Features
The River – an excerpt from a new novel by former Winnipegger Zev Coehn
Introduction: The following story is an excerpt from a longer story in Zev Cohen’s new novel titled “Are You Still Alive?”
As Zev wrote to us recently, “this is Chapter One of my novel, “Are You Still Alive?” It is partially based on events recounted to me by my late father Moshe. The story, beyond being one of the countless tales of Jewish survival against all odds during the Holocaust, is also an allegory for the indomitable human spirit intertwined with Rabbi Akiva’s maxim ‘V’havta l’raecha kamocha’. I hope to have the complete novel published soon.
Zev’s writing has appeared several times in the past in this paper. His collection of short stories, titled “Twilight in Saigon,” was published in 2021.
Born in Israel, Zev lived in Winnipeg until he was 17, when he returned to Israel with his parents. He now spends half the year in Israel and half the year in Calgary, where his two sons live.
Chumak leads the way towards the river in the dark. I had walked the route from his hut to the riverbank in daylight a few times and am confident I know the path down to the water and back. This time, though, I intend to cross to the other side under cover of darkness. Chumak, who came up with the idea, eagerly insists on guiding me so, he says, I don’t get lost. He claims he can find his way blindfolded. I think he believes that if this works, he might soon be rid of us, although he hasn’t said anything openly about it. To be fair, my suspicion just might be a projection of my own pressing desire to escape on to Chumak, whom I trust implicitly.
This summer has been uncommonly wet, and tonight the clouds are scudding low, hiding the moon and stars and making it difficult for others to spot us. At first, the only sounds are those of our movement through the brush and the occasional whoosh of passing nightbirds. The path is not overly challenging, and my labored breathing and rapidly beating heart stem more from fear than physical effort. Though I’m soaked to the skin by the constant drizzle, it is a minor irritation in the face of what I expect lies ahead. The sudden rattle of machine-gun fire causes us to instinctively fall flat on the ground, but luckily it isn’t close by, and we move forward a moment later. Distant flickers of lightning and muffled thunder are the backdrops as I blunder through the undergrowth and futilely attempt to avoid trees. Banging my knee against a tree trunk while trying to keep up with Chumak, I stifle a cry of pain, and then suddenly, I slip and slide down the muddy embankment, unable to get any traction. He grabs me before I plunge headfirst into the river.
“Quiet, you’ll get us caught,” he whispers as he holds my arm in his vicelike grip. “There are German and Romanian patrols on both sides of the river. Be more careful, or you will end up dead before you begin.”
The slope ends at the lapping water’s edge, but the river is barely visible in the blackness. A dog begins to bark incessantly on the other side. Has it picked up our scent even before I start to swim? I have no choice but to take my chances. Along the opposite bank downriver, dim points of light seem to be moving—smugglers perhaps or night fishermen. It’s hard to estimate how far away they are. I hope the current doesn’t drag me to them, but there is no going back. At least, for now, no searchlights are combing this particular area. Chumak seems to have picked the right spot.
Lightning flashes again, stronger this time, and in that instant, I realize how far it is to the other side across the rippling current. My swimming experience is limited to a small, calm pond near home, where my brother taught me some strokes. The wide, flowing river looks ominous, but I’ve made it this far, and I can’t give up now. And Chumak urges me on. I’m already knee-deep in the water, shivering, but not because the water is especially frigid.
“You can do it,” he encourages me. “The current isn’t so strong at this time of year. You must do it. It’s your only hope. Go!”
I stop for a moment and turn to him. “If anything happens…if I don’t make it back, help Ella and Sophie, please. They have no one else.” I don’t want to sound as if I’m pleading, but I am.
“Go, nothing will happen. You’re going to save them and yourself,” he says. “It’s the only way. I will wait here till you reach the other side and when you get there, clap some stones together three times to let me know you are safely there. The sound carries far at night. I’ll hear it, and I’ll tell Pani Ella that you made it.” Amid everything, I notice that this is the first time he calls Ella by her name.
I move slowly into the deeper water. At first, it’s easy; the water is up to my chest, but my feet still touch the soft muddy bottom. Then, without warning, it drops away, and I’m flailing and swallowing water. Finally, I calm down, gain control, and begin to swim. The current takes hold and starts pushing me downriver. Sputtering, I force myself to fight the rising panic and use my arms and kick with my legs in a crawl that will hopefully propel me towards the unseen shoreline. It’s working, and I’m not drowning, but I’m weakening rapidly. The combination of sickness I haven’t completely recovered from since the camp and general malnutrition has sapped me of strength. My clothes are waterlogged and drag me down. This can’t continue much longer. How idiotic would it be, I think, if I drowned now before beginning my mission? Rolling over on my back, I take the pig’s bladder that Chumak wrapped the note in from my pocket, and holding it tight, I squirm out of my pants to lighten the load. I let the current carry me and turn on my back to stroke and move gradually in the riverbank direction. It is less exhausting this way.
I’ve lost any notion of time as I float on my back and see nothing but the overcast sky. Has it been minutes? An hour? I fear trying to stand. If it’s still deep, I might sink and not be able to come back up. At least the rain has stopped. Some clouds have dispersed, and I can see stars in the black sky. Then I hear it. A baying sound getting closer. Maybe a dog? Then barking. Yes, a dog. Thankfully I must be near the shore. My feet hit bottom. I totter through the shallow water and, in the faint moonlight, survey a pebbly beach fronting the tree line. There is no sign of the huts nor of the large two-story house Chumak had pointed out some days earlier opposite my point of departure.
The house, he told me, belonged to a certain Nicolescu, a wealthy Romanian and well-known smuggler before the war. Chumak suggested that my woman, as he called Ella, write a letter to Nicolescu in Romanian asking for his help crossing the river. I imagined that he would get the letter to the Romanian or at least knew someone who could do it, so it took me by surprise when he said, “You will bring the letter to him, and he will make the arrangements.”
It seemed like a far-fetched idea. Beyond the problem of my crossing the river, in itself seemingly suicidal, why, I asked, would any Romanian, not to mention a wealthy smuggler, have anything to do with helping Jews? This is probably a punishable offense in Romania and meant certain death in German-occupied Poland. Only gypsies were desperate enough to offer their services. Even if Nicolescu was willing to help me, I had no money to pay him.
Moreover, those who did pay were often betrayed and delivered to the authorities on one or the other side. There was no guarantee of success, and many lost their lives in the attempt. A few days earlier, I saw a clump of corpses roped to each other floating down the river. I didn’t consider my death an issue anymore, but I was afraid of exposing Ella and the child to the risks involved. I told Chumak to forget it. I couldn’t do it.
“What choice do you have?” Chumak pressed. “Don’t be a fool. You, the woman, and the child definitely won’t survive on this side of the river, and you will stand a better chance over there, as far away as you can get from the Germans.”
His understanding of the situation is correct. The local peasants were handing Jews over for some butter or sugar and an opportunity to steal their belongings. They say a drowning man will grasp at a razor blade to save himself, so I agree.
“Even if I manage to make it across, how will I convince him? I have no money.”
