Features
Rosie Sharp: wife of Four Seasons Hotels founder Issy Sharp lays it all out in her memoir
By BERNIE BELLAN I’m not much for reading autobiographies; I prefer to read someone else’s account of a person’s life because I figure you’re much more likely to find out what someone’s life was truly like when it was written by someone else – warts and all.
However, when I was asked whether I might like to receive an advance copy of the memoir of Rosalie Sharp whose name, to be honest, was unfamiliar to me – but who, I was informed, was the wife of Four Seasons Hotel founder Isadore Sharp – I thought: Sure, it’s always interesting to read of the lives of the rich and famous – and when they’re Jewish and Canadian to boot, let’s go for it.
Now, to be even more honest, as much as I’ve heard plenty about Four Seasons hotels – that they set the standard for service and luxury when it comes to hotels, I had never read much about Isadore Sharp. How much would his wife want to talk about her husband in her memoir, I wondered? And how good a writer would she be?
The answer to the first question is: Quite a bit, while the answer to the second question is that Rosalie Sharp is an excellent writer. No doubt she received quite a bit of help in putting together this very interesting book but, as she explains early on, she has written quite a few books previously, mostly having to do with interior design – which is one of her two utmost passions – the other being painting.
What surprised me most about Rosalie Sharp though is how much her formative years as a young girl in Toronto still leave a strong imprint on her, even today, as she must now be 87. (She completed the book in 2021 when she was 86, she explains.) Isadore, by the way, is 91. They’re both as healthy as one could hope two seniors in their dotage could be expected to be. As a matter of fact, “Rosie”, as she prefers to be known, is quite candid in describing her own health situation. At one point she tells a funny story about having a colonoscopy recently, but while she is driving home in Issie’s fancy Mercedes, she can’t hold it in. She goes on to tell how she hid her accident from Issie when she came home, stripping off her dress without him seeing and running out to the car with a pail of soap and water and cleaning up.
The book is full of interesting stories. Rosie (née Wise) grew up in a very poor household in the 1930s – where there was no telephone, but where the phone book served as a substitute for toilet paper. Her parents lived in a non-Jewish area of Toronto, where they ran a dry goods store. Mr. Wise was also an excellent tailor. As for Mrs. Wise, however, Rosie still has an aversion to soup, she explains, after having grown up smelling her mother’s absolutely horrible broth – which she could never bring herself to taste.
Although the book devotes a certain amount of space to describing Issy Sharp’s much more comfortable upbringing – which Rosie writes about in an early chapter, prior to going into detail about her own much more difficult childhood, the lesson that one takes from reading about young Issy is how brimming with confidence he was, even at a very young age. Not only that, he was extremely good looking – as the very many photographs interspersed throughout the book illustrate.
He was also a terrific athlete. Issy was gifted in so many sports, while Rosie never had the opportunity to take piano lessons, which she so desperately wanted to take as a youngster. She also never learned to swim, she admits, but that didn’t stop her from being a sport and donning a life jacket while going on a canoe trip with the family once – or even waterskiing.
The story how Issy and Rosie met at a wedding makes for a great romantic tale. But Rosie admits that she knew of Issy’s reputation as a consummate ladies’ man – and she honestly doubted that he would remain true to her once they became a couple. There are quite a few instances in the book when Rosie describes her own naiveté about sex – something with which Issy was extremely well versed. (He was 22 when they met; she was 17.) Yet, he was always extremely considerate toward Rosie when it came to the physical side of their relationship. She does reveal though that she became pregnant when she was only 19 and did have an abortion because neither she nor Issy were ready to start a family at that point.
While the book does a good job of delving into how Issy Sharp was an absolute genius when it came to building – not just hotels, but apartment blocks as well, to the point where, as of the date of publication of the book, there are now 134 Four Seasons hotels throughout the world, it wasn’t the pursuit of riches that drove Issy, according to Rosie. They have certainly led very comfortable lives, but the first five years of their marriage were spent living in a very humble apartment, she says, and although they’ve moved several times during their lifetime together, it’s been the building and decorating of homes that has been the attraction for them, rather than the accumulation of “toys.”
In fact, Rosie never cared much about things like cars, she says. In one amusing anecdote she describes her driving in what she thought was a Toyota Land Cruiser for years, only to discover that it had a Volvo logo in it. As a collector though, Rosie has been obsessed with the accumulation of ceramic figures, along with a certain number of paintings, she notes – but it’s her ceramic figure collection, which extends into the thousands, of which she’s proudest.
