Saturday, 31 March 2012

Just the latest...

Whomsoever concerned,

For purposes inherently relevant to the infinite well being of my children,
and to attempt a measure of clarity toward particularly difficult happenstance.

All of my young life, more than anything, I just wanted to be with my real dad.

Larry Ludlow, my biological father;
Grew up in Richmond, BC, in a big house on the corner of Three Rd. and Cambie St.
Was a musician and married my mother Margaret Fald after meeting four days earlier.
She was sixteen, he was nineteen. He went to the BC Pen before I was born,
according to my mother, “ for writing bad cheques or something.”
This is all that I knew.

My mother remarried to the stepfather Leonard Cook,when I was one year old.
There would be five more children, but only I was beaten, from about five years old and continuing despite my academic ease, sport participation and general wellbehavedness.
I possessed two small black and white photographs of my father from before I was born. Leonard had ripped them up in my face when I was around ten years old.

The family had then up and moved to New Westminster, BC from Surrey, BC
unbeknownst to myself whilst I was away at camp for two weeks during seventh grade.
I had to locate the new family home through neighbors and extended relatives.

Living in New Westminster, I was thrown out of the house before my thirteenth birthday, then made a ward of the court, I am sure to keep from discovering the father's molestation of his daughter(s). The eldest daughter was whisked away to an out of the province nunnery, pregnant at twelve. She would years later charge him criminally however was stymied by process, technicalities and her own emotional and psychological symptomology. The real story unfortunately never become evident.

As a ward of the court I would immediately and routinely run away from placement homes, never giving one a chance and most often returning to the family home as never were there parents present in the home. Afternoon through the evening, often till morning, sometimes days, as long even weeks, I do not remember a time when the parents would be home during the evening more than a couple of times a year.

Leonard would often become aware of my returning to the home, usually because I had organized its clean up. At all times he maintained restraining orders with the court prohibiting my attending at the home. He would search the house with a flashlight and if and when he would catch me there, perhaps sleeping under my brother's bed, or up in the attic, he would telephone the police and I would need flee or become arrested.

Instances of the New Westminster Police chasing and or arresting me, for my being at the family home, continued breech of restraining order and or running away from group home placements, only progressed me to juvenile detention.
I developed a disrespect for authority and in particular, the courts and law enforcement.

I would likely not even attend court as required, always compounding the problem.
Perhaps as well I developed an ability to hang with the wrong crowd.

In or about April 1981, I was just turned eighteen years old. Still not having met my father, I thought how in another year I would go through Parent Finders in Victoria BC,
an agency that I had contacted by telephone back when I was thirteen.
They had told me then, that I needed to be nineteen years old before they could help.

I was working graveyards at a bakery on King George Hwy., in Surrey, BC.
I was on a one year probation to expire Sept. 1981, sentenced me by the courts for theft of gasoline by siphoning from another vehicle. At the time representing the first and only conviction on my criminal record. As a condition of my probation I was to attend Gateway Services. Gateway was a bathetic couple of offices located above a tire store on Kingsway in Burnaby BC. They would assist me to upgrade my education and develop life skills. I aspired with them to become an underwater welder.

I had until 2004, only a grade seven education, but was graduating from the school of hard knocks, unaware preparing to study for my degree.

Gateway services also contracted a consulting psychologist, Gordon Nuefeld.
I had spoken to him once for about fifteen minutes on my first time attending Gateway.

On or about April 1981, whilst I was hitch hiking and directly in front of the hospital where I was born in Surrey, I was picked up by a man with whom a freakish connection was made. Within three minutes of my entering his car it was realized that not only did this man know of my father, he had grown up with him in Richmond, and claimed to be Larry Ludlow's very best friend from children to adulthood. He said they had gone to Boy Scouts together and had joined the Bridgeport boxing club together.

He told me that Larry had married a gal back in the early sixties named Margaret Fald.
He said that he would introduce me to my dad.
This felt like the greatest day of my life.
He was appearing to be very wealthy and exuding an interest in me, his longtime best friend's long lost son. I left him my phone number, he phoned me early next morning.

