Jezebel – The Day After

Click Here to Read Part 1:

If I were to tell you that life to this point was bordering on the mundane, I would be lying to you. My life has been known to be a seesaw of events, especially over the past few years at the time of this event, as the saga that is divorce was still playing out in my life.  The natural exposure to the elements of accountability to life choices, had finally just begun a healing process – with an occasional scab-picking session exposing further infection to be dealt with.  But this day, divorce aside, I would say tops them all when it comes to obscurity.

When I tell this story, the normal response to the average person is pretty consistent. It typically starts with a look of shock, very quickly followed by questioning look as to the believability of the events, just as I had when experiencing it myself. And just when they think they’ve heard it all, I blurt out “BUT WAIT!!! There’s more.”  

June 14th 2015, Edmonton AB

7:45 AM

The house is awake. I could hear the bussle of the boys footsteps upstairs – the tempo upbeat as if to drum out the excitement for the birthday boy’s pancake breakfast.  My daughter had just started to wake and was lying beside me hogging the bed as per usual. I peered through the door and could see Ethan, my son, laying in his makeshift bed, the downstairs couch, playing on his cell phone…… surprise, surprise.

Penny had been up early that day in preparation for John’s party as we all were to celebrate with friends and family later on that afternoon after church and Ryleigh’s soccer game. It is tradition in my brother’s house, that on your birthday, pancakes with sprinkles were on the menu – complete with ice cream and various other toppings. The age you were turning determined the height of the pancake tower. A feat not easily mastered even for someone with big eight-year-old hungry eyes. John’s eyes grew wide with excitement, and he shook vibrating with excitement seated at the table as his stomach growled in anticipation. If I remember correctly, he finished them all.

8:20 AM

With breakfast winding down, John and the other kids were laying on the couch like stuffed turkeys.  Even in their stuffed vegetative state, they were too loud for us adults, so naturally they were dismissed to the basement to watch a movie while the adults started to clean the kitchen. I was cleaning off the table and found that one last pancake had remained and no one was interested in finishing it off.  I picked it up and called Jezebel, officially inviting her to the birthday celebration as she had eagerly awaited patiently to be included into the group celebration complete with sulking “may I come hither” eyes.  I opened the sliding doors to let her out onto the deck.

Here girl, you want a birthday pancake?!?!” She sat pretty like the princess she is, wagged her tail in anticipation and carefully retrieved it from my hand as I gave it to her. Her nose went straight up in the air and her feet danced excitedly as she took the pancake and ran over to and under the trampoline and just as dogs do – the three times-the-charm spin before settling down to enjoy the pancake.

But before she could get comfortable, I watched her from the patio doors as suddenly she dropped it and everything about her demeanor changed.

This caught my immediate attention. It all happened so fast I stepped out for a closer look to check out what spooked her and put her instantly on guard. Her hair rose on the ridge of her back, her head bowed low, and she began to growl with intent. My good natured lab princess morphed into her rotti, on guard and warning off something that must have stood between the two houses out of my sight.

“WTF?” I muttered under my breath and immediately began to move even closer to investigate myself.  curiously looking to the house south of me, the very same house from the man from yesterday’s incident.

It was then I heard a young male voice call out “Mom!”

Naturally my mom-ears perked up with instinct, my mom brain was reacting thinking it was my son so my concern was instantly raised as I thought the boys were somehow playing outside in the front yard and this might have involved them somehow.  Given the events of the previous day, I didn’t think that was a good idea.

I then stepped back into the house to ask my brother who was standing near the front entrance sweeping unaware of what was happening, “Are the boys outside?” I said curiously, “I swear I just heard Ethan.”

“No, they’re downstairs. Why?” Now he was curious.

“There’s something going on outside because Jezebel is in guard mode and acting weird.”

He motions to the front door and I step back outside through the patio doors, to go look again.

Then I hear it.

The wail.

No horror story is complete without it.  It was like nothing I had heard before. Shrilling multi-pitched woman’s voices, wailing. There’s no other word for it. A middle eastern wail that had I not watch my fair share of action movies, I wouldn’t have been able to place. There had to be two or three of them. I couldn’t tell, I was still shocked at hearing the foreign sound. I won’t lie.  It was impressive.