Chumak was skeptical about my claim of penury. This wasn’t out of spite that he had thought through but rather an inherited bias. He was of the age-old school that believed Jews always had hidden treasure somewhere. He was convinced that if I couldn’t offer cash immediately, Nicolescu would accept a promise of future payment from a “high-class” Jew like me. To me, this appeared to be just wishful thinking since Chumak admitted never having actually done business with this Romanian smuggler, who was out of his league.
Chumak remained adamant, and his confident tone was hard to resist. “Tell your woman to write that she comes from an important, prosperous family in Romania that will pay him generously for his efforts. Give him a written guarantee.”
Before I could change my mind, he produced a slightly greasy lined sheet of paper from a child’s copybook and a blunt pencil stub. I took it to our hideout in the nearby forest, where I cajoled Ella, who also thought the plan was absurd and not doable, into writing the requisite supplication and promise of reward.
Standing on the flat terrain on this side of the river, I realize that the current took me downstream, and I need to walk back to the Nicolescu house. I’m not sure how far it is, but at least I can see where I’m going in the moonlight. I find some stones and strike them together three times, as I promised Chumak, hoping that he hears me, and goes back to report to Ella. Not expecting a response, I walk close to the tree line, off the riverbank pathway used by locals and military patrols. When a searchlight sweeps the river from the Polish side, I scamper into the trees, waiting, breathing hard, and picking up a dead branch for self-defense. Going forward, I detour through the woods to avoid a small group of men sitting by the embers of a fire smoking and passing around a bottle. Hunters or fishermen, I believe.
The house lies ahead through the gate of a stone-walled enclosure. No light escapes from the windows. Nearby in the compound, there are two thatched-roof peasant huts, weak light emanating from one of the windows, and a barn where a horse nickers. I stop to consider which building would be best to approach, and then, as I take a step closer, the dogs come at me, snarling. I fend them off with the branch, hitting one of them in the head. It runs off whimpering while the others keep their distance, growling, and barking. I’m done for. They are going to wake everyone. I retreat into the adjacent cornfield, crouching there cold, miserable, and afraid, as a woman appears holding a lantern outside one of the huts. She calls off the dogs and shoos them into the barn. As she locks the barn door, she stares into the darkness in my direction before going to draw water from a well in the yard and returning to the hut.
I can’t stay here much longer as indecision eats away at my remaining determination. It’s time to make a move, either forward to Nicolescu, whatever the risk and chances of success, or back across the river in abject failure. I run to the hut showing light and knock hesitantly. The dogs continue barking hysterically in the barn. Nothing happens, and I try again more decisively.
“Who’s there,” asks a muffled woman’s voice in Ukrainian.
“It’s me,” I reply. What else could I say?
She opens the door a crack. People must be accustomed to seeing strange sights around here because she doesn’t slam the door in the face of the wet, disheveled, half-naked specter that stands before her.
“What do you want? Who are you looking for?” the woman asks as if I was routinely passing by.
“I have an important letter for Mr. Nicolescu. He needs to see it,” I say, also in Ukrainian.
She invites me into the hut. Alone in the single, earthen floor room, she wears widow’s black. Wrinkeled but unbent, her age is indeterminate. Most of the space in the room is taken up by a traditional wooden loom, while a large blackened icon of the Savior hangs above a stove. I rarely devoted attention to Christian symbols, having never, so far, entered a church and always hurrying by the ubiquitous roadside shrines in our vicinity with eyes averted. The narrative of Christianity and Christians as moral and physical threats was, since time immemorial part of our Jewish psyche, but I have no direct personal experience of it. Even the murder of my father by Jew-hating thugs, which undoubtedly weighed heavily on my perception of the people who surrounded us, didn’t feel like a religious issue. Now though, as I stand here shivering, Jesus on the cross seems to be observing me ominously. But, immediately, my attention is drawn away to a piece of bread on a side table, and without invitation, I grab it and chew hungrily. The woman sees that I am exhausted and soaked and tells me to sit and rest. She brings me a blanket and pours a cup of water, watching silently as I continue chewing the bread thoroughly.
When I finish, she says, “You are from over there. You’re a Jew.” It’s not posed as a question, and she clearly knows why I have come. I’m not the first desperate Jew who has shown up on her doorstep. To my relief, she doesn’t take long to make her decision. “I will take you to Mr. Nicolescu’s mother. She lives in the other hut. Maybe she will help you.”
“Thank you.” I’m wary of digging too deeply into the subject for fear of treading on sensitive toes, but I’m also anxious to find out what has happened on this side of the river and know what to expect if Ella and Sophie are to cross with me later. “Are there any Jews left around here?” I ask warily. “What about the Jews in the city?”
“They got rid of all our Jews,” she replies in a matter-of-fact tone. “They say the devil came for them. You need to watch out.”
“Come,” she beckons. “We should go to Nicolescu’s mother before anyone else sees you here. People won’t hesitate to give you up.” I follow her to the neighboring hut, where a tall, old woman approaches us. “Who is that with you, Bohuslava?” she calls out in Romanian. “Beware of robbers. I’ll get a stick and run him off.”
Bohuslava walks over to her. “Shh, be quiet,” she says in Ukrainian. “Stop fussing. He means no harm and just wants to show you something. “Come here quickly,” she gestures to me.
Grey-haired, slightly stooped, with one eye clouded by a cataract, she must be in her seventies but looks far from frail. She takes my hand with a firm grip. “Let’s go inside,” she says.
She lights a kerosene lamp. This is a much bigger and well-appointed abode with an ornate porcelain stove dominating the room and a dining table covered in a hand-embroidered red and white tablecloth. Adjacent to the stove stands a single bed occupied by a young woman sleeping, oblivious to us.
“Bohuslava, you may go,” the Romanian says. “Just keep your mouth shut, or it won’t be long before everybody is aware that you take in Jewish strays. We don’t need that kind of trouble.”
“What will I say?” answers the other woman on her way out. “That you have a new lover and a Jewish one at that,” she cackles.
“Sit,” the tall woman says, pointing to a chair beside the table. Like most Romanians living on the border, she is fluent in Ukrainian, while my Romanian is rudimentary at best. “Show me what you brought,” she asks. I remove it from the pig’s bladder and hand the grotty piece of paper to her. She dons reading glasses and concentrates on the message.
“Good Romanian,” is her first reaction. “Who wrote it? It couldn’t be you.”
“My wife,” I say tersely.
“Is she from around here?”
“She is from the city,” I reply. “Actually, we’re together but not officially married. She has a small child, her daughter, with her. They were forced across the river with others a few months ago, and we are trying to get back to the city to join relatives who might still be there. The situation on the other side of the river is deadly.”
“Yes, I know. It’s not really safe here, either. If you’re caught, they will send you back there without a second thought. Don’t expect much pity here because nobody wants to get in trouble for hiding Jews from the authorities.”
Not wanting to get into a discussion on motivations. I prefer to get to the point. “I was told that your son, Domnul Nicolescu, has experience getting people across the river. If your son could help us, we will take our chances. It’s preferable to certain death over there.”