Early on in life Rosie exhibited true artistic talent. She tells of drawing hand lettered signs for her parents’ dry good store that were so well done that people seeing them thought they had been printed by a machine. Later she parlayed her artistic eye into a love for interior design. Even while she was raising four young boys, Issy encouraged her to acquire a formal education in interior design, which she did. She eventually opened her own interior design firm. Much of her work, as one might expect, was for Four Seasons hotels, but she wasn’t given the work simply because she was married to the boss. Issy pays full credit to the many innovations Rosie introduced into the hotels over the years.
At times though, I must admit I was somewhat bored reading Rosie’s quite detailed descriptions of her projects. While she is certainly extremely descriptive, I’m not sure how much readers really care to read about design – whether it be interior design or the design of ceramic objects. Of course, those are both two of Rosie’s passions – and she is allowed to indulge herself as much as she likes. It’s her memoir, after all.
Where I think Jewish readers of a certain age will find this book most resonating though is when Rosie writes about the many relatives she lost in the Holocaust. There is a great amount of time spent exploring the lives of her predecessors in Poland. Rosie can trace her family roots back to the 1700s. (She also does quite a bit of the same for the Sharp family.)
Both she and Issy grew up in Yiddish-speaking households and Rosie harbours a great deal of nostalgia for those early years. Like most Jews growing up in the 1930s the Wise household was an observant home. (She tells a hilarious story about being sent to a butcher a long way off to buy a chicken for the Friday night dinner, but having the bloody chicken, freshly slaughtered, ooze all over her on the bus ride home.) She also emphasizes how important having regular Shabbat dinners with their family has been for both her and Issy throughout their lives – only to see that disrupted when Covid hit. (As a matter of fact, it was Covid that led to her writing this book, as she found that she had quite a bit more time on her hands than would normally have been the course.) In a departure from her observant upbringing though, Rosie says the only time she sets foot in a synagogue nowadays is during Yom Kippur – and that she doesn’t believe in God.
Interestingly, while Rosie acknowledges the role she’s played for years as the wife of a charming and brilliantly successful businessman, accompanying him on many trips to far off lands where it was her duty to sit through endless dinners with some of the world’s most powerful figures (including one ghastly dinner in Japan where she says the fish that was served was still wriggling!), Rosie hardly sees herself as a society maven. She did her duty – and often contributed to the success of Four Seasons on her own, both as a designer and as the gracious wife of a very powerful man, yet she notes over and over again that she feels most at home in her own house – and there have been many different ones over the years, including a home that they rebuilt from scratch in Palm Springs.
Here’s a description of Issie and Rosie’s harmonious relationship, as given by their son Tony on the occasion of their 62nd wedding anniversary:
“She paints. He promotes. They are full-fledged partners in life.
“Partners in bridge: she is the one who takes the risks and swings for the fences, and he plays more by the book and the percentages, yet rarely an argument, and they regularly place near the top.
“Partners in design…not the least of which is their new bungalow, where our dad concerned himself with light, views, and land assembly, and our mom, the architecture, interior design…Partners in dance. and, can they dance! Partners in fitness – still following Jane Fonda’s Advanced Workout from 1985…
“Partners in philanthropy. Including what our mother considers one of our father’s best achievements: establishing the Terry Fox Run. Proposed in a telegram from our dad to Terry, the run is now the largest single-day fundraising event in the world, having raised $750 million for cancer research.
“And of course, partners as parents. Sharing and living the values that have guided us as a family, and for which we are grateful.”
By this time, if you’ve read this far, you must be thinking: What a perfect couple – and I’m sure they are, but if I could ask two questions of Rosie, they would be this:
You had a son named Chris who died tragically at only age 17 when a melanoma was improperly diagnosed by a doctor. You write so eloquently of what that loss meant to the two of you – as I’m sure it would to any other parents who have lost a child.
But – why “Chris?” I know that it’s not totally unheard of for a Jewish child to be named Chris or Kristina, although from what I’ve read, it’s often when one of the parents isn’t Jewish. But both you and Issy came from traditional Jewish upbringings. Was there a particular reason that you chose to name your youngest son “Chris?”
And, my second question: I had to do some research to see that you and Issy have contributed substantially to many different causes, including the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. But nowhere in your book do I see any evidence that you took a particular interest in philanthropy yourself, especially as it relates to Jewish causes. I would imagine that someone of your renown would have been asked many times to lend their name to a particular Jewish fund-raiser. Perhaps it wasn’t of sufficient interest for you to write about that – or maybe it just wasn’t your thing. But, as someone who espouses the importance of Jewish values so strongly, wouldn’t “tzedakkah” have been one of the most important values? I’m not saying this as a criticism because I see that when you do a search of all the causes to which you and Issy have contributed, the list is a lengthy one. But I’m somewhat puzzled that, other than the Terry Fox Run, there’s no mention of any other cause to which you might have attached yourselves. After all, Issy is worth over $500 million from what I’ve read (while the Four Season hotel chain, which is now owned primarily by Bill Gates – is valued at over $10 billion).
