God's On Our Side, Sweetie! But The Devil Has Control!

God's On Our Side, Sweetie! But The Devil Has Control!
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Friday, April 20, 2012

Heiress Lives In A Tent: The Politics Of Religion


March 23, 2012



                                                                      TRINITY

Trinity Cathedral is a unique and extraordinary church where people are transformed as they experience the love of God through a welcoming community that is deeply committed to serving the needs of the poor.



I believe one would call the above a mission statement? Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, in Sacramento, California has this written piece printed on their website under, “about Trinity.”

I grew up in this church; sang in the choir; took Sunday school classes; was confirmed by Dean Hoffman and married by the Bishop of Northern California, Bishop Hayden on the shores of Lake Tahoe in 1974 to my Michigan born husband Rick.

My wonderful mother in her day picked roses and ivy from her eighty thousand acre sheep ranch and arranged altar bouquets; for the parishioners she cooked banquet sized spaghetti dinners and taught Sunday school.

What confused me a lot back then was my mother was Jewish and would not admit to it?

Together my parents Robert and Winifred Breuner donated stained glass windows for this church, their names visibly displayed on a plague below them. I’m not sure how many they donated? I believe there are three: two in their memory and one in my niece Mary Louise’s.

I have always loved this church; the smell; red carpeting; stained glass windows; voices in song and the many friends and familiar faces. Last but not least I loved the grand procession as Dean Hoffman, dressed in awesome gold and white robes lead clergy and choir down the red carpeting before service started; when service was over he did the same.

Unfortunately, when I married Rick, my moving to Michigan with my then two small daughters would take me away from the comfort I found growing up in and attending the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral.

In comfort, the church like an oasis was often in my mind and heart as I lived far away. I felt that no matter what happened to me, I could call on the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral for help if need be.

But what could possibly happen? I had a life of joy, happiness and love; full of family, beautiful children; talent; opportunity; travel and lots of money in my trust account. I was very grateful. Who could ask for more?

I was very proud of my oldest sister Winnie, twenty years my senior. After her daughter Mary Louise tragically died as a child, she went back to college and studied divinity, becoming Canon Winifred B. Gaines. The first ordained female Episcopal priest in California. Or is it Northern California? I don't recall.

And where in the world would she clergy?  Well that would be at the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral. So now a family member was involved with my comfort zone and not a particularly friendly one.

I really didn’t have any feelings about this one way or the other. I was just very proud of Winnie.

Yet, never very close to my sisters growing up because of the huge age difference, I always thought. Winnie was the oldest: Jennie fifteen years my senior, and Kitty ten years older.

I accepted these uncomfortable relationships, but all my life it had been a hard pill to swallow. I wanted close joyous unions, especially after my parents died. It would never transpire no matter how hard I tried. Instead my family and I had close relationships with almost all my nieces and nephews…nine of them. None of us knew Kitty’s three daughters at all.

Meanwhile, years later when my two oldest daughters, Alison and Alexis were to marry, we invited Winnie to officiate at their weddings. I thought this might build a bridge for our relationship? Having Winnie agree was grand, wonderful and terrific at the same time.

We actually got closer as she learned to know my daughters. Since I’d been in Michigan for twenty years at that time, she hardly knew them…adding now my third daughter, Kelly. They barely knew her. But, all this changed with the weddings.

I felt that God had answered my prayers for healing the relationships with my sisters. I was one down with two to go. Ah, but God had another plan, unbeknownst to me.

He had a secret that needed uncovering.

It was October 1997 when he revealed this change in my plans. I found myself drowning at one hundred and fifty feet beneath the Grand Cayman Sea with no diving computer and my life partner and scuba buddy gone with our shared equipment.

Rick was trying to murder me after a twenty-five year happy marriage? Yet, by the grace of God I survived.

The next thing I know, I’m divorced, living in Sun Valley, Idaho in my trust-owned log cabin trying desperately to put pieces together where there were only a few facts and many secrets?



What’s worse my whole family, including my precious daughters, turned against me like vipers instantly?

Rick married another woman just as instantly, a month after our final decree. She was a financial advisor and most probably still is? My daughters, grown daughters, seemed to feel she's hung the moon?

The red flags went up, but I had no idea yet as to why these flags should have been flying at half-mast.

I knew how greedy Rick always was but I didn’t expect what I eventually figured out in 2004, which is somewhat chronicled in five different articles I’ve submitted to Before It’s News titled Heiress Lives In A Tent; The New Face of The Homeless In America. There are five parts and they tell some of the story. However I hopefully have a book coming out titled, God’s On Our Side Sweetie! But, The Devil Has Control!

The publishers, four of them, are still reviewing my proposal, now in their sixth month. "No news is good news," so they say in the industry.

It was 2000 that my life started being hit by what felt like financial mafia, with my ex-husband as the king boss. By 2007 I was homeless and penniless because of serious financial crimes committed by national financial institutions and financial elite. I’d also discovered that my trust account had been embezzled to the tune of eighty million dollars over my marriage to Rick, while he was one of my trustees?

With my credit unlawfully destroyed, albeit because of federal crimes committed against me and now too my partner, Larry we were in the streets. The crimes ruined our business; took two multi-million dollar homes and what was left of my trust account. Neither of us qualified for social security? No one would hire us because of our age; the fact that we’d always had our own business and our credit was annihilated.

It was obvious by now that the embezzlement of my funds needed to be hidden; therefore financial mafia came after both Larry and I to finish us off…so we’d die in the streets.

What’s worse none of the government authorities that are supposed to handle this kind of federal crime would give me the time of day, including Justice Anthony “Tony” M. Kennedy my second removed brother-in-law and my once attorney, still holding my file from that time.

