What Happens If A Pharmacy Technician Isnt Registered
Jennifer Pan'southward Revenge: The inside story of a gilt child, the killers she hired, and the parents she wanted dead
Jennifer Pan's Revenge: The inside story of a aureate child, the killers she hired, and the parents she wanted dead
Bich Ha and Huei Hann Pan were classic examples of the Canadian immigrant success story. Hann was raised and educated in Vietnam and moved to Canada as a political refugee in 1979. Bich (pronounced "Bick") came separately, also a refugee. They married in Toronto and lived in Scarborough. They had 2 kids, Jennifer, in 1986, and Felix, 3 years later, and found jobs at the Aurora-based machine parts manufacturer Magna International, Hann as a tool and die maker and Bich making car parts. They lived frugally. By 2004, Bich and Hann had saved plenty to purchase a large home with a two-auto garage on a quiet residential street in Markham. He drove a Mercedes-Benz and she a Lexus ES 300, and they accumulated $200,000 in the bank.
Their expectation was that Jennifer and Felix would work as difficult as they had in establishing their lives in Canada. They'd laid the groundwork, and their kids would need to improve upon it. They enrolled Jennifer in piano classes at age four, and she showed early promise. By elementary school, she'd racked upwardly a trophy example full of awards. They put her in figure skating, and she hoped to compete at the national level, with her sights assault the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver until she tore a ligament in her genu. Some nights during elementary school, Jennifer would come home from skating practice at 10 p.g., do homework until midnight, and so head to bed. The pressure was intense. She began cut herself—niggling horizontal cuts on her forearms.
As graduation from Grade 8 loomed, Jennifer expected to be named valedictorian and to collect a scattering of medals for her academic achievements. Only she received none, and she wasn't named valedictorian. She was stunned. What was the point in trying if no one best-selling your efforts? And yet, instead of expressing her devastation, she told anyone who asked that she was perfectly fine—something she called her "happy mask."
A close observer might accept noticed that Jennifer seemed off, simply I never did. I was a year backside her at Mary Ward Cosmic Secondary in north Scarborough. As far as Catholic schools go, information technology was something of an anomaly: it had the usual loftier academic standards and strict dress code, mixed with a incomparably bohemian vibe. It was easy to discover your tribe. Bright kids and arty misfits hung out together, across subjects, grades and social groups. If you played three instruments, took advanced classes, competed on the ski team and starred in the school'due south annual International Night—a showcase of various cultures around the world—you were absurd. Outsiders were embraced, geekiness historic (anime order meetings were constantly packed) and precocious appetite supported (our most famous alumnus, Craig Kielburger, pretty much ran his charity, Free the Children, from the halls of Mary Ward).
It was the perfect community for a pupil like Jennifer. A social butterfly with an like shooting fish in a barrel, high-pitched laugh, she mixed with guys, girls, Asians, Caucasians, jocks, nerds, people deep into the arts. Outside of schoolhouse, Jennifer swam and practised the martial art of wushu.
At 5 pes 7, she was taller than most of the other Asian girls at the schoolhouse, and pretty but plain. She rarely wore makeup; she had small-scale, round wire-frame glasses that were neither stylish nor expensive; and she kept her pilus directly and unstyled.
Jennifer and I both played the flute, though she was in the senior phase ring and I was in inferior. We would interact in the band room, had dozens of mutual acquaintances and were friends on Facebook. In conversation, she always seemed focused on the moment—if yous had her attending, you had information technology completely.
I discovered later on that Jennifer's friendly, confident persona was a façade, below which she was tormented by feelings of inadequacy, self-incertitude and shame. When she failed to win commencement identify at skating competitions, she tried to hide her devastation from her parents, not wanting to add worry to their disappointment. Her female parent, Bich, noticed something was amiss and would comfort her daughter at dark, when Hann was asleep, saying, "You know all we desire from you is just your best—just practice what you lot can."
She had been a acme student in elementary school, but midway through Grade 9, she was averaging lxx per cent in all subjects with the exception of music, where she excelled. Using old report cards, scissors, glue and a photocopier, she created a new, forged written report card with direct As. Since universities didn't consider marks from Grade 9 and x for admission, she told herself it wasn't a big deal.