Still, let’ s not let these fairly petty questions detract from what is, on the whole, quite the entertaining read.
“Me & Issy – A Four Seasons Romance”
By Rosalie Wise Sharp
Published by ECW Press, Toronto, 2022
274 pages
Available in both print and Kindle editions
Features
Israeli Government Report Ranks World’s 10 Most Influential Antisemites
Israel’s Ministry of Diaspora Affairs and Combating Antisemitism published this week its official ranking of the 10 most influential antisemitic figures in the world in 2025, and the No. 1 spot was given to social media influencer Dan Bilzerian, who is running for US Congress in Florida.
The Armenian-American entrepreneur and US military veteran is a prominent critic of Israel and Judaism who has promoted antisemitic conspiracy theories and Holocaust denial. He has said he wants to “kill Israelis” and thinks Judaism is “terrible.” He recently claimed antisemitism is a “made-up term” and there is a “big Jewish supremacy problem” in the United States. He formally filed paperwork earlier this month to run as a Republican and unseat incumbent Jewish Rep. Randy Fine in Florida’s 6th Congressional District.
Swedish climate activist Greta Thunberg is the world’s second most influential antisemite, according to Israel’s Ministry of Diaspora Affairs, which highlighted her use of terms such as “genocide,” “siege,” and “mass starvation” in reference to Israel’s military actions in the Gaza Strip.
Third place was given to Egyptian comedian and former television host Bassem Youssef, followed by far-right American political commentator Candace Owens in fourth place and Palestinian-British journalist and editor Abdel Bari Atwan in fifth.
The list includes American imam Omar Suleiman, Denmark-based doctor Anastasia Maria Loupis – who has shared online conspiracy theories about Jews and Israel – far-right commentator and white nationalist Nick Fuentes, and conspiracist Ian Carroll.
Rounding out the top 10 is far-right podcaster and former Fox News host Tucker Carlson, who regularly promotes antisemitic conspiracy theories about Jewish influence.
Israel said the 10 most “prominent influencers in the global antisemitic and anti-Zionist arena in 2025” were selected based on “both the severity of their actions/statements and the scope of their influence” related to their activities last year. “Each of them has expressed antisemitic views or promoted false information related to Jews, Israel, or both,” the ministry explained. The list does not include individuals with formal political or government positions.
Each individual was ranked based on their influence on social media, but also other factors such as their repeated appearances on news channels, “perceived influence on public opinion, and prominence in certain communities.” The ministry also took into consideration each person’s “level of impact and risk,” which includes how often they upload antisemitic and anti-Israeli posts on social media. The report was released ahead of Israel’s Holocaust Remembrance Day, known in Hebrew as Yom HaShoah.
In a separate section of the report dedicated to antisemitic and anti-Israel influencers in the US, Israel’s Ministry of Diaspora Affairs singled out YouTuber and children’s educator Ms. Rachel, who has “increasingly used her social media accounts to amplify pro-Palestinian messages and criticize Israel.”
“Her posts have been interpreted by pro-Israel organizations as one-sided and hostile to Israel, and organizations such as StopAntisemitism have accused her of spreading anti-Israel or pro-Hamas propaganda and called for an examination of her activities,” the ministry stated.
Features
4000 Quarters for my Uncle Lew – a new story by David Topper
Introduction: David Topper has been featured on this website many times. His stories about Albert Einstein have drawn huge audiences, but David’s interests range far beyond writing about science. Most recently, we have featured stories about “Jews in strange places.”
If you want to find all of David Topper’s stories that have appeared on this site, just enter his name in our search engine (the magnifying glass). Here’s David’s latest story – but be warned: As David told me, it’s a “story”:
I adored my Uncle Lew. He was one of many uncles in the large extended family on my mother’s side. Of course, this means that there were many aunts too. But there were not many cousins – at least, none my age. And I was an only child; so I guess you could call me an “only cousin” too. At least when I was very young – say, from ages 6 through 12 or so – until many cousins were eventually born. In all, it seems that I was alone, in those early years.
But I’m digressing already, and I just want to tell you about my grandmother’s brother, my Uncle Lew. You see, he lived in the same city when I was very young, and he came to visit a lot – especially on Sundays, when there was a large gathering of the extended family at my grandmother’s home, with lots of food. He came with his wife, Aunt Lil. But it was Lew who was especially nice to me. He always came with jokes; jokes that the adults laughed at – and I did too, but often not really knowing what was funny.
