Criminal Law Rules! The Contextual Use of Criminal Law Principles and Charter Values in Groia v The Law Society of Upper Canada ​​​​​​​

The hot off the presses decision in Groia v The Law Society of Upper Canada confirms my belief that criminal law matters in all areas of law. Criminal law principles are foundational and have a reach beyond criminal case law. This is most evident in the rules of evidence where those principles do not distinguish between areas of law. Evidence is evidence no matter the context. It is the courtroom that gives the rules of evidence its perspective, not any particular area of law. There is a caveat to that proposition: some evidential rules blossom and find deeper meaning in the criminal law context where Charter rights provide a signpost to evidential rulings. In many ways, Groia borrows from the texture of criminal law, not only in the specific areas I will touch upon in this blog posting. The concept of fearless and resolute advocacy, peppered throughout the Groia decision, defines the criminal defence lawyer’s duty to her client. A client who faces the ultimate sanction of our justice system, a potential loss of liberty and societal condemnation. In some ways, the fact that Justice Moldaver, who authored the majority decision in Groia and began his litigation career as a criminal lawyer, references criminal law principles in the Groia judgment should not surprise anyone. Yet, to see not only outright usage of criminal principles but to also detect an almost metaphysical reliance on criminal law analysis brings a welcome richness to this decision. It also helps that the case is situated in a quasi-criminal law environment as a prosecution by the securities commission. A prosecution with a decidedly criminal law bent as Jay Naster started his career as a Crown prosecutor.

I need only concentrate on a few paragraphs of the decision to illustrate my premise. First, the outright usage of criminal law principles is palpable in Justice Moldaver’s finding that Groia’s conduct did not amount to incivility. In Moldaver J’s view, Groia made an honest mistake in his understanding of the rules of evidence, mistaking the Crown’s obligation to disclose relevant and material evidence with an obligation to consent to the admission of such producible evidence. Crucially, this honest mistake was sincerely held, an important factor in the analysis on whether there was a basis for Groia’s in court conduct. As Justice Moldaver suggests in paragraph 93, requiring an honest but mistaken belief as the foundational precept for the civility analysis is taken straight from the 1980 criminal law Pappajohn decision.  

Pappajohn is itself a seminal case, and a foundational one at that, taught in all first-year law school criminal law courses. It provides the foundational elements of mistake of fact in a sexual assault context - the defence of mistaken but honest belief in consent. It is the start of a long line of cases where the Supreme Court struggles with the parameters of such a defence and when such a defence should be left to the consideration of the trier of fact, known as the air of reality test. It is also an infamous case, which at the time of the trial in the late '70s caused a shock wave in Vancouver high society as wealthy business man, George Pappajohn was tried, convicted and incarcerated for the rape of a real estate agent. The case eventually led to the 1999 Ewanchuk decision where the Supreme Court made it clear that no means no and only yes means yes. On the pop culture side, the Pappajohn trial is also one of the cases dramatized in the radio series, and then later  television series, created by George Jonas(journalist) and Eddie Greenspan’s (legendary criminal defence lawyer) entitled the The Scales of Justice. When I teach Pappajohn, I bring in the script as published in the book series for the class to get a sense of the real-life drama surrounding the decision. Too often when we look at cases we forget the facts are not just a written narrative or story but are based in real life events. 

Although, Justice Dickson wrote for the dissent in Pappajohn, his framing of the defence of mistake of fact was adopted by the majority decision, authored by Justice McIntyre. It was Justice Dickson, who clarified the defence in Canada as an honest belief that need not be reasonably held as opposed to the English authority in Tolson (see pages 150 to 154 of Justice Dickson’s dissent in Pappajohn), which suggested the belief must be an honest and reasonable one. Later case law on the issue, particularly Chief Justice Lamer in Davis, emphasizes the need for the belief to be honestly or sincerely held, for the defence to cross the air of reality threshold. Reasonableness is not required but is a factor in determining the honesty of that belief. It is, in other words, part of the credibility assessment of the belief but not a controlling pre-requisite. In Groia, Justice Moldaver relies on this crucial distinction between an honest belief sincerely held and an honest and reasonable belief as a defining basis for finding Groia’s conduct as not deserving sanction (see para 92).

But that is not the only basis for this finding. The subtler reliance on criminal law principle comes as Justice Moldaver speaks of another aspect of Groia’s conduct; whether he was acting in good faith. Contrary to the dissent's interpretation of the majority’s position on this, Justice Moldaver suggests he is not conflating reasonableness with good faith. Indeed, he maintains these concepts act separate and apart. Here, Justice Moldaver relies on criminal law Charter language as he defines the concept of good faith in the same terms as the s.24(2)Grant analysis. Section 24(2) is a remedial section, triggered once the court finds a violation of a Charterright. It is a criminal law remedy as evidence can be excluded under this section on the basis of a breach that brings the administration of justice into disrepute.Grant is a sophisticated analysis that heavily relies upon societal norms and aspirations. It is a remedy that engages long-term goals of society and is firmly situated in the kind of society we want to live in as well as the kind of behaviours we will or will not tolerate as a society. It is firmly fixed in the public confidence in our justice system. Section 24(2) plays an educative role, a disciplinary role and an aspirational one. It is retrospective, in the sense it must revisit the past actions of the authorities in breaching the Charter, but it is prospective in its relief. Admittedly, after doing a couple of presentations on s. 24(2), I am attracted to the Grant analysis as I find the test to be an elegant and inspirational one. 

But back to Groia and Justice Moldaver’s pulling into the mix conceptual images from s. 24(2) in the shape of good faith. Part of the s. 24(2) analysis requires the court to assess the seriousness of the breach, in other words the seriousness of the Charter infringing conduct. In Groia-terms this can be equated to the seriousness of the alleged professional misconduct. Justice Moldaver in paragraph 93 enters into an ersatz s. 24(2) analysis as he describes good faith on a sliding scale “The more egregious the legal mistake, the less likely it will have been sincerely held, making it less likely the allegation will have been made in good faith.” This is exactly what is done in a s. 24(2) analysis. There, the court situates the police conduct on a “scale of culpability” with “inadvertent or minor violations” at one end and “wilful or reckless disregard of Charter  rights” at the other (see R v Paterson, 2017, SCCat para 43). All of this is, of course, reviewed in light of all of the circumstances of the case – in other words a contextual analysis.

Interestingly, this 24(2) like analysis intersects with the honest but mistaken legal mistake analysis undertaken by Justice Moldaver. As part of the s. 24(2) good faith assessment, the court considers whether the police were relying on an erroneous view of the law at the time of the events. This view of the law may be correct at the time but later changed through case law or it may be erroneously held through a mistaken understanding of the law (R v Vu2013, SCC para 69 & R v Duarte, 1990, SCC, para 60). However, there is an obligation on the police to be up to date on the law. They cannot rest on wilful blindness. A noted difference in the analysis is the requirement in Paterson at paragraph 44 of the majority reasons of Justice Brown that the good faith errors be reasonable. Negligence, in accordance with this standard, is not good faith and neither are unreasonable errors based on ignorance (see R v Buhay, 2003, SCC at para 59). As an aside, Justice Moldaver dissented in Paterson. In any event, this discussion must be kept in context – what Justice Moldaver is discussing is civility not competency. The line must be clearly drawn to ensure the integrity of our adversarial system and the buttressing concept of resolute advocacy.

It should finally be mentioned that at no point does Justice Moldaver reference s. 24(2) or the pertinent case law. In a contextual analysis such as this one, anything goes. Which leads me to the last point in this brief blog that obviously the Groia decision continues the Supreme Court’s predilection to contextualize. This modern approach to everything 'where context is everything' first appears in statutory interpretation principles (see Rizzo Shoes, 1990, SCC at paras 21 and 22) but has outgrown the written law to be a favoured solution to all problems. The contextual approach opens the rule of law door, which so often in the more rigid application of law is closed. Whether this open-door policy is a good one, I leave for another day but needless to say, the Supreme Court is certainly consistent. In the end, by using criminal law principles and Charter aspirations in areas not traditionally considered true criminal law, the idea of 'context is everything' is getting a large and liberal interpretation. In a very real sense, criminal law rules!

Leaving A Paper Trail: A Comment on Bill C-75 (also posted on www.ablawg.ca)

Receiving the newest Bill tabled in the House on proposed changes to the criminal justice system brings to mind the image of opening gifts at a birthday party. Each gift is scrupulously wrapped in an array of cheerful paper with shiny ribbons. As each bundle is displayed, there is a jostling amongst the party goers – each eager to see the gift unwrapped to reveal the prize inside. The image goes only so far when it comes to the government’s proposed amendments to the Criminal Codetabled last week under the auspices of Bill C-75. Underneath the wrapping, over 300 pages of paper, is no prize but a maze of amendments and changes – a patchwork of pieces – some of which significantly change the criminal justice system. Although some of these amendments are welcome, others signal a significant shift in our criminal justice system. Change can be good and can improve our concept of justice. However, even the smallest change must be calibrated toward a goal we all share: maintaining the fine balance between protection of the public and protection of the individual within that system who is faced with a potential loss of liberty. We must not sacrifice one for the other. Change must be viewed not as a piece of a maze but as a part of a whole through long-term strategic vision. Unfortunately, this omnibus Bill in many respects fails to be visionary. Rather, short-term administrative efficiency seems to be the prize under the mountain of paper.

To be sure, there are changes we can all agree upon such as the repealing of some decidedly dead offences disabled by the application of the Charter. The best Albertan example of the danger in leaving things unchanged that have been changed is found in the original decision of R v Vader,2016 ABQB 505 (CanLII). In that decision, s 230, unconstitutional since 1987 as a result of the seminal decision of Justice Lamer, as he then was, in R v Vaillancourt, [1987] 2 SCR 636, 1987 CanLII 2 (SCC), was resurrected to convict the accused of murder. That error was easily and quickly undone as, in Pandora Box fashion, the lid was slammed shut with the s 230 conviction adroitly converted into the constitutional manslaughter conviction (see R v Vader2016 ABQB 625 (CanLII)). Bill C-75 explicitly repeals s 230, and that is a good change.

In C-75, there are also some expected changes, such as the abolishment of peremptory challenges to jury members under s 634 to be replaced by the more meaningful challenge for cause procedure. Although these changes are for good public policy reasons (see my earlier post on the Stanley / Boushie case here), such changes, which turn an automatic process into a discretionary one, still require thoughtful and mindful decisions by all those involved, counsel included. Changes can provide better and more equitable outcomes, but changes do not, in and of themselves, guarantee there will be change, they only make change possible. 

There are also some unexpected changes or at least changes some of us feared but doubted would occur. For further comment on the efficacy, purpose and reason for retaining, in some form, the preliminary inquiry, see my previous post on the issue as part of a case commentary written in April of 2015, “Does the StinertDecision Signal the End of the Preliminary Inquiry?”. The abolishment of the preliminary inquiry, except for the most serious offences, is one change we feared for years and are still probably in a state of denial about as our fears have become a reality. I suppose we should be relieved that the process was not entirely eradicated but perhaps that was the plan; to lull us with a sense of false security. 

Another, smaller change, yet completely unexpected and unwanted is an important evidentiary change under the soon to be added s 657.01, permitting the admission of the “routine” evidence of a police officer at trial in affidavit format, without the hearing of that evidence. This evidence is not given in real time. It is not even given orally. It is proffered as affidavit evidence. In other words, it is tendered on paper. This effects a precarious step, a paper-thin one, toward the potential future of trials by paper in the criminal court. 

