake Superior Psychiatric Hospital but I was too afraid. I believed they would kill me by injecting me with a needle with an air bubble in it. Paul listened to me, sometimes for hours. I rambled on and on. At times, Paul 's nerves got on edge and he got quite angry, trying to get me to stop. If I did not, he told me to leave his room or he left my room. Late in June, Paul's Unemployment Insurance came through. He received cheques worth close to a thousand dollars. Paul and I had a good time spending money. We went out for meals. We shot pool and drank beer at a tavern called Bunny's. The back part of the tavern was a strip club. We also drank at the rooming house. Paul smoked marijuana and hashish. One night, a few of the residents and Paul were going to go to Bunny's. I told him to leave most of the money he had on him with me, as I feared they would beat him up and steal his money. I bought a case of twenty-four beer and started drinking. I caught a buzz and convinced myself I was going to win the lottery. I went to Husky's and bought twenty-five two dollar instant win scratch tickets. I didn't win any money at all, just a couple of scratch tickets. I was terribly disappointed. I carne up with a plan to go to Winnipeg to talk to a reporter at a newspaper company and tell my story. I got a hundred dollars from Paul and caught a bus to the highway. I started to hitchhike. It was a very hot day. I stood there for a couple of hours without getting a ride. I began to walk up the highway. I walked for miles.

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At about five o'clock, I saw two teenage boys walking along the other side of the highway towards where I had come from. "Hey, Fellas," I called. "What's up ahead?" One of them answered, "Absolutely nothing." I knew the next municipality was Dryden. I didn't know how far away it was. I didn't think I would make it there that clay by walking as I was too tired and I was unsure of the distance. I decided to go back to Thunder Bay and crossed the highway. I stood there hitchhiking for about an hour, then a man in a pick-up truck stopped. His face was very disfigured, as if it had been badly burned. He looked very dangerous. I didn't know if it would be safe to get in. He asked, "Where are you heading?" "I'm going to Thunder Bay." "I'm only going a short piece down the road but you're welcome to come along." I got in. He dropped me off at a place called Kakapeka Falls. "You can catch a bus here to Thunder Bay. It's only a few dollars. Do you have it?" I told him I did. I liked the man. "Well, good luck, Fella," he said and drove off. I was very tired so I decided to spend the night at the campgrounds at Kakapeka Falls. I went to a small wooden cabin at the entrance to the campground and paid for a campsite. At the campsite, there was a picnic table and a place to make a fire. A woman and a man with a trailer occupied a campsite next to mine. I said to the man, 'ould you keep an eye on my baggage?" He said he would. There was a small community about half a mile down the road. I was hungry from walking and hitchhiking in the hot sun. It had been hours since I'd had anything to eat. On my way to the community, I crossed a bridge. The falls were on my right. I said to myself, "If they throw me in there, I won't survive. " I got to the community and went to a convenience store. I bought a loaf of bread, some cheese and a bottle of spring water. I

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went back to my campsite and ate. It was starting to get dark so I built a small fire. I sat and smoked cigarettes until I got sleepy. Then I laid out my blankets and tried to go to sleep. As I lay there, I saw through the woods the lights of the flashlights of campers who were going to the washrooms. Whenever I saw a light, I became terribly afraid it was the police coming for me. I used reasoning to ease my fears. In my mind, I said, "They're conspiring against me but if they wanted me locked up or dead, it would have happened long ago. It must be for a different purpose." At this line of reasoning, I became relaxed enough to fall asleep. In the morning, I ate the leftover bread and cheese and drank some water. Then I went to the highway and started hitchhiking. I got a drive from a man who said he was going to Toronto. He asked, "Would you like to come with me?" I became very fearful. I believed the man was sent by the government to coerce me into going to Toronto for some reason. "No," I said, "I'm going to Thunder Bay. " The drive to Thunder Bay was hell. Finally, he dropped me off at a bus stop. I caught a bus to the rooming house. For the next few weeks, my way of life did not alter from the way I had been living before I went away. I preferred to be by myself rather than partake of the wild tunes with the residents, as Paul was apt to do. Drinking, cannabis consumption and fighting were commonplace with many of the residents. Kim and John got into many loud arguments. Sometimes at three or four o'clock in the morning, they yelled, screamed and th rew things at each other. Their friend, a big strapping construction worker named Dwayne, who was also a resident, was usually around to see that John did not hurt Kim. At times, though, John gave Kim a punch in the mouth. One night, things got quite serious. John kept telling Kim he was going to kill her. Kim and her friends brought her bed upstairs to the end of the hallway and set curtains up to block an area off for her. Jason and Kim laid down. John roamed the floor