Most importantly, for me, sometime during the visit, Uncle Lew would sneak up behind me and put his hand in the right side-pocket of my trousers. I knew what was happening, and so I’d just walk away to a quiet part of the house, reach inside my pocket, and pull out a shiny quarter. Rubbing it in my hands, thinking about what I might buy, and putting it back in my pocket – I was happy, and set for the week to come. You must realize that this was sometime in the late 1940s and into the 1950s – and a quarter was worth a lot to a kid. These were the days when a penny could buy a nice treat at the candy store nearby where I lived. And, well you do the math: a quarter was worth 25 pennies. Yes, I adored Uncle Lew, although I’m not sure I would have used that word at the time.
Speaking of money. I remember that the family, especially the men, talked a lot about money. I’m not sure that many of them had a lot of it, since most were of the working class. Maybe that’s why they talked about it. Although I suspect that rich people spend a lot of time talking about money too. Yet, what do I know?
I mention this because, at some point – I don’t remember the date or my age – but Uncle Lew and Aunt Lil moved to another city. Thus: no more shiny quarters in my pocket at the Sunday dinners. Instead, I listened to the talk, mainly among the men, about Uncle Lew. And as best I could surmise: Uncle Lew owed people money that he didn’t have, and so he had to skedaddle to save his skin. It made me think about my quarters, and if I had put them in the bank, maybe I could have helped Uncle Lew pay back his debts. But now it was too late. Uncle Lew was gone and I spent all the quarters on myself – my selfish self, I thought sadly.
But Uncle Lew was not completely out of my life. A few years later he came to town for a short visit. He came for a weekend; and had Sunday dinner with the family. I guess he thought it was safe enough. And nothing happened. So, he did it again, a few months later. And so it went. Thus, Uncle Lew was not out of my life completely. And yes, a quarter was deposited in my pocket on the Sunday dinners. As well, by now, I had a bank account; and I occasionally put Uncle Lew’s quarters in the bank – just in case he might need a loan someday, I thought.
Oh, I forgot to mention: he now came alone. From the talk of the adults, I figured out that he and Aunt Lil were divorced – something my mother later explained to me, because in those days it was not a common occurrence. And people were often embarrassed to talk about it.
Now fast forward several years to the late 1950s, when I was in High School. One day Uncle Lew appeared out of nowhere, carrying all that he owned in a few suitcases. I don’t know why, but he stayed with us. Being an only child, I had a room of my own and so the family got a cot from the basement and they put it in my room. I was okay with this, since I always liked Uncle Lew and was glad to know that he was safe with us.
Our first night together – I in my bed and he a few feet away in the cot – was memorable. Because, in the middle of the night, I woke up and saw a spark of light moving around the room near Uncle Lew’s cot. I guess I forgot to tell you that Uncle Lew was a smoker. Of course, smoking was common in those days, so it was no big thing that he smoked. In fact, if you watch any movie from that period, every time people walk into a room and sit down to talk, someone takes out a pack of cigarettes and they all light up. But I digress, again. Anyway, as you may have surmised, the spark of light moving around in the dead of night was Uncle Lew having a smoke. He was so addicted to cigarettes that he couldn’t get through a night’s sleep without one. And so it went: night after night.
Also, at the time he moved in with me, I was working on building a model airplane out of balsa wood. I usually worked on this in the evenings, after I did all my homework. The parts were strewn across a table in my room, and Uncle Lew often watched me assemble the plane – saying he hoped to see the plane actually fly someday. He said he enjoyed watching me put the thing together (since he seemed to have nothing else to do), and I enjoyed the conversations. I glued pieces of balsa wood together and he smoked cigarettes, depositing the ashes in a tray on my table.
In a short time, I came to understand why Uncle Lew was here. When I was at school during the day, my relatives were taking turns driving Uncle Lew to the hospital for treatments. In those days, people didn’t talk about some things directly. Especially cancer, which was a word that was often spoken in a hushed voice. So that was it; he had lung cancer.
At the same time, Uncle Lew was seeing a dentist for the pain he was having with a tooth in the right side of his mouth. He showed it to me one day, while I was working on my airplane. He was sure that the dentist knew what he was doing, and Uncle Lew was looking forward to getting it removed and replaced with a new tooth. We didn’t talk about the cancer, but looking back on this I can only surmise that Uncle Lew was in denial – or he was overly optimistic about the cancer treatments.
In a short time, the tooth was removed and replaced by the false one. Uncle Lew was elated, and told me that it was the best $1000 he ever spent. Yes, $1000 for the tooth. I don’t know where he got the money. And I’m afraid to ask, for obvious reasons. But I now also question the ethics of that dentist, allowing a patient undergoing cancer treatments to spend so much money. But maybe the dentist didn’t know. Then again, where were my relatives in all this? I am only thinking of this now. As for all things in life while growing up: what is, is reality for that time, and you just go with the flow. Only later, looking back, do you see the quirks and foibles of the past.