As mentioned earlier, part of the difficulty with this government’s approach to Criminal Coderevision is the lack of long-term strategic vision. Reading these amendments, there is a sense that some of these changes were made without thinking them through to their ultimate end and without mentally testing them in a real trial scenario to determine how they will ultimately play out in court. For these changes to be meaningful and workable, yet still upholding the principles of fundamental justice, we rely on our government, before they change the law, to ask themselves why they are in fact changing it. We want the government to think before acting and ask whether the contemplated change is for the better.  Finally, we rely on the government to make these changes in an effort to enhance the criminal justice system while preserving the protections of those whose liberty is at risk. I emphasize to enhance, not to make the system more efficient. Efficiency cannot be and has never been the only reason for reform. Efficiency is not what we want from our justice system. That is not what the Jordan (2016 SCC 27) and Cody(2017 SCC 31) decisions are all about. Cultural change involves a bundle of values not a bundle of paper being efficiently pushed about.

As is typical with omnibus Bills, instead of stopping at what needs to be done, the government went above and beyond by also adding under the proposed s 644(3), an ability to convert a jury trial in mid-trial into a trial by judge alone, in the event the number of jurors fall below the number required to continue the trial. Although this can only be done by consent of both parties and therefore appears innocuous and not worth commenting on, my question is – why? A decision to have a jury trial is an accused’s Charterprotected right. Why would the loss of that right as a result of the inability of the jury to continue logically mean that the accused is good to go without one? Why incentivize a change which should not occur for that reason? Why not, instead, permit a jury trial to continue with less jurors than presently permitted? It seems that this change as with the admission of routine police evidence, sworn but not tested through viva voceevidence, is for one reason only – expediency. 

I harken back to Justice Lamer’s comments on the role of expediency in criminal law in Re B.C. Motor Vehicle Act, [1985] 2 SCR 486, 1985 CanLII 81 (SCC)(at para 85). This decision is an early Chartercase on the unconstitutionality of an absolute liability regulatory offence where there is a potential loss of liberty through a term of imprisonment or probation. An absolute liability offence requires no proof of a mental element and is therefore, where there is a potential loss of liberty, contrary to the principle of fundamental justice, “from time immemorial”, that an innocent person not be punished (para 85). Justice Lamer recognized that administrative efficiency is the driving force behind such regulatory offences, as the regulatory regime could be enforced quickly and efficiently through proof of the prohibited act only. To climb into the mind of the regulatory defendant, often a corporate one, would prove to be too difficult and contrary to the overarching objective of regulation, which is protection of the public from unsafe regulatory practices. However, where a criminal law sanction is used, Justice Lamer opined that only in exceptional circumstances, such as “natural disasters, the outbreak of war, epidemics,” would such administrative efficiency “successfully come to the rescue” of such a breach of s 7 (at para 85). Otherwise, life, liberty and security of the person should not be “sacrificed to administrative efficiency” (at para 85). These sage words written thirty-three years ago still have meaning. The principles underlying the Charterand indeed “from time immemorial” cannot be thrust aside in circumstances where the government has alternatives or simply, in a rush to please, has not given careful consideration to those changes. The justice system may be bending under its own weight, but the answer is not to shore it up with a quick and easy fix.

The admission of “routine police evidence” in paper format, as mentioned earlier in this post, serves as another prime example of the government giving all due consideration to administration without considering the rationale or “end game”. Presently, through our rules of evidence, we can make judicial or formal admissions at a criminal trial pursuant to s 655 of theCriminal Code. The section reads very broadly and confers a discretionary right on the defence to “admit any fact ... for the purpose of dispensing with proof”. Typically, such admissions are made in a written and signed agreed statement of fact or agreed admissions, depending on the nature of such admissions. They are often used to admit continuity of an exhibit which a police officer has seized in order to relieve the Crown and the officer from minute descriptive recitation of exactly where the exhibit was located at every point in time of the investigation. Such admissions can save court time and are efficient. They are to be used as indicated – to dispense with proof. This signals to all parties that if a fact is not admitted, the Crown must prove it. Easy and simple to use. Fair and efficient. Enter, the proposed s 657.01, permitting police evidence be admitted at trial in affidavit format. The first question to be asked is why? Why do we need such a paper heavy process when the accused already has the use of s 655?

Let’s go through a faux question and answer period to illuminate the point. The response to those “why” questions may be as follows: admissions under s 655 are formal and therefore binding and conclusive. The new proposed section permits admissions of fact informally, permitting the accused to lead evidence contrary to those affidavit facts, leaving the trier of fact to make the final determination of the issue. I see. Good point. However, so the response may be, if this form of evidence is to be treated like all evidence, in that it is subject to the assessment of the trier of fact, then what exactly is the point? Aha. Clever. But, the responder responds, the point is to relieve the police officer from attending court. A police officer’s attendance, if not required, costs the government time and money. Oho, is the response to that salvo. So, the reason for this is administrative efficiency. Not quite, is the response. An accused can also request an officer attend. Really? So, says the responder. So now the burden is on the accused to speak up and ask for an officer to attend court, to give evidence as is his or her duty, and to present themselves for cross-examination only upon request despite the principles engaged in full answer and defence. When once the status quowas the Crown shouldering the responsibility to present in court testable evidence as part of their obligation to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, now the accused must request it. What was a given is now a discretion. Another point in time for the possible exercise of judicial discretion. Another addition to the now enhanced gatekeeper function of the trial judge. Another point in time where a self-represented accused might be overcome by an overly cumbersome process. Hmm. This seems awfully familiar. Isn’t this what happened to the preliminary inquiry? Once it was a default position to have one unless the accused waived it. Then, it became a request. Now, it will be virtually gone, but for exceptional penalty circumstances. But this is mere process – relax, is the final word from the government. The final response may be – look at what happened with expert evidence – complacency in its admission and a failure to test the evidence resulted in miscarriages of justice until courts were forced to recalibrate the focus. 

Finally, we have the Charter statements on these new amendments so crucial to the governmental approach. These statements, according to the government website on the issue, “are intended to provide legal information to the public” on “some of the key considerations that inform the review of a proposed bill for consistency with the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.” In this instance, the government provides justifications for the amendments, couched in Charter speak, relying on a broad range of rights, such as s 7 in its various forms, the s 11(b) right to a trial within a reasonable time, the s 11(d) presumption of innocence, and the right to equality under s 15. However, when viewing the admission of “routine police evidence,” for instance, this concern for the Charter feels ingenuine. Despite the government’s Charter statementsto the contrary, a sacrifice of one Charterright, such as limiting s. 7 full answer and defence, for another Charterright, such as using administrative expediency to temper s. 11(b) unreasonable trial delay, is not consistent with the spirit and vision of the Charter. Balancing may be needed but balancing requires a proper weighing of these rights in light of our case law. As Justice Iacobucci remarked in the majority decision in R v Oickle, [2000] 2 SCR 3, 2000 SCC 38 (CanLII), the Charterrepresents the “bare minimum below which our law must not fall” (at para 31). Indeed, “the Charter is not an exhaustive catalogue of rights” (para 31). From “time immemorial” we have assiduously protected due process rights as a reflection of our rule of law. Our government may want us to accept the bare minimum but we in Canada deserve more. We see the government’s attitude in those carefully crafted Charterstatements, which on the surface advance transparency but are so carefully polished, they reflect rather than reveal. Self-serving in nature, these statements publicly maintain the proposed changes are consistent with or advance Charter rights, but it is more by the saying that these changes do this than by the fact they truly do. In other words, by saying so, the changes become so. So, it is written, so it is or must be. Whether written in stone or merely on paper, those statements should not be the outward public face of these changes. Again, Canadians deserve better – we deserve to hear the rationales and the potential outcomes. Hear it, not find it in the trail of papers.

(with thanks to the ABlawg team for editing this piece)

Taking a Quick Survey of the Legal Landscape Through the Intersection of the Public and the Private Living Space

Sometimes law creeps into the most unlikely areas. I was sharing an article by Alex Bozikovic, the architecture critic in the Globe and Mail, with my son, who is studying for his Master’s Degree in Architecture. The article comments on a structure, a house, designed for a modern family, who requires multigenerational living space for aging parents. The plan of the house is at once typical, with kitchen, bedrooms and living space, but at the same time atypical as it accommodates “kitchens.” At the heart of the home is a lively transparent “public” space connecting the generations so, as suggested by the owner, to “allow us to be together when we wanted to be.” My son commented approvingly of, what he called, “the stratigraphy of semipublic and private” running throughout the design. What struck me about his remark and the design of the house was the acceptable integration and embracement of the public into the private. This caused me to pause and consider what this sentiment and the design behind it means for the future of the legal landscape.

In my criminal law focused mind, the immediate correlation this design concept has with law matters is in the area of section 8, search and seizure, which provides protection of privacy rights. As with all Charter rights, this protection is not absolute but is framed against the permissible intrusions into our private sphere for the purposes of law enforcement. To ensure this frame fits and sits properly within that privacy sphere, judicial oversight is required. The frame should sit lightly yet must cover enough of that sphere to ensure public safety is not compromised. Similarly, the greater good must not be advanced at the expense of who we are as a society. This delicate balancing is done through the judicial gatekeeper’s lens, which is carefully calibrated through case law with a “cut once measure twice” philosophy. Indeed, the recent decisions of Marakah and Jones, which I commented on in previous posts you can access here (Marakhah) and here (Jones), serve as an example of this balancing and re-balancing of privacy rights. The majority of the Supreme Court seem to be recognizing that privacy is not a static concept nor is it a contained one but is a changeable concept requiring the law to be as nuanced as those conceptions of privacy seem to be.

However, when I look at how architectural space is conceived, I wonder if our legal conception of space is in step with this living space formulation. In terms of Marakah and Jones, which only now recognizes the integration of technology into our “living” spaces and therefore changes our legal conception of those spaces, the concern becomes more fundamental: does the generation that fashioned “reasonable expectation of privacy” truly understand what this generation expects from their “reasonable expectation of privacy?” Public and private are not in opposition, but as vividly exemplified in the multigenerational design of the house, they live together harmoniously. But it goes further: public and private flow from one extreme to another continuously as the core meaning of these terms ebb and flow. When my son refers to the “semi-public” aspects of the house design, he isn’t just referencing the transparent walls which permits the public into that living space but is also referencing the semi-public inner space of the home, which fluxes between one generational family to another. Is our law that flexible? Can it understand the layering and flow of the new reality of space, which embraces public and private occurring within the same time frame and essentially creates a collapsing of time as space recombines these terms into one “space”?

The irony of this “new” conception of space is that it is not in fact new. In Ancient Rome and in Ancient Greece, the home or domus occupied by the upper class was both publicus, of the people, and privus, of the individual. The Ancient Roman domus, for example, was often sandwiched between commercial premises, which may be owned by the home owner as well. Additionally, the living space inside the domus was open to the public demands of the “master of the house” or the dominus, who would receive daily morning greetings (salutatio) from his clients (those whom he gave monetary and economic support to in exchange for their support often in the political arena). For more on this, start here. It is only as society expanded that our concepts of public and private separated. Now that technology has brought us in close contact again, it might be time to be open to a totally modern approach to the legally constructed frame of privacy rights.

Consistent with this view, is further commentary made in Bozikovic’s article calling for a renewed approach to land use laws, which traditionally precludes multigenerational home design. The article maintains that post World War Two, the vision of people living separate and apart but together in one community, was the essence of “tidy” modernity. But that vision is contrived as life cannot be contained in a pre-fabricated frame but must be permitted to bleed over the edges. The need to blur the lines between private and public may be contrary to the bright lines we are taught to expect from the law, but the alternative may be just as murky. Without a living and breathing law that is reflective of the generation who must live by it, we, sitting in the legal landscape, will be left behind.