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downstairs, his loud mad laughter reverberating throughout the house, terrifying Kim. I took a chair out of my room, set it in the hallway and sat down to keep watch over Jason and Kim. At times throughout the night, John quietly crept to the top of the stairs near Jason and Kim. Suddenly, he erupted in loud laughter. Then he went back downstairs, continuing his loud, eerie laughter. After John had been quiet for some time, I concluded that he had gone to sleep. I took the chair into my room and went to bed. A couple of weeks later, John came to the realization that it would be best for his relationship with Kim and for himself to stop drinking. For about a week, John abstained from alcohol. Then one night, some of the residents and Paul went to a tavern. Kim and John were having a pleasant evening together. John started drinking. The residents returned at about ten o'clock and went downstairs. Kim and John started arguing. Paul talked to John, trying to work things out. Dwayne tried to smoothe things over. I went to the community kitchen to make a cup of coffee. The next thing I knew, John opened the door of the building and shouted, "I just knocked Paul Hayward out." He hurried back outside. I ran out and saw Paul laying on the ground. I went over to him. I couldn't tell how badly hurt he was. He wasn't moving. I stood for a moment, looking at Paul. He began to stir and opened his eyes. I could tell he wasn't hurt very badly. I said, "I'll get that bastard." Paul said, "No. Don't." Dwayne, who had gone to the tavern with Paul, had John up against the building, pounding his body repeatedly into the cement wall. I got Paul to his feet and put his arm over my shoulder. I half-carried him to his room and laid him on the bed. I put the blankets over him. Paul was high and drunk. He lay still, his eyes closed. I event outside to see what was happening. A number of residents were standing in the yard. Dwayne was hollering atJolun.

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Kim went inside, followed by John. Then I went in. When I got to Paul's room, Kim was kneeling at Paul 's bed, crying. Behind her stood John. I stayed in the hallway looking into the room. After a couple of minutes, Kim left. About thirty seconds later, John left. I looked in on Paul. The left side of his chin was swollen. I locked Paul's door and went into my room to get my chair. I set it in the hallway next to Paul's door and sat down. I kept guard until about six o'clock in the morning. If John had come looking for trouble, I think I would have killed him. At six o'clock, I went into my room and fell asleep. I feared for Paul because I knew Kim had a crush on him. John was a great guy when he was sober. He was goodnatured and very giving. He and Paul got along well. However, when he was drunk, he got into a jealous rage. Kim or Paul were almost always the target of his pent-up emotions. Seven or eight days later, a number of residents and a few of' their friends were sitting at the picnic table in the yard. I heard John say, "I'm going to kill Paul." I said to Paul, "Let's go up to the park." That day, I had received some money from Social Services to buy clothing, as I had landed a job selling vacuum cleaners. After buying some clothing, there was money leftover. I told Paul what Jolm said and said, "We've got to keep you away from John, Paul. I'm going to rent a motel room." Paul did not like this idea. He did not like the thought that he was hiding. I talked him into staying at a motel for the night. There was a motel next door to the rooming house. We walked there and I rented a double room. Paul went to Brewer's Retail and bought twenty-four beer. He brought the beer to the motel room, then went uptown to look for some hashish. While he was gone, I went to a restaurant across the street and bought two pizzas. Paul returned and told me he met a guy who said he would deliver some hashish to the motel room. Paul ate some pizza and drank a few beer. The guy never showed up. Paul went to bed and fell asleep.

