My Time In Nova Scotia Mental Health

My Story: In 2014, June, I came to Nova Scotia suffering what was diagnosed as a post-traumatic stress disorder. I had already been diagnosed with bipolar disease type two. I was living at my mother's house on O'brien street in Windsor, Nova Scotia. I was desperately seeking psychiatric care, as I was suffering from panic attacks and horror attacks brought on by hallucinations. 

I was denied admission to Abbie J Lane and sent home twice. One incident occurred where due to my mental illness, I got intoxicated, got into an altercation, and was arrested and brought into the local RCMP Windsor station.

Eventually, I began working with Dr.Burke from Hants Community Hospital. He prescribed me Paxil, which allowed me to sleep for long periods of time, and I stabilized. 

In the spring of 2015 I began working on software and believed eventually I had found a software invention worth billions of dollars. I thought the software invention would change the world and that it would ruin the software industry, so I felt it was my duty as a Canadian Citizen to keep it secret and report it to the Canadian Government. 

Police were called to my house on one occasion, where people on Facebook were concerned I was going to harm myself. The Police came and found I was stable and then left. Not too many days passed where I attempted to contact CSIS(Canadian Intelligence), and when they refused to hear my story, I called 9-11 and told them 'terrorist, bomb' things like that over the phone. I was now in a very severe episode of mental illness.

The Police arrived and thought I was suffering from mental illness, and took me into the RCMP vehicle, and then took me to the hospital. I believe they took me to Hants Community Hospital, but I can't remember if it was the station or the hospital. Either way, I ended up being transferred to the Abbie. J Lane, which I kept telling the officers my invention was worth billions, and it was a threat to national security.

Eventually, the Police left, and security took over, and I began stomping on the wall with my boot to emphasize I wasn't insane, I had a real software invention. In my mind, at the time, it seemed reasonable. Then I managed to escape the hospital after the doctor had placed me on a form. I came back, was placed in a bed in restraints, and I managed to escape those and repeat the same thing.

At some point I fell asleep, and when I came to, I was in a haze and I was in a different place. I'm pretty sure they used a tranquilizer to knock me out at the Abbie J. Lane, and transferred me to North Valley Regional, or something like that. I need to see medical records to know for sure, medical records I've never attempted to get. 

Either way, I began demanding my rights to a phone call to a lawyer and my mother. Little did I know under the mental health care act, I did not have any rights to call a lawyer and my mother. They kept blocking me, so I decided to proceed into the nursing station and attempt to use the phone. The nurse got in my way, I warned her I would use force to move her out of the way, and she continued to block me in which my memory is I pushed her out of the way and went for the phone. I had the phone in my hand when I was placed in a painful body maneuver by a male nurse there. 

There was no other way out of the maneuver, from my memory, then to bite the nurse. I bit him, and he let me go, and the next thing I remember I came to in a strange place, which turned out to be East Coast Forensic Hospital. Once again, they must have came from behind and used a tranquilizer to knock me out. 

My justification for using force was I seemed to believe at the time as a Canadian Cititzen I had the right to use necessary force to secure my rights to a phone call; that's what I was thinking. I was thinking, 'how dare you refuse me a phone call? I'm going to use force to secure my rights.' I was not entirely coherent, and I was later informed I broke a window or threw the nurse into the window, something along those lines, but that's not how I remember it happening. Once again I've never seen the evidence against me.

In East Coast Forensic, they had placed me in what was called the 'Pick Me Unit' where they were evaluating my behavior. They continued to refuse me access to a phone. Dr. Kromflee stated, 'I can't believe how much medication you were on; you were delirious.' He took me off most of the medication and placed me on the drug lurasidone. I demanded my rights to use the phone, but was denied. I began having reactions to the lurasidone in which some nights I felt like jumping out of my skin, and screaming at the top of my lungs from a terrible inner core feeling of restlessness.

Eventually, I got tired of them refusing me access to the phone. I came up with a plan that if I could injure myself, that would trigger an emergency that required a regular hospital visit, where I would be able to use the phone.

First, I pulled a screw from the door and began attempting to open my foot with it. That failed. Then I tried using the sharp edge of a doorstop that was broken, that failed as well. Finally, I went into the washroom and got up onto one of the stalls, broke the casing to the halogen bulbs, and then proceeded to break the bulb in the middle of the unit, and then I got onto the broken glass with my bare feet.

Eventually, the nurses figured out what I had done, and they called corrections. I kept screaming, 'I want my rights, I want my phone call.' Corrections came in with a team and a riot shield. They told me to get off the broken glass, I refused, and they warned me again and said they would use force. I told them to use force, and then they proceeded to tackle me with the riot shield off the glass, and onto the floor nearly hitting my head on a steel beam. 