This brings me to the final connection this article brought to mind, which is the future use of predictive analytics in legal decision-making. In this area the collision of private and public space is a matter of concern rather than a matter of celebration. If the Charter is designed to protect informational privacy as a matter of self-autonomy and dignity, then the prospect of our waking moments being mined for data in order to suggest what we may or may not do in the future is legally concerning. This concern becomes magnified when such big data is funnelled into a “black-box” algorithms which uses the information to deny people bail or sentence them to long terms of incarceration. This concern with transparency and accountability in the realm of analytics is now front and centre in the soon to be “live” European Union General Date Protection Regulation or GDPR. Although the legislation was approved in 2016, the rules contained therein will be enforced as of May 25, 2018. This regulation of data privacy couples with the AI Now Institute 2017 Report on the use of Artificial Intelligence or AI mechanisms through the lens of civil rights and liberties, bias and inclusion and ethics is a must read for those legal minds concerned with the computerized mind making choices and decisions that impact life, liberty and security of the person. In Canada, we need to be doing more open access discussion of these thorny issues which intersect law, technology and social science. For more information, I highly recommend a google search and follow on Twitter my colleague at the University of Calgary law, Emily Laidlaw, who does research and writing in the area of regulation of the internet. Her blog postings on the faculty’s ABlawg website can be found here. Finally, I add to this eclectic mix, a recent article based upon a conference in Barcelona on  Internet, Law & Politics entitled “Personal Data Protection as a Nonfunctional Requirement in the Smart City’s Development” by Lorenzo Dell Corte (Tilburg University & TU Delft), Bastiaan van Loenen (TU Delft), and Colette Cuijpers (Tilburg University) and the intersection between issues of privacy, regulation and the support for the Smart City integrating this new technology.

The kind of interdisciplinary work needed to truly unpack and understand these issues and the significance to the legal landscape is possible and needs to be done. In some ways the scholarly approach needed, involving law, architecture, technology and politics, is a micro-reflection of the “modern” spaces we will be living in and constructing in the near future. Considering that, it is time to broaden the legal landscape and allow the private and public to come in.

 

 

Can We Talk? A Brief Look At The Supreme Court of Canada’s Holistic Approach to Electronic Conversations

I am starting this blog posting with a pop culture literary reference. As soon as I read paragraph 17 of the Chief Justice’s decision in Marakah, the passage on taking the “holistic view” of the subject matter of the search as an “electronic conversation” transported me through space and time to a reading of Douglas Adam’s Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency (also now a tv series). The premise of the book is the concept of universal connectiveness through space and time. Dirk appears exactly where and when he should appear. Superficially, there may be no rhyme or reason for his appearances but on a deeper, holistic level there is, as they say, “method in his madness.” What appears chaotic is in fact logical – at least logical when viewing the events holistically. So too the majority in Marakah, authored by our very soon to be retired Chief Justice, looks beyond the heaviness of section 8 case law and clears a holistically-enhanced path toward search and seizure in the digital age.

To be honest, there are no real surprises in the majority’s approach to the s. 8 conundrum of text messages in the hands of a third party. What makes the decision so startling is the stark contrast between the universal, contextual and principled approach embraced by the majority and the law and order, hardware focused, nuts and bolts “modalities of transmission” approach of Justice Moldaver’s dissent. As in Fearon, this contrast between the majority and dissent highlights the divisiveness of technology. Not unlike grammar school where we thought about where to put the proper accent on the syllable (syl-la-ble as opposed to syl-la-ble), Marakah requires us to think about the proper emphasis the rule of law should place on privacy and technology.  Is it, as envisioned by the majority, an emphasis on human interaction involving the everydayness of conversations, which engage the who, what, when, where and how of that interaction? Or, is it, as suggested by the dissent, a matter of hardware choices, like going to the local Best Buy and using the device that is at hand (and fits best in your hand) at the time. The bigger digital question then emerges: how connected are we to our technology and how do we protect our society while in that immersive state?

Although Marakah gives us a crystal clear pixilated picture of section 8, standing, and reasonable expectation of privacy, it does not give us a sense of identity that Justice Karakatsanis did in the dissent in Fearon. I have written in a previous posting on Fearon of the differing linguistic choices employed in the majority and dissent in that case as a precedential device  (see “A Fresh Look at Fearon: How Language Informs The Law”). In Fearon, the public safety, law enforcement objectives trope is used by Justice Cromwell to strike a balance between privacy and state intrusion. The decision looks at the granule in an attempt to provide a teachable moment in the search for the reasonable search and seizure. In that decision, the chalice-like quality of the phone as a container was retained. For Justice Cromwell and the majority, the rule of law is predominant against the backdrop setting of technology. In contrast, Justice Karakatsanis in dissent renders her decision in the digital new world of technology using the aspirational aspect of our Charter values as a guide.

Similarly, Chief Justice McLachlin in Marakah anchors the privacy dimension of s. 8 to who we are as a society as envisioned through our Charter. We bare our souls through our emojis, our Snapchat stickers, and our cartoon inspired Bitmoji doppelgängers. It is no longer Descartes’s simplistic “I think therefore I am” but “I text therefore I am” or better yet, “I press send, that’s who I am.” The Chief Justice in Marakah crystallizes what we all believe, that the future is built on micro-chips, yet the human thumbprint can still be seen in its wires. Marakah sends that message loud and clear and, if our phone is not set to silent, we receive that message just as clearly.

 

Next blog up – “Keeping Up with the Joneses”: The SCC’s Decision in R v Jones

 

Some Initial Thoughts on the Senate Report on Criminal Justice Reform

Is delaying justice, denying justice? Yes, but the delay is a denial for all not just specific groups. Justice Cory in Askov recognized the societal dimension to a speedy trial. Although s. 11(b) is couched as an individual legal right, it is in fact a value we all share and an interest involving the public good. We all have a stake in justice and therefore we are all impacted when justice fails us. I have said this many times before – admittedly almost like a broken record – but what is as stake, when the justice system fails, is who we are as a nation. In our 150th year we need to look toward a cohesive and responsive future, which respects all citizens. To me respect comes from a robust and mindful justice system that provides access to those who need it and confidence to those who do not. Thus, the priority in the Senate Report to properly fund Legal Aid across the country should be, in my view, a number one priority.

Law reform is about “best practices.” Indeed, the interim Senate Report from August 2016 and the one now placed before us speaks of this.  “Best practices” is about excellence, integrity and confidence. It is about innovation and alternate strategies. Keeping this in mind, the Senate Report makes fifty recommendations to reform the justice system but identifies thirteen as uniquely pressing and urgent.

In my view, the highlight of these recommendations are the alternate strategies, looking at the administration of court in a subtle way or rather in a different way. Do we need to be bound by the traditional court structure or is there more we can do? Can we borrow from other cultures? Can we bring something that will work better? These innovative forward looking recommendations deserves attention and should receive heightened importance. Under this rubric, we can see many of these thirteen priorities as connected, such as the effects our justice system has on our Indigenous peoples of our country. Can we not learn from their unique perspective and collaborative approach?

Additionally, taking notice of mental health and the fact that substance abuse may go hand in hand with this issue is another priority that connects with innovative strategies and to me is extremely timely and urgent.  The increase of fentanyl use and the carnage resulting from it needs to be addressed. Again, specialized courts and embedded treatment centres id badly needed to address and alleviate the pressure on the justice system.

Again, connected to the above, is the call for a hard look at what needs to be criminalized under our Code. A better and smarter approach to what behaviour needs to be underlined by the criminal law will streamline the system and increase public confidence in the administration of justice. Often administrative penalties can provide the incentive to change behaviour where the criminal law cannot or does not.

Increased and better use of technological change is a must and is an integral part of court innovation. We have technology now but is it being used in the best way? Are we ensuring that the use of technology is sustainable and manageable? Are we providing the right incentives for all stakeholders to use the best practices when it comes to technology? This needs to be explored.

The idea of “judicial officers” to do some of the work of a judge or justice requires a deeper look. It is attractive and it can work to focus the system on those issues that need judicial oversight. However, we must ensure that such a change will not simply be shifting the work elsewhere. A simple shift will not change the culture of the court system.

I have not commented on some of the priorities which cause me concern. The issue of whether there is an alternate remedy under 24(1) to a stay is a complex issue. As a defence lawyer, I am hard pressed to envision an alternate remedy when the Charter breach involves the administration of justice, the most egregious type of Charter violation. Such a violation engages fair trial and full answer and defence concerns. It is a violation that recognizes potential for miscarriages of justice. It is a weighty issue which will need to be explored further by the courts and by me as well in a future blog posting.

Also, my view of the need to retain the preliminary inquiry causes me concern with the recommendation to restrict or end the process. I have spoken on this issue before and written about possible alternatives such as permitting a civil form of questioning where the inquiry is not to determine whether there is sufficient evidence for trial. The preliminary inquiry, as I wrote in my blog on the Stinert decision, is not just an archaic vestige of the past but can be an important safeguard in our justice system which has its roots in the all-important principle of the presumption of innocence. We must be cautious in moving away from such a protection.

I will end my initial thoughts here with a promise to delve deeper into the “big picture” of the law reform in a future posting. In the meantime, I encourage everyone to review the Report and to start thinking about what kind of justice system they envision for Canada.  

 

 

 

Can R v Antic “Bail” Out The System? A 150th Birthday Wish

R v Antic is a welcome decision from the Supreme Court of Canada. No one can argue with a re-affirmation of what is at the core of our criminal justice system – the presumption of innocence. Justice Wagner neatly reminds us of the key role that the principle of fundamental justice has in our adversarial system. Indeed, one can argue that the presumption of innocence is at the very heart of our system and reflects a cherished societal value. That value is not just a “legal” one but a moral one as well. To presume people are essentially “good” is a comforting thought and one we should promote and celebrate. But, as recognized in the Antic decision, we tend to forget the “good.” This type of “reminder” is needed in the courts of law where justice is meted out in often chaotic circumstances. “Justice” happens in times when the court list seems endless and in circumstances where the parade of in-custody accused make it difficult to separate them into individuals. The Antic decision should make for a pause that is welcome.

Antic not only assists in humanizing the system but also in ensuring the courts, when faced with a heavy case load, are mindful of the authority it wields. The “ladder of liberty” approach the judicial interim release section creates is not something to be side-stepped or even two-stepped. Each rung must be deliberately weighed before proceeding onward and if a rung of the ladder feels “right,” if the weight placed on it works, then pursuant to section 515, the journey stops. It stops because reasonable bail is constitutionally guaranteed. It stops because the presumption of innocence is weighing in on the side of justice. It stops because it should.

 

Bail is complicated. If you ask any Provincial Court Judge what exactly they do day in and day out, they will tell you two things: bail and sentencing. The beginning and end, so to speak. These two procedures are the book ends of our justice system and without the proper use of them, the whole structure can fall and fail. In the post-Jordan fall-out, we need to be aware of these bookends and what a culture of complacency means as it relates to the proper administration of justice. Are we missing something then when we point fingers at trial delays or is it merely part of the heavy weight the system feels as it climbs up the rungs of the ladder.

 

Antic should then be a call to action for everyone. A call to be ever mindful of the underlying core values that push our justice system along and that make it an integral part of our unique Canadian democracy. In a few weeks, we will be celebrating our 150th year as a nation. We should at that time also be re-committing ourselves to the Charter values that define us and bring us together as a nation. This includes respect for the proper administration of justice through our commitment to make the system better for all those who walk its halls. This can and should be done by all stakeholders working together for, as Justice Wagner described it, an “enlightened criminal justice system.” Let’s take direction from the highest court and instead of resisting change, let’s make it happen. This is my birthday wish for Canada. Let’s blow out a candle and see it done.

On First Looking At the New Code Amendments (with thanks to Keats for the title)

In March of 2017, the federal government renewed its commitment to modernize the Criminal Code by tabling legislation to repeal the so-called “Zombie” laws – a term coined by Professor Peter Sankoff to denote those criminal laws that are the “walking dead” of the Criminal Code – still on the books but deemed unconstitutional. Although a step in the right direction, this announcement seemed like a “no brainer.” It also just happens to be consistent with the mandate letter, sent by the Prime Minister to the Minster of Justice, admonishing the Minister to uphold the Constitution and respect the Charter.