Indeed, did I think of helping Uncle Lew with his dental bill? I had a bank account. And some of that money was from deposits of Uncle Lew’s quarters. I don’t know. What I do remember is that not long after the new tooth was planted in his mouth, relieving him of that pain, the cancer got worse – and he spent the rest of his days in the hospital. And that’s where he died.
At the funeral I wanted to mourn. To grieve at the loss of this beloved uncle, who lived with me in the last stage of his life.
But I kept thinking about that tooth – that damned $1000 tooth. While saying the prayer for the dead, the Kaddish, I wanted to concentrate on the meaning of the prayer – even though I couldn’t read Hebrew. But that costly tooth kept flashing in front of me – like the spark of Uncle Lew’s cigarette in the middle of the night.
Even when the body was lowered into the grave, and I took my turn throwing several shovels of dirt over Uncle Lew’s plain wooden coffin – in my mind, I was doing the math: how many quarters are there in $1000?
In a way, on that day, and in my mind, I really buried a tooth – and it just so happened that a body came along with it.
My one consolation in all this is that about a few weeks after the funeral, I finished building my airplane; and I took it out to an empty ball-field near where I lived. Just me and my airplane.
The propeller was attached to a rubber band, and so I wound it up and gave it a push. It took off, rising up, almost as high as the trees beyond the outfield. Then it banked a bit toward the left; and, after heading back towards me, it moved in a circle – almost overhead. It continued circling – rather as if it were caught in a tornado – moving down and down.
When it crashed into a heap of shards of balsa wood right next to me standing on the pitcher’s mound … I laughed, a deep laugh – a laugh that turned into crying. A deep cry – a cry I sorely needed.
Sitting in that empty field next to my shattered airplane – looking up and beyond the trees – I screamed to the sky. “There are 4000 quarters in $1000.”
I walked home, and went to my room. Sitting at my empty table, I said to myself out loud. “I guess I should build another airplane. What do you think Uncle Lew? Let’s go to the store and use some of those quarters to buy another model airplane. Maybe this one won’t be jinxed. What do you think?”
But before leaving the house – and for the first time since Uncle Lew died – I was able to fold up that cot and put it back in the basement.
Features
Part 1 of the story of the delusional Winnipeg con man who actually believed his own elaborate con and led one victim in Africa to consider committing suicide
The first part of a multi-series story
By BERNIE BELLAN
Introduction
The story you’re about to read originally began as a work of non-fiction. Although everything in this story is true, I’ve changed the names of most of the individuals mentioned in this story – to protect their identities.
This story is about a very sick man who lives in Winnipeg and who has caused terrible damage to many different people over a long period of time by promising he would invest in projects with different individuals. The reality, however, was that the person making all those promises was – and still is, deeply delusional. In fact, while he has very little money, for years he has believed he was someone of immense wealth – and has been telling people all over the world that phoney story. Further, because he is actually highly intelligent and, at one point, had a very successful business career, he has been quite adept at convincing different people all over the world who were looking for someone to help invest in their particular projects that he would invest in those projects.
I originally posted that story – in two parts, on two separate days, to this website in early February 2026. When I posted that story though, I didn’t hide the name of the person who is now the subject of this story. Two days after the first part of that story appeared on this website, however, I received a warning email from a lawyer – who happens to be someone I’ve known for a long time, but who also explained that he’s a cousin of the individual who was the subject of my story. In that email the lawyer wrote that, unless I removed that story from my website immediately, I could be sued for defamation.
That lawyer said that he was acting for the parents of the man about whom I had written my story. Receiving that email incensed me because, as you read on, you will see that many of the individuals who suffered greatly as a result of what had happened to them when they were contacted by the “con man” about whom this story is written, had attempted to reach out to the con man’s parents, asking them to do something to keep their son from continuing to deceive individuals with promises that he would invest in the various projects which these individuals hoped to see succeed.
But – that email had the desired effect. As I will explain, I’ve had previous experience with being threatened with a defamation lawsuit and I had no desire to go through that experience again. So, I took the story down.
This story though, was something I was very ambivalent about writing in the first place because it’s about someone who suffers from a very serious mental disorder and, in my career as a journalist, I’ve preferred to stay away from doing medical stories, especially ones that relate to psychiatric illnesses. I have had writers who specialize in medical stories work for me and I know how much effort they would put into understanding what it was they were writing about when it came to specific illnesses. It’s time consuming to do the necessary research and not easy for a writer who doesn’t have a medical background to understand the terminology involved in doing those kinds of stories.
