quit your damned bleeding and never end your fecking breathing.

simple, wild, natural assholetry a deep embedded hole of ash is Thee funeral pyre, a slow and constant burn beyond behaviour, with no condition, I am, you are

 one in being and burning beyond breath unconditional eternal love and breath alone all one.

http://www.cbc.ca/m/news/canada/british-columbia/peter-de-groot-s-sister-says-he-was-executed-1.2806040 Intro
My name is Danna de Groot and I am Peter de Groot’s sister. Sadly, I am here today to relay, on behalf of my immediate family and our extended family and friends, correct information about Peter de Groot as well as our account of events from last Thursday, October 9 when he escaped police gunfire and disappeared into the bush that bordered his home to Thanksgiving Monday, October 13 when he was shot dead after evading police for numerous days. My younger brother and I were in Slocan meeting with the RCMP before they killed Peter.
What I am about to say is highly personal and extremely emotional for me. We are only here due to the ridiculous level of character defamation put on my brother that in part caused his death.

My brother was born the first of seven children to Peter de Groot and Wilhelmina de Groot (deceased). He was bright and inquisitive - he read voraciously and enjoyed being outside. We grew up in an area that was bordered by bush in Central Ontario. Peter spent a great deal of time there, canoeing, running a trap-line, assisting local farmers, riding dirt-bikes, playing hockey. He wrote from the time he was a child.
Peter excelled academically and was continuously at the top of his class, winning numerous spelling bees and speech contests and joining clubs such as mock parliament and the debate team. He was extremely interested in both history and politics and after graduating as an Ontario Scholar, he was awarded a scholarship to journalism school in Ottawa at Carleton University. Peter transferred from journalism to the political science department after one year and completed his undergraduate degree in political science with a minor in history. He then attended the University of Western Ontario, where he completed a Master’s degree in political theory. He was accepted to a Phd program at Purdue University in International Relations with a goal of working for the United Nations. He traveled extensively and he was simply the most knowledgeable and intelligent person that I have ever known.
Peter did not serve in the Canadian Army. He had never been to Afghanistan. He did not have PTSD. He did not have a criminal record. He had never been arrested. He did not drink or smoke. He never did street drugs of any kind. He was not schizophrenic. He was never on antidepressant drugs.
He looked out for us. He loved animals.
Peter worked in construction with our father in the summers in order to pay for his education.
A few weeks before moving to begin his Phd, he collapsed unconscious on a job site. My father carried him out and brought him to the hospital. After he was checked he was sent home and began what became a period of physical deterioration that lasted approximately three years.
We moved him to Victoria, BC because we lived in a snow-belt and were concerned that if he fell on the ice and broke his hip he might die. I flew from Toronto numerous times renting him an apartment, buying furniture, setting it up and helping him settle. He began to do coursework at the University of Victoria.
I decided to move to Vancouver when the opportunity presented itself, in part to be closer to Peter because as much as he worked to regain his robust strength, he did not.

I drove across the country in July 1997 with my father. The evening we arrived in Vancouver I put my Dad on a plane back to Toronto. The following early morning I received a screaming phone call from my mother. My brother had been talking to her on the phone, began slurring his words and then the phone had gone dead. I left for Victoria.
When I arrived, Peter had been taken to hospital – rather than drop the phone, he’d unlocked his door, hung up, dialed 911, and then collapsed.
I was told he remembered nothing. He knew me and he knew my voice. It was determined that he had likely had a first aneurysm when he originally collapsed.
He was given a 50/50 chance at surviving surgery. He chose to take his chances, saying he wanted the maximum quality of life available to him and that if he did not have the surgery the next aneurysm would likely kill him.
Three days post surgery he had his first grand mal seizure. In total he had six, a few of which I was present for and which were terrifying to watch. I called him out of the seizure on two occasions. During the other four, he broke numerous bones, including his back and collarbone. He lost an inch of his height. He lived with me and I attended to him for three and a half years. Seizure, break, recovery. Seizure, break, recovery. He suffered. He had great pain. He took anti-seizure medication, which deteriorates your bones and teeth rapidly and sometimes he took painkillers, but not always, because he did not like them to cloud his thinking.