As truth has it, Clifford Olson did indeed grow up with my father Larry Ludlow, and they were childhood best friends through adult. Sixteen year old Margaret Fald was in fact, Olson's date, the night she ran off with nineteen year old Larry Ludlow,
and they eloped in Cor d'Alene, Idaho, four days later.

Now nearly twenty years and a freak connection later.
I met with Olson on perhaps ten occasions, all ostensibly on my part to finally meet my biological father, Larry Ludlow. Olson would regale me with tales of their youth.

Olson went to great lengths to convince me of his financial wealth. He took me out to his airplane, showed me hi-rise apartment complexes his company was building,
always flashing thousands of dollars in cash, I had no doubt.

At no time whatsoever, was I involved in any nefarious or criminal activities with Olson.

On or about July 9, 1981, I was present in Olson's car when he offered a ride to a young girl whom obviously he had been previously acquainted. I was dropped off at Lougheed mall in Burnaby, BC and Olson drove off with young Judy Kozma.

On or about July 30, 1981, Olson had just picked myself and three other teenagers up roadside. The car was pulled over within two minutes with unmarked police cars front, back and sides. Olson was arrested at gunpoint and quickly whisked away. The four of us teenagers were ID' d and told to be on our way. As fast as they appeared, the RCMP were gone, with no explanation or warning whatsoever, that we had been in harm's way.

These aforementioned two instances represent the only occasions that I did see Olson in the company of, or ever fraternizing with any other young person.

He had more than once, talked of organizing a large bush party out on a treed island
in the Fraser River, right in front of the BC Penitentiary for me and thirty of my friends.
It shudders me to consider how easily this could have come to be. Sounded great to me.
The only access would have been by boat.

I would only see Olson one more time and it was not long after his getting arrested at gunpoint. There seems to be discrepancy over even how long Olson was detained, some say three days, some say three hours. Retrospectively, it is very clear to me however,
the absolute look of desperation in the eyes of Olson when he pulled up to me near where I lived and told me that I needed to come with him for something very important.

He had a story for the police misunderstanding and said that they were more than happy to let him out, once they realized who he was. He would not say what was so important, but his secrecy and demeanor were suggesting to me, that I may meet my father tonight.
I was excited.

Olson provided me excessive alcohol, drugged me, and took me to a location to kill me.
Standing over me after throwing me to the ground, with a knife in his hand, he was angrily screaming, “Fuck it ..Fuck it ..Fuck it.” My mind was somewhat coherent but my body was as comatose. He dragged my body out of there and back to the car, all the way enraged. He piled me into the back seat and I was physically unable to even speak.
He now did not speak to me but was still angrily to himself. Olson drove back to his residence, left me in the car for some time, then returned, carried me inside, anally raped me, and only once I regained motor skills and body function did I escape.

Fittingly, the first thing drawn to my eye as I rounded the adjacent building was it's address on a wooden plaque … 666 North road.

Soon after, in talks with RCMP investigators, I would realize the truth of Clifford Robert Olson and that I could place Olson with young Judy Kozma. I wrote a statement for the RCMP and Olson was charged that same day with the first count of child murder.

Olson, from jail, then telephoned a reporter at the Vancouver Sun newspaper named Rick Ouston and told Ouston that they had arrested the wrong guy and that it should be me that they are looking at in connection to the murder(s).

Rick Ouston immediately telephoned the RCMP investigators and informed that Olson had contacted him. Despite speaking to several RCMP investigators,
Rick Ouston declined to even mention my name or what Olson had told him.
Rick Ouston would do his own investigation of me.
The pure narcissistic negligence employed by Rick Ouston should at least be criminal.

The damage that may have been done me by Clifford Olson was about to become minimized and outdone one hundred fold and to the tenth degree by Rick Ouston and the Vancouver Sun newspaper.

In his investigation of me, Rick Ouston had been rattling the collective consciousness of the staff at Gateway Services and Psychologist Gordon Nuefeld.

The RCMP, in their efforts to chaperone me would often drop me off or pick me up at Gateway and the staff at Gateway were aware that I was involved in the investigation.