“I can’t speak for him,” she says. “He is a good man, but I doubt, though, that he would be willing to take such a great risk. He was never involved in the smuggling of people across the border. It’s a bad business. For him, it has always been cigarettes and other contraband.”
I am surprised, honestly, that she speaks so openly of her son’s activities to a stranger… especially to one with a price on his head. Though she doesn’t hold out hope, her demeanor and attitude give me a sliver of confidence. “You should get some rest,” she suggests, “and I will take you to him in the morning.”
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Margareta. And yours?”
“I am Emil. Thank you, Doamna Margareta, for your kindness. I hope your son takes after you.”
She wakes the girl rudely and pushes her into the other room. “Here, take this bed. The servant girl can sleep in my room. I will leave some dry clothes for you and wake you when we need to go.”
“Thank you again. Good night.” I kiss her hand.
“Good night, Domnule Emil. Sleep well.”
I feel exhausted and drained, and my shriveled muscles ache from the unaccustomed effort of swimming across the water, but sleep remains elusive. It’s not the discomfort of the thin, lumpy mattress and the scratchy wool blanket that still hold the sour odor of their previous user, nor is it the constant, sometimes frantic, barking of dogs outside that keep rest at bay. By now, I’m also habituated to grasping moments of sleep in more dire circumstances, whether in the camp barracks or on the cold forest floor. Tonight I’m kept wide awake by the train of thoughts and questions running in a relentless loop through my mind. Are Ella and Sophie safe on the other side, alone with the Chumaks? Will Nicolescu agree to help without payment in advance? Will we be betrayed by the smuggler as so many have been before us? What lies in store for us on this side without any means for survival at our disposal? Should we hide in the countryside here or take the risk of heading for the city? I try to block out the most subversive, monstrous, cowardly, and tempting considerations, but they are there. The palpable fear of swimming back across the river toward the near certainty of death, tries to convince me that I’m now safer and that on my own, I stand a better chance of hiding and surviving. Yes, I would be abandoning Ella and Sophie, but by going back, I would only join them in being captured and killed. They would be safer staying with the Chumaks, who certainly would take pity and continue to conceal and support a defenseless woman and child. Or maybe I could remain here and just send the smuggler for them. I want to scream. I will go back.
The sun is up when Margareta nudges me awake and offers me a mug of hot tea while waiting as I put on the clothes she brought. They belong to a larger man, but they will have to do. I walk with her to the door of the house. A few people, already out and about, are on their way to work in the fields, some leading cattle and a flock of sheep. The men doff their hats and greet her, paying no attention to me.
Margareta instructs me to wait outside and enters without knocking. I hear raised voices inside. “Have you lost your mind? Why did you bring him here? Do you want to get us arrested? Send him away!” A few moments later, Margareta reappears with another woman, a pale ash blonde of about forty, holding a cigarette in her long elegant fingers with a worried look on her face — definitely not of the farming class. The woman scans the yard nervously.
“My mother-in-law told me what you want. I am sorry, but Mr. Nicolescu doesn’t do this business. We cannot do anything for you.” Her voice trembles and she is obviously terrified. “Anyway, he is not here. He is in the city, and I don’t know when he will be back. You must go. It’s dangerous here, and you will get us into trouble. Please go now.” She starts to retreat into the house.
I can’t hold her against her will, and if Nicolescu is indeed away, there is nothing more to be gained here. “Thank you, Doamna Nicolescu,” I say in Romanian and press my luck. “I will go, but could you kindly give me some bread?”
She goes inside and is soon back with half of a large loaf. I once again kiss her well-manicured hand and turn to leave.
“Mr. Emil,” says Margareta, “You should not wander around here in daylight. It’s dangerous to stay out in the open. Why don’t you hide in the barn till dark? It will be safer that way.”
“Again, you are so kind, Madame, but I must return to my family. It has been too long already. They are alone and will worry that something bad has happened to me. I will be as careful as I can.”
“Very well, if you must, but follow me.” She leads me into the forest on a narrow footpath that is a roundabout way down to the water’s edge. “Eat the bread, you need the strength, and it will be ruined in the water,” she says. I need no more encouragement as I almost choke, devouring it. She turns to leave. “Be careful, Emil, and good luck to you. I will talk to Nicolescu when he returns. Maybe he will agree to help. He has more conscience than that frightened ornament he calls his wife. How can he find you?”
“There is a peasant named Chumak. He knows where we are,” I tell her.
“Yes, Chumak. I know him. He also used to smuggle cigarettes before the war.”
“Thank you, Madame. I will remember your generosity.” She is gone.
I sit brooding among the trees looking at the river as the sun glints off the streaming water and listening to cheerful birds chirping. I can’t help but ponder the difference between the elderly women, Bohuslava and Margareta, and the wife of Nicolescu. I’m not surprised by the younger woman’s reaction. It is one version, slightly less brusque, of the general refusal to help Jews. But, all other considerations aside, who can blame people for fearing the fatal punishments meted out by the Germans and their Ukrainian lackeys to so-called Jew-lovers? Would I behave any differently in their shoes? I am more impressed, not to say astonished, by those candles in the darkness, people who have everything to lose, yet whose basic humanity causes them to stretch out their hands to support their fellow men and women. That rough peasant Chumak, whose whole universe is his tiny homestead next to an unknown village on the banks of the river, heads my list of the righteous. Now I add Bohuslava and Margareta to it. The existence of such people, beyond their contribution to our physical safety, keeps alive my essential positivity toward humankind and allows me to still retain some belief in our survival.
What next, I ask myself? I achieved nothing and have no other plan in reserve. Swimming back in broad daylight now seems suicidal. Maybe drowning is a good option? But that means abandoning Ella and the child, and I have already decided this is not an option. Bring back yesterday’s rain, I pray. I pray, though my belief in the idea of an Almighty, never cast-iron, has been dramatically undermined by the past year’s events. Then the wind picks up, and the miracle unfolds. Dark clouds scud across the sky, and the first drops wet my face, replacing the tears. In moments the downpour becomes torrential. I tie the new clothes around my neck and dive into the river, feeling more energetic on my way back. The current is slow enough for me to gradually dog-paddle most of the way across and finish with a few crawl strokes.
I’m carried only about a half-kilometer downstream, and elation replaces caution as I drag myself onto the riverbank and start walking. Climbing up the steep slope, Chumak’s hut is soon ahead, but when I approach and enter it, nobody is there. I look for Ella and Sophie, but the barn is empty too, and figuring that Chumak is probably out working in the field, I continue upwards into the forest towards our erstwhile hiding place. Ella and Sophie are supposed to wait there for me in case of trouble. I call out not to surprise them but there is no reply. I run to the hideout. They are gone.
Features
Part 8 of the story of the Winnipeg con man: He promises to help an old childhood friend set up a Real Estate Investment Trust
By BERNIE BELLAN This is the eighth part of a story about a delusional Winnipegger who believes he is someone of great wealth and has spent the better part of 30 years contacting people all over the world telling them that he wants to invest in their businesses or projects. The first seven parts of this story are all available to read under the FEATURES category on this website.