My mind went to RICO involving my whole family? But, truly I didn’t know because the authorities were refusing to investigate, while my family considered me as dead.

Yet things were so bad for Larry and me, I decided to call the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral…my oasis. I knew the new Rev. Dean Baker now officiating in my childhood church from my years living full-time in Sun Valley, Idaho. He had commissioned me to design new robes for his church there. We spent a day skiing together discussing the project.

Apparently to my delight he had been transferred to the Trinity in Sacramento while I was out in the world struggling for my life. I felt sure if I wrote him he’d help Larry and me; possibly help find us employment? Know of someone who had an apartment on a ranch that needed live-in help? Larry had been training horses all his life next to his many other talents; I’d managed two multi-million dollar homes single-handedly. We’d run a flourishing start-up fashion and furniture design venture together that only got destroyed because of crime. We were and are not dummies.

But first I e-mailed my sister Winnie, hoping she was not part of all this crime, and perhaps when she sees what’s happened to me, all the injustice, she’ll come back into my life and help?

She totally ignored my e-mail.

So I e-mailed Dean Baker, not saying a word about my sister, only asking for his help. He wrote back basically a form letter like the government authorities write from behind closed doors of secrecy, saying “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” The government authorities write, "This isn't our jurisdiction," even when it is.

He might as well have said, “I’ll keep you in my prayers while you die of an incurable disease. Take your medicine so you won’t be in such pain.”

“Doesn’t he know that prayers often bring the right person at the right time to help us when we are lost? It’s how God often answers our needs?”

Apparently, in spite of Brian Baker’s chosen position, one of God’s right hand humans, he doesn’t like doing God’s work unless it’s standing at his pulpit shouting the word of God; he doesn’t like to perform as a God loving Christian? Perhaps my sister Winnie has destroyed me in his eyes and he doesn’t have the ability to use his own brain…getting the facts?

I would never hear from him again, though I wrote many other clergy of the church staff. They ignored me as well. I guess I have a very poor reputation in my beloved Trinity? Why? I have no idea other than possibly my sister trying desperately to keep me silenced; away from any form of help; whereby I’ll learn the truth?

So Larry and I continued to struggle on our own by selling our belongings, for pennies on the dollar, because that’s all vultures will pay. We had to eat and feed our boys, so in the house we were basically borrowing from a friend we had to turn off everything we didn’t need like the cable, phones and Internet.

Finally, I won a pathetic settlement from KeyBank because my attorney, who’s a criminal, withheld so much evidence from the judge, while he took the lion’s share of this money for bogus costs.

However we had the California State Bar at our disposal that would charge this attorney and order restitution for the crimes he committed against my trust, my lawsuits, and me… now Larry too.

In 2008 Larry, all six of our precious dogs and I moved back to California from Colorado with hopes and dreams, leaving the past behind us.

But our legal problems only got worse as the State Bar refused to charge this Kenneth Joseph Catanzarite Esq. because, though they recognized the horrendous crimes he committed, they didn’t want to charge him? My God, he purposely destroyed two lawsuits and stole my multi-million dollar home; a million dollars of our belongings and worst of all got my trust case in Michigan dismissed because he never showed up in court?

Larry and I landed in the streets again in 2009, because of more crime in the legal world. Lost five of our precious dogs. We had no other choice but to seek help from a church once more. I looked for an Episcopal church in Thousand Oaks, California, hoping they didn’t know my sister Winnie? I was sure she was the reason why my childhood church wouldn’t help.

Another shock strikes our souls; they refused to help us, yet they have never heard of Winnie? Well so they said. Instead they turn us over to, Conejo Valley Cares and John Gorham who owns the project for the homeless. They call him J.P.

However after he insisted that we turn over a twelve thousand dollar oil painting to him, so he could find a buyer, and I asked some serious questions about this, he refused to help us anymore as he'd promised…like help us find work and shelter?

“What?” I said to Larry. “We’re supposed to just trust him, after what has happened to us concerning crime? He knows our story. Now he's punishing us for not just giving him this painting?”

So with all the unlawful foreclosures going on at that time, far less than today, Larry and I were learning that churches don’t help people, or at least the Episcopal churches don’t. We were also thinking this J.P lives off the assets he takes (steals) from his homeless clients desperate for help?

Now we know the churches seem to be as apathetic and corrupt as our government authorities. We’d actually called many other churches on our journey, different religions. They just never called back…even after hearing our horrendous story.

This was horrific to realize, take in and accept. Where were we to go? We were going to die in the streets, because of federal crimes committed against us both and the authorities have refused to investigate for at least five years.

But the FBI had all my documents, so Larry and I were hoping we’d hear from them soon? It was our only hope for survival. This is 2009.

It is now 2012 and Larry and I along with the one small dog we have left, our beloved weenie dog Sir Malibu Gesundheit, (Bu Bu for short) are living in a tent. We’ve been here for two years, working daily for our cause. All our belongings are gone.

First get an investigation by the proper government authorities into the colossal federal crimes committed against my trust, Larry and myself. Second expose the fact that these financial crimes are rampant in society, while the government authorities are ignoring them and the financial institutions commit them. Third, the churches of today don’t help; just like our government authorities.

And, it gets worse. Just lately we’ve started “Twittering” to find help. I’ve been contacted by people who claim to assist people in our position…only to realize they take donations from the public; keep the donations and screw over the homeless.

THIS IS HORIFFIC, yet they get away with this because they know, like we do now, that they don’t have to worry about the authorities investigating their operations; the criminals know they won’t, way before the victim’s realize it.

Someday Larry and I are going to build a beautiful chapel on our land, where God will truly live and invite anyone who wants to partake in the spirit of what God really stands for.

The title of my book states exactly what is going on in this country... today.



By; Deborah Breuner


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