In or about October 1981, the Gateway staff arranged I see Gordon Nuefeld.
He sympathized I had been subject to trauma and under a tremendous amount of stress.
I was asked if I would care to participate in a two week Outward Bound mountaineering and rock climbing program in Kerameos BC. I agreed this sounded a great idea.
Gateway would pay for everything. The course itself would cost fourteen hundred dollars, as well they would take me shopping for clothing and supplies the next day.

Gateway staff took me shopping at what is now Metrotown mall in Burnaby BC. Purchased for me was several pairs of jeans, shirts, sweaters, long underwear and hiking boots. Also purchased for me by the Gateway staff was a black leather belt and a folding buck knife in a black leather sheath.

After returning from shopping, to Gateway's offices above the tire store, I was informed that staff as well Gordon Nuefeld, were concerned for my safety. They suggested that in the ten days until the Outward Bound course that they would like me to check into a hospital. I was aghast. Absolutely not. They threatened that if I did not that they could violate my probation order and I could be held in a jail cell. They were concerned for me
I see in retrospect that in fact my probation order had expired.

After considerable debate, we agreed that I stay at my aunt's out in Pitt Meadows BC.
On the way to my aunt's, Gateway staff pulled into a doctor's office. I did not leave the car, a staff went in and returned and we continued towards Pitt Meadows.
As we were driving a new debate would arise. The staff had obtained medication for me and I was to take these pills while out at my aunt's. Absolutely not. Not a chance.
Last time I took someones pills, I got fucked in the ass. No !

They told me that if I refused that they would breach my probation. Once at my aunt's and after they told her it was necessary, she convinced me and I took the medication.
Heavily sedated once more, I was a walking zombie for the next ten days.

Gateway staff picked me up to drive me to the mountaineering program in Kerameos.
On the three hour drive they produce another bottle of pills, told me it was a lesser tranquilizer and that if I did not take the medication I would be breached.
At Kerameos the medication was left with an Outward Bound staff. Once the Gateway staff had left, the pill bottle was given to me. I was told that they were not doctors,
and that if I needed the medication, I could take it myself.

I think it was the next day, I stumbled from a hiking trail and fell down a large ravine. Next I remember is my waking up on a mattress in a small room with the door ajar.
I had stitches in my hand that were feeling infected and painful and I was so groggy.
As I exited the room into the bright hall, I seen a person and asked him where I was.
“You are in the puzzle factory” was his reply, and I soon realized that I was at Riverview Mental Hospital. Gateway had committed me to a seventy two hour mental evaluation.
Nurses explained to me the definition of my confinement. Then they brought pills of all colors of the rainbow and were not accepting that I would not take them.
As nurses huddled, I very most concerned that I was going to be dragged off, held down, forcibly injected and committed for the rest of my life.
Thank God they relented and after three days of ink spots and word association games,
I was released.

Upon my release from Riverview I was returned my belongings.
The clothing I was wearing, long underwear, sweater, pants, hiking boots, coat...
my belt, sheath and the buck knife that Gateway had bought me.
I walked the near ten miles to Gateway above the tire store.

Completely disingenuous, likely horrified by Ouston's information, Gateway staff had me arrested for possession of the knife. I was then committed to a thirty day assessment across the street from Riverview at Colony Farm Forensic Psychiatric Unit.

After being released from Colony Farm I would still need to testify at trial against Clifford Olson. As well I was still required to attend court for possession of the knife.

The RCMP handlers that were so omnipresent prior to my agreeing to go to Kerameos were now gone and I would not speak to any of them again until fifteen years later.
I get it now. They didn't need me anymore. The RCMP had already paid Olson
one hundred thousand dollars to recover the bodies of his victims ensuring his guilt.

Did I mention, I'm not very good at going to court ?

Olson pleads guilty to the murder of Judy Kozma and an additional ten child murders.
The media is screaming “Blood Money” and that RCMP botched the investigation.
I failed to appear for the knife possession resulting in a warrant being issued.