Here is part 8 of my story:
To this point, while I’ve given accounts of different individuals who may have spent a great deal of time working on projects that Devlin had promised he would back financially and, while I don’t want to diminish the value of the time they all lost involving themselves in what turned out to be Devlin’s total delusion, none of them could say that they actually lost money as a result of having become involved with Devlin.
Sure, Rick spent what he says were hundreds of hours planning the expansion of his publication – based on Devlin having told him he would back him, and Dan Winthrop spent what he says were years trying to bring his aviation idea to fruition. In neither case though can they say that they put up real money to advance their ideas. Bob Anderson says he was only paid $1,000 for all the work he ended up doing for Devlin, but he admits that he has only himself to blame for having spent so much time without being compensated.
Avi did end up spending time on the phone with Devlin but again, he can’t make much of a case that it cost him financially.
Such was not the case with Jonathan Soloway. In fact, Jonathan was one of the last people to whom I spoke directly who had been a victim of Fred Devlin and that was only after Rick had cajoled him into believing that I was honestly interested in helping him – by exposing Devlin as a total fraud. I’ve already noted that Jonathan’s particular case was so well documented by him having kept copies of every email and every document that Devlin had ever sent him that I told Jonathan I thought he had a really solid case in a civil action if he were to file one – not only against Devlin, but Devlin’s wife and Devlin s parents as well.
He told me that he couldn’t possibly afford a lawyer to represent him, so I said to him that I might be able to help him with that. I told him that I knew a number of very good lawyers in Winnipeg who are experienced civil litigators and that, if he wanted, I would reach out to one or more of them to see whether they might be interested in representing Jonathan in a lawsuit against Fred.
I emailed one lawyer whom I regard quite highly and gave him a brief summary of the case that I thought Jonathan could have against Fred. That lawyer responded the same day, saying that he was currently on vacation, but that he would get back to me when he returned to work.
It was a while before I heard from that lawyer so, in the meantime I thought I would contact some other lawyers whom I thought would also be well suited to handle a lawsuit for Jonathan against Fred. One lawyer with whom I had a very amiable conversation said he couldn’t possibly take on the case because he knew the Devlin family too well. Another lawyer said he was in the process of retiring from practice and regardless, cases of this sort are so complex that it was far outside of his field of practice.
Eventually though, I heard back from the first lawyer I had contacted. He said that he had turned the matter over to the head of civil litigation in his firm and that I could expect to hear from him.
Normally, a lawyer would not discuss a matter of this sort with anyone except his or her client, but there was an extenuating circumstance in this case: I had agreed to put up a retainer for the firm if they agreed there was a solid case to be had against Fred Devlin.
When I was first writing this part of the story I didn’t know what the status of Jonathan Soloway’s putative lawsuit was. I had heard back a few times from the lawyer I had first contacted to ask whether his firm might be interested in mounting a lawsuit on behalf of Jonathan, but each time the answer was that he would have to put it to the firm as a whole to decide whether it would be worthwhile to take on the case. I had explained to the lawyer I had contacted that, if the firm thought it was a bona fide case, I was prepared to put up the retainer that is normal for a law firm to require before proceeding with a case of this sort. My thinking was that, if the firm did file a law suit and it proved successful, then I would get a percentage of the resulting award.
Jonathan had sent a detailed package of documents to the lawyer I had contacted which gave an itemized accounting of how he had been defrauded by Fred Devlin.
Here is what he had sent, on February 28, 2026:
Please find attached a PDF detailing the full employment timeline and the hours I invested in my executive role in connection with ….and the …. Group matter.
This document sets out:
• A chronological summary of my work contributions
• The estimated total hours invested at a senior executive level
• REIT structuring, financial modelling, compensation framework development, and strategic planning
• Representations made to me regarding compensation and ownership interests
• Written communications and text messages wherein Mr. … represented that …. Group would assume responsibility for my outstanding debts and that I was to refrain from paying them personally
• Statements made to me indicating that an executive in my position could not be in bankruptcy
In addition to the attached summary PDF, I am in possession of:
• Signed agreements relating to compensation and ownership
• Supporting PDF documentation
• Screenshots of text message exchanges
• Compensation modelling documentation
• Materials reflecting equity and ownership representations
Please advise how you would prefer the full evidentiary package organized and delivered for review. I am prepared to provide a consolidated, indexed digital binder or hard-copy materials as required.=
I look forward to your guidance regarding next steps.
Jonathan did hear back from the head of the law firm around the middle of March (and I was cc’d on that email). In it he was told that the matter was now in the hands of the head of litigation for the firm.
On April 1, 2026, Jonathan received the following email from the head of litigation:
It was a pleasure speaking with you today regarding your matter.
As a preliminary matter, I addressed the suggestion that this matter might form the basis of a broader claim involving multiple affected individuals. Based on the information currently available, there is no evidentiary foundation to support such an approach. Your circumstances appear to be more consistent with an individual claim arising from alleged breach of contract and misrepresentation. A broader proceeding would require evidence from multiple individuals demonstrating a pattern of conduct involving financial loss, which is not presently before me.
As for your case, I have conducted a preliminary review of the documents you provided. Below is my understanding of the facts and our discussion. Please let me know if I have misunderstood or omitted anything:
Sometime around August 2024, you entered into discussions with Mr. … and what you describe as the “…Group of Companies Worldwide Holdings Group.” Based on representations made to you, you travelled to Winnipeg for meetings, participated in discussions regarding the development of a REIT, and entered into an employment agreement.
Under the employment agreement (Note: the full employment agreement can be found beginning on page 68.) you were to receive compensation of $250,000 annually commencing June 1, 2025, as well as additional compensation on termination. You also advised that the agreement contemplated you holding a 49.5% interest in a proposed company.
You then engaged in executive-level planning and related work in reliance on those representations. You estimate that you spent approximately 1,850 hours performing work in preparation for the establishment of the REIT.
You now believe that those representations were false. You have not received any compensation for your work, including salary or other payments.
As discussed, the role of counsel at this stage is twofold. First, to determine whether you have a viable legal claim, including identifying the appropriate causes of action. Second, to assess the nature and quantum of damages that may be recoverable. To complete that assessment, it will be necessary to review the employment agreement and all supporting documentation, including evidence of the representations made to you, your reliance on those representations, and the losses you have sustained. Depending on the terms of the agreement and available evidence, your claim may proceed either in contract or tort (e.g. negligent misrepresentation, detrimental reliance, quantum meruit, and other causes of action). I suspect you do have one or more actionable causes of action. Damages are less clear. Enforcement even more tenuous.
Based on the information currently available, there is some uncertainty as to whether Mr. … has sufficient assets to satisfy any judgment. You indicated that there may be a possibility of recovery through discussions with his family in the event of a successful claim. However, that outcome is uncertain and should be considered when evaluating the cost-benefit of litigation.
As a next step, I recommend that you retain our firm to conduct this initial analysis and assessment. Subject to clearing conflicts, this would require execution of our engagement documentation and payment of an initial retainer of $5,000. You indicated that Bernie, associated with the Jewish Post and News, may be prepared to fund your legal fees and asked that I contact him to confirm. I will do so. For clarity, you have authorized me to discuss your matter and our conversation with Bernie. I have copied Bernie on this report.