My dog was going wild, barking and head still low. There she stood her ground and just kept barking as if giving a warning “DONT COME NEAR.”  The weird thing is that she started this BEFORE the wailing so I’m not sure what initially set her off. 

I quickly jumped into the house and said to my brother and Penny, shocked and confused and kind of on alert: “OMG!!! It’s the neighbour’s. Something is going down!!!”

My brother’s forehead wrinkles and his brow deepen in concern.  I can see that he’s going to investigate from the front door. Penny had rushed outside to the deck to aid in help as she recognized the tone of the wail “THOSE ARE WOMEN, WE NEED TO HELP THEM!!!!!”

I quickly followed her, curious myself but also trying to keep Penny for going where we shouldn’t “Hold on Penny, let Tyler look. I don’t think it’s good. Jezebel is acting weird.”

From our position on the deck, whatever Jezebel was barking at, was hidden from sight behind the fence between the houses, but it was clear the situation was not good. That there was distress. We could not see much.

It was here that I saw was this young middle eastern man’s man head appear above the fence with intense glowing angered eyes, pointing to my dog, then to my my sister-in-law and I’s direction, and scream with what was clearly extreme HATRED:


I won’t lie.  My first split second reaction was that this guy must have a mental health issue.  What he said was absolutely absurd.

But then, I saw that he was serious.  This was serious. Very serious. 

“What the hell is happening?” I mutter out loud, shocked and honestly I could see the blood drain from my sister-in-law’s mortified mortified. It was chaos. My sister in law  was torn still concerned for the women. Me, not so much. My brother had witnessed the son’s actions from the front door.

The dad, the man from yesterday, who was apprehended for sexually abusing my dog in front of my nephew and caught on video, was lying dead between the houses.


Maybe you didn’t read that and understand the absurdity of it all so I’ll write it another way so that you can understand better.


The son’s anger was so intense and kept escalating in both pitch and tone of voice and body expression, matching the intensity of the wailing women – which didn’t seem humanly possible to reach decibels such as those. It was annoying to the ears.  A definite off-putting sound. I would liken it to a war cry, almost. It was out of this world, well, my world anyways. That’s the best description I can come up with. 

Instantly we run into the house. Jezebel is right behind us still kind of whimpering and pacing frantically back and forth, clearly reading the intensity of the situation. My brother who was watching this from the front door and could see the actual scene before him, called out in simple English cautiously; 

“Ambulance?” He was questioning if they needed an ambulance.

“FUCK YOU!” The man now turned his anger towards my brother.

As Tyler described it, the father was lying between the two houses. His feet were raised up on the bottom couple stairs while his head on the ground, he was in a declined position, as if he fell down the stairs. There was evidence of blunt force trauma to the head, or trauma of some sort.  But nothing else could be seen by Tyler’s quick observation. Being a firefighter, my brother was fully able to administer first aid, however given the hostile situation and after he had offered help, and was denied with another finger pointed “FUCK YOU!!!” his course of action was much different. 

So with that he entered the house in a rather odd calm about him, but most definitely assertive told Penny and I to “keep the kids in the basement. Lock the doors. Close the curtains and call 911. Ask for Police and Ambulance.”

Jezebel was still pacing back and forth and whimpering in distress.

I hurriedly looked for the phone, as did Penny. She however, found it first. For the second time in two days she was calling 9-1-1. The first for sexual molestation of my dog and a lewd act performed in front of a minor, her son. The second time for a possible death of the very same man who committed the previous acts,  who was now lying between the houses, with a family who were claiming we or rather I, had killed him. With or because of my dog.  To be honest this part really confuses me and I’m not sure I could understand their reasoning correctly. 

So tell me reader, are you following me on the insanity of it all?  It really is the truest definition of absurd and foreign.  To this day, I still shake my head in bewilderment.

But let me finish.

Penny was visibly shaking this time, I could see her attempt to push the buttons. She doesn’t take stress well, especially this type…. but then again, who would? The panic in her voice was thick and as the words escaped her mouth her voice quivered when answering the question:

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

She panics and spews out “There’s a dead man next to our house and our neighbours think we killed him. We need the police and an Ambulance.”

OH DEAR GOD!!! I sigh. That could have been worded better, but she was clearly in shock.  I was trying to decide if I should take the phone from her.   I chose to let her finish. 