This story, therefore, is not intended to offer a deep dive into the one particular form of mental disorder that, it seems apparent, has affected the principal subject of this story – in this case a delusional disorder – or psychosis. I don’t know his medical history, so when I say that he has a delusional disorder, I’m offering that assessment based entirely on his behaviour, not on any actual medical reports.
In speaking with his mother many years ago, after I had first met the man who is the subject of this story, I was told by her that her son is bi-polar. Whether he is or is not bi-polar though, he is totally delusional. About that, there can be no doubt. Further, his behaviour clearly fits a diagnosis of a delusional psychosis, so I am going to refer to him throughout this story as someone who is suffering from a delusional psychosis. For the purpose of this story, I’ve given him a name which is not his real name: Fred Devlin.
I have no idea what may have triggered the delusion that so clearly manifests itself in Devlin’s behaviour, but the harm he has caused to so many people over the years is a clear indication that his disorder has not been brought under control or, even if it has been brought under control at times, it couldn’t have been for very long, since I spoke to many individuals who had been contacted by Devlin, going back quite a few years – all of whom told similar stories of being totally deceived by him.
I won’t pretend to understand what may have led Devlin to become so totally delusional that he can no longer distinguish fantasy from reality. He has been hospitalized many times, according to individuals with whom I spoke, but it is apparent that even when he’s been hospitalized, he still behaves in a delusional manner.
According to material found on the internet – “Delusional disorder is a psychiatric condition characterized by the presence of one or more fixed, false beliefs (delusions) lasting for at least one month, without other prominent psychotic symptoms like hallucinations or disorganized thought. Individuals often function normally apart from the delusion, which can be non-bizarre (situations that could occur in real life)….Their delusions are not caused from drugs or general disorders.”
“Delusional psychosis (or delusional disorder) is treated primarily through a combination of antipsychotic medications and psychotherapy, such as cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), often requiring long-term management. Treatment aims to reduce symptoms, improve functioning, and build trust, as individuals frequently lack insight into their condition and may resist care.”
I don’t know enough about Devlin to know what kind of treatment he may have received over the years but, whatever treatments there may have been, they clearly didn’t work. He has carried on a long pattern of promising substantial financial support to a great many different individuals – who put their trust in him, often signed contracts with him and, in many cases, spent huge numbers of hours working on projects, only to learn that it was all for naught because Devlin was a total fraud. Many of those stories will be told in the following pages.
Further, when he has been confronted over his lies, Devlin has consistently lashed out at anyone who would dare suggest he’s delusional, threatening those individuals with lawsuits or other forms of retaliation. Even as I’ve been writing this story, apparently word of what I’ve been doing has filtered back to Devlin, and he’s threatened different individuals who have been telling me their stories that he will commit great harm to them if they continue to cooperate with me.
Some of the individuals whose stories are told in this story related to me that they would often get phone calls from Devlin while he was hospitalized in different psychiatric wards. He would make excuses for his being hospitalized – that he was sick with various physical illnesses whose nature would vary, but he would never admit that he had been placed in a psychiatric ward.
It is also possible that, since he is totally delusional, he did believe that he was in the hospital for reasons that had nothing to do with him being mentally ill. At one point, for instance, when he was asked by another psychiatric patient why he was in the psych ward, Devlin replied that he owned the hospital and he just wanted to see how they were treating patients there. As you can read when I tell that story in more detail later on, the psych patient who asked Devlin that question didn’t think there was anything unusual about Devlin’s answer. That tells you all you need to know about the state of mind of the person who told me that story.
Although I was somewhat amused that he didn’t find Devlin’s having told him that he owned the hospital where they both found themselves at all difficult to believe, I found that a great many of the other individuals who were caught up in Devlin’s con also suffered from various psychological disorders of one sort or another. In some ways it goes to explain how otherwise intelligent sounding people might have fallen for stories that one would normally expect would be dismissed as utter nonsense.
One of the mysteries in learning about Devlin though, was who was putting him into the hospital on those occasions when he ended up in the psych ward? Was it his wife? Was it his parents? It really doesn’t matter – but his wife and his parents have been complicit in allowing Devlin to perpetrate his delusional behaviour for years and, I would argue, bear responsibility for the damage he has caused to so many different people. What does matter is that he has engaged in communication with so many different individuals over a great many years while suffering from the delusion that he is immensely wealthy and is capable of offering huge financial help to trusting individuals. (There are other aspects of his delusion too, about which I’ll write, such as that he is guarded by agents from Israel’s Mossad, that he is very involved in helping maintain Israel’s security, and that he owns huge tracts of land in Winnipeg and in Israel.)