If you would like to discuss any aspect of this further, I remain available.
(I should note that the reference to my association with The Jewish Post and News was wrong. The Jewish Post & News no longer exists but hey, lawyers can make mistakes.)
Jonathan didn’t send me all the documents he had sent to the lawyer whom I had first contacted, but he did send me the “Master Employment Agreement,” which Devlin signed, and which spells out in great detail everything that Fred Devlin was promising to Jonathan Soloway.
In terms of chronology, Jonathan’s experience with Devlin was quite recent – going back only a little more than a year. When I talked to Jonathan I began by reviewing what I had already learned about Devlin. I wanted Jonathan to be aware that I knew quite a bit about Devlin, but I was quite interested in speaking to someone who had actually lost money as a result of Devlin having ensnared him in his delusion, not just someone who had only spent time working on a plan that was delusional.
I said to Jonathan that Devlin has left “no prints’ on the internet. A search for his name or the Xanadu Group of Companies would turn up nothing because, as I explained to Jonathan, what I had found out was that nothing Devlin had boasted as having done or as owning when he spoke with so many other individuals was “real.”
Since writing this, however, I’ve now become aware that someone was able to retrieve the original article I had written about the person I’ve been calling Fred Devlin and has reposted that article under a different website. The person who reposted that article used something called the “Wayback Machine.” Don’t ask me what that is. All that I know is an article I had first posted on February 22, 2026, then removed two days later, is back on the internet.
To return to my conversation with Jonathan Soloway – I went on: “It didn’t take me too long to realize this guy is nuts, and that’s why I left it alone after I talked to his mother” – until I received that January 16 email.
“But,” I continued, “now that I realize that he’s a very dangerous nut, it’s a different story. “What I’d like to know is whether his parents have been involved with this? Because it’s one thing if his mother or if both his parents are paying for Fred and his wife’s car or house, whatever it is, but do they realize that, according to what I’ve been told by more than one person, their son likes to go to the Fairmont Hotel for breakfast – carrying a briefcase, and that he sort of holds court there – pretending to be a very important businessman?”
Jonathan concurred: “He walks in there like a big ‘macher’ (a Yiddish expression for someone important), like everybody knows him there. He sits down for breakfast there. But the thing I really, I find so incredible is, his wife, she has to be completely complicit here because what else does he do during the day?”
I said that’s something I’d like to find out too, adding that I had been told his wife has been present at many of Fred’s so-called “business meetings.” What has her role been in enabling Fred to carry on with his delusional behaviour, I wondered?
Jonathan said: “He thinks he’s… some sort of like, how do I say? He thinks he’s some sort of divine intervention from God that he will help you. That’s how he comes across. And he’s put on this planet to help people.
“…so if you’re someone who is destitute and you’ve got problems, then you’re someone he loves to help.
“And how he finds these people in itself is a question. I guess, being on social media and seeing who are friends of friends and maybe tapping into them.”
I said to Jonathan “I’m not going to try and find every last person that Fred Devlin has contacted because the stories are all of a pattern. He finds someone – I guess mostly through social media, finds out something about them, tells them he’d like to help them – and pretty soon he has them believing he’s some fabulously rich businessman who will help them financially.”
Jonathan then asked me about my own background: “So are you the Western Jewish News?” (That was another Jewish newspaper that my late brother and I, along with another partner, bought in 1987 – mostly to get rid of it to eliminate the competition for the paper we owned, which was The Jewish Post.)
“No,” I explained to Jonathan,”I used to be the owner of the Jewish Post & News – which used to be called the Jewish Post.”
I added that my brother, who had been the editor of the paper, died suddenly in 2009, and I took over as editor and publisher until I gave the paper away in 2024 to a non-profit Jewish service organization called the Gwen Secter Centre. I told Jonathan that I still work with the print newspaper somewhat, but I focus my attention more on my website, which is called jewishpostandnews.ca.
Jonathan said that he hadn’t paid much attention to Winnipeg’s Jewish community since he left Winnipeg in the 1990s, but he knew that his mother was a subscriber to the Jewish newspaper. I told him that I knew her name.
I also told Jonathan that I had done investigative journalism in my time, but I had never come across as crazy a story as the Fred Devlin story. I said that I knew Fred suffers from a delusional psychosis and that I wanted to do whatever I could to stop him from harming more people. That’s why, I said to Jonathan, I wanted to learn a lot more about what had happened between Fred and him because, after talking to Rob Griffin, I thought that Jonathan had the most convincing case that could lead to a successful lawsuit against Fred and his family.
Jonathan said “the one thing they’ve got to do with Fred is take away his phone – or just take him away, period. I think they got to put him in a straitjacket.”
I said, “that doesn’t happen – unfortunately, but I’m going to try and keep other people from being victimized by him.” And that’s why I wanted to help Jonathan find a lawyer who would file a lawsuit for Jonathan.
“If you can sue Fred then I can report on any of the allegations the lawyer would include in your lawsuit,” I said to him. And my simply reporting those allegations would prevent another lawyer from suing me for defamation, I added – something that I had been threatened with when I first posted something to my website about Fred – and his family.
That’s why I wanted to learn as many of the details of what had gone down between Jonathan and Fred, I explained.
I added: “And if it causes his parents great embarrassment, so be it. They should have put a stop to this years ago. And they didn’t.”
Jonathan said: “I think at the beginning, if I understand it correctly, he (Fred) did very well in business financially. But then, he lost a lot of money… it was some investor he had.
“And then, I think that’s when his parents stepped in and started to help him. All I know is he was involved with (name of business omitted). That’s all I know.”
I wanted to turn the conversation to finding out what exactly was the nature of the business deal Jonathan and Fred were supposed to have had. I had been told by Rob Griffin that it had something to do with real estate, so I asked Jonathan if his background was in real estate?
I don’t want to describe in specific terms what Jonathan’s business background was because anyone reading this who might have known him would know exactly who it is who I’m writing about and, just as I had promised everyone else whom I interviewed, I wanted to give them anonymity.
Suffice to say that Jonathan had held an extremely important position within the construction industry in Toronto for over 25 years. “At one point in my life, I was travelling about 200,000 miles a year,” he noted.
He continued, “So I travelled all over the world for almost 11 years. And I was invited by the federal government to be part of the Team Canada trade mission to China and Hong Kong.
“I left my job after 25 years. And I didn’t really know what to do. So I became a consultant. I was … group consultants for a while. And I did a couple of jobs here and there. And it was never really paying the bills properly, whatever it was.
“And I decided then to go get my real estate license because real estate here was extremely huge. It was a crazy real estate market we had here for about 18 years. And by the time I got my real estate license, that’s when everything turned.
“I went into real estate at the very worst time. I mean, the past two years, I’ve hardly made any money. I’ve been extremely struggling for that matter.
“And that’s where I stand today.”
But when did his involvement with Fred Devlin start, I wondered?