I won’t go into the details of the call because honestly I wouldn’t be able to remember it, except the fact that it seemed to take forever for the police dispatcher to determine the situation exactly, Penny wasn’t the most coherent person in stress. I’m sure the way Penny had worded it gave the dispatcher a challenge on exactly how to triage the incident with how many police officers to dispatch and such. In the end, after it was all sorted out, Penny ended up hanging up and we waited.

And we waited.

They wailed. We waited.

It was quite sometime that we waited and even my brother was getting concerned at the response time, so he phoned his station and asked his fellow firemen if they’ve been dispatched yet, this was serious.  And just like that, just as he had questioned them, he could hear the call come in over the loud speaker and hung up.

They were on their way.

It was at this point my brother headed to the basement to check on the kids and make sure they were fully stocked up on goodies and whatever else that could keep them distracted. Miracle upon miracles, they were totally oblivious of what was happening.  All five kids were glued to the TV. It must have been a God thing because not once did they come upstairs to ask what was going on till it was much much later on in the day. I am thankful for this to this day.

While he was downstairs dealing with the kids, Penny went to the kitchen to grab something and I was standing at the front door peering out the little 4″ x 4″ triangle window they had, watching and waiting for police cars to show up. Penny had just return when all of a sudden,


I jumped back startled. Penny fell apart. She began to panic again.  I remember thinking in my head “Girl, you need to calm down” but I reminded myself that everyone responds differently to different situations. 

The youngest son, who had been yelling at us on the patio accusing me of killing his dad, had jumped on the front porch and tried to kick in our door. I could see the door frame give a little with the force, but the door remained steady.

BAM!!! …again and again.

He was irritate and demanded for me to come out. He kept pointing at me and screaming “FUCK YOU.”  I could see others gather in his yard.  Family? I’m not sure. But they were not happy has well. 

Penny was still standing beside me, every increasing in panic attack with each BANG on the door.   I remember reassuring her calmly that he couldn’t break through the door and that he wasn’t going to hurt us. His bark was bigger than his bite at the moment as he was small man and the door was doing it’s job. She turned hurriedly and went to get Tyler, but he was already on his way hearing the bangs from below. 

Once at the door, the calm cool collected brother that I know, remained controlled, however his intensity exponentially grew and with a solid firm voice as he told the brother:

“You WILL stop kicking my door!!!”
“COME OUTSIDE!!!” The man demanded.

“I will come outside when there is a police officer standing at my door. Until then you will stop kicking my door….. or I’m going to have to MAKE you stop.”

During this exchange I was standing off to the side beside him watching the interaction with some guarded caution. I knew this man was 5’8″ at best, his skinny frame was no match for my brother.  But just to make sure we were on the same train of thought, it was in the next half moment, when there was a momentary lull in the chaos and interaction between the two, that I half whispered, with extreme care as I knew my brother was on guard mode;


“Ya” he muttered.

“You know you can’t go out there right?” I was speaking in reference to his threat to the son should he continue kicking in his door. The cost would be too much to risk and the red tape in the process for an assault would now be in question. Plus anything else that could happen.

Half smiling, half wishing he could, he answered as he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, “Ya……I know that. But he doesn’t.”

It was at this very moment the first of the mob of police cruisers, firetrucks, ambulances and eventually news vans arrived.  Things had got instantly quieter.

Over the next couple hours, life was pretty uneventful in the house.  The curtains were closed.  The kids remained glued to the tv downstairs and we sat and drank coffee as police officer in charge came in and out to ask questions or clarify a few points.  Straight up, it was pretty boring after that considering the events earlier in the day.  None of us got up to look outside.  we didn’t sneak upstairs to peek a look a the mass of people gathering and the chaos unfolding before them.  I honestly couldn’t tell you what happened.  I know from the information given to us by the police officer in charge, that there were police taking statements next door. We only really had and the officer in charge speak with us in the house along with the same returning officers from the precious day to help tie the two events together. They ended up leaving us paperwork to write down our statements, again,  that would be picked up by another officer later on that day. After a final review of events and an explanation as to what the next step will be, the police and the crowds left.  

We had found out that one of the reasons, the process took so long next door was they had to phone the military base for an interpreter to arrive. The family didn’t speak Dari, a dialect of Farsi, they spoke another language that I wasn’t familiar with the name at the time but found out it was Pashto. 