Hann was the classic tiger dad, and Bich his reluctant cohort. They picked Jennifer up from school at the end of the day, monitored her extracurricular activities and forbade her from attending dances, which Hann considered unproductive. Parties were off limits and boyfriends verboten until after university. When Jennifer was permitted to attend a sleepover at a friend'due south firm, Bich and Hann dropped her off belatedly at night and picked her up early the post-obit morning time. Past historic period 22, she had never gone to a society, been drunk, visited a friend's cottage or gone on vacation without her family.
Presumably, their overprotectiveness was born of beloved and business concern. To Jennifer and her friends, withal, it was tyranny. "They were absolutely controlling," said one old classmate, who asked non to be named. "They treated her similar shit for such a long time."
The more I learned nearly Jennifer'due south strict upbringing, the more I could chronicle to her. I grew up with immigrant parents who also came to Canada from Asia (in their case Hong Kong) with almost zip, and a father who demanded a lot from me. My dad expected me to be at the peak of my form, specially in math and science, to always be obedient, and to be exemplary in every other way. He wanted a child who was like a trophy—something he could brag almost. I suspected the achievements of his siblings and their children made him experience insecure, and he wanted my accomplishments to match theirs. I felt like a hamster on a wheel, sprinting to run into some sort of expectation, solely determined past him, that was always only out of accomplish. Hugs were a rarity in my business firm, and birthday parties and gifts from Santa ceased around age 9. I was talented at math and figure skating, though my father virtually never complimented me, fifty-fifty when I excelled. He played downwards my educational achievements, just similar his parents had done with him—the prevailing theory in our culture being that flattery spoils appetite.
Jennifer met Daniel Wong in Course xi. He was a year older, goofy and gregarious, with a big express mirth, a wide smile and a little paunch around his waistline. He played trumpet in the school ring and in a marching band exterior of school. Their relationship was platonic until a band trip to Europe in 2003. After a operation in a concert hall filled with smokers, Jennifer suffered an asthma attack. She started panicking, was led outside to the tour motorcoach and almost blacked out. Daniel calmed her downward, coaching her breathing. "He pretty much saved my life," she later said. "Information technology meant everything." That summer, they started dating.
Of Jennifer's friends, I knew Daniel best. We met in my Class 9 year at Mary Ward, and he would come over to my house nearly every day after school to watch TV and play Halo on my Xbox. He would often stick around and eat dinner with my family. Dan spoke to my parents in Cantonese, and my dad would regularly buy him Zesty Cheese Doritos—his favourite. When Daniel was in his terminal year at Mary Ward, we drifted apart, and midway through the year, he transferred to Fundamental Carter Academy, an arts school in North York. He was falling behind at Mary Ward, and, unbeknownst to me, he had been charged with trafficking after cops constitute half a pound of weed in his car.
Jennifer's parents assumed their daughter was an A educatee; in truth, she earned mostly Bs—respectable for most kids but unacceptable in her strict household. Then Jennifer continued to doctor her study cards throughout loftier school. She received early acceptance to Ryerson, only then failed calculus in her final year and wasn't able to graduate. The academy withdrew its offer. Desperate to go along her parents from earthworks into her high school records, she lied and said she'd be starting at Ryerson in the fall. She said her plan was to do 2 years of science, then transfer over to U of T'south pharmacology program, which was her father's hope. Hann was delighted and bought her a laptop. Jennifer nerveless used biology and physics textbooks and bought schoolhouse supplies. In September, she pretended to nourish frosh week. When it came to tuition, she doctored papers stating she was receiving an OSAP loan and convinced her dad she'd won a $3,000 scholarship.
She would pack up her volume bag and take public transit downtown. Her parents assumed she was headed to grade. Instead, Jennifer would go to public libraries, where she would inquiry on the Web what she figured were relevant scientific topics and fill her books with copious notes. She'd spend her gratis time at cafés or visiting Daniel at York University, where he was taking classes. She picked up a few mean solar day shifts every bit a server at East Side Mario's in Markham, taught pianoforte lessons and afterwards tended bar at a Boston Pizza where Daniel worked as a kitchen managing director. At abode, Hann often asked Jennifer well-nigh her studies, merely Bich told him non to interfere. "Allow her be herself," she'd say.
In society to keep the charade from unravelling, Jennifer lied to her friends, likewise. She fifty-fifty amplified her dad'south meddling means, telling one friend, falsely, that her male parent had hired a individual investigator to follow her.