Vancouver Sun newspaper front page headlines “Police seek Olson associate”
as reported by Rick Ouston. Then various manipulations of the same story over several days in the Sun newspaper colouring me disturbed and nefarious, in the midst public
and media hysteria, questions and furor over Olson.
Picked up by every major media, the fallout from this is still beyond consequential.
Can any reader now comprehend what I am trying to say ?

I was physically and psychologically unable to even be in the same room as those articles, never mind be able to read them, until thirteen years later in late 1994
Upon first looking at them, I panicked, scooped them up and ran from the library.
Further there are published, quicky books whom never spoke to me,
inspired by Ouston as they relate to me. The insinuation goes beyond egregious.

It is redundant my outlining here events transpiring prior to, and that I have outlined in 1997 Statement of Claim filed in Supreme Court against the Vancouver Sun.
Suffice to say, I have been stabbed, beaten, accused and tormented. Putting it mildly.

In 1997, when Olson applied for parole under sec. 745 cc, the faint hope clause,
the devil that is this issue raised it's ugly head into my life again with bitter vengeance

Christmas day 1989, I had made a conscious to decision get on with my life.
Now and since 1990, I was employed by the Canadian National Railway
as Conductor/Locomotive Operator. March 1997, the Vancouver Sun repeated the insinuation and I was confronted by hundreds of the copied article at my work.
It was this and the newspaper's refusal to retract that caused me to litigate.

In 1997, I attempted to litigate against the Vancouver Sun. They defended themselves with time limitation defense. Basically, na na nana na ...yooouu took too long. Sick.
My trauma and symptomology caused me to break down and emotionally self destruct over time and I did not make it until the scheduled forty day Supreme Court jury trial. Even though Ouston created doctor's and relatives of mine that don't exist for his stories,
the Vancouver Sun beat me down by attrition without any conscience whatsoever.

Suffice to say, this issue is directly responsible for the loss of my proud career.

In July 1997 retired RCMP Superintendent Bruce Northup supported me and attended
a press conference at Robson square in Vancouver BC to file my Statement of Claim against the Vancouver Sun. There were numerous media outlets represented, and the retired Superintendent defended my position to them for twenty minutes.
Major media would only report that Mr. Ludlow had some heavy hitters on his side.

In 1997 through 2000, I met on numerous occasions over lunch with retired RCMP Superintendent Bruce Northup, also with retired RCMP Commissioner Les Holmes.
The two retired RCMP superpowers assured me that they were writing a book in effort to dispel many of the misunderstandings about the highly controversial investigation
and that my role was deserved of attention in their book.

I would now also meet over lunch and a beer with RCMP Corporal Cliff Kusmack
whom had taken my statement to the RCMP, as well acted as handler back in the day.

Prior to the release of “Where Shadows Linger” the book authored by retired RCMP Superintendent Bruce Northup and retired RCMP Commissioner Les Holmes, the two elderly heroes met with me and informed me, that because of the lawsuit I had ongoing against the Vancouver Sun, the lawyers for the publisher watered down their words.
“Where Shadows Linger” was published in September, 2000
In September, 2000, I moved my family to the picturesque remote mountain community of Bralorne, BC, in effort to shield them from publicity or adverse insinuation.

December, 2000, A man living two houses up the street from my family in Bralorne became threatening me over Olson insinuation. He boasted to be a chemist for the Hell's Angels and that he could mix chemicals together to kill me and leaving no evidence.
He claimed to have enough chemicals to wipe out the whole Bridge River valley.

December 24, 2000, I had called 911 and emergency response teams, hazardous materials crews, environmental safety and the RCMP attended my family residence.
Crews in protective suits removed one hundred thirty-five pounds of elemental mercury from several areas in the home. The house was immediately condemned from human habitation and Christmas Eve my family moved into a motel eleven kilometres down the mountain in Gold Bridge, BC The perpetrator of the mercury attack was outwardly laughing at me, accusing me and fully acknowledging the attempted murder.