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I sat drinking beer, wondering what to do about the situation with John. At about ten o'clock, I went to the rooming house looking for him. I was quite drunk. I found John in the office, talking with Terry Nesbitt. I said, "You fuck with Paul and I'm going to tear your flicking head off. If you don't think I can do it, come on outside now." John said nothing. I walked back to the motel room and fell asleep. A few days later, Terry convinced John to go to the Lake Superior Psychiatric Hospital for treatment. John went and was admitted. He stayed there several days. When he was discharged, he was on medication. His disposition was mellowed. He did not bother Paul. After a couple of weeks, he went to stay with friends with whom he sometimes worked, painting and dmvalling. Sometimes he visited the rooming house but he never bothered Paul.

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TWENTY SIX

It came to the point that I didn't care if I lived or died. I was mixed up with my beliefs. I was full of paranoia and fear. I felt as if I was going mad. At times, I spent a whole clay trying to work out what was happening and why it was happening to me and I carne up with a reason. The next clay, something else cropped up in my mind and I spent the day contemplating that. This went on day after day. I worked as a vacuum cleaner salesman for a couple of weeks and did not sell a single vacuum cleaner. I thought the people I was trying to sell them to were trying to manipulate me. My paranoia became too much for me to continue working. Paul's persuasion to get me to go to the hospital began to work on me. Finally, I decided to do so and accept what was to come. I drew courage from the fact that in the past, I had been hospitalized and was never harmed. On a Friday morning, in the middle of July, I walked to the Lake Superior Psychiatric Hospital with Paul. We sat on a bench on the hospital grounds and smoked a few cigarettes. I was very quiet. I said, "I might never see you again." "Everything will be ahight, Cordell." I was worried, paranoid and scared. By going into that hospital, I believed I might be facing death. "I'll go in by myself, Paul. I'll call you." Paul walked several feet away and turned around. "Everything will be alright, Cordell." Paul walked clown the hill and I sat there for a few minutes. Then I went into the hospital to the Crisis Centre and spoke to the receptionist. "I'm a patient of Dr. Roy Pike in Saint John, New Brunswick and I need help."

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"Have a seat in the waiting area." About fifteen minutes later, a doctor came to talk to me. I told him what I had told the receptionist. "I don't want to admit you into the hospital. I want to treat you as an out-patient. " I left the hospital and went to a phone booth on North Cumberland Street. I looked in the yellow pages of the phone book for the listing of a different hospital. I saw the listing of McKellar Hospital and called the number. "I'm a patient of Dr. Roy Pike in Saint John, New Brunswick. I'm sick. Do you have a psychiatric ward?" "Yes." "Thank you. " I caught a bus and went to McKellar Hospital in Fort -William. A Dr. Penavault interviewed me. I said, "I'm suspicious and scared. I believe people are plotting against me. " I also told him I was off my medication. Dr. Penavault admitted me. On the psychiatric ward, I was ushered to a room with four beds. I sat on the bed appointed to me. About an hour-and-a-half passed. Then a nurse came in and gave me an injection of modecate. For the next couple of days, each moment I expected they would come in and somehow turn me into the Antichrist or murder me. After a few days, I began to come out of the psychotic episode. My mind stopped racing. I was much less paranoid and suspicious. Paul visited every couple of clays. I developed a friendship with a man named Tom Pantoulious. After about ten days, I was discharged. Tom was discharged the same day. We went to his place and drank whiskey and beer. I was feeling much better. I continued to live at the rooming house. Dwayne and I became friends. I cooked meals and often invited Dwayne to supper. Sometimes I invited residents to the kitchen for supper.