Besides repealing the unconstitutional sections, the list of problems with the Criminal Code remains. This list is, well, longer than the Code should you desire to place each page side by side. With well over 849 sections (considering the “accordion” sections whereby the government folded in between sections, other sections, such as the 33 sections residing between s. 487 and s. 488: for further information read my blog entitled The Infinite Lists of The Law), the Code is a statutory behemoth, a virtual cornucopia of delights including archaic laws such as the rarely used forcible detainer at s. 72(2)) jumbled with brand new crimes, once considered regulatory offences, such as the new offence (circa 2014) of selling unpackaged stamp-less tobacco products under s. 121.1.

Recently, however, the government appears to be taking another step toward the modern by unveiling their revisionist vision through some new amendments to Code sections. This came about serendipitously as the government needed to fulfill an election promise of decriminalizing the use of marijuana. To do this, the government realized they needed to not only remove laws but to fix them. So as part of the modernization of our drug laws, the government revised the Criminal Code sections on impaired driving (sections 253 to 259), and while they were in the area anyway, to freshen up the other driving offences, namely dangerous driving under s. 249, with a “new look.”

As soon as these legislative changes were tabled in Parliament, everyone brought out the magnifying glasses. Each word of the proposed legislation, newly delivered, has been scrutinized. Mainly, the focus is on the impaired driving amendments, which, quite frankly, look a little Charter unfriendly, despite the stern warning of that mandate letter to be respectful. But leaving the Charter aside, which it appears the government may be doing with these sections, let us not consider the minutiae of this Bill, rather let us consider the general efficacy of the government’s approach.

Putting away our magnifiers then, we should consider the “big picture,” and ask whether the federal government is truly modernizing the criminal law and bringing it kicking and screaming into the 21st Century. It would appear, in fact, at least with the impaired driving amendments, that this is not what is happening. It would appear the government is instead merely back filling; reacting to weaknesses in the old legislation by plugging up the holes, like the little Dutch boy, to ensure the dike doesn’t leak. The changes are therefore reactive, not proactive. They are backward looking, not forward facing. The drafting of these new sections does not assist us in walking toward the future. The sections are prolix and dense. Furthermore, the amendments do not send the message of a new Canada which is tolerant, diverse and progressive. The sections download onto the citizen the burden of ensuring that their conduct, even after they are no longer driving, wherever they may be, whatever their emotional or physical state may be, is reasonable. Whatever that means. At the same time, the new sections relieve the state of the burden of justifying the use of its authority to investigate. Even without glasses, it seems the revisions are not very 21st century.

Turning to the other changes, quietly placed in the Bill is the new Part VIII.1 (which by the way is still perpetuating the archaic use of Roman Numerals) entitled “Offences Relating To Conveyances”. At first blush, one has visions of property offences relating to land titles. On a closer look, the “recognition and declaration” (the only other legislation this kind of section is found is in the Alberta Bill of Rights, RSA, 2000) in section 320.12 advises us what we already were told by Justice Cory in Hundal that licensing, as in operating a “conveyance,” is a privilege and the rules of the road, so to speak, must be observed. Section 320.11 defines “conveyance” as a motor vehicle, vessel, aircraft or railway equipment. These conveyances were also subject of the now to be replaced dangerous operation section 249. Section 320.13, as the new dangerous operation section, creates an offence where a conveyance is operated, having regard to all of the circumstances, dangerous to the public. The soon-to-be-replaced s. 249 is similarly worded, although it gives a clearer description of what those circumstances could be, such as “the nature, condition and use of the place” of operation.

After this closer look, it becomes clear that this “new” Part is not really new at all but merely a short hand version of the old.  The new changes are not a change but a touch up, a change in nomenclature, maybe even a nod to the past case law. Again, what is the impetus of this change? The decriminalization of marijuana, which requires a change to the impaired driving laws, which requires the government to react to previous case law by filling in legislative gaps, which requires the government to change all of the driving offences, which causes the government to show they are modernizing the Code by simplifying the sections.

What needs to be done instead of modernization for the sake of modernizing is a thoughtful and deliberate consideration of the whole of the Code. What needs to be done is a rethinking of our criminal law not as a jumble of sections prohibited conduct but as a unified reflection of societal values. This includes all of what the criminal law stands for such as the integrity of the administration of justice itself.  This requires, as suggested by the Supreme Court of Canada in Jordan, a cultural change. Not just a “new look” but a different perspective. To do this, instead of taking a page from the Code, let’s learn from our case law and use the principled or contextual approach to change. Real change is only possible if we design laws holistically mindful of the law as a mere part of the larger social fabric. Laws can act as visual markers, creating and defining social space in a community. Successful laws will therefore integrate with society, be flexible to societal needs and frame societal space. The Criminal Code must therefore be considered as part of the social landscape and be created as a marker of who we are, not as a headstone marking the past. The federal government has an opportunity to do this, let’s hope that in the next step to rethinking the Criminal Code, they will fulfill their promise and do just that.

 

Episode 45 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 50 Assisting the Enemy and Failing to Prevent Treason

Section 50 continues our discussion of prohibited acts under the Part relating to offences against the public order. Section 50 contains two separate offences: assisting an enemy of Canada to leave the country without consent of the Crown and knowingly failing to advise a peace officer or a justice of the peace of an imminent act of treason. The full section reads as follows:

50(1) Every one commits an offence who

            (a) incites or wilfully assists a subject of

                        (i) a state that is at war with Canada, or

(ii) a state against whose forces Canadian Forces are engaged in hostilities, whether or not a state of war exists between Canada and the state whose forces they are,

to leave Canada without the consent of the Crown, unless the accused establishes that assistance to the state referred to in subparagraph (i) or the forces of the state referred to in subparagraph (ii), as the case may be, was not intended thereby; or

(b) knowing that a person is about to commit high treason or treason does not, with all reasonable dispatch, inform a justice of the peace or other peace officer thereof or make other reasonable efforts to prevent that person from committing high treason or treason.

These offences are indictable and pursuant to subsection 2 of the section, the maximum punishment is fourteen years incarceration. As is evident from the wording of the section, these offences are closely aligned to treason and treasonable acts. Indeed, the offence of failing to inform on a person about to commit treason is essentially an offence of being an accessory or party to the treason, either before the fact or after. Originally, this section in the 1892 Criminal Code was worded to that effect. The change came in the 1915 amendments, most likely as a result of World War One, when the offence of assisting an “alien enemy” was added immediately after the offence of accessory section. In 1927, the two offences were combined under one section. Finally, in the 1953-54 amendments to the Code, the specific reference to accessory was deleted and the section was re-enacted as it stands today.

Needless to say, I have been unable to find any reported decisions on this section other than a reference to the duty to report under s. 50(1)(b). In the 1990 Dersch case, the BCCA considered the seizure of blood samples in a case of suspected impaired driving where the accused was unconscious when the samples were taken for medical purposes. The issue of confidentiality of medical information was considered with the acknowledgement that such confidentiality was subject to exceptional circumstances such as a statutory duty to report. Section 50(1)(b) was cited as an example of such an exceptional situation.

The mens rea requirements for this section is of interest. It could be argued that both offences under this section require a high level of mens rea. In s. 50(1)(a) the use of the word “wilfully” suggests the requirement for a high level of subjective liability, which does not include recklessness. However, the term “willfully,” does not necessarily denote a high level of subjective mens rea as per the 1979 Ontario Court of Appeal case of Buzzanga and Durocher. The contra-argument would rely on the context of this offence, including its connection to treason and the severe punishment attached to conviction, as support for a high level of mens rea. But, s. 50(1)(a) reverses the onus of proof onto the accused by requiring the defence to “establish” that the assistance rendered was not intended. This reverse onus would certainly be subject to a Charter argument under s. 7 and s. 11(d). The mens rea requirement for s. 50(1)(b) is easier to discern as it requires the accused to have knowledge of the expected treason, which clearly requires proof of a high level of subjective liability by the Crown.

Although this section has been historically underused, considering the rise in alleged acts of terrorism, there is a possibility the section could be used in the future. There could be an argument that members of certain terrorist groups are in fact “at war” with Canada and a further argument that these groups in some ways constitute a “state” for purposes of the section. In fact, some of these groups do identify as such. However, in light of new legislation, both within the Code and through other federal statutes, relating to this area, it is more likely the government will prefer to lay charges under this newer legislation, which provides a broader basis for conviction. Probably the best indication of the viability of this section is whether or not it remains in the Criminal Code, in its present form, after the much anticipated government review of the Criminal Code.

 

Riesberry – Does It Get Past The Post?

Fraud has been around for centuries. So has the concept of cheating at play. In R v Riesberry, the Supreme Court of Canada attempts to put 2 and 2 together, so to speak (albeit randomly!), to clarify the meaning of “game” under s. 209, which criminalizes “every one who, with intent to defraud any person, cheats while playing a game or in holding stakes for a game or in betting.” Game is defined under s.197 as a “game of chance or mixed chance and skill.” What was at issue in Riesberry was the favourite Ontario pastime of horse racing and Mr. Riesberry’s penchant for winning. In this case, winning by drugging two horses. Although the Court defined “game” as including a horse race, in my view the more interesting aspect of the decision is the Court’s comments on the fraud charges and what I will suggest is a failure to fully integrate criminal law principles.

Justice Cromwell, speaking for the unanimous court (although the case was not heard by the full panel of judges but of a smaller panel of 7), essentially relied upon previous SCC decisions on the actus reus requirements of fraud, specifically Olan (1978) and Theroux (1993) and the companion case Zlatic. The actus reus for fraud is comprised of two parts as per section 380, an act of “deceit, falsehood, and other fraudulent means” coupled with, according to Theroux and Zlatic, a deprivation “caused by the prohibited act,” which may result in an actual loss or a risk to the “pecuniary interest” of the victim. In the earlier decision Olan, the court expanded on the phrase “other fraudulent means” by defining it as any act “which can properly be stigmatized as dishonest.”

Before we move onto Justice Cromwell’s position, let’s unpack the significance and the impact of the Olan and Theroux/Zlatic decisions.

First, Olan, an Ontario case about a substantial fraud involving a convoluted fact scenario of companies within companies. However, as Justice Dickson (pre-Chief Justice days), on behalf of the full Court, astutely reminds the reader “One of the dangers in this case is the risk of being overwhelmed by factual minutiae. Superficially, the facts are complicated. Stripped of unessentials, it is clear what took place.” Of note is the manner in which this decision is structured, with a full recitation of the relevant law before the facts of the case are outlined. Clearly, according to Justice Dickson, the facts are not the issue as the lower court should have realized, this is an “easy” case of fraud. Hence the broad definition of “other fraudulent means,” which nicely concurs with Lord Diplock’s assessment in the House of Lords Scott decision, three years earlier. In Scott, Lord Diplock gave a generous definition of the phrase by suggesting “other fraudulent means” can involve “dishonesty of any kind.” Justice Dickson, approved of this passage and Justice Cartwright’s earlier 1963 decision in Cox and Paton to arrive at the now oft quoted meaning of the phrase as found in s. 380 as “not in the nature of a falsehood or a deceit” but acts that can “encompass all other means which can properly be stigmatized as dishonest.”

Although Justice Dickson also discussed the further actus reus requirements of deprivation, this aspect was thoroughly canvassed in the Theroux/Zlatic cases. Theroux is one of those great cases indicative of the unsettled Court of the early 1990s. Rendered in the 1993 when the Court grappled with the meaning and content of mens rea in light of the subjectivity principle and the objectivity “creep” from the driving cases of Hundal and the manslaughter decision in Creighton.  This was a time when the Court’s decisions were visceral and driven by ideology, when members of the Court aligned themselves both with other members of the Court and against other members of the Court. To prove my point just read the following SCC cases rendered that year: Cooper on the “slightly relaxed” intention found under s. 229(a)(ii) murder,  as previously mentioned Hundal and Creighton, and three further cases on the presence of objective criminal liability in Naglik, Gosset, and Finlay. Not only was mens rea on the Court’s mind but also an expansion of evidential and procedural rules as in KGB, Plant, Wiley, Grant, Levogiannis and Osolin as well as the meaning of s. 7 of the Charter as in Rodriguez and Morgentaler.