He was very sad and angry about what had happened, but in all of the time I spent with him, from childhood, through university and through the absolute hell of his medical condition there was not one time where he was violent.
Our sister found a study out of John Hopkins University showing a reduction of seizures in epileptic patients who consumed a high fat diet. Peter began a similar protocol and gradually his seizures reduced and finally stopped for a long enough period that he was able to wean off of the anti-seizure medication.
The area of his brain where he had the aneurysm was in the region controlling peripheral vision and his senses and that was compromised. I helped him re-learn to drive. He worked very hard to gain back coordination skills, but his brain did now function differently.
But he wanted to live. He worked harder than one can imagine to regain his strength and faculties so that he could live freely and independently. He was adamant about not being perceived disabled.
He asserted his independence and moved away, but he still needed to be supplied with money because his ability to earn a living was compromised. He no longer had seizures and he went back to his childhood roots, reading and writing, trapping and farming, considering it an added bonus that the milk and butter that he produced was what kept his seizures at bay. He wrote a few books and some lovely poetry and worked to play music. He still read all of the time, languages of the world, do-it-yourself guides, homesteading manuals.
Life outside suited him because he was able to be free, be outside, and have fresh air. He liked not having cell phone service. He was careful because he was fragile. He worked all day typically on his survival, wanting only to be left alone with his animals.
Peter had arranged to receive money from our dad in October. When we didn't hear from him, my sister emailed his extremely kind representative at the Brian Injury Clinic, who contacted the RCMP. The RCMP said they had ‘laid eyes on him in August’. That is how he may have been known to police, but it is a small town.
My brother wanted to live freely and my parents didn't judge him – after all he’d been through they wanted him to feel proud and independent and to be happy and live well. He had always been extremely skilled in the wild and he did not forget those skills. He lived in a number of different towns since the time he stopped living with me. He did have some problems with neighbours - sometimes people have problems with their neighbours. His body had been so ravaged over time that it was very easy to judge him
as a person he was not. He was still sharp and cutting and willing to argue. He had been weakened and so stood up for himself more harshly than before the aneurysm.

Course of Events October 9-13, 2014
It is alleged my brother shoved someone on October 7.
I also understand another complaint was made to the SPCA against him that morning. At 9:15am, the SPCA fellow personally bought feed and brought it to Peter because he knew and liked him and he thought perhaps he was having money troubles. He tried to give the feed to Peter but Peter did refuse it because he already had a sufficient amount, and the SPCA agreed The SPCA fellow was satisfied and left without issue. He said Peter was pushing a wheelbarrow, working when he arrived. That his manner was calm – he was his usual self, that they had the conversation, everything looked good and off he went. The animals were not and are not malnourished. It has been noted by several people that Peter was utterly devoted to his animal’s welfare.
I understand that three RCMP officers were dispatched a few hours later to arrest my brother for allegedly shoving this person and that they did not approach him in a reasonable manner to ask him about what happened. I understand the RCMP did not leave the road in front of his property – that they drove up with three vehicles, creating a blockade and got out of their cars. That they stayed behind them and got out their guns.
My brother did have a collection of guns. We were taught how to shoot a gun together by our dad and Peter was always very safe. He had a small farm that included two cows, two bulls, a boar, three pigs and approximately thirty-nine chickens – one runt chicken that he was sleeping beside, protecting. The property where these animals were kept bordered a bush, where wild animals lived. It is common in the area to protect domesticated animals from wild ones. His guns as I understand were registered and he knew and obeyed the law with regard to them. He was worried that the RCMP may try to take his collection. He was ‘homesteading’ outside and he was also worried about protecting himself, which others may have been perceived as paranoia. It appears, however, in retrospect that any paranoia was fully and completely warranted.
On Friday morning, I went to work and as I was about to start a meeting I received a call from my sister in Amsterdam, who said we had to find him, the police were ‘hunting’ our brother. She had been contacted by the woman (from the Brain Injury Clinic) after the woman was called by the New Denver RCMP that this was happening.