The investigating Lillooet RCMP officers instructed me that this was not an attempted murder, only that this was mischief. The RCMP only by my prolonged insistence,
attended the home of Brian Currie and did find large jars of mercury in his basement.
There was considerable evidence including footprints through the home, and in the snow leading to his home. The footprints matched his boots exactly.
RCMP Lillooet, seemed not to want to take the matter seriously at all and were completely dismissive of my concerns. An RCMP officer trivialized to me,
“Who didn't play with mercury when they were a kid, we all did.”
My wife and I had a ten year old boy, five year old boy, and a seven month old girl.

I had met earlier in or about March 2000, with RCMP Deputy Commissioner Gary Bass.
Gary Bass had written a letter for me to the White Rock Minor Lacrosse Association,
as I had been coaching children's lacrosse and Olson insinuation had become prevalent.
On or about January 2001, I telephoned RCMP Deputy Commissioner Gary Bass and complained to him of the disinterest of the Lillooet RCMP. Gary Bass assured me that
he “would call Lillooet and light a fire under their ass.” I believe it was in fact only after this, did RCMP attend Currie's home and discover jars of mercury in his basement.
They did not then enter the home where the attack occurred and would only stand on the street. Lillooet RCMP, then applied for a peace bond and firearms prohibition for and between both myself and Brian Currie. Case closed

My family remained living in Gold Bridge, BC, moved into a residence owned by
Fred and Vivian Chapman and remained there still another year.
The Olson insinuation finally become too much to bear in the small community
and we decided to move to Penticton, BC. Our belongings all packed up ready to move, the wife's father became ill on his deathbed and the family required be at his side.
The family traveled to be with their relatives.
While we were away the landlord stole everything that we owned.
Absolutely everything. Furniture, electronics, kitchenware, clothing, photo albums, children's toys,4X4 truck, motor-home, absolutely everything.

Also taken, my files compiled over recent years pertaining to my investigating what in fact had happened to me in regard to the Olson investigation. I still most distress
that they took my autographed copy of Where Shadows Linger.

Lillooet RCMP only would say that it was a landlord tenancy matter and not their concern. Fred and Vivian Chapman had schemed for exactly that response, laughed at me, voiced to me their Olson opinions and filed with the RCMP a restraining order.
When I pressed the Lillooet RCMP further, two officers filed restraining orders against me for their own personal safety and I was prohibited from contacting them.

After the death of my wife's father my family did not ever return to Gold Bridge.
I secured employment at a foundry in Burnaby, BC and we began to rebuild our life.

July, 2006, after the breakup of my sixteen year marriage, my ten year old son accompanied me and we relocated to Penticton, BC. My six year old daughter would remain with her mother. My stepson, whom I'd raised since ten months, was sixteen years old and traveled between his mother's and my residence in Penticton.

Since the separation I did complain to the Ministry for Children on numerous occasions over several years, that I was concerned about my ex wife Darla Morgan and Richard Phillips drug and alcohol use pertaining to the well being of my daughter. Since separation Darla and Richard had thwarted my attempts to have contact with my daughter and had more than once scooped up my son and withheld him from me.

My attempts to contact my daughter were met with Darla and Rick charging that they were fearful for their life and that they had several telephone tape recordings of my threatening their life. I became charged with making death threats and placed on bail conditions that firstly included no contact with my children. After varying the contact conditions, Darla and Rick would use every my effort to contact my daughter to accuse
I was threatening them. I would be re-arrested perhaps twenty times.

The mother of my children, ex love of my life, now called me Olson guy to my face,
and said to me, “All I have to do is throw a brick through my window, phone the cops and say that I seen you running up the driveway.” She said, “Then I'll tell the cops that you told me, you were going to kill the kids and then yourself.
Then you'd be in it up to your fuckin' eyeballs, wouldn't you mister.”

This resulted in numerous charges of threatening death to my ex and her drug addict boyfriend, that they were fabricating in order to control my access to the children.
The charges laid by the Coquitlam RCMP were based on the alleged telephone recordings of me. At court, Judge Angelomatis inquired as to the tapes.
Darla Morgan instructed that they were at home in a box under the bed.
The judge recessed, offered the court would pay for the taxi, and directed Darla Morgan and Richard Phillips to return home and retrieve the tapes. When they did not return
the Crown Counsel did telephone them. They said that the tapes must be up in the attic, however that they could not go up into the attic, as Darla was pregnant and Richard had hurt his thumb at work. Judge Angelomatis instructed the RCMP to attend the residence, go up in the attic and retrieve the tapes. RCMP did attend and there were no tapes.