After Jennifer had pretended to be enrolled at Ryerson for 2 years, Hann asked her if she was still planning to switch to U of T. She said yes, she'd been accepted into the pharmacology plan. Her parents were thrilled. She suggested moving in with her friend Topaz downtown for three nights a calendar week. Bich sympathized with Jennifer's long commute each 24-hour interval and convinced Hann that it was a good idea.
Jennifer never stayed with Topaz. Monday through Wednesday, she stayed with Daniel and his family unit at their dwelling house in Ajax, a large house on a tranquility, tree-lined street. Jennifer lied to Daniel'south parents also, telling them her parents were okay with the system and brushing off their repeated requests to meet Hann and Bich over dim sum.
Subsequently two more years, information technology was theoretically time to graduate from U of T. Jennifer and Daniel hired someone they plant online to create a fake transcript, total of As. When information technology came to the ceremony, Jennifer told her parents that the actress-big class size meant in that location weren't plenty seats—graduating students were immune just ane guest each, and she didn't want one of her parents to feel left out, so she gave her ticket to a friend.
Jennifer developed a mental strategy to deal with her lies. "I tried looking at myself in the tertiary person, and I didn't like who I saw," she afterward said, "but rationalizations in my head said I had to keep going—otherwise I would lose everything that ever meant annihilation to me."
Eventually, Jennifer's fictional academic career began to collapse. While supposedly studying at U of T, she had told her parents about an exciting new development: she was volunteering at the blood-testing lab at SickKids. The gig sometimes required late-night shifts on Fridays and weekends. Perchance, she suggested, she should spend more of the calendar week at Topaz'southward. Just Hann noticed something odd: Jennifer had no uniform or key card from SickKids. Then the next twenty-four hour period, he insisted that they driblet her off at the infirmary. Equally presently as the automobile stopped, she sprinted within, and Hann instructed Bich to follow her. Realizing she was being tailed by her mom, Jennifer hid in the waiting area of the ER for a few hours until they left. Early the adjacent morning time, they called Topaz, who groggily told the truth: Jennifer wasn't at that place. When Jennifer finally came habitation, Hann confronted her. She confessed that she didn't volunteer at SickKids, had never been in U of T's pharmacology programme and had indeed been staying at Daniel'south—though she neglected to tell them that she'd never graduated high schoolhouse and that her time at Ryerson was as well complete fiction.
Bich wept. Hann was apoplectic. He told Jennifer to get out and never come up back, but Bich convinced him to allow their girl stay. They took away her cellphone and laptop for two weeks, after which she was simply permitted to use them in her parents' presence and had to endure surprise checks of her messages. They forbade her from seeing Daniel. They ordered her to quit all of her jobs except for teaching pianoforte and began tracking the odometer on the machine.
Jennifer was madly in honey with Daniel, and solitary, too. For two weeks, she was housebound, her mother by her side nearly constantly—though Bich told Jennifer where her dad had hidden her phone, then she could periodically check her messages. In February 2009, she wrote on her Facebook folio: "Living in my firm is like living nether house arrest." She also posted a annotation: "No one person knows everything about me, and no two people put together knows everything about me…I similar beingness a mystery." Over the bound and summer, she snuck calls with Daniel on her cellphone at night, whispering in the nighttime.
Eventually, she was allowed some measure of freedom, and she enrolled in a calculus course to get her concluding high schoolhouse credit. Still, in defiance of her parents' orders, she visited Daniel in betwixt piano lessons. One nighttime, she arranged her blankets to wait like she was asleep, then snuck out to Daniel'southward business firm. But she forgot that she had her mother's wallet. In the morning, Bich went into the room to become it and discovered Jennifer was gone. Bich and Hann ordered Jennifer to come home immediately. They demanded that she employ to college—she could nevertheless be a chemist's shop lab technician or nurse—and told her that she had to cut off all contact with Daniel.
Jennifer resisted, only Daniel had grown weary of their secret romance. She was 24 and still sneaking around, terrified of her parents' tirades but non willing to exit home. He told her to figure out her life, and he bankrupt off their relationship. Jennifer was heartbroken. Shortly thereafter, she learned that Daniel was seeing a girl named Christine. In an attempt to win back his attention and discredit Christine, she concocted a bizarre tale. She told him a man had knocked on her door and flashed what looked like a police badge. When she opened the door, a group of men rushed in, overpowered her and gang-raped her in the foyer of her house. So a few days later, she said, she received a bullet in an envelope in her mailbox. Both instances, she alleged, were warnings from Christine to exit Daniel alone.