It is in this context that Theroux was decided with 3 decisions which concurred in the result:  from Justice Sopinka (with Lamer, CJ), Justice McLachlin’s majority decision (with LaForest, Gonthier, and Cory JJ.) and Justice L’Heureux-Dube’s own decision. The fragmented decision is connected to the companion Zlatic case where Justice Sopinka and the Chief Justice dissented as stated in the opening parargraphs of Theroux, because “there are several issues in my colleague's analysis of the law of fraud with which I have difficulty.” One of these “issues” involve the tension between objective and subjective mens rea and the Court’s inability to envision how the traditional criminal law world would look when that Pandora’s box containing an objective form of liability is opened. We are still feeling the effects of this conundrum today, which deserves another blog posting all together. In any event, Theroux is typically now quoted for Justice McLachlin’s (as she then was) clarification that mens rea signifies the guilty mind and does not encompass all of the mental element requirements of an offence as the actus reus too has a mental aspect requiring the prohibited act to be a voluntary act “of a willing mind at liberty to make a definite choice or decision” (See Taschereau J. in the 1962 King case). For our purposes, however, Justice McLachlin reiterated fraud’s actus reus as described in Olan with a reminder that Olan was a departure from precedent as it marked a broadening of fraud by removing the requirement for deceit and replacing it with a “general concept of dishonesty” to be objectively determined and by permitting deprivation to include a risk or “imperilling” of economic interest.

Viewing Riesberry in this context, we should not be surprised that the Court unanimously accepted this precedent and found the act of “cheating” to be an act worthy of criminal sanction. However, what should surprise us about the decision is how the Court treated the required causal connection between the dishonest act and the deprivation. Justice Cromwell easily made this crucial connection through the time-honoured “but for” test, wherein the trier asks “but for” the accused’s actions would this consequence have occurred or, as in this case, “it created the risk of betting on a horse that, but for Mr. Riesberry’s dishonest acts, might have won and led to a payout to the persons betting on that horse.” This “risk of prejudice to the economic interests of bettors” provided a direct causal link required to prove the actus reus of the fraud.

Although to Justice Cromwell this linkage was elementary, the decision on this issue is disquieting. Causality in criminal law has received much attention by the Supreme Court of Canada.  It has been a particularly difficult issue in cases where there may be multiple causes or, as in Mr. Riesberry’s case, there is a temporal issue. Causation is also a civil law concept, arising in tort cases. Like the tension between subjective liability, a traditional criminal law precept, and objective liability coming to criminal law from the regulatory or civil arena, the concept of “criminal” causality has been a long-standing subject in criminal cases.  

The question of factual causation or the “but for” test referred to and applied by Justice Cromwell has indeed been straight forward and easy to apply. But the issue of legal causation, the concept of culpability and where the criminal law should draw the line has been less easily determined. Legal causation sees the “but for” but wants to know to what degree is the accused the cause and is it sufficient to attract the full force of the criminal law. This was the issue in Harbottle, where the degree of causation required in a first-degree murder charge was considered, and interestingly enough was decided in 1993 when Theroux was considered. It was also the issue in Nette where second-degree murder was considered and the entire concept of criminal causation was considered. To attract criminal culpability not only must the “but for” test be fulfilled but the actions of the accused must also be a “significant contributing cause” of the consequence. Since Nette, this legal test has been applied such as in the recent case of Maybin involving a manslaughter. Not only did Justice Cromwell not enter into this legal analysis, he did not even mention its existence. Considering fraud is akin to theft in that it is a “true crime,” which attracts stigma upon conviction, the legal concept of causation should have been considered even on these facts.

Had it been considered, the final analysis may very well have been the same but the case, left as it is, seems unfinished. Without getting into it, another area of disconnect in this decision is with the concept of deprivation as a “risk” as opposed to an actuality. This position seems consistent with previous decisions of the court such as Mabior and Hutchinson as it related to fraud vitiating consent under s. 265(3). Again, no analytical connection is made here. This also seems decidedly “unmodern.”

As early as 1990 (see Starr v Houlden), the Supreme Court of Canada had begun to embrace the “holistic approach” to law, refusing to be pigeon-holed by the past (specifically see paragraph 16 of the 2011 Sarrazin case and approval of this concept as recommended by Moldaver, J.A., as a then dissenting voice in the Ontario Court of Appeal decision). This recognition and desire for integration has also seen traction in the broader societal context. Riesberry, by failing to integrate principles and make these holistic connections, leaves us to consider the pieces of the puzzle instead of the picture as a whole.

 

 

Episode 41 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 43 - Correction Of A Child

 

Section 43, correction of a child by force, is another section of the Code, which protects those people who use force in certain limited circumstances. Indeed, the heading for this section and the next section 45 is entitled Protection of Persons In Authority. Section 43, and for that matter s. 45, are not sections protecting peace officers but are designed to protect people who may use force as a result of a relationship he or she may have with the recipient of the force. In the case of s. 43, the relationship is parental or quasi-parental as between a child and a parent or a child and a schoolteacher.

Let’s read the section in full:

Every schoolteacher, parent or person standing in the place of a parent is justified in using force by way of correction toward a pupil or child, as the case may be, who is under his care, if the force does not exceed what is reasonable under the circumstances.

I am sure many of you reading this or listening to this podcast might be a little surprised that this type of protection is in the Code. The idea of hitting a child, be it a parent or worse a teacher, seems out of step with the fundamental values of our society and a throw-back to when age-based relationships were construed as hierarchal and power driven. As we will explore in this podcast, the Supreme Court of Canada acknowledged these concerns but in the final analysis the Court found there is a place for such a section in the Code, albeit in limited circumstances. In this podcast, I intend to explore some of these issues, which might give us pause for thought in assessing whether this section is a relic of the past or not.

Section 43 was thoroughly canvassed in the 2004 Supreme Court of Canada case Canadian Foundation for Children, Youth and the Law v. Canada (Attorney General), [2004] 1 SCR 76. The opening statement of the majority decision, authored by Chief Justice McLachlin, speaks volumes on the essence of the defence:

The issue in this case is the constitutionality of Parliament’s decision to carve out a sphere within which children’s parents and teachers may use minor corrective force in some circumstances without facing criminal sanction.

The phrase “minor corrective force” envisioned by the Chief Justice adds clarity to the Court’s characterization of the defence as permitting “reasonable physical correction.” Essentially, it is this formulation of the defence, equating “reasonable” with “minor” force, which saves the section and places the defence in a neat continuum of what is acceptable and was is not acceptable societal behaviour.

I will not go into the niceties of the s. 7 arguments in the case, although I highly recommend those listening to this podcast to read the full decision as the argument presented to the Court takes a fresh approach to the protections found under s. 7 through the perspective of the victims or recipients of the force, in this case children. It is highly illustrative of the unique and persuasive arguments, which are available under the Charter.

The case also highlights the emotive issues involved by viewing the constitutionality of the section through the lens of another legal phrase often conjured in cases involving children: the “best interests of a child.” In what manner this phrase applies in the criminal law context is an interesting discussion, which requires a full blog posting. In any event, as found by the majority, the concept may be a legal principle but at least in 2004, it was not a principle of fundamental justice as required for the application of s. 7.

Let’s turn to the essential requirements of s. 43, as interpreted by the Supreme Court of Canada. First, the section requires the force used to be for the purpose of correction/discipline. Such acts would be “sober, reasoned uses of force” that “restrain, control or express some symbolic disapproval” of the behavior. Although this element is understandable, the allowance for force to “express some symbolic disapproval” is a puzzling concept in the legal arena. Certainly the symbolic use of force is used in the broader context of military expression, such as retaliatory strikes. However, the symbolic nature of that force seems to be based on generating fear and domination over a populace. In the context of s. 43, it becomes difficult to envision force as a symbolic expression other than, as an example, an antiquated response to foul language – washing a child’s mouth out with soap or tugging on an ear to show disapproval. Whether or not this kind of symbolism can truly be viewed as “sober, reasoned uses of force” remains open to debate.

The second requirement, which takes the perspective of the recipient of the force, is the need for the child to benefit or learn from the forceful act. If a child is too young or developmentally challenged, use of force, even if for corrective purposes, is not appropriate and s.43 defence cannot be used.

Next, the Court must consider whether the force used is reasonable in the circumstances. The “reasonableness” of the force is delineated by reference to what is acceptable in society by looking at international standards and expert opinion. Again, corporeal punishment used on a child under 2 years of age is considered harmful, as may be such punishment on a teenager. The majority also considered force used to the head area as inappropriate. Additionally, using a belt or implement to apply force is unacceptable. In the end, reasonableness under the section is constrained by who is receiving the corrective punishment, the manner in which the punishment is being applied, and the target area of that force.

In the case of teachers, any type of corporeal punishment used - what comes to mind is the application of a ruler to the hand - is not reasonable force. Teachers, however, may need to remove a child or restrain one but any other force, even I would suggest “symbolic force,” is not acceptable.

In the end, the Chief Justice viewed the section as a necessity in the realities of family relationships when she stated at paragraph 62:

The reality is that without s. 43, Canada’s broad assault law would criminalize force falling far short of what we think of as corporal punishment, like placing an unwilling child in a chair for a five-minute “time-out”.  The decision not to criminalize such conduct is not grounded in devaluation of the child, but in a concern that to do so risks ruining lives and breaking up families — a burden that in large part would be borne by children and outweigh any benefit derived from applying the criminal process.

This above recognition of the limits of the criminal law, limits which we as a society desire and need in order to maintain our fundamental social constructs, really does define this section as it is presently applied. In fact, I represented a client who was charged with assault as a result of restraining a teen, who was acting violently and was under the accused’s care. It was this section, which provided the litmus test and ultimately resulted in his acquittal.

More controversial, however, is the use of the section where punishment is meted out on the basis of cultural or religious norms, which differ from “Canadian” norms. In those instances, what may be acceptable punishment in the accused’s social circle may not be acceptable in the broader Canadian view. In the dissenting decision of the Canadian Foundation for Children case, Justice Arbour raised this possible dichotomy in support of the position that the concept of “reasonableness” under the section is more of a moving target and less of an articulable standard. She commented in paragraph 185 that:

Corporal punishment is a controversial social issue.  Conceptions of what is “reasonable” in terms of the discipline of children, whether physical or otherwise, vary widely, and often engage cultural and religious beliefs as well as political and ethical ones.  Such conceptions are intertwined with how other controversial issues are understood, including the relationship between the state and the family and the relationship between the rights of the parent and the rights of the child.  Whether a person considers an instance of child corporal punishment “reasonable” may depend in large part on his or her own parenting style and experiences.  While it may work well in other contexts, in this one the term “reasonable force” has proven not to be a workable standard. 

Finally, I leave this podcast with a more esoteric or philosophical view. As touched on by the Chief Justice, the truth behind this section, and all of the sections, which justify the use of force, may not reflect the kind of society we truly want: we want a society free of violence and the threat of violence. However, the reality is that even our rule of law carries with it an aspect of violence. As Walter Benjamin opined in his “Critique of Violence,” not only is violence the means to preserving the Rule of Law, “Law-making is power-making, assumption of power, and to that extent an immediate manifestation of violence.”

This concept is further explored in Robert Cover’s electrifying article entitled “Violence and the Word,” which reminds us that whenever the justice system metes out punishment or even pronounces a judgment, a person is coerced to do something they do not want to do. In some instances the force is minimal, in others it involves a total loss of liberty. It is this use of force, which we try to contain, hoping its use will be based on reason and equity. Yet this “force” still remains part of what we would all consider a well-run society and fundamental to the justice system.