The court trial was postponed to a later date and the allegations of my death threats continued. At some point, the Coquitlam RCMP became skeptical of their complaints and advised me as such. Darla and Richard then directed their complaints to the Port Moody police, the Maple Ridge RCMP and the Penticton RCMP

November 2008, Darla and Richard accused that I had physically attacked Richard
on the courthouse steps although I was confidently aware that video surveillance of the incident of Richard jumping on my back from behind would be evidence. I requested the video through the Sheriff s department and no tape existed. My bail was increased to two thousand dollars and I would be held in custody until it was procured.

At this time son and my daughter were in Penticton and this was Darla and Richard's chance to take them from me. As I could not procure bail after three weeks in custody, with Christmas approaching and a trial in the spring, I decided to plead guilty to lesser charges in return for time served that I could be released and get back to my children.

October 2010, Darla Morgan and Richard Phillips had their children apprehended by the Ministry for Children due their drug and alcohol use and their negligence. Darla Morgan then committed her eldest son, now nineteen, to a psychiatric hospital the very next day
Darla and Rick have been providing him and doing cocaine, ecstasy, and crystal meth with him since he was sixteen years old, and he is now severely schizophrenic.
Further they were instructing the hospital and the Ministry for Children that,
I had beat my stepson all his life, that I beat Darla, as well beat the son I was in care of.
I went to great lengths to gain communication with my son and he was transferred different hospitals in effort to evade me. My tenacity finally paid off and Matthew was released to my care in Penticton after two months in the hospital.

Matthew's illness was severe and in a month, he ended up in the hospital in Penticton.
He escaped from the hospital and returned to his mother. He is now twenty two years old and is still using drugs with his mother even today. His future remains most unclear.
My daughter, nearly twelve, has never been returned to her mother and I am currently involved in a suit for her custody at family court. The ministry for children opposes my application and severely restricts my access to her. I have now relocated to Port Moody, BC to be near her. I live three blocks from her but am not able to see or even speak to her. The ministry through creative smoke and mirrors portrays me as violent and unfit.

During a recess at the courthouse, a ministry worker had pulled my lawyer aside.
She was very pregnant at the time. Ministry worker Jenn Harold, in private told my lawyer Peter Bright, that I had told her, I would cut the unborn baby out of her stomach and murder the baby. Nothing to to that effect ever came up in court and I visited with my daughter at the ministry offices the very next day.

This does not appear in any ministry records or court records, although ministry worker Jennifer Skuce also told me that she'd heard this when she took over the ministry file.

Jennifer Skuce has grilled me incessantly about the Olson investigation, demanding to know with whom she could verify, who I've ever received counseling from, how could she contact them and that I need sign a waiver of consent that she may get records.

My daughter has been placed by the Ministry of Children temporarily with her aunt, Darnell Jensen, Darla Morgan's sister.

My life has been threatened on numerous occasions by someone familiar with Darnell, telling me that my daughter is better off, and confronting me with Olson insinuation. One such incident is captured on video and is in the possession of the Port Moody police department. The investigating officer instructed me not to mention any of this Olson stuff in my recorded statement and another officer referred to it as babble.

Jennifer Skuce applied for a six month restraining order prohibiting my contact with her or Darnell Jenson. Darnell has stated that she has taped telephone messages of me threatening to kill her and cut her up with a chainsaw. Jennifer Skuce has told me that she has heard the messages and they are threatening. However they simply cannot exist. They did not use them in applying for the restraining order, to which I simply agreed. Smoke and mirrors.

How could this be ? How could anyone even begin to think of these things ?
What could possibly cause and or possess someone to actually say these things ?
The very first line in the Ministry for Children files that references my name, states,
Randy Ludlow, the biological father is an associate of Clifford Robert Olson.”

