In this episode, more chilling patterns emerge..

What I once believed were divine turns of fate—a door opening just in time, a helping hand appearing from nowhere—I now recognize as part of a darker design. Not all coincidences are holy. Some are traps. Some are miracles by both cruel and kind.

Coincidence has its function. It drew me into a narrative I didn’t write. As the sins of the Catholic Church began surfacing in Cape Breton, I received a letter from my aunt— one that gently guided me toward silence. The timing was no accident. It mirrored the same choreography playing out across parishes and provinces: suppress, deny, rewrite.

What I mistook for grace was control. What I saw as blessing was sometimes just a more elegant form of containment. This wasn’t divine intervention—it was calculated preservation of power - designed to smear my reputation, silence my voice and replace truth with a carefully curated narrative that protected them - and buried me.