Section 43, albeit a seemingly simple defence is in reality a section, which causes one to re-think the meaning of force and its place in today’s society. It has been more than a decade since the Court has expounded on this section. As a result, it will be interesting to see how this section holds up to the ever-evolving societal conceptions of law’s function in our private relationships and law’s responsibility to protect vulnerable members of our society.

For more on Robert Cover, read my previous blog discussing his work here.

 

Thoughts On St-Cloud Or How Everything Old Is New Again

After reading the Supreme Court of Canada’s decision in St-Cloud, I was instantly transported back to the heady days of the early nineties: where multifarious decisions produced more questions than answers but left the reader with the comforting feeling that somehow the Charter was above the fray. In those mixed-bag decisions there was the satisfaction that the Charter did make a difference and was shaping the new-look Canadian society. However, this nostalgic wave of emotion was not a “remembrance of things past” but was a physical time travel to the days of Morales, wherein the Supreme Court found the secondary “public interest” ground for justifying detention under the then s. 515 of no force and effect as it violated s. 11(e) of the Charter.

Now, let’s be clear, I agree that the 1990’s version of the grounds justifying detention under the Code is very different than today’s read. However, Justice Wagner’s decision applies a broad brush to those differences resulting in a tertiary ground which looks, feels, and acts like the old version.

In Morales and the companion case Pearson, Chief Justice Lamer unpacked the meaning of “public interest” as a judicial tool to justify the denial of bail. This justification was important to articulate, as the granting of bail was the default position under the section. Similarly, “reasonable” bail was guaranteed under s. 11(e) of the Charter. The meaning of “public interest” was therefore an important indicator of whether or not the law was properly mirroring this Charter right. In order to give meaning to a right, all courts should be in agreement with that meaning or the right is no longer an equitable claim.  If “public interest” could not be crystallized and articulable then it would be of no assistance in grounding a denial of bail. This did not mean that there must be a precise definition but an articulable one. Throughout this discussion, Chief Justice Lamer reiterated the “golden thread” by which the court was guided in viewing the matter – the “golden thread” of the presumption of innocence.

Under this 1990’s microscope, the court was unable to find a consensus on the meaning of “public interest” resulting in a “vague and imprecise” basis for detention, which was contrary to fundamental principles of justice such as the principle of legality as delineated in the SCC case of Lohnes rendered a few months earlier. Upon a thorough sweep of authorities, Lamer C. J. found the term “public interest” was “open-ended” and failed to provide a structure for legal debate.  With such a deficient yardstick, the ground could not be saved under s. 1.

It seems pretty clear from this decision that “public interest” is an unusable phrase from the past, except for this telling line from the Morales decision:

“As currently defined by the courts, the term "public interest" is incapable of framing the legal debate in any meaningful manner or structuring discretion in any way.” (Emphasis added)

Now, flash-forward to the St-Cloud decision and Justice Wagner’s valiant attempts to define “public confidence” seems to make short shrift of the Morales decision. To be sure the 2015 Court is working with a differently worded section and the issue is “public confidence” in the administration of justice and not “public interest” but what is “public confidence” now can be “public interest” then.  Although Justice Wagner is very careful to couch the meaning in Charter correct terms and is mindful of the unique connection release from custody has to our fundamental concepts of the presumption of innocence and burden of proof, the fact remains that these core principles are now bound by the public interest, albeit tempered by the concept of Canada’s nom de plume, “reasonableness.”

This case raises many questions. Not just questions of applicability and not just questions of how this decision will look like in the realities of bail court but fundamental questions such as: is the law looking backward instead of forward by essentially reviving the public interest as a controlling feature of bail? And if so, how does the public interest reside within our fundamental principles, which tend to the individual as opposed to the collective, such as the presumption of innocence as the “golden thread” that appears throughout our notion of criminal law? These hard questions must be asked if we are to move into the future and beyond.

A Fresh Look at Fearon: How Language Informs The Law

A case commentary typically expounds on the legal doctrinal issues raised by the decision and rarely looks at the judgment as a literary document. The final full SCC judgment of the year, Fearon, has been much discussed on the doctrinal level but as a final 2014 legal send-off, a different kind of case commentary is in order.

On a literary linguistic level, the Fearon case is a fascinating example of how the majority and the dissent employ differing or shall we say dueling word usage. The choice of terminology is not only intended to signal a very particular perspective but firmly connects the decisions to doctrinal perspectives emanating from prior cases. This continuity with the past provides precedential value to the two decisions and challenges us, as readers, to determine which decision is really the right one. Hand in hand with this analysis, is the revealing metaphors abounding in these decisions.

Let’s first look at the majority decision written by Justice Cromwell. The first term used in this decision is the phrase “truly incidental” as in the police generally (note that the general versus the specific is also underlined in the majority decision) have a common law power to search a cell phone incident to arrest if the search is truly incidental to the arrest. Not just incidental but truly incidental. In the judgment there are 22 incidents of this phrase, all in the majority decision! Yet, in terms of previous SCC cases, the term appears only in the Caslake decision, which found an “inventory” search of an accused’s vehicle, hours after arrest, invalid as such a search was not “truly” incidental. For a search to be truly incidental, there must be a “valid purpose” connected to the arrest. By the way, the term “valid purpose” pops up 5 times in the majority judgment.

Caslake is referred to 15 times in the judgment, with 12 references in the majority and 3 in the dissent. The dissent refers to the generalities of Caslake - as to when a warrantless search may be appropriate - and does not mimic the s. 8 language as the majority does. Although “truly incidental” is found in only 2 SCC criminal cases, the term is used in lower court nomenclature. In Ontario, including Fearon, there are about 46 cases using the term but they all occur after 1998, the year the SCC decision in Caslake was released. Although the Manitoba Court of Appeal decided the lower court decision in 1995, Caslake, was not, as yet, part of the s.8 vocabulary.

Before we move onto other terminology, note that the phrase “strictly incidental” is used only once as is the phrase “properly incidental.” According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, “truly” is defined, for Fearon purposes, as “without question or doubt” and “strictly” means “rigorously conforming to principle or a norm or condition.”

The word “prompt” is used 31 times, with only two of those occasions by the dissent and for very different reasons. The majority uses the word “prompt,” defined as “performed readily or immediately” to provide the underlying reason for a search incident to arrest as the immediate need to investigate the offence by gathering crucial evidence.  It is the timeliness and the speed with which the police must pursue this investigation, which underlies the majority decision. Conversely, one of the times the dissent uses “promptly” is in reference to Justice Cromwell’s majority decision and the other occurrence is to highlight how quickly the police, in the case, applied for a warrant when case law suggested they needed to do so. Thus the term “immediate” or “immediately” is used often throughout as well.

Another phrase used liberally throughout the majority decision is the phrase “law enforcement objectives,” which is used 26 times, 4 of which is in the dissent. Again, 3 of those 4 occasions in the dissent are direct references to Justice Cromwell’s majority decision. This term is used in 4 previous SCC cases, 3 of which are search and seizure cases being the Law case from 2002 – privacy interest in stolen property; Chehil – sniffer dog case involving the search of vehicles from 2013; and the Stillman case of 1997 the case on the seizure of bodily samples and discussed at length in Fearon. The term “law enforcement” is further described in the majority judgment as being “important” 12 times in the majority.

The word use is much different in the dissent. Indeed, the atmosphere of the two decisions differs dramatically. Justice Cromwell’s decision has a law and order aspect reminding us of the need for investigatory powers to enhance and uphold the rule of law. As will be discussed below, the choice of words highlights this theme through the use of metaphors involving balancing and weighing and metaphors involving the limitation of space and time.

In contrast, the dissent is a decision marked by Charter values and modernity – it reads like a law school paper on constitutional rights and freedoms, inviting the reader to muse on the lofty ideals crucial to a free and democratic society. Indeed that term, “free and democratic society” appears three times in the dissent (plus “democracy” appearing once) and appears there only with no such Charter values relied upon in the majority, other than the balancing of rights required under s.8.

Other Charter values involving individual rights and freedoms are also relied upon in the dissent decision but it is the word “privacy” that trumps them all. This word is used 123 times in the decision with the word used 37 times in the majority but a whopping 86 times in the dissent. Certainly “privacy” is a word that at some point must be used by the majority when the decision speaks to the balancing of rights under s. 8 but more telling is the use of the word “private” in the decision. It occurs once in the majority but only in reference to strip searches and “private areas.” In the dissent however “private” occurs 27 times to describe “private digital devices,” “private lives,” and the “private sphere,” among some of the uses of the term. Again, this term is signaling the core of the dissent’s decision that privacy is at stake in the case and therefore it is privacy and the living of the “good” life protected by Charter values which are be the controlling issues in the case.

Not only are certain terms and phrases utilized to bolster each of these decisions but the decisions use the literary device of metaphor to solidify and justify the decisions as well. Thus, both the majority and dissent use balancing and weighing metaphors (25 times) to support different outcomes. The majority relies heavily on space metaphors and the desire to delineate the space wherein the rule of law must reside requiring the use of the words “scope” and “parameters” and “limits” and “points” by the majority. The majority also uses work or structure metaphors, using the term “framework,” “task,” and “link.” The dissent uses social words connoting society and community such as “lives,” “relationships” and “intimate” with a liberal use of emotive terms such as “likes and dislikes, our fears, hopes, opinions, beliefs and ideas.” The metaphor of “big brother” also looms large as a pointed reference to Orwell’s 1984 figures in the dissent. In contrast the concept of freedom and the ability to choose one’s own path is highlighted.

There are many other nuggets in this judgment worth discussing as a counter-point or enhancement of a pure doctrinal study of the case. It will indeed be interesting if any future SCC cases utilize this stark linguistic contrast or if it is merely a result of the impassioned differences on the SCC on this particular issue, which determined choice of language. 

I must at this point acknowledge Professor Jonnette Watson-Hamilton, for whom I did some research on metaphors and language many years ago while pursuing my Masters at the University of Calgary, Faculty of Law. She introduced me to the critical theories of language involving the use of metaphors in legal decision-making – a “truly” illuminating experience! Review her articles written to access her publications involving language and metaphor.

For further information on this, start with the seminal works by cognitive linguist George Lakoff, particularly Metaphors We Live By, which Lakoff wrote with Mark Johnson. There are now multiple scholarly articles involving metaphors and linguistic techniques in legal discourse. The starting point for this is found in the articles written by Robert Cover, a fantastic legal scholar, sadly now deceased. Read his two seminal articles entitled Violence and the Word and Nomos and Narrative. I have also written a previous blog on Cover called Is Violence The Word? Additionally, I have written two previous blogs using metaphors as part of the legal analysis in Impression and Claim: Are They Both The Same? and in Blogs As Graffiti.

 

Sections 25.1 to 25.4 – Law Enforcement Justification Provisions: Episode 32 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

In this episode we will discuss what is known as the law enforcement justification provisions, proclaimed in force on February 1, 2002, as found under a compendium of sections from 25.1 to 25.4. These sections acknowledge certain police investigatory practices will involve the commission of offences, particularly where officers operate in a covert or undercover capacity. The most well known investigatory technique subject to these sections would be the “Mr. Big” investigations, which have attracted Supreme Court of Canada notice through the recent cases of Hart and Mack. For a further discussion of the many issues arising in such investigations, I highly recommend Mr. Big: Exposing Undercover Investigations in Canada by Kouri Keenan and Joan Brockman, who are from the excellent criminology faculty at Simon Fraser University.

The sections themselves were created in response to the 1999 Supreme Court of Canada decision in Campbell, wherein the court found that police were not immune from criminal liability as a result of unlawful conduct even if it was executed in good faith and to further a criminal investigation. The Court thus called upon Parliament to legislate such protection, which it did under these sections.