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One time, I was cooking hamburger hash in the kitchen. Paul was in his room. I went into the hallway and yelled, "Hey, Paul. Do you want some hashi)" A few Indian residents came out of their rooms. I said, "I'm cooking food." They went back into their rooms. Terry hired Paul and me to clean and straighten up a restaurant he was opening. 'When the job was finished, he paid us and treated us to dinner at a Chinese restaurant across from the rooming house. I came to like Terry. He was very pleasant. He took time to socialize with the residents. Residents often went to him for counselling. Paul went out west and carne back in about a week and a half. He told me he had been in Winnipeg. He returned with thoughts of going to Toronto and pursuing his musical aspi rations. In early September, Mike Murphy carne to Thunder Bay and moved into the rooming house. Paul started to talk in earnest about going to Toronto. It made me very sad when Paul talked about leaving. He invited me to go with him but I declined. I did not want to interfere in Paul's plans to become involved in music, nor did I have any desire to go to Toronto. In the preceding years, he had written several very good songs. I had no doubt as to his musical talents. However, I was thinking about going home to Saint John. In the middle of October, Paul packed his bag. It was the day he was going to leave. I had an appointment with Dr. Penavault that day. Paul and I went to the bus stop where I would catch my bus. Paul told me he would work to make a career in music for five years. If the became successful, he would see that my story was published. If things did not work out in that span of time, the would come to Saint John and we would work together to write my autobiography. Upon seeing my bus at the top of the hill, we shook hounds and Paul walked clown the highway, where he would hitchhike to Toronto. My bus came and I boarded it. As I walked to a seat, I

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let the tears flow. People were looking at me but I didn't care. He was the best friend I ever had. I knew I was going to miss him. Mike and I decided to go home to Saint John. At the end of October, we received our Social Assistance and took a bus to Hamilton, Ontario, as Mike wanted to visit his mother. We arrived in Hamilton at eight or nine o'clock in the evening. I was feeling quite well physically and mentally. We stayed at Mike's mother's home for two days. On the third clay, we went to the Salvation Army Hostel and checked in. A few hours after we got to the hostel, Mike told me he couldn't handle the place and went back to his mother's. The hostel wasn't a bad place. The food was pretty good. I stayed there five days. On the sixth day, I called Mike and told him I was going to hitchhike home. He told me to meet him at his mother's place. When I got there, he called Social Services and persuaded them to pay our way home. That night, we took a bus to Saint John, arriving in the afternoon of the following day. We went to the Salvation Army and stayed for about a week. Then I went to see the director of New Direction, Ted Bovingdon. Ted made arrangements for me to return to live at Maple Row. A fellow named David was living there. He was very loud and bossy. Many nights, David came into my room looking for cigarettes, waking me up. His nose was running all the time. After sixteen days, I got fed up. I went to see Dr. Pike and told him I could not live with David. He told me I had outlasted many residents with whom David had lived and that he understood my desire to want to move. Mike Murphy had gotten a room, an attic, on Dorchester Street. I went to his place and he took me in. The place was running with rats. We had no cupboards so we kept our food in boxes on the floor. The rats got at the food. I slept with the light on and with my clothes on. Three or four days after I moved in, I went to the office of New Direction and was given the balance of the money they had received for my keep and bought some groceries. For Christmas, a church helped us out with

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vegetables and a chicken. On Christmas Day, Mike and I enjoyed a nice chicken dinner. A couple of clays later, Mike went to live with his cousin, Freeman Bailey. I paid the rent for the month of January but I was very dissatisfied with the place. Aside from the rats, the place was a fire trap. The attic had only one way out. I called Social Services and told them about the place. They told me to find a place to live and they would pay the rent. I moved into the home of Tony Guimont, a friend of Mike's whom I also knew. Tony lived next door to Mike and Freeman. Shortly after I moved to Tony's, I went into the St. Joseph 's Hospital to have my gall bladder removed. Upon my discharge from the hospital, I went to live with Mike and Freeman. Freeman and I became good friends. We drank a lot of beer. Freeman put on big meals, usually a turkey dinner or steaks with all the trimmings. We often played cards. We shot pool at S.H.A.R.E.. We went for coffee at a restaurant. From time to time, Freeman borrowed a car from one of the guys with whom he worked and we went camping at Oak Point for a day or two. We always took beer and a lot of food. Freeman and I had good times together. Mike was very unstable. He stayed at Freeman's for a while, moved out, then moved back in again, continuing the pattern. The day-to-day drinking caused my nerves to go haywire. After six months, I called Dr. Pike and told him I was drinking too much and that I needed a new place to live. Dr. Pike arranged for me to move into a special care home on George Street in West Saint John. I was very unhappy with the place. The food was not very palatable, nor was there enough to eat at meal time. The man who ran it, named Don, was very bossy and thought very highly of himself I stayed only a couple of months. I decided to go to London, Ontario. I wanted to see Paul but I did not want to go to Toronto. I figured I'd go to London, contact Paul and he would come to see me. To save money, I gathered butts from ashtrays and rolled the tobacco into cigarettes.