Jonathan explained: We went to school together as kids, like five, six, whatever it is. I mean, I knew him… I mean – Jewish geography when Winnipeg was small. Everybody knew everybody. I mean, I grew up with the YMHA… where almost all Jewish kids went… I knew his parents, too. I mean, I spent some time at their house. I was a childhood friend of his, but… I kind of fell out of his life for about 40 years. He reached out to me one day on Facebook out of nowhere, and we rekindled the friendship that we had missed for well over 35 years.”
I asked Jonathan: “Do you remember when that was, how long ago it was?”
He answered: I don’t remember exactly, but I’m going to say it was sometime around a year ago. I’m trying to think here…It would have been like February of last year – but wait, I might be wrong. It might have been the year before.”
I said: “But, whenever it was, it’s been quite recently.”
Jonathan: “Right. I was in Winnipeg in September of 2024. So I came back to Winnipeg to see Fred and I stayed with my mother. I was there for three days. That was the first meeting I had with Fred it, was September of 2024. So I would have met him on Facebook several months before that, in 2024.”
I said: “Okay, so just tell me what happened then.’
Before he launched into his story of what happened between him and Fred, Jonathan said he had to tell something about himself. Again – to keep his identity hidden I won’t divulge the detail of what happened, but suffice to say, he lost quite a bit of money in a failed investment. Some things happened in his personal life – aside from losing quite a bit of money in an investment, but I won’t describe that either.
In short, Jonathan’s life was falling apart. He “didn’t have a car,” he was living at his brother’s and, as he had noted earlier, the real estate business in Toronto had gone bad.
And then Fred showed up in his life. ‘When I met Fred, you know, he was like ‘the saviour. Like he’s done with everybody, he told me, he was going to help me.
“And he knew I came from the construction industry, and he wanted to set up a real estate REIT (Real Estate Investment Trust) with all his properties that he had in Winnipeg, in Cleveland, and in Toronto, and I thought that this was a great idea. He told me all about Xanadu, and about his airplanes…, that he owns Air Canada, that he owns the World Bank, that he owns, like, all this pie-in-the-sky stuff, whatever it was. It was just crazy.
“And… I believed him, mostly because he was a childhood friend of mine and I knew him. I had no reason for him to be telling me a lie, I guess is what I’m trying to say.
“Now, it didn’t cost me any money to hear his other stories, and even though I knew the other stories weren’t true, the way he put together this idea for a REIT – well, he knew all the ins and outs and he was very convincing… and we talked about putting this together, and blah, blah, blah…
“But, first and foremost, one of the things that was very strange is that every time things were going to get together, it just never got together. Like, Fred always had some sort of something, saying: ‘Jonathan, I can’t do that this week, because I’m going to Israel tomorrow, or I can’t, you know – or I’ve got to go to the hospital, or whatever that might be, he had an excuse for everything. It doesn’t matter,
“There was always a reason that it wasn’t going to happen. So fast forward to 2025 – we made a plan that I would come into town (Winnipeg) in May of 2025, and that by the time I left, that we would have a contract put in place, because the intention was, he said for sure that we’re going to put this together, and we’ll have this together on the first of September…Originally,” he said, “he wanted to try to raise capital for all this, with all the people that he knew.
“And then he decided at the very last minute, that he’ll use his own properties, which was what I always thought was going to happen, because when you’re setting up a REIT, you need these properties, but these properties, he already had. There was no reason to go search for other investors to begin with. Long and short story is, one of the first real problems I had with Fred was, we finally did a contract, and I had a legal contract written up, and it was signed on the 31st of May,” but Fred never fulfilled any of the terms of the contract.
“When I was in Winnipeg, he had mentioned to me, like, Jonathan, you know, look, there’s no reason for you to try to get a part-time job right through the summer, whatever it is, you know, I’ll make sure that you’re looked after financially, and I’ll get you paid, and whatever… And, you know, he promised me all these things, but when I got home, sure enough, he wasn’t paying me. He wasn’t going to pay me anything, and he said that he thought I had money in my bank account, but I didn’t have enough.
“He made all these excuses, saying ‘I can’t pay you right now.’ Then, every discussion I had with Fred was really very thorough. The discussions would last, like, an hour on the phone.
“You know, he was, how do I say… what’s the word I’m trying to say, I guess, if I could say it the best way, he was very grandiose…In many ways he always had an incredible story to tell you – and one that sounded really real. But, around the end of September, around Rosh Hashanah, Fred tells me that he hurt his head, and he’s got to go to the hospital, and while he’s in the hospital, he tells me that what he’s going to do is ‘If I can survive until the 3rd of January of 2026, then everything’s going to be refunded, you’re going to have all this money, because you’re an owner in this company, and blah, blah, blah.
“And I said, ‘Well, Fred, I have all this debt. I’ve got to service this debt. I don’t have a way to wait until January, otherwise I’ve got to get a job or do whatever it is. So, from the hospital, I get an email from him, I mean, a text from him, that he’s going to have Xanadu Group take over my debt, and that I’m never going to have to worry about my debt anymore. And he sent me several text messages about this, saying give me all your debt right now, and let me see what I can do. He was going to take this one thing off my back, and the company was going to look after it, and that would be that.
“And that was the best thing I’d ever heard. And fast forward until the end of October, like two months later, now I’m told that the company told him he can’t pay off my debt, but he’ll help me negotiate some sort of deal with my vendors, he’ll get on the phone with them if I have to as well, for me as well, too. So, we made a couple of calls to one or two of my creditors, he was on the phone and talked like he was like some sort of lawyer or whatever it is, but then I realized right then and there that, you know, all these kind of promises that Fred had promised to save me and to look after me, it just never worked.
“It was just a lie, the whole thing – all the promises, the contracts – they were all crap.. And I’ll say something about Rick now. Several months before I got so deeply involved with Fred, Rick reached out to me on Facebook.
“I didn’t know who he was and he just said to me, ‘I see you’re a mutual friend of Fred Devlin’s and Fred’s going to be doing some work with me as well too in California, and I have this magazine and so on.
“I never paid much attention to what Rick wrote. I just said, ‘Well that’s nice, that’s great, ‘and I even said to Fred, ‘I met a friend of yours, Rick, and I didn’t know anything about this. Fred didn’t say anything. All he said was ‘Yeah, I’m going to be doing some stuff with him,’ but what I didn’t know is that how Fred got extremely angry at Rick, that he had told told me he was going to do something with Fred.
“I didn’t realize until afterward that Fred didn’t like that I was talking to someone else he was supposedly doing a deal with.’ “(Now I understood better why Bob Anderson kept sending nondisclosure agreements to different individuals. It makes one wonder though, even though Fred was clearly delusional, somewhere in the back of his twisted mind he knew what he was doing was all one great big con. Does he wander in and out of reality, I wonder – and starts to remember the crazy things he’s told different people? Who knows?
I never had the opportunity to speak to any of the psychiatrists who must have treated him over the years. My hope is that someday, someone close to Fred is going to tell the truth about his psychosis – and why those close to him allowed him to carry on his delusional behaviour for so many years. Even as I write this, I keep receiving messages from different individuals saying Fred just contacted them recently – and threatened them if they didn’t continue to fulfill their arrangements.)