I called the RCMP negotiator to find out what was going on and I asked if I should come
to Slocan to look for my brother. He said no, not to come. I said why not? What if you find him, what are you going to do? He said the incident would be brought to a conclusion. I said, if something is wrong with him, I can talk to him and he will know my voice; when told about the incident, I said he wasn't violent and that if all he had done was shove someone it seemed like a manhunt might be excessive. He told me they had the situation handled and that if they needed me they would get me. I said how? Do you fly people there in your police helicopter? When will you let me know? Shouldn't I come now so that if any sort of stand-off situation happens I will be there to talk him down? He would be scared and in fear of his life and it would seem he was ganged up on. He would need someone on his side in order to stay calm. I repeated he was not violent and that I could come and go into the bush and get him. He told me he’d let me know if I was needed.
I hung up the phone and took calls from others who’d seen the news. I called a law firm in town my company had worked with and asked to speak to a criminal attorney, who very generously took my call and helped me through the weekend. He suggested I start driving despite the RCMP asking me not to come. I made some quick arrangements and left town, driving ten hours straight to arrive in Castlegar at 1am. I called the RCMP enroute that I was coming anyway and I received a few calls over the course of the drive, including one asking to interview me when I arrived rather than go where they were searching. I did as they asked and was interviewed about my brother for 2.5 hours, until 3:30 am, explaining he wasn't a violent person - the media was not telling the truth of who he was, etc. I was trying to correct the misinformation, but it seemed that hysteria about him being a violent misfit ensued.
At the end of the interview they asked for my dad’s phone number and I said I’d rather not give it to them until I spoke with him first. They said sure, but the next morning by the time I woke up at 7:30am they had already called my dad.
I went to the RCMP at their ‘command central’ where I met the lead investigator and spoke at length with him. In both interviews I re-iterated my request to bring me to wherever they were, so that if anything happened I could talk to my brother. I offered both times to ‘walk into the bush to get him’. I asked about releasing a statement to the media in order to correct the enormous amount of misinformation that was being published and damaging the perception of my brother to the public but more importantly to the police who were ‘hunting’ him. I was asked to issue a radio announcement asking Peter to turn himself in – I said that we would be happy to but in a way that would get through to Peter and that would not make him feel alone and ganged up on, as though his family had aligned with the police against him.
They would not tell me where my brother’s place was exactly. I left and drove the streets of Slocan until I came across it and was turned away by the young RCMP constable parked up the road. I identified myself and he radio’d after I turned the car around. I later sent the media statement to the lead investigator, who confirmed that he had passed it on to their media liason. This statement was never released.
The next morning I picked up my little brother Miles who flew in from Toronto. Miles and I drove from Castlegar to Slocan. We went to the command central where I introduced him. We were told by the lead investigator that the search had been downgraded to low priority and that they would be pulling out of the area and things would go back to almost normal, just a slightly elevated presence. We were told this should be done by late afternoon but to be safe that we should wait until the next morning to go on the property or to go into the bush. We were also asked again to record the radio spot that Peter could potentially hear if he had found a cabin equipped with a radio. I said we would draft it that evening and record tomorrow. We left feeling as though things were calming and that Peter was a step closer to being safe. I drove Miles through the town so that he could see Peter’s place as well as the road that I’d driven up and encountered the ERT, in three black suv’s, burning around the bend, dressed for combat with an air of adrenaline. I was questioned – who was I, why was I there, was I there to meet him? Did I know where he was? Was I picking him up? They had no interest in using me to help resolve the situation. I said I hope I find him before you do. In retrospect, I wish I’d begged them not to kill my brother.
We drove back to Nelson in order to have cell service. The following morning, I called the lead investigator and let him know we intended to drive back to Slocan and search Peter’s property and the bush behind it. He asked us to drive to Castlegar prior to going to Slocan. It was supposed to rain the next day and so if we were going to find any tracks we needed to do the outside job first and so I said we would look and then record in the later afternoon. He asked us to check in at the command central when we arrived so they knew where we were. We acquired a few things from a friend in Nelson: flagging tape, garbage bags. We went directly to the command central to check in.