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At the end of September, I received Social Assistance and took a bus to London. I went to the Salvation Army Hostel. No beds were available in the dormitory so I paid seventeen dollars for a private room. The next clay, while walking down the street, thoughts of suicide crept into my mind. I was bothered that my daughter was not in my life. I felt my life was going nowhere. I felt a sense of non-purpose. I felt I would just be interfering in Paul's life if I contacted him. My mind was telling me to walk out in front of a car and end it all. I went to St. Joseph's Hospital in London and spoke to a doctor about my depression and my thoughts of suicide. The doctor admitted me into the hospital. A couple of days later, I was given my bi-weekly injection of modecate. After four or five days in-hospital, I started to feel better. I was hospitalized for eight or nine days. Upon my discharge, I didn't know what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go. I went back to the Salvation Army Hostel. Again, all the beds in the dorm were taken so I paid for a private room. The next day, a bed was available in the dormitory. I stayed in the dorm for five or six days. I met a black man from Jamaica named Hershey. He and I went to Kitchener. I paid for our bus fare as I had about two hundred dollars. Hershey was a really nice fellow. We stayed at the Salvation Army Hostel in Kitchener for two nights. Then I decided to go home to Saint John. Before boarding the bus, I gave a twenty dollar bill to Hershey. In Saint Johun, I moved into Freeman's. I stayed there until the end of October. In November, I rented a dilapidated room on Charlotte Street. It was cold. Part of the ceiling was missing. I stayed there a month and a half. Then I moved into the room of a friend named Richard Morton. The first couple of' nights, I slept on the floor. It was too cold to get a decent night's sleep so Richard and I shared his large bed. Richard went to his sister's for Christmas. I went to Freeman 's and spent Christmas with Mike and Freeman. We had a wonderful turkey dinner. Freeman gave a package of cigarettes and a nice picture of The Last Supper to me. We drank some beer and had a

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really good time. Richard and I got along fine. Most days we went to S.H.A.R.E. and played cards, shot pool or sat smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee. Alter a couple of months, the rooming house we were living in became a place of drunken arguing and fighting. Drunks slept in the hallway. I called Sandra Cunningham at the Mental Health Centre and told her I wanted to move into a special-care home. Sandra gave the number of a special-care home called Bay Care to me. I called the home and spoke to a woman named Gwen who told me there was a room available. The next day, the Seventh of April, I moved into Bay Care, on Pitt Street in the South End. Here, my life changed. The residents and the owner, Barb McCarthy, became like a family to me. I gained stability. At the time of this writing, I have lived at Bay Care for three and a half years. Barb spends a lot of time at Bay Care. She is very accommodating. She's a wonderful woman. No matter how busy she is, she always has time to share. Barb is loved by everyone at Bay Care. Usually there are fourteen or fifteen women and men residing at Bay Care, most of whom have a mental illness. I have a good relationship with most of the residents and staff members. Although I would prefer to have an apartment, which I cannot afford, I enjoy living at Bay Care. The food is usually good. I have my own room. I do not suffer loneliness as I did in the past. In May, 1991, the Mental Health Centre assigned a support worker named Mike Warring to me. Mike was a really nice guy. He and I hit it off from the beginning. Once a week, he picked me up and we went for coffee or for a nice drive. Sometimes we went for a walk and talked. He got bowling passes and movie passes for me. Mike left his job in 1991. I was assigned a different support worker, a lovely young woman named Mary Boyd. At first, I was rather reserved with Mary. I found it difficult to communicate with her. After a few months, Mary and I