Jonathan continued: “When this all happened I got a call from Rick around the exact same time where the lid was being pulled off on all this, and that’s when I really realized that I’d gone down this rabbit hole, I’d taken three flights I’d taken to Winnipeg, and I think back at some of the things that we went through, like you know – Fred wanted to come to Toronto, but he stayed with me – at my brother’s house with me. I thought if you’re a billionaire, what the hell would you want to stay in my house when you could stay in an expensive hotel – like everything just never added up, that he never had any money.”
Jonathan went on to say that he’s a big history buff and when Fred learned that about him, he told him that he wanted Jonathan to write a story about the history of the Middle East. (Devlin’s thought processes were so confusing for me to try and follow. Each time I looked back over the transcript of a conversation I had with someone who had some sort of connection to Fred Devlin I would see crazy twists in what Devlin would talk about. Devlin’s focus would easily turn to something else totally unrelated to where a conversation first started between him and a prospective business partner.)
I asked Jonathan whether Devlin had ever mentioned someone by the name of David Simkin? You may recall that when I, myself, first met Paul Devlin, he handed me a business card for his supposed group of companies with the name David Simkin given as the CEO on the card. I still haven’t been able to establish whether there was an actual individual by the name of David Simkin – although I suppose it’s a fairly common Jewish name but, as I mentioned at the outset of this story, if there ever was anyone named David Simkin who had some sort of connection to Fred Devlin, I’ve never been able to get in touch with him.
Jonathan said that Devlin had mentioned the name “David Simkin” to him many times, adding that he, too, had been told Simkin lived in Luxembourg, where he was CEO of the Xanadu Group of Companies. Devlin told Jonathan that Simkin had come back to Winnipeg and Devlin was trying to find a place “for him to live in.” (Strange, isn’t it? Devlin has to stay with Jonathan in Jonathan brother’s house when he comes to Toronto and the CEO of a worldwide group of companies headquartered in Luxembourg has come back to Winnipeg – and he doesn’t have a place where to live.)
I told Jonathan that David Simkin was all part of Devlin’s incredibly detailed delusion. I noted that, while his entire story was crazy, at least he was consistent in describing to different people how his group of companies was so vast, that it was headquartered in Luxembourg, and that its CEO was someone by the name of David Simkin. Where he deviated from his basic story, Rick told me, was in relating to people how many companies were in the Xanadu group of companies and how much wealth Devlin had. According to Rick, the number of companies Devlin told him were part of the Xanadu group was over 3,300 – not 300, and Devlin wasn’t just a billionaire, he was a trillionaire!
Now, while you may be giving your head a shake at the absurdity of all this, there were many times when Devlin would keep his none-stretchers in check. I only talked to a few of the individuals who were conned by him – and those were all individuals who were willing to admit they had been so badly deceived by Devlin. But there were many others, I was told, who had taken meetings with Devlin – and the names I was given were of very respected businesspeople, who didn’t dismiss Devlin as some sort of nutcase.
That tells me that, despite his psychosis, he had some awareness that he had to tailor whatever story he was telling someone to that particular individual. The fact that he did obtain an MBA and did have a successful business career – at least, according to that story in the Manitoba business magazine and the subsequent mention of him in another business publication would certainly lead one to understand that, even in his fantasy that he was a brilliantly successful businessman, some vestiges of his past business experience would allow him to mount a very sophisticated facade when the occasion required it.
That goes to explain the level of complexity of the deal that Jonathan agreed to enter into with Fred.
I asked Jonathan how it was that Fred contacted him? Jonathan had said that he hadn’t had any contact with Fred since grade school – which was over 40 years previous. I wondered whether Fred had found him on Facebook, for instance?
“Did he find you on Facebook?” I asked. “Was that it?”
Jonathan answered: “I believe so. I don’t remember exactly. I’m not a big social media person, so he probably did find me on Facebook.”
I explained why I had asked that question: “Well, the reason I ask is I’m so curious about how he networks with people. He seems really adept at getting in touch with people who have some substance to them, and he sort of relies on name-dropping to cement his reputation.”
I noted that “one of the people I spoke to had actually gone to the trouble of setting up a meeting between Fred and (Israeli Prime Minister) Netanyahu.”
I asked Jonathan whether he had hear that story himself?
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jonathan responded. “When I heard that, I said, ‘that’s incredible.’ “
I said to Jonathan: “But, of course, it was all delusion.” I went on to say that Avi (who was the fellow who had arranged that meeting acknowledged that it was “a good thing Fred. didn’t show up.” Otherwise, Avi would have been deeply embarrassed at Bart having met with Netanyahu.
But then Jonathan added a new story that, to that point, I hadn’t heard: “The other thing is, so Fred, apparently out of his own money, was working with a guy named Ari Deron, who was the former head of the Mossad in Israel.”
I said: “What? The former head of the what? The Mossad?”
Jonathan said: “Fred said he was the former head of cyber security for the Mossad.”
(I did a Google search to see whether there was ever anyone prominent in the Mossad by the name of Ari Doron. Here’s what I came up with : “Based on available records, there is no evidence of a high-profile former Mossad member named Ari Doron. The name appears to be primarily associated with a fictional character, Lt. Ari Doron, in the 2001 novel Martyrs’ Crossing by Amy Wilentz, who is an Israeli soldier, not a Mossad operative.”
I explained to Jonathan that I had spoken to someone by the name of Avi – who was the person who was going to set up the meeting between Fred and Netanyahu, but Avi never mentioned anything about a Mossad connection. It did occur to me, after hearing what Jonathan mentioned about the Mossad that, during one of my phone conversations with Rick, he had told me that Fred had told him that he was always accompanied by 20 bodyguards from the Mossad. Maybe I should have included that earlier in this story.
I asked Jonathan whether, when all was said and done, the REIT plan that Fred had contracted with Jonathan to establish, had cost Jonathan a lot of money?
His answer was: “No, I didn’t lose a lot of money with Fred. I lost a lot of time with Fred.”
I said: “You lost a lot of time. That’s the story with everyone. People wasted their time.”
Jonathan continued: “Immense amounts of time. Immense amounts of time. I mean, the quantified dollars, I mean, three flights to Winnipeg.
“As I said, I stayed with my mother. You know, a couple of drinks that we went out to that I paid, you know, that he didn’t. I didn’t lose hundreds of thousands of dollars with him, but I lost an immense amount of time here.
“And the contract that he wrote with me, he was going to pay me $250,000 a year. And if he didn’t exercise the contract in a certain amount of time over the two years, he’d have to pay me $1.5 million. Yeah.
“And this is what we wrote in the contract. And again, like I’ve had some employment lawyers here who told me that the contract’s pretty solid, but it means shit if he has no money.”
“What I do believe, and again, this is just my thought here is that his parents, his mother in particular, are aiding and abetting him here. She did agree that they paid for his house and she said, it’s a lower class house in Winnipeg.
“And one thing I’ve never understood is, Fred’s wife – where is she in this equation? People say that she’s complicit in what Fred has been doing…and I would have to think she is. The one thing I knew about Fred is he is completely inept when it comes to technology.