Although these sections make provision for investigators to commit offences in the course of their investigatory duties, the sections also create a mechanism for parliamentary and civilian oversight of such exceptional investigatory techniques. Thus, s. 25.1 contemplates a “competent authority” such as the Federal Minister of Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness or, the applicable provincial equivalents such as in the case of Alberta, the Solicitor General and Minister of Justice, who has the authority to designate “public officers” to act in these investigatory capacities. In addition to this designation, there must be civilian oversight or a “public authority”, in accordance with 25.1(3.1) “composed of persons who are not peace officers that may review the public officer’s conduct.” Furthermore, the designating Minister, under s. 25.1(4) must designate such public officers upon the advice of a “senior official,” who is a member of a law enforcement agency and has been so designated to act as a senior official by the Minister. In some ways, this designation process is rather self-fulfilling or circular considering the actual ministerial official who is receiving the advice chooses or designates the advising official. Upon receiving the senior official’s advice, the Minister must make the public officer designation on the basis of “law enforcement generally” rather on the basis of a specific law enforcement activity or investigation. Therefore, such designation must be viewed in the broader context of law enforcement, according to 25.1(4), and not done on a case-by-case basis. As with many ministerial decisions, this is the only articulated criterion for the designation, which leaves such designation open to broad discretion.

The senior official or advisor to the Minister has broader powers permitting the temporary designation of a public officer without the competent authority, under s. 25.1(6), under exigent circumstances, wherein it is not feasible to have the competent authority or Minister perform the designation and where the public officer would be justified in the circumstances in acting contrary to the Criminal Code. The circumstances of such a designation are set out under 25.1(7) and the justification for such conduct as found under 25.1(8), being that the senior official believes on reasonable grounds that “the commission of the act or omission, as compared to the nature of the offence or criminal activity being investigated, is reasonable and proportional in the circumstances, having regard to such matters as the nature of the act or omission, the nature of the investigation and the reasonable availability of other means for carrying out the public officer’s law enforcement duties.”  In such exigent circumstances the senior official must notify the Minister of this action “without delay.” This requirement, I would suggest, seems rather contradictory. The purpose of the notification would be to ensure that such actions are not taken without the knowledge of the Minister but in order to effect such awareness, notification would only be fulfilled if in fact the Minister receives the missive and reads it. If the Minister is available to review such a document, one wonders why the Minister is not in the position of making the actual decision, considering the availability of instantaneous electronic communication.

In any event, there are further restrictions on the public officer’s ability and authority to act outside of the Criminal Code. Under subsection (9), further restrictions pertain to instances where the public officer is involved in activity that would be likely to result in loss of or serious damage to property or where a person is acting under the direction of the public officer in accordance with subsection (10). In these specific circumstances, the public officer must not only comply with the circumstances of justification under subsection (8) but must also comply with the further justifications listed under subsection (9). Thus, the public officer must also be personally authorized in writing to act or if such written authorization is not feasible, the officer must believe on reasonable grounds that the acts are necessary to “preserve the life or safety of any person, prevent the compromise of the identity of a public officer acting in an undercover capacity, of a confidential informant or of a person acting covertly under the direction and control of a public officer, or prevent the imminent loss or destruction of evidence of an indictable offence.” This broad authority and justification to commit criminal offences is tempered by the limitation to the section under subsection (11) that there is no justification for “the intentional or criminally negligent causing of death or bodily harm to another person; the wilful attempt in any manner to obstruct, pervert or defeat the course of justice; or conduct that would violate the sexual integrity of an individual.” Section 25.1 also reiterates that all other protections to a police officer in the Code are available and that despite the extraordinary powers under the section, officers must still comply with the rules of evidence.

When a public officer does in fact commit an offence or direct others to do so in accordance with s.25.1, there are further oversight requirements such as under s.25.2, the public officer must file a written report with the senior official as soon as feasible after the commission of the said acts. An annual report is compiled by the competent authority or Minister and made public regarding the previous yearly activities outlining the number of emergency designations made by senior officials’ and the number of written authorizations made by the senior officials under 25.1(9)(a), the number of offences committed by officers as a result, the nature of the conduct being investigated and the nature of the acts committed by the designated officers. However, such report must still preserve the confidentiality, must not compromise ongoing investigations, must not prejudice an ongoing legal proceeding and must generally be not contrary to the public interest. Such annual reports are available online.

For instance, the RCMP publishes such reports through the Public Safety website. Although the 2012 Report is available online, the 2013 Report has not as yet been published most likely as the report must be first tabled in the House of Commons and the Senate for approval. However, provincial reports are available such as the 2013 report from British Columbia. Alberta does not publish a stand-alone report but publishes the information as part of a larger report on the state of the Ministry as a whole. This means the information is not clearly accessible but is found under the heading in the report entitled “Annual Report Extracts and Other Statutory Reports.” The actual 2013 “report” consists of three lines indicating three instances of illegal conduct committed while investigating “homicide and missing persons” and resulted in “minor damage to a vehicle.”

In the previous 2012 Report there were five instances of illegal conduct wherein the officers created the “illusion” of a break in, committed property damage and participated in activities of a criminal organization. This description creates more questions than answers as it is not a crime to create an “illusion” of a crime and it is only those acts contrary to the Criminal Code, which must be reported. If in fact a crime was committed by this “illusion,” for example, if the conduct amounted to a public mischief, then the report should specify the exact crime as opposed to the circumstances in which it was done. Of course, the sections do not provide immunity for certain criminal acts, no matter in what circumstances they are committed, such as an obstruct justice. Therefore, the information needed to provide the appropriate oversight for this activity must be detailed in a transparent and accountable fashion. Similarly, the fact that the officers participated in activities of a criminal organization is unclear considering some of those activities could no doubt be specifically identified as commission of crimes. Compare this to the BC Report, which although brief, contains much more information, such as the number of times the emergency designations were used. Certainly, none of these reports have any information on how the oversight requirements of the provisions, as in the review by the “public authority” or civilian oversight committee, are fulfilled. Considering the Hart and Mack decisions and the Courts concern with the use of investigative techniques, which mimic criminal organizations, such reporting should be reconsidered by government authorities. Additionally, in light of the importance of this oversight function and the fact there is no prior judicial authorization required, the published information should be standardized by the Federal Government and subject to civilian oversight scrutiny.

As with electronic interceptions of private communications, under s. 25.4, within a year after committing the justified offence, the senior officer, who receives the public officer’s written report, must notify “in writing any person whose property was lost or seriously damaged as a result of the act or omission” unless such notification would compromise or hinder an investigation, compromise the identity of an officer or informant, endanger the life or safety of another, prejudice a legal proceeding or be contrary to the public interest. Of possible concern is the exception to notify for reasons of prejudicing a legal proceeding as such prejudice may be in the eye of the beholder. In other words, such non-disclosure may prejudice the accused’s trial, even though disclosure would prejudice the prosecutor’s case. It seems more appropriate, in matters that are before the court, for a judicial authority to balance the prejudicial effects in order to determine whether or not notice should be given. This would be more consistent with Charter rights of disclosure of the Crown’s case to the defence.

Finally, it should be noted that there are provisions, which require a legislative review of these sections within three years of the sections coming into force. The first report of such review was presented in 2006.  One of the concerns raised in the report was the lack of prior judicial authorization for some of the activity. There are other concerns raised but the Committee “lacked sufficient evidence to come to any firm conclusions” and the sections remained unchanged. Indeed the report was entitled “interim” report, although I was unable to locate a “final” one.

It is important to note the paucity of information on the civilian oversight aspect of these sections. There is no reporting of or information pertaining to the composition of the “public authority” contemplated by these sections and the findings of this oversight committee. There was an interesting paper presented at CACOLE conference, which is the Canadian Association for Civilian Oversight of Law Enforcement, in 2002 after these sections were proclaimed in force. The paper presents an excellent overview of the proposed regime and the rationale as well as discussion of similar regimes in other countries such as England and Australia. The impact on civilian oversight was minimal, meaning that there were few or no complaints arising out of the sections. However, the paper does propose some recommendations to the oversight bodies to help reinforce the import of the sections by establishing a code of conduct or policies relating to good faith of police officers and the conduct required by police officers who are authorized to use such extraordinary powers. Certainly, this kind of oversight is being done by individual boards and commissions but is not nationally mandated. Thus, another recommendation is for the Federal Government to integrate the oversight of these activities into the relevant civilian oversight of the participating law enforcement agencies. Certainly this would strengthen public confidence in the system and provide transparency in a rather obscure area of law enforcement. Of note, is the Australian regime, which uses legislation similar to our criminal code provisions, but has added protections involving stringent code of conduct for officers and the use of prior judicial authorization. Certainly the Australian experience involves a far more robust public auditing and monitoring system than here in Canada.  Of particular note is the Australian Annual Report on such activities, known as “controlled investigations,” which is far more detailed than the reporting seen in Canada.

It may very well be that these changes will not happen until and unless the Courts become involved. To date there have been some Charter applications to declare the sections unconstitutional. These applications have been dismissed at the trial level and such arguments have not been made at the appellate court level. The Honourable Mr. Justice Curtis of the British Columbia Supreme Court considered Charter arguments relating to these sections in the Lising case. In that decision, Justice Curtis found the sections were not contrary to s. 7 of the Charter as the sections were not constitutionally overbroad or vague. On the further s. 7 issue of whether or not the lack of prior judicial authorization renders the sections unconstitutional, Justice Curtis ruled that in the extraordinary circumstances of section 25.1, prior judicial authorization is not warranted and in fact impede the intention of the sections. As Justice Curtis stated “The ultimate goal of Parliament in enacting s. 25.1 is the protection of everyone’s right to “life, liberty and security of the person”. This line of reasoning may presage similar arguments, which may be made on the anticipated federal government anti-terrorism efforts that will give CSIS enhanced powers of investigation.

It will be useful to monitor the status of these provisions considering the enhanced national security concerns and the impact of the Hart and Mack cases on the “reverse sting” or “Mr. Big” operations. Yet again it will be the courts who will need to balance the rights of the individual to be free of state interference with the collective right to live in a secure and safe society.

 

 

The Assisted Suicide Debate: A Legal Primer

Sometime ago, I wrote three blogs on the assisted suicide debate in light of the Rodriguez case and the soon to be argued before the Supreme Court of Canada, Carter case. In light of the hearing scheduled for Wednesday of this week, I am gathering these prior postings below as a primer to the issue and including a fourth blog relating to the Criminal Code prohibition of consenting to one's own death:

Whose Life Is This Anyway? Part One of the Right To Die Debate in Canada

Whose Life Is This Anyway? Sue Rodriguez and the Supreme Court of Canada

Assisted Suicide Appeal - the Carter case

Section 14 of the Criminal Code - Consenting To Death

The Hart Case: A Long Way From Wray?

Upon review of the newest Supreme Court of Canada case, the much-anticipated Hart case on the admissibility of confessions resulting from Mr. Big investigations, it is worthwhile to return to the basics. Certainly Mr. Justice Moldaver, in his majority decision, did when he concluded that in the first prong of the applicable evidentiary test is the judicial weighing of the probative value of the evidence against the prejudicial effect. Although Justice Moldaver returns to the 1981 Rothman case as a basis for this “old school” rule, the evidential principle comes from the 1971 Wray case.

John Wray was charged with what was then called non-capital murder – a capital murder was punishable by death and at that time was reserved for the killing of on-duty police officers and prison guards. The victim was shot during the course of a robbery and there were no witnesses to the actual shooting. It was only through the police investigation, namely a lengthy police questioning, that John Wray ultimately signed a statement indicating where he disposed of the rifle used to shoot the victim. The rifle was found in the place so indicated and Wray was charged. At trial, after a voir dire on the admissibility of Wray’s statement, the trial judge ruled the statement inadmissible as it was not voluntarily given. This ruling was not the subject of the subsequent appeals. The issue on appeal was the trial judge’s further ruling that Wray’s involvement in the finding of the rifle was inadmissible as well. The Ontario Court of Appeal unanimously upheld the trial judge’s decision. The majority of the Supreme Court of Canada, with Mr. Justice Martland writing the decision, allowed the appeal and sent the matter back for a new trial.