In the spring of 2010, Jennifer reconnected with Andrew Montemayor, a friend from uncomplicated schoolhouse. According to Jennifer's later evidence in court, he had boasted about robbing people at knifepoint in the park near his habitation (a merits he denies). When Jennifer told him about her torturous relationship with her dad, Montemayor confessed that he'd once considered killing his own begetter. The notion intrigued Jennifer, who began imagining how much ameliorate her life would be without her begetter effectually. Montemayor introduced Jennifer to his roommate, Ricardo Duncan, a goth kid with black nail polish. Over bubble tea in between her piano lessons, co-ordinate to Jennifer, they hatched a program for Duncan to murder her father in a parking lot at his work, a tool and die company called Kobay Enstel, near Finch and McCowan. She says she gave Duncan $1,500, earnings from her piano classes, and they agreed to connect later on past phone to adjust the date and time of the hit. Merely Duncan stopped answering her calls, and by early July, Jennifer realized she had been ripped off. (Duncan says she called him in early July, hysterical, requesting that he come and impale her parents. He said he felt offended and said no, and that the but money she gave him was $200 for a night out, which he promptly returned.)
According to the police, it was at this point that Daniel and Jennifer, who were back in contact and exchanging daily flirty texts, devised an even more sinister plan: they'd hire a hit on Bich and Hann, collect the estate—Jennifer'southward portion totalling nigh $500,000—and live together, unencumbered by her meddling parents. Daniel gave Jennifer a spare iPhone and SIM card, and connected her with an acquaintance named Lenford Crawford, whom he called Homeboy. Jennifer asked what the going rate was for a contract killing. Crawford said it was $xx,000, but for a friend of Daniel'south it could be done for $x,000. Jennifer was careful to apply her iPhone for law-breaking-related conversations and her Samsung phone for everything else. On Halloween night, Crawford visited the Pans' neighbourhood—probably to spotter the site. Kids in costume streaming upward and down the street provided the perfect cover.
On the afternoon of November two, the programme took an unexpected turn. Daniel texted Jennifer, saying that he felt every bit strongly about Christine every bit she did almost him. Suddenly everything was thrown into question. She texted Daniel: "So yous feel for her what I feel for you lot, then call it off with Homeboy." Daniel responded, "I idea you wanted this for you?" Jennifer replied to Daniel, "I do, merely I have nowhere to go." Daniel wrote back: "Call it off with Homeboy? You said you wanted this with or without me." Jennifer: "I want it for me." The next twenty-four hour period, Daniel texted, "I did everything and lined it all up for you." It seemed Daniel wanted out of the organisation. Only inside hours, they'd reverted to their old ways, texting and flirting. After that twenty-four hour period, Crawford texted Jennifer, "I need the time of completion, recollect about it." Jennifer wrote back, "Today is a no go. Dinner plans out so won't be home in time." Over the following week, there was a flurry of text and telephone conversations between Jennifer, Daniel and Crawford. On the forenoon of November 8, Crawford texted Jennifer: "After piece of work ok volition be game time."
That evening, Jennifer watched Gossip Girl and Jon and Kate Plus Eight in her bedroom while Hann read the Vietnamese news down the hall before heading to bed effectually eight:30 p.m. Bich was out line dancing with a friend and cousin. Felix, who was studying applied science at McMaster University, wasn't home. At approximately 9:xxx p.m., Bich came home from her line dancing form, changed into her pyjamas and soaked her feet in front of the Idiot box on the main floor. At 9:35 p.m., a man named David Mylvaganam, a friend of Crawford's, called Jennifer, and they spoke for nearly two minutes. Jennifer went downstairs to say good dark to Bich and, as Jennifer afterward admitted, unlock the front door (a statement she eventually retracted). At 10:02 p.grand., the calorie-free in the upstairs study switched on—allegedly a betoken to the intruders—and a infinitesimal later, it switched off. At x:05 p.m., Mylvaganam called once more, and he and Jennifer spoke for three and a one-half minutes. Moments later, Crawford, Mylvaganam and a 3rd human named Eric Carty walked through the front door, all three conveying guns. One pointed his gun at Bich while another ran upstairs, shoved a gun at Hann's face and directed him out of bed, downwards the stairs and into the living room.