“Like, he didn’t know how to print anything, how to write anything, how to sign anything. Like it was just – very strange. I used to say ‘Fred, why don’t you even have an assistant that would do all these things? Like, when I had to sign the contract, I have to send it to his wife as a PDF document have her print it off, have him sign it and have her scan it back to me because he didn’t know how to do any of those things… the simplest things, but he didn’t know any of that.
“Yeah. It was very, very strange. He didn’t know anything to do with technology whatsoever.
“What really fascinates me about it all is what you said about his being totally delusional. When I think of Fred I think that he is living some sort of a life that he doesn’t even know he’s living in.”
But, as both Jonathan and I learned – to out chagrin, after having heard from the head of litigation of the law firm that had looked at Jonathan’s case, there was no point in suing someone who had no apparent assets – no matter how much it was evident that he was being supported by his parents – who have substantial assets.
As for the criminal investigation to which I referred in an earlier chapter, Jonathan hasn’t heard back from any police authority – neither the Winnipeg Police Service, nor the RCMP, so the only conclusion that can be drawn is that there is no interest on the part of any police service in pursuing a fraud investigation of Fred Devlin.
At a certain point, however, I was no longer simply writing about events – I was now an active participant in trying to bring some sort of justice for everyone who had been a victim of Fred Devlin’s delusions. I suppose some might consider the degree to which I’ve involved myself in a story that began with an email somewhat surprising, but it was when I began communicating with the person whose story will be told next that I was moved to go beyond simply writing about what Fred Devlin had done. I actually sent a fair bit of money to help one victim of Devlin’s elaborate con who, I was quite afraid, was on the verge of committing suicide.
Coming next: Charlie’s story and Fred’s promise to help fund a charitable foundation in Africa
Features
BOOK REVIEW: “Fighting the Hate: A Handbook for Jews Under Siege”
Reviewed by MURRAY BENDER “Thinking on your feet”—quickly defending a position in a coherent, persuasive manner—is a situation that many people find challenging and stressful. “If only I had said this.” or “Why didn’t I say that?” Hindsight is always 20-20.
Following the Hamas atrocities of October 7, 2023, it has become increasingly necessary for diaspora Jews to “think on their feet” as they unwittingly face a barrage of tough, sometimes hateful, questions about Jews and their Israeli homeland.
Why is Israel committing genocide in Gaza? Why doesn’t Israel return the land it has stolen from Palestinians? Why are Israeli settlers attacking Palestinian farmers? How is Israel different from apartheid South Africa? Why can’t I criticize Israel without being called antisemitic? Is it true that Jews control the world? The list of potential questions is nearly endless.
Engage or hide? This is the difficult choice that confronts Jews as they look to deal with anti-Jewish and anti-Israeli behaviour. Fortunately, author and journalist Melanie Phillips comes to the rescue with her practical and insightful book, Fighting the Hate: A Handbook for Jews Under Siege.
According to Phillips, the dilemma has no single answer. “People need to decide how to behave in accordance not just with the specific circumstances but also with their own attributes and limitations.”
Some regard engagement with their opponents as a sacred duty. “They believe it is a betrayal of the Jewish people not to uphold Israel’s case.” Ohers may be uncomfortable with such a direct approach, but “those who decide to keep their heads down and avoid any altercation may well find that this leaves them with a permanent sense of regret and even failure,” she says.
As a result, it’s probably a good idea to adopt some sort of balance. And that’s where Phillips’ 150-page handbook comes in.
She starts by providing context around the “crisis of legitimacy and acceptance” from which Jews are reeling post-October 7. On the basis of extensive conversations with Jews from across the U.S., Britain and Australia, the author found that many “were near stupefied by the terrifying hatred and irrationality that was unfolding around them.” Again and again, they asked: “What should we do? What can we do?”
In response, Phillips offers a pragmatic approach to help prepare for the inevitable conversations, including a number of key principles:
- Get smart rather than emotional
- Stop playing defence
- Find common ground
- Be positive and confident
- Keep physically safe
Based on these overarching criteria, she provides an extensive list of quick and clever retorts to a range of different situations, emphasizing that “it’s our duty to our children and grandchildren to fight for truth and justice.”
So, the next time it is necessary to “think on their feet,” diaspora Jews will be able to respond quickly and confidently to those difficult questions about themselves and Israel. And they can thank Melanie Phillips for coming to the rescue.
Fighting the Hate: A Handbook for Jews Under Siege by Melanie Phillips is available online from Amazon and Indigo.
Features
ESports Meets Casinos: Overview of Bet Sport Gaming
ESports has become part of the interactive entertainment of online casinos. In fact, many fans already have the opportunity to use Dragonia Casino Bet Sport options while watching the matches of their favorite teams. The hybrid entertainment model opens up many possibilities and increases audience engagement. When video games intersect with betting, it creates a unique collaboration where participants have the opportunity to get a completely new experience right in their own home. At the same time, you can continue to enjoy the usual viewing of familiar tournaments and competitions.
How ESports and Casinos Interconnect
ESports has become a multi-billion-dollar industry that attracts spectators. Traditional casinos are focused on luck. But now they are introducing additional methods of encouraging their customers. Among such options, eSports events deserve special attention. Such bet sport offers combine the usual excitement with an element of competition. The structure of the casino entertainment provides participants with the opportunity to test their skills and reveal their own hidden talents. There are several forms of integration of eSports mechanics into the structure of a classic online casino:
- Competitive betting. Online casinos provide the opportunity to bet on eSports tournaments, which is similar to the usual sports betting. In addition, the possibilities are significantly expanded compared to simple viewing platforms.
- Skill-based casino games. Games inspired by eSports encourage players to actively participate in what is happening on the screen. The games reward the player’s results with certain prizes.
- Interactive arenas. Some casinos broadcast eSports events in real time. This allows players to follow the games directly online, which creates a feeling of real participation in familiar entertainment.
- Cross-platform interaction. Online casinos are introducing eSports-style leaderboards and achievements to attract more participants.
Such innovations appeal to new participants. Cultural changes are part of the development of the infrastructure of the classic casino, and eSports fans find a new environment for entertainment and communication.
Growth of ESports Betting
Global eSports revenue in 2025 exceeded $1.5 billion. Each bet sport option has made a significant contribution to the development. Surveys show that over 60% of players will express interest in betting on eSports, which reflects the demand and the need to develop an updated infrastructure for participation.
ESports events attract 15-20% more new participants compared to conventional casinos. The eSports betting market will exceed $20 billion by 2027, according to analysts’ forecasts, which encourages new participants to more actively watch tournaments and participate in various types of activity.
Why Fans Choose ESports
Bet sport gambling is gaining popularity. This is due to several reasons. For example, large casinos in Las Vegas and Macau now host full-fledged eSports tournaments alongside traditional entertainment. Venues are also experimenting with separate fan zones where sports betting and classic gambling are available.
Some of the most popular eSports disciplines are League of Legends and Counter-Strike: Global Offensive. Some online casinos even introduce eSports mechanics into slots so that players can try something new.
In short, the intersection of eSports and casinos is a natural development of the industry. Competitive play and an optimized betting system create a comfortable environment for true fans who want to diversify their leisure time.