When we arrived the building was deserted and locked. There was a sign on the door saying the return time was 9, presumably for the holiday. I knocked. At the same time that we were at the building the ctv news van drove up and a woman and man got out – the woman had a notepad pad at the ready. They asked us if we were family or if we knew what was going on now. I said we were here to meet someone for lunch and told my brother to get in the car. We went to the Peter’s property.
The RCMP had left much of his stuff in a giant pile on the lawn – things that were not
previously outside – his hockey equipment, clothes, shoes, books. Knowing it was going to rain we began to move things inside so they wouldn't be wrecked. I left Miles there to go to the café to text family with an update then I was going to go buy garbage bags. I was gone for about ten minutes when I heard my name softly ‘Danna, Danna’. I looked up and over my shoulder to one of the constables who said ‘Miles, Miles’ and I thought OMG did they do it to him too? I saw Miles through the window dancing and collapsing like a giant puppet; crying and wailing – totally freaking out. I went outside and said Miles, Miles look at me what’s wrong? And he stopped and said they killed him, they killed him! And I looked back at the officer and said whaat? Why didn't you get us? We were right here? She said yes they killed him, that they had received a tip, that ERT officers had gone to the cabin where he’d been spotted, that three officers had ‘opened the door to the cabin’ and that Peter was ‘on his front with his gun pointed at them’ and that they’d killed him. I said omg Miles was wailing that global news had been chasing him. The officer told me that at the moment she told Miles global news was there and as he collapsed they were hauling their camera up to exploit his grief. He ran by the pigs to get away from global and jumped in the officers’ suv when she told him to do so. They then had to lose global before they came to tell me.
I said, I needed to tell my dad before the media published it; that he and our family had the right to know first. I asked to use their phone. Miles said he didn't want to go use the phone of the people who had just murdered our brother and he didn't want global news to catch him. I said I would go call. I hid my brother and car behind the restaurant and got in the officers suv and she took me to call. When we got there I asked to use the washroom, which I knew was on that side of the building. The place was swarming with officers including the lead investigator. We were told I couldn't use the washroom. I said I would hold it and started walking to the other side of the building. She called to me saying I couldn't use the phone there either. I said ‘you mean to tell me that you just killed my brother and I can’t use the only available landline in town to call my family and let him know that he is dead? I have to drive 45 minutes to Nelson in order to have some privacy and inform them before the media does? I said ‘This is bullshit.’ She said ‘wait’ and I said could she guarantee that the media was not going to be informed prior to my making the drive to Nelson. She said the Independent Investigative Office wasn't supposed to move into the site until midnight and that they would do the media release, so there was time. I left with Miles for Nelson where we tried to call until we got service. And then we told each of my sisters, who just started crying or screaming. I told one who sounded hysterical she had to leave work and to get her boyfriend to come and get her. My father also lives in the bush and has spotty reception. We couldn't get ahold of him. We called my sister in Toronto back and I ordered her to get in her car and drive the two hours to our dad’s to try to tell him before they released it on the
news and someone else came over. My sister and family drove to my dad’s, where they woke him up by honking their horn. He started screaming ‘they killed my sweet boy’.
We arrived in Nelson and it was already on the news. Our family was not the first to know. I called the officer back and said what did you do? You said it wouldn’t be released until midnight? Where do I go get his body, do I collect it from CTV?
We had watched in horror as the situation spiraled into a fully militarized manhunt that seemed to preclude any reasonable and simple resolution.

We were told that in the original incident Peter shoved someone. Had he been shoved?
The RCMP dispatched three officers to Peter’s to arrest him for assault because of the shove. They drove up in three vehicles and created a blockade in front of his property. They got out of their vehicles and got behind their cars and got their guns out. Why didn't they just walk up to him like the official from the SPCA a couple hours earlier?
It is our understanding that the police arrived at the property and opened fire on my brother and that he ran away. We consider any shots he may have fired to have been in self defense.
We were told that Peter was starving. Peter had been extremely thin at least since 1997 when he had his aneurysm. Peter’s behaviour had been consistent since 1997, in that he chose a life of integrity and only expression of honest emotion. He also continued to write down his thoughts. Because he remembered how he was before the accident, they could be profoundly sad, but they were never malicious or violent. We found many little notes that reflected his mind – perfectly reasonable statements interspersed with odder statements. Things like ‘accept no help’; Oct 1 rent; ‘eat plums not apples’. He talked to himself and he talked to his animals. He had times of more and less stress, but he hadn’t snapped – he was reasonable and fine a few hours earlier.