Upstairs, Carty confronted Jennifer outside her bedchamber door. According to Jennifer, Carty tied her arms behind her using a shoelace. He directed her back inside, where she handed over approximately $two,500 in cash, then to her parents' bedroom, where he located $one,100 in U.S. funds in her female parent's nightstand, and then finally to the kitchen to search for her female parent'southward wallet.
"How could they enter the business firm?" Bich asked Hann in Cantonese. "I don't know, I was sleeping," Hann replied. "Shut up! You talk also much!" one of the intruders yelled at Hann. "Where's the fucking coin?" Hann had just $threescore in his wallet and said every bit much. "Liar!" one man replied, and pistol-whipped him on the back of the head. Bich began weeping, pleading with the men not to hurt their girl. One of the intruders replied, "Residuum assured, she is squeamish and will non be hurt."
Carty led Jennifer back upstairs and tied her arms to the banister, while Mylvaganam and Crawford took Bich and Hann to the basement and covered their heads with blankets. They shot Hann twice, once in the shoulder and and then in the face up. He crumpled to the flooring. They shot Bich 3 times in the head, killing her instantly, then fled through the forepart door.
Jennifer somehow managed to reach her phone, tucked into the waistband of her pants, and punch 911 (despite, as she afterward claimed, having her easily tied behind her back). "Help me, delight! I need help!" she cried. "I don't know where my parents are! … Please hurry!" At the 34-second mark of the call, the unexpected happens: Hann can be heard moaning in the background. He had awoken, covered in blood, with his expressionless married woman'due south trunk next to him, and crawled up the stairs to the chief floor. Jennifer yelled downwardly that she was calling 911. Hann stumbled outside, screaming wildly, and encountered his startled neighbor, who was about to leave for work, in the driveway adjacent door. The neighbour chosen 911. Police and an ambulance arrived at the scene minutes later, and Hann was rushed to a nearby hospital, then airlifted to Sunnybrook.
York Regional Police force interviewed Jennifer just before 3 a.chiliad. She told them that the men had entered the house looking for money, tied her to the banister, and taken her parents to the basement and shot them. Two days later, the constabulary brought her in again to requite a second argument. At their request, she showed how she contorted her body to get her phone—a flip telephone—out of her waistband to place a call while tied to a banister.
Holes began to emerge in Jennifer's story. For example, the keys to Hann'southward Lexus were in obviously view by the front door. If it were indeed a home invasion, why did the intruders non take the car? And why didn't they have a crowbar to get in, or a backpack to acquit the loot, or zip ties to restrain the residents? And most important: why would they shoot two witnesses but leave i unharmed? The police assigned a surveillance team to monitor Jennifer's movements.
By November 12, Hann had woken up from his 3-24-hour interval induced coma. He had a broken bone near his middle, bullet fragments lodged in his face up that doctors couldn't remove and a shattered neck bone—the bullet had grazed the carotid avenue. Remarkably, he remembered everything, including two troubling details: he recalled seeing his daughter chatting softly—"similar a friend," he said—with one of the intruders, and that her artillery were not tied backside her back while she was being led effectually the house.
On November 22, the constabulary brought Jennifer in for a third interview. This one developed a unlike tone: the detective, William Goetz, said that he knew she was involved in the criminal offense. He knew that she had lied to him, and said information technology was in her best involvement to fess up. Jennifer, hunched over and sobbing, asked repeatedly, "But what happens to me?"
Over nearly iv hours, Jennifer spun out an cool explanation. She said the attack had been an elaborate programme to commit suicide gone horribly wrong. She had given up on life merely couldn't manage to kill herself, and so she hired Homeboy, whose existent proper noun she claimed not to know, to do it for her. In September, however, her relationship with her begetter had suddenly improved, and she decided to call off the hit. But somehow wires got crossed, and the men ended upward killing her parents instead of her. Police arrested Jennifer on the spot. In the spring of 2011, relying on analysis of cellphone calls and texts, they nabbed Daniel, Mylvaganam, Carty and Crawford, and charged all five with starting time-degree murder, attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder.
The trial began on March 19, 2014, in Newmarket. Information technology was expected to last six months but stretched for well-nigh 10. More 50 witnesses testified and more than 200 exhibits were filed. Jennifer was on the stand for seven days, bobbing and weaving in a futile endeavor to explain abroad the damning text messages with Crawford and Daniel and the calls with Mylvaganam, and desperately trying to convince the jury that while she had indeed ordered a hit on her father in Baronial 2010, three months afterward she had wanted nothing of the sort.