One of the things I learned during the course of my investigation into Devlin’s long career as a con artist – and I have to reiterate that he didn’t actually realize he was a con artist, was that he likes to spend his days in a very fancy Winnipeg hotel that’s very popular with Winnipeg’s business crowd – the Fairmont, where he holds court. Devlin has a regular table in a restaurant there and is well known by many of the staff there.
He also likes to hang out an another nearby spot that’s also popular with the business crowd: Hy’s. In fact, after I had finished writing most of this story I was surprised to be contacted by Devlin himself, inviting me to meet him at either the Fairmont or Hy’s. That very strange meeting, which happened to take place at Hy’s, forms the basis of the final chapter of this story.
One of the things I asked Devlin at that meeting, however, is who was paying for all his meals at those two establishments? As I will show, Fred Devlin has no visible means of support, which means that someone else is providing him with the money that is allowing him to continue perpetrating his con – even as I write this. I asked Devlin that very question when I sat face to face with him, but when he still insisted that he is fabulously wealthy – a trillionaire nine times over as a matter of fact, I persisted in asking him whether it’s not the case that his parents have been providing for him for years? In fact, it’s his parents’ role, also his wife’s, in allowing Devlin to carry on his nonsense for so many years that has allowed him to inflict so much damage on so many people’s lives.
Many of the individuals with whom I spoke – or with whom I exchanged a lengthy email correspondence in one particular case, recounted their having reached out to Devlin’s parents in attempts to have them intercede once those individuals realized that Devlin was a complete fraud. Those attempts were all met with the same explanation from Devlin’s parents, I was told: that Fred Devlin was not well – and to leave it at that. In no case did his parents offer to intercede, even when told how much Devlin’s behaviour had so negatively affected so many individuals.
You may be asking yourself: Why write about someone who was – and still is, so clearly mentally ill? The reason is that what Fred Devlin did – to so many different people and, even as I’m writing this, is apparently still attempting to do, was so awful, that when I was first told about him in an email I received on January 16, 2026, my initial reaction was: What could I do to expose this guy and keep him from harming anyone else? My thinking was that if I wrote about him and published something on my website, at the very least others who might be contacted by him, but who would do an internet search to verify who he was, would see my story and realize he’s a total fraud.
Unfortunately, when I was threatened with a lawsuit over what I had written – and I immediately withdrew what I had published, I thought that instead, I’ll write the same story, but I’ll use a different name for the subject of my story – and not use his wife’s or his parents’ real names either.
In addition, I had already promised everyone with whom I spoke for the purpose of gathering material for this story that I would not use their real names in whatever story I would write. I didn’t want to embarrass any o f them by revealing that they had fallen for Devlin’s deception. Thus, my giving everyone different names than their real ones is consistent with what I had told each of them I would do. What I had told each of the individuals whose lives were impacted by Paul Devlin though, was that I wanted to write about what had happened to each of them and include it in a larger story.
Each part of this continuing story will tell a different story – as told to me by each of the individuals with whom I communicated over a period of time in an attempt to understand just how Fred Devlin had convinced each one of them that he was fabulously wealthy and he was going to help each of them with particular projects in which they were involved. How Devlin found each of these individuals is in itself a mystery. Apparently, he is very adept at networking, so that one individual whom he would contact would put him in touch with another individual – and so on, to the point where he built up a large network of contacts.
As I’ve become immersed in this story, however, I’ve been playing a more active role than simply as a journalist trying to write a story. I’ve been quite involved in trying to help one of Devlin’s victims – who suffered the worst financial losses of any of the individuals with whom I spoke who had told me they had fallen victim to Fred Devlin’s promises of financial help. I’ve been trying to help this one individual launch a lawsuit against Devlin. Although we did garner the interest of one of Winnipeg’s top civil litigators, in the end the notion of filing a lawsuit against Devlin was abandoned for the simple reason that it’s pointless to sue someone who has no money or assets and, as the lawyer explained, it would not be possible to attach either Devlin’s wife’s name or his parents’ names to any lawsuit – no matter how much one might argue they bore responsibility for his behaviour by not keeping him under careful supervision.
I’ve also been attempting to contact various police agencies to see why no fraud charges have been filed against Devlin. That story is ongoing as I write this, but here we’re running up against bureaucratic police behaviour – in which one police agency is reluctant to cooperate with another police agency. To illustrate, a detective in the York Regional Police department did open an investigation into Devlin back in January 2026 at the behest of an individual who lives in Toronto who was one of Devlin’s victim but, since Devlin himself lives in Winnipeg, that detective sent the file to Winnipeg Police Service. However, the detective in the York Regional Police department attached a file number to that file. When the individual in Toronto who had filed the complaint with York Regional Police contacted WPS to ask whether a file had been received from York Regional Police the answer he was given was that the “case file number you refer to would not be associated with a WPS numbering system as our case numbers would start with a letter, year, and file. (C2600XXXXX).