Why did the RCMP tell us to check in with them and then leave the building deserted? They knew we were coming, why didn't they leave someone there with a radio to meet us and take us there? How did CTV know something was going on and we didn't? Why was my repeated request ‘to be brought in to talk to Peter should any stand-off type situation occur” ignored and our efforts disregarded? They had zero trouble finding us to tell us our brother was dead – and global news too – why was it too much trouble to get us to help preserve the life of our dear and vulnerable brother, and prevent the killing from happening?
We were told that ERT members were on the scene, not the RCMP in the office. Why was the RCMP office deserted when we went to check in if they were not there on the site? And then swarming when I went to use the phone after it happened?
My brother was spotted in a remote cabin in the wilderness. He was in a contained area, he was extremely thin before this started, he had spent four days in the bush without food or water evading the police using only his wits. He was not an imminent threat to public safety – the public was not around. He had not committed any serious crime – he’d done nothing other than supposedly shove someone and protect himself from being gunned down. He was weak and could have been sleeping on his front with his gun beside him pointed at the door.
It’s unlikely in escaping that he had time to outfit himself in any way. The police said there was an interaction. It appears the interaction was that the ERT opened fire and Peter died.
He was weak and tired, not an imminent threat and we were waiting to be told he’d been found and brought to talk to him, calm him and bring him to safety. Why not use non-lethal means or negotiation in a situation that is fully contained? Why not surround the place and wait the couple hours it would take to go get us? Why not shave a few hours off of the more than thirty-five hours that he lay dead in the dirt waiting for the coroner? Was someone angry they’d been out-smarted by an untrained average civilian? Was he deemed so alone and worthless that no one would even care that he was gone?
The distilled facts to my mind are as follows. We were right there asking and he was executed instead of letting his family know he’d been found.
The officers on the scene had to have had a complete and utter disregard for his life or they would have taken the time to try to save him. He was judged unworthy to live and he was randomly given the death penalty for no good reason.
In short we are outraged. My brother suffered unspeakable tragedy and pain, spending years rehabilitating himself from a devastating condition. Each and every person that hears this should be humbled to their knees at the honesty and integrity with which he lived his life – working so hard each and every day to overcome so many obstacles, with the simple goals of being independent, free and happy. He was killed for being himself.
This is the first time in our lives that we have been ashamed to be Canadian. We felt the need to clarify the utter shambles that caused our brother’s death. We are simply an average Canadian family. And we wanted to tell you that if it can happen to us then it
can certainly happen to you.
And so in an effort to restore dignity to a person who deserved nothing but admiration, love and respect, we will attempt to alter the appalling, sorry state of affairs in our country that is demonstrated by the death of our brother.
We will establish a fund or foundation in Peter’s name between now and the time of the inquest into his death. Once the inquest is concluded we will assess the findings and decide on a direction to pursue:
• A possible civil suit in order to hold those accountable for our brother’s wrongful death
• Providing a first responder psychologist to any situation involving a person with a history of mental health
• Reforming policy towards the use of deadly force in this country
• Establishing an enlightened, mandatory process by which ERT members must
carry out their work.
• Ensuring regular mandatory steroid and drug tests for any ERT member are
carried out
• Demanding regulations on the media to prevent last week’s relaying of hearsay
as fact.
• Requiring better training and education of officers and other Ministry of Justice
personnel with regard to de-escalation, character assessment, knowledge of emotional and physical abuse, and communication and project management skills
• And finally, establishing a support network without stigma for people in our society who are functional and reasonably able, but who require additional kindness, compassion and community support.
The time between now and the coroner’s inquest will be lengthy. At each milestone in the process we will update the public through this forum. In the time between our updates we ask that our privacy be respected.
I will close with a simple quote that I have always loved by Henry David Thoreau:
‘All good things are wild and free’. Peter, I deeply regret how you were failed by the country you loved so dearly. You were and now you will forever be a good, good thing.