Before the jury delivered the verdict, Jennifer appeared almost upbeat, playfully picking lint off her lawyer'south robes. When the guilty verdict was delivered, she showed no emotion, but once the printing had left the courtroom, she wept, shaking uncontrollably. For the accuse of offset-caste murder, Jennifer received an automatic life sentence with no adventure of parole for 25 years; for the attempted murder of her father, she received another sentence of life, to be served concurrently. Daniel, Mylvaganam and Crawford each received the same judgement. Carty's lawyer vicious ill during the trial, and his trial was postponed to early 2016. The guess granted two non-communication orders, i banning communication amongst the five defendants until Carty's trial is complete, and a second betwixt Jennifer and her family unit, at the latter's asking, effectively preventing Jennifer from speaking to her male parent or brother ever again. Her lawyer addressed the order in court. "Jennifer is open up to communicating with her family if they wanted to," he said.
Hann and Felix both wrote victim impact statements. "When I lost my wife, I lost my daughter at the same time," Hann wrote. "I don't feel similar I have a family anymore. […] Some say I should feel lucky to be alive but I feel like I am dead too." He is now unable to piece of work due to his injuries. He suffers feet attacks, insomnia and, when he tin sleep, nightmares. He is in constant pain and has given up gardening, working on his cars and listening to music, since none of those activities bring him joy anymore. He tin can't bear to exist in his house, and so he lives with relatives nearby. Felix moved to the East Coast to discover work with a private technology company and escape the stigma of beingness a member of the Pan family. He suffers from depression and has become closed off. Hann is drastic to sell the family home, but no one will buy it. At the end of his statement, Hann addressed Jennifer. "I promise my daughter Jennifer thinks about what has happened to her family unit and can become a skillful honest person someday."
This was a difficult story for me to write. It'south complicated to report on a murder when you were one time friends with the people involved. Belatedly last year, I drove up to the correctional facility in Lindsay a few times to run into Daniel. In the harsh, white, empty halls of the massive edifice, even separated from me by a big pane of Plexiglas, he still seemed so familiar—a little pudgy, happy, cracking jokes. His favourite color was always orange, but he tugged on his bright pumpkin one-piece and said he'd cooled on the colour lately, and so broke into a big laugh. He asked how I was doing, and I told him my parents had recently separated, and how it had been tough on me. He said that if he ever got out, he would give my dad relationship communication. I asked him if he ever wonders whether, if even little things had gone just slightly differently, he wouldn't be in prison house. He shook his head and said thinking like that could bulldoze a person mad. He said the all-time thing for him was to focus on reality: that he was in jail, and he had to make the all-time of information technology. Daniel said he'd bonded with the Cantonese speakers in his block and was helping them arrange to life inside. When I asked him about the example, he clammed upwardly, citing limitations prepare by his lawyer. He intends to entreatment, as do Jennifer, Mylvaganam and Crawford. Presuming they lose, they'll be eligible for parole in 2035. Jennifer will be 49, Daniel l.
A number of questions linger. Was Jennifer mentally ill? A chemic imbalance would certainly make the ordeal easier to sympathise. Just her lawyers didn't attempt to present her every bit unfit to stand trial. That leaves a harder decision: that Jennifer was in complete control of her faculties. That she wanted Bich and Hann dead and put a plan into action to arrive happen. That the guilt of years of her snowballing lies and the shame when it all came out drove her to murder.
It'south not that uncomplicated, though. I believe that on some level, Jennifer loved her parents. "I needed my family to be around me. I wanted them to accept me; I didn't want to live alone […] I didn't want them to abandon me either," she said on the stand. She was hysterical on the phone when she called 911 and teared up in the courthouse while describing the sound of her parents existence shot. Yet how do you lot believe a liar? Jennifer lied in all three statements she gave to police. Under oath, she was repeatedly caught in tiny one-half-truths.
Some think her parents were to blame. "I think they pushed her to that point," a friend of Jennifer's told me. "I honestly don't think Jennifer is evil. This is just two people she hated." In February, I submitted separate formal requests to interview Jennifer and Daniel. They declined. The result is the purgatory of not knowing what my quondam schoolmates were thinking, feeling and hoping for. And information technology's likely I never will.
What Happens If A Pharmacy Technician Isnt Registered,
Source: https://torontolife.com/city/jennifer-pan-revenge/
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