Needless to say, we did end up cancelling the birthday plans, which was hard to explain as the kids had no idea what had happened other than a very watered down, age appropriate version was given to appease the birthday boy along with a promise to rebook for another day.  Later on we all went out for supper at the local Montana’s to celebrate and my kids and I prepared to say our goodbyes.

To the best of our knowledge, this is a summary of the series of events which happened.

June 13, 2017

  • 9 PM: neighbour dad was taken into custody and charged with lewd act in presence of a minor and with cruelty to animals through humane society.

June 14, 2017

  • 3 AM: Dad was release on bail. No family would pick him up so he took a taxi home.
  • Sometime between 4 AM to 8 AM: Dad dies. To this day we don’t know the cause. We’ve never been told and there was never any follow up. That information was not released to us. He had visible blunt force trauma to the head which my brother had seen.

The mystery remains for us all.

Maybe he was drunk and fell? We don’t know and honestly, I don’t care.  We’ve never followed up or inquired.  Why?  It seemed that somehow through strange events, life had taken care of itself and we were ok with that. 

It did impress on us the insanity and coincidence of it all.  Not to mention the idea that the family had made it seem as though my dog and myself had some voodoo spell on them, or that I and killed their dad in vengeance because of my dog? I’m still not sure on this one. I didn’t know enough of middle eastern mysticism/superstition/religious nuances. They certainly expressed hostility towards the family and due to the nature of what was now not a safe environment, my brother and his wife ended up selling the house and moving within a few short weeks upon an “unofficial recommendation” from the police officer who followed up a few days later.

It never made the news, not that I’m aware of anyways. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t. We didn’t care.

Late that evening after supper and everything had quieted down and the police officer had stopped by to pick up our statements and provide a presence as I began quickly packing up my vehicle. I could see the neighbour’s community started to visit to support them in mourning. They would stop in their tracts as they were walking up the driveway and would watch me intently, meanwhile the cop gave me reassuring advice to just do my thing and take my kids and go.  With all their eyes were on me, watching my every move, and yet cautiously aware of the attending police officer, I admit I was slightly unnerved.  

It was beyond anything I’ve ever felt before.

I quickly gathered my kids and at last called my Jezebel, the witch-dog, as  eagerly she jumped into the car.  We buckled up and we drove off back to Grande Prairie and that was the end of that for me and my kids.  I did remained much more close to home for my brother and his wife, who, as I mentioned above, ended up moving and with the help of his platoon was probably the fastest move ever and the most urgent.

Months went by before my kids stopped talking about it. They still do from time to time. It’s now almost exactly four years later and I’m finally allowing the story remain on my blog.  I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to tell a story I didn’t understand or at least have some level of comprehension to it.  I wasn’t sure how to tell it’s absurdity and yet impress the validity to it. It’s lasting effects linger much deeper than one can imagine both with my family and my brother’s.

It wasn’t until a couple months later, when I began a conversation with with another that I was able to get some clarification on the subject.

I had some questions I wanted answered.  

Given the past few events that had happened in my life, my dating life, as well as in the world, I was left with the impression that something wasn’t right.  The world and the events behind had much more to it than what was being portrayed on social media.

So, when the opportunity arose.  I asked someone who could shed light.  

I asked a lot of questions.  Much more than anyone can imagine.  After having telling my story of the events above, his only response was one of serious concern, “Do your brother and his family still live next to those people?”


His face relaxed, “Ok, good. That is a good thing. A very very good thing.”

Click below to read more on the man they call JJ:

3 thoughts on “Jezebel – The Day After

  1. wow, you certainly can tell a story Jennel (I’m ignoring the spelling gaffs!) You created and maintained the suspense so beautifully! I also like the way you described the actions of the characters in a believable but kindly way – just enough drama to tell the tale the way it was.


    1. “I never had any large respect for good spelling. That is my feeling yet. Before the spelling-book came with its arbitrary forms, men unconsciously revealed shades of their characters and also added enlightening shades of expression to what they wrote by their spelling, and so it is possible that the spelling-book has been a doubtful benevolence to us.” Mark Twain 😋

      I read it so many times that I miss the errors. I also noticed that since my last update on my apple products the autocorrect has gone mad….. 🤔


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