They took me to solitary, where the medical doctor for the hospital came in, and examined my feet, and used tweezers to the pull the glass out. The room smelt of feces.

I begged the doctor to allow me to use the phone, but I was told that was up to my psychiatrist Dr. Kromflee. They left me in solitary over night, in which for some reason I urinated all over myself and cried myself to sleep.

The next day, they took me back to the unit, and I was given a T.V., a phone to use outside of the unit, closer to the nursing station and a radio. I was relieved but kept pressing for permission to have a laptop to work on my software invention.

I remembered the event with the nurse I bit, and I told corrections at East Coast Forensic Hospital I was defending myself. I kept claiming self-defense for the event. I was concerned something was going to happen, but I wasn't sure what it was.

It was in October that I was told East Coast Forensic Hospital would transfer me to the Mayflower Unit. They moved me, and I thought I would be going home, but the doctor at the Mayflower Unit held me another three to four weeks before I could go home. 

I was devastated, I was desperately seeking freedom, and I was still prescribed lurasidone. The drug reactions got worse in the hospital and I peeked when I went home on a pass. I came back to the hospital, this time with an audio recorder, and attempted to record the nurses abusing patients. 

One night, the reaction to the drug was so bad, I was screaming at the top of my lungs in pain and discomfort, and they called security. I was forced back onto my bed in my room, and then from there, the clonazepam kicked in, and I calmed down. 

After that, I went to the library and printed out letters that stated I was going through severe reactions to the drug. I printed I believe, three letters and gave them to the nursing station. 

At some point, the doctor was willing to sign my discharge papers. I went home with my mother and mentally collapsed from trauma. I laid in bed, wanting to kill myself for quite some time, and every day, waiting to see if they would come back to get me and take me to the hospital.

It had been three months since the biting incident. Finally, I was starting to recover by sleeping in bed. Then there was a knock at the door, and my mother told me to come downstairs. There was an RCMP officer there, and he served me aggravated assault charges. I had a feeling something was coming, but I didn't expect that. 

My mental health collapsed again. I did not report the charges to my psychiatrist Dr. Brian Burke. I thought he was involved in a conspiracy to hurt me. 

I began recording hours and hours of religious, spiritual testimony. This is very hard to remember, but I had some religious delusions and figured if I testified to the Police and people on my Facebook wall about my religious beliefs, that there would be a miraculous conclusion to my story. I ended up claimbing I was a serial killer on Facebook, and in audio recordings I sent to the Police.

After I sent all of the recordings and evidence to the Police, I expected them to come and arrest me but they weren't coming. Eventually, I got frustrated, my mother left the house, and I started a house fire. 

I was arrested outside of the house for the fire. I was severely mentally ill. First, I was retaken to the Police station. Then I was taken to the Abbie Lane; then they sent me to the MIOU(Mentally Ill Offender Unit). Dr.Potel believed I was not criminally responsible on account of mental disorder. Dr.Potel did his forensic assessment, and the judge found me not criminally responsible, landing me on Unit A of East Coast Forensic Hospital.

There was still the matter of my criminal charges of aggrevated assault. I was supposed to go to court, but because I was in hospital, it delayed that. I had another forensic assessment done by Dr.Burnea, which resulted in her claiming I was mentally fit to stand trial and that she believed I was criminally responsible. I was then forced into shackles numerous times and dragged back and forth between Kentville and Dartmouth.

My lawyer came into the holding area at one point and said, 'We can't claim self-defense, I don't think we can win this, the broken glass.' He kept mentioning broken glass, but I had no idea what he was talking about. For some reason, his legal opinion was the evidence against me was doubtful I would win in trial. He convinced me to plead guilty, so I pled guilty under duress. 

After years of being at East Coast Forensic Hospital, I was discharged absolutely and ended up having to face not being able to work due to a criminal record.

That's the simplified story of what happened from my perspective.

I understand a lot of time has passed, but it's taken me this long and so many painful events to be able to come out with my story, and I'm seeking legal action based on the following questions.

Why would I be charged, three months later, if I was deemed a danger to myself or others and unfit to be in the community, only to make a claim I was mentally sane when I attacked the nurses, and then go against the observations of two doctors, both who believed I had to be in short term care for months. Two doctors held me for months after the attack, that means they thought I was a danger to myself or others, and yet I get aggravated assault charges after I leave the hospital? Was I mentally ill or wasn't I? From the looks of it it must have been four doctors who verified I was mentally ill and unfit to be in the community.