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developed a bond and I began opening up to her. I told her events of my past and how I felt about what had happened. Mary became my confidante and my friend. Soon after Mary became my support worker, a man I have known for years named Don McDonough moved into Bay Care. Don and I began spending a lot of time together. We played cards, watched television and movie videos and conversed over coffee and cigarettes. Don went for drives or to restaurants for coffee with Many and me. Sometimes we went on a picnic. Occasionally, we went to the beach. Paul Hayward and I kept in touch, mainly through the mail. Sometimes we spoke over the telephone. In Toronto, Paul learned to play guitar and wrote quite a few songs. He performed at parties and bars. He made a professional demo called, "Feel The Heat", and sent a tape to me. I was very impressed. I liked the song and Paul's singing very much. Everyone I play the tape for really enjoys it. A woman who lived at Bay Care named Rita Miller often asked me to play the tape. Rita passed away in May, 1994. I miss her. In September, 1994, Mary asked me if I would be interested in attending a program at the Mental Health Centre called the Journey of Hope. I attended the program and learned a great deal about mental illness. In November, Paul came home to Saint John. He had heavily abused beer, hashish and marijuana and was in need of psychiatric treatment. Dr. Pike admitted him to the psychiatric ward of the Saint John Regional Hospital. Three weeks later, he was discharged. He moved into Maple Row. A couple of months later, he moved to Bay Care. Together we are writing this book. Since his return, he has stayed away from drugs, although we do partake of beer on occasion. He intends to resume work on his music career in the near future. Through my presentations, which Paul assisted in preparing, I am endeavouring to bring the plight of persons who

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have a mental illness to public awareness. In the late fall of 1994, I was interviewed by a reporter named Glen Allen of The Telegraph Journal. Glen was writing a story on the Journey of Hope program. I told Glen of my history of mental illness and of my desire to relate what it is like to be a mental health consumer living in the community. I also stressed the need for persons who have a mental illness to realize there is hope for a better life. The story was printed in January, 1995. In April, 1995, I was a guest on a radio talk show called, "The Talk of the Town". I related my thoughts on how life could be improved for mental health consumers. In June, I gave a presentation at the Schizophrenia Society of New Brunswick. I was given donations totalling about sixty dollars. In July, I gave a presentation at the S.H.A.R.E. Activity Centre for a group of mental health consumers and mental health workers. I was selected from a number of mental health consumers to give a presentation in October at a Mental Health Conference in Fredericton. In September, I gave a presentation at the Mental Health Centre in Saint John for a group of mental health workers, as a dry run for the conference. Later in the month of September, I gave a presentation at a Schizophrenia Society of New Brunswick workshop at the New Brunswick Community College in Saint John. The president of the Schizophrenia Society of New Brunswick, Jim Dargavel, rewarded me with fifty dollars. The Mental Health Conference in Fredericton was a total success. I learned a great deal about mental health and my presentation received much acclaim. In the following mental health newsletter, it was mentioned that I had given an excellent presentation. My religious beliefs are totally different now, although I still believe in God. I stopped myself from becoming involved in

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religious organizations, in case there was something in their doctrine that might trigger my fear of going to hell. Yet, because the Worldwide Church Of God preaches a doctrine wherein there is no hell, I wrote to them. They sent some literature to me and gave me the name of a minister to contact in Saint John. His name is Owen Willis. I sent a tape of my story to Owen and we became friends. We go out for coffee and conversation. Owen invited me to attend his church - which, for the present, I have declined - but he does not force his religious beliefs on me. I am living a happy life, although my physical health is not very good. I have been a heavy smoker since the beginning of my illness and my lungs have been somewhat damaged. I have been unable to lose the weight I gained on City Road. I now weigh over three hundred and twenty pounds. Over the years, Dr. Pike has become my confidante, my advisor and my friend. He is a wonderful person, both as a doctor and a humanitarian. I have learned that some individuals should turn to psychiatric help rather than religion, as some religions preach a doctrine that can cause a lot of harm to a person on the brink of schizophrenia. Those who teach and preach religion should be very careful how they do so. For the past three and a half years, I have been well mentally. But I must live my life like an alcoholic does: one day at a time. I know enough about my illness that, should problems arise, I could get help in time. I take my medication regularly and plan to do so for the rest of my life. I have learned it can be very dangerous to go without it. I hope this story proves enlightening to the reader.

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