I only wanted to be with my real dad.
I consider the point of committing this to words.
Who I am addressing and where do I expect that this may lead ?
What do I think I will gain from this and what do I have to lose?
I have spent a lifetime being victimized by Clifford Robert Olson, somehow in my life since before I'm even conceived and armed with the lure of my greatest dreams.

I met Larry Ludlow in 1989. He wanted to write books and make movies. I was aghast.
I seen old photos of Olson and my father as children and would talk to my grandmother for hours. Larry Ludlow was already now calling himself Michael Cook when I met him, coincidentally Leonard's eldest son's name.
He moved my grandmother away, moved away himself and changed his phone number.
When I was able to track him down again by telephone, he told me that I seemed like
a great guy and that he wished me well. But ...that he would never want or could allow the Olson stigma, as he has seen it has affected me, to ever affect him or his life.
I am sorry, have a nice life. Please do not try to contact me again. Dial tone.

I did not get to meet my extended family. He didn't pay me back for the DNA test,
and he ripped me off for the inheritance that my grandmother said I was entitled.
Be careful what you wish for I guess.

My authoring this chronology has to be in some effort to make right, but the forum remains unclear. There was a time when I dared to believe that this was really over, but life, can be cruel. I have always remained cognizant of the families of the victims grief.
How dare I drag this up for them. How detestable that I might approach them.

In 1997, while Olson was applying for parole, the families of the victims were approached on my behalf. Liaison Steve Sullivan of Victims of Violence in Ottawa sought to facilitate a meeting between myself and the families of the victims.
Steve Sullivan reported back to me, the families had said, that they do not want to meet or talk with someone, they still view as culpable in the deaths of their children.
Didn't some of them create Victims of Violence ? More irony I suppose.

Where can I today go from here ?
I don't dare appear theatricizing or trivializing anyone's issues, or appear grandstanding in spite of their loss. I can't force people to confront common demons,
but, love and props Phil McGraw, I think of you often.

Sometimes I don't just pray to God, I pray to Judy Kozma.
Is that offending anyone ?

I so very sincerely am sorry for the repugnance of Olson, that I just can't let it die, and
I must confront once more the demon, that it doesn't ever take and consume my children.
Consider this document in it's entirety, now my written complaint to the RCMP

July 1981, RCMP acted on a Duty to Serve and Protect me, when did it cease to apply ?
I accuse that RCMP negligence directly caused me to be raped nearly killed.
The RCMP had a duty to protect me and ought to have known and did in fact know
that immanent danger was most near and that harm to me was likely.

RCMP released Olson despite his having a warrant and a record for sexual assault.
He was released consciously against the laws and justices of our judicial system and criminal code with no warning to myself despite opportunity and the sworn duty.

What may be different for me today if the RCMP had remained vigilant in keeping me from harm when the obligation arose ? Or if they protected their witness ?
Does RCMP complexity excuse accountability ?

Does the RCMP have conscience and empathy regarding victims ?
If the RCMP, without even fault whatsoever, could not or did not, protect any or all of the victims of Clifford Robert Olson, should they not at least in retrospect,
protect victims that survived ?

The RCMP has not even protected me from the RCMP
August 2011 Penticton BC, an RCMP officer violently slammed my head into a brick wall, amidst insinuation of Olson within detachment members and to my girlfriend(s)
Since this incident I have had seizures. Enough has to be enough.

I speculate that in 1981 the RCMP had likely offered a reward for information
leading to the arrest and conviction of whom turned out to be Olson.
This is this my just reward ?

I have attempted, in condensed fashion, through pertinent events and a sense of
my background, to illustrate my motivation for firstly complaining to the RCMP.

Notwithstanding my potential grievance with the New Westminster Police Department, whom I would make a good case officer(s) from within even tried to have me killed,
and have doctored my criminal record. Incredulous accusations ? Take me to task.
If further details are desired by anyone concerned and I may provide them, ask me.

Most Sincerely Obliged,

Randy Ludlow March 13, 2012