“As such, I did not find a any case number associated with Mr. … in our police records.”
What was strange though, was that the detective with the York Regional Police had sent that file by registered mail – and it had been signed for by someone in the WPS.
When the person who filed that original complaint asked WPS to search for the file, he did receive a confirmation that they had found the file – but would not provide any further information. So, who knows? Maybe long after this is published we’ll hear something about the WPS actually launching an investigation into the person we’re calling Fred Devlin here.
I’ve also been trying to help another of Devlin’s victims – this time someone who lives in Africa, try to restore his reputation in his community. This poor fellow had gone so far, at Devlin’s behest, as to set up a charitable foundation in the phoney name of Devlin’s supposed group of companies – using money borrowed from someone in his community, after Devlin had promised him he would provide funding for that charitable foundation. That African individual has told me several times that he is thinking of committing suicide, both because he is now a pariah in his community for having promised the members of his community that a large charitable foundation was about to be set up there, and because he is in debt to a money lender in his community to whom he owes a great deal of money with no practical means of paying off that debt.
I actually went so far as to send this poor fellow enough money to stave off the money lender from coming after him for a few months. As I write this, I don’t know what the African individual’s status is re the debt he owes, although I am staying in constant communication with him – in no small part because I don’t want him to kill himself over what Fred Devlin did to him. The story of the African man who just wanted to help others by starting a charitable foundation – that was supposed to be funded by Fred Devlin, is told in the second last chapter of this story.
So, I have more than a dispassionate interest in telling a good story. I’ve placed myself directly into the story itself – and my hope is that, at some point I’ll be able to report that, at the very least, Devlin is no longer perpetrating his frauds on anyone else. That could happen in one of three ways: The individual whom I’ve been assisting in finding a lawyer who would be willing to sue Devlin has also been in contact with police authorities. Perhaps there will be a charge or charges laid against Devlin but, in truth, it’s been more than three months since the police were first contacted about Devlin by that individual and, to date, nothing has happened.
The second possibility is that we may discover that Devlin actually has a sizeable amount of money – perhaps given to him by his parents. He does spend his days in fairly expensive surroundings – as I noted. While a lawsuit seems improbable at this point, the lawyer who was considering whether to file one certainly agreed that there are very solid grounds to file one, but warned that it would be fruitless unless it can be shown that Devlin either has money or owns some assets of real value.
The final possibility is that the individuals who are closest to Devlin – his wife and his parents, would take concerted action to put a stop to his behaviour. All they have to do, realistically, is make sure he never comes into contact with a phone or a computer ever again. It’s by contacting unsuspecting people all over the world and feeding them a line about how wealthy he is that Devlin has been able to carry on his gigantic fraud for so many years. But, if he’s not able to contact anyone – via a phone or a computer, then it would be possible to put a stop to his behaviour. Is that so difficult to do? I suppose the answer is yes, it’s very difficult to do. How do you keep someone from obtaining a phone these days? At the very least, if he could be monitored closely then Devlin might be prevented from reaching out to more innocent victims which, unless he’s stopped, he is bound to persist in doing.
I should note that, in writing a story that is still ongoing, I’m having to make constant additions to the story as new information comes to my attention. For instance, even though I’ve already noted that I had published a story on my website about the real person whom I’ve chosen to refer to as Fred Devlin here – and I did remove it, I have now been made aware that apparently someone managed to retrieve what I had posted even after it was expunged, and another website was created with the sole purpose of republishing what I had written. Thus, I might still be held accountable for what I originally published – even though I did remove it from my website. But, since that story has apparently been quite accessible for quite some time, according to what I was told, and I haven’t heard anything more from the lawyer who warned me I could be sued for defamation, my guess is that Devlin’s parents realize that suing me would only cause them greater embarrassment than if they simply did nothing.
Perhaps, too, the embarrassment of seeing that story still disseminated on the internet might be enough to motivate Devlin’s parents to keep him in check – something, I would suggest, they have been fully capable of doing ever since he developed his psychosis. Since his parents have refused to discuss their son’s condition with me, I have no idea what steps they may have taken over the years to harness his behaviour, ever since they learned that their son is mentally ill. I do feel compassion for them – and how much anguish their son must have brought to their lives, but the fact is he has brought so much grief upon so many others that any compassion I feel for them is outweighed by the anger I have that they have been complicit in allowing him to con so many people.
Next: My own meeting with the delusional con man six years ago