Although this is a case where the evidence was found to be admissible, it is the principles enunciated in this case which impacted the manner in which trial judge’s viewed admissibility of evidence thereafter. Now, it must be remembered that this case is pre-Charter and yes, there is such an animal. It should also be remembered – and I will not try to sound as if I am nagging – that there are important admissibility issues to consider separate from the usual Charter based arguments. The first consideration when faced with a confession in a case is to review the voluntariness of the statement to ensure the statement was given freely and without hope or advantage. So, although Wary is certainly pre-Charter and if determined today, the analysis under the Charter lens would no doubt differ, the case started a line of reasoning, which can be traced to the Hart decision we have today. What is also fascinating about this line of reasoning is to see how this discretionary evidential principle of exclusion or admissibility – whichever way you want to view it – starts as a very restrictive and rarely to be exercised act to the pro forma requirement of a “new common law rule” as articulated by Justice Moldaver in Hart.

Justice Martland’s reluctance to “approve” of a discretionary exclusion of evidence is palpable. Yet, the English authorities require it.  He clarifies the difference between the “unfortunate” effect on the accused of relevant admissible evidence, which would be prejudicial to the accused and the “allowance of evidence gravely prejudicial to the accused, the admissibility of which is tenuous, and whose probative force in relation to the main issue before the court is trifling, which can be said to operate unfairly.” Of special note are the adjectives or qualifiers used by Justice Martland when he finally articlulated the discretion as arising “where the admission of evidence, though legally admissible, would operate unfairly, because, as stated in Noor Mohamed, it had trivial probative value, but was highly prejudicial.” Notice the emphasis added. The added practical difficulty for Justice Martland with excluding evidence on the basis of “unfairness” was the interpretation of that word. In Martland’s view, therefore, the discretionary exclusion of relevant and probative evidence should be “very limited.” This restrictive view of the discretion was reiterated in the Hogan case, in which Justice Martland was a member of the majority.

Within a decade of the Wray judgment, as per the Rothman case, the limited discretion reluctantly approved of by Justice Martland is referred to as an “exclusionary rule” by the then, Justice Lamer, concurring with the majority. Interestingly, Justice Lamer refers to the Wray principle, while Justice Martland writing for the majority does not. Rothman sets out the test to determine whether or not a person taking a statement from an accused is a “person in authority” and broadened the circumstances in which a statement may not have been given freely and voluntarily.

Post Rothamn, the evidential world changed as common law evidential rules become imbued with Charter values. But this transition was not easily done or easily accepted. In Corbett, the Supreme Court of Canada struggled with the constitutionality of s. 12 of the Canada Evidence Act, which permitted the questioning of any witness, including the accused person, on his or her criminal convictions. Although the decision is unanimous in the sense that all six members agreed that s. 12 of the CEA was constitutional and recognized the trial judge, under common law, had the discretion to exclude admissible evidence (however Justices McIntyre and Le Dain did not see this discretion as permitting a trial judge to circumvent a clear legislative directive as found in s.12), there was disagreement over the exercise of that discretion. Thus, it is in Corbett, where Justice Martland’s reticent discretionary rule becomes a fully recognizable discretion in the trial judge to exclude admissible, yet prejudicial evidence. But Corbett, although not mentioned in the Hart case, seems to raise similar concerns. Through the exclusionary discretion of the trial judge, together with other evidential rules that limit the use to be made of the evidence, the law protects the right of the accused to a fair trial, which includes, as stated by the then Chief Justice Dickson, the right “not to be convicted except on evidence directly relevant to the charge in question.” This protection “strives to avoid the risk of prejudicing an accused’s trial.” These words are echoed by Justice Moldaver in the Hart case as he speaks of the “risks inherent in the Mr. Big confessions,” which require a legal response in order to protect “accused persons, and the justice system as a whole” from “abusive state conduct.” It is, therefore, Martland’s reluctant rule, the seemingly rare discretion, which blossomed under the Charter lens, which the Hart Court turns to as the legal protection needed. Yes, we have come a long way since Wray and there is no looking back.

 

 

 

 

 

Section 23.1: The "Limitless" Criminal Law - Episode 28 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

One of the interesting learning moments for me, resulting from this Criminal Code podcast, is the realization that the criminal law has changed in the past three decades, which, in common law time, is a fairly short period of time. Certainly, this section, which we will consider today, s. 23.1 of the Criminal Code, is an example of how the Code can and does change the practice of criminal law. To give perspective, s. 23.1 was added to the Code in the 1985 amendments, while I was in law school. I recall those amendments mostly because I had to “re-learn” the section numbers of the Criminal Code. I particularly recall how the assault section, s. 244, was changed to the section number we use today – s. 265 - and my fear that I would never be able to remember the new section numbers. Considering I needed to look up what the old section number was to write this blog, I wonder how I could have been so worried. What I was not too concerned with at the time was the change caused by s. 23.1, which in hindsight was certainly a much bigger deal than the mere section number changes.

Section 23.1 reads as follows:

For greater certainty, sections 21 to 23 apply in respect of an accused notwithstanding the fact that the person whom the accused aids or abets, counsels or procures or receives, comforts or assists cannot be convicted of the offence.

Therefore, it is possible for an accused to be convicted of counseling a crime even if the person actually committing the crime is not guilty or cannot be tried and/or convicted. For example, an adult who involves children under twelve in the drug trade can still be convicted as a party even though the children, who are actually committing the crime, cannot be convicted, according to s. 13 Code, as they are statutorily debarred on the basis of age. For more on section 13 of the Code, read or listen to my previous podcast. Additionally, even though an accused who commits a counseled crime while under duress would have a valid legal defence, the person who counseled such an offence under s. 22, may still be convicted. It is also possible for an accused to be convicted as an accessory after the fact even if the fugitive offender is ultimately acquitted of the crime from which he or she was escaping. I will return to accessory in a moment as this particular mode of crime has been viewed as different than the other modes and has caused more legal controversy despite s. 23.1.

Based on the above, particularly the “Oliver Twist” example, it does make sense that the Crown be able to prosecute secondary participants on a separate basis than the main offenders. However, prior to 1985 this was not the case. This did not mean that a person involved in a crime, in circumstances where they might be a party or a counselor or an accessory, could not be charged. Indeed, prior to these amendments the charge of conspiracy was usually laid against the secondary accused. However, as we will see when we finally do arrive at the conspiracy section 465, to found a conviction under the conspiracy section is quite complicated. Certainly, more complicated than basing the offender’s participation through the party section.

Although this concept or ability to prosecute was easily accepted after 1985 for participating as a party or as a counselor to a crime, the issue of being tried as an accessory after the fact, where the fugitive offender was not convicted, was not. To understand the special status of being an accessory after the fact, we must consider the Supreme Court of Canada Vinette case from 1975. In the Vinette case, the accused Vinette was charged as an accessory after the fact to a murder committed by Vincent by assisting Vincent to dispose of the victim’s body. Vincent entered a plea of guilty to manslaughter and at Vinette’s trial, Vincent’s plea, as a “confession,” was admitted against Vinette. Vinette was convicted by the jury but the conviction was quashed by the Court of Appeal on the basis that Vincent’s plea was not admissible against the co-accused Vinette. Mr. Justice Pigeon, writing on behalf of the majority, allowed the Crown’s appeal and upheld the conviction. In Justice Pigeon’s view, the elements of being an accessory after the fact differs from the main offence and therefore is a separate charge. Thus, the usual evidentiary rules pertaining to admissions made by co-accused do not apply and Vincent’s statements are admissible. According to Justice Pigeon, not only was a charge of accessory separate from the main offence but also by its very nature must be committed after the main offence. This chronological requirement also suggested that the main offender must be tried and convicted before the accessory could be found guilty. However, after a line of cases which tried to decipher Justice Pigeon’s suggestion, it was determined that as the Vinette decision made no mention of the now s. 592, which permitted an accessory to be indicted before the main offender, the chronological argument carried no validity. We will eventually come to s.592 and revisit this conundrum.

In any event, the idea that being an accessory after the fact was a unique charge, which was intimately tied to the main offence resulted in a line of cases questioning s. 23.1 in relation to s. 23. In fact, in the delightful decision of the Honourable Justice Woods, on behalf of the British Columbia Court of Appeal in the 1993 Camponi case, the historical common law significance of being charged as an accessory after the fact was traced in light of s. 592 and s. 23.1. Again, I want to keep back some discussion of this for the much, much later s. 592 podcast but needless to say Justice Woods found no problem with trying an accessory after the fact before the main offender and no problem finding an accessory guilty even if the main offender was acquitted. To that end, and in reference to s.23.1, Justice Woods remarked at paragraph 25 of the decision that:

This section was enacted in 1986, c. 32, s. 46. with what must be regarded as an unusually confident legislative tone, it announces an intention to bring greater certainty to the law relating to ss. 21-23 of the Code. Whether it has achieved that lofty goal will be for history to decide. Suffice it to say that in the context of the present discussion its intent seems to have been to put the quietus to any lingering notion that s. 592 preserved, or was intended to preserve, the essence of the common law rule relating to accessories after the fact.

Finally the matter appeared to be truly put to rest when the 1997 Nova Scotia Court of Appeal FJS (also known as Shalaan) case came to the same conclusion as Camponi and this decision was affirmed with brief reasons by the Supreme Court of Canada. Interestingly, the controversy continued, not in the law courts per se but between the lines in the annotated Criminal Codes. In the commentary under s. 23.1, Martin’s Annual Criminal Code references the Supreme Court of Canada FJS case in support of the position that an accessory after the fact could be convicted even if the main offender was acquitted, while in Allan Gold’s The Practitioner’s Criminal Code, as least as of the 2008 version, the commentary dismissed the Supreme Court of Canada’s decision as decided per incuriam.

But we are not finished with this section and the myriad of case law this section has garnered. Recently, on April 3, 2014, the Supreme Court of Canada dismissed the leave application in the Huard case, which raised the constitutionality of the well-established principle, as really encapsulated by s. 23.1, that a party may be convicted of a more serious offence than that of the main offender. In that case, Mr. Huard was convicted as a party to a first-degree murder even though the principal offender was only convicted of second-degree murder. Counsel argued that the principles of fundamental justice, as guaranteed under s. 7 of the Charter, requires that those less morally culpable should not be punished more severely than those more morally culpable. Mr. Justice Watt, on behalf of the Ontario Court of Appeal, dismissed the argument as he found the “mere common law rule” relied upon was not a principle of fundamental justice and s. 23.1 “makes it clear” that a party can be convicted even if the main offender is acquitted or not even tried. As an aside, the Appellant in the Camponi case relied upon an article written by Justice Watt, which he wrote prior to his appointment to the Bench, on accessory after the fact and the ambiguities found in s. 592. This shows that the connections in the Canadian criminal law are indeed endless and it appears that they may be unlimited too!

 

 

Episode 28 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code - Section 23.1

Section 21- Modes of Participation By Being A Party To An Offence Part One: Episode 23 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

In the next few sections, we are leaving behind the housekeeping/general sections of the Code and moving into modes of participation or the various ways an accused can participate in a crime. The general section heading is called “Parties To Offences,” although it is section 21, which deals with the specific concept of parties to an offence. Yet, the general heading is apt as “party” means to participate in an event, while s. 21 specifies, in legal terms, what is required to be a party under that section.

Before we go to that section, we must step back and consider the concept of “secondary liability.” Secondary liability is where one party (participant in an event) is not directly involved but assumes or is deemed responsible for the actions of another party who is directly involved. This type of liability, in the civil arena, has long been recognized at common law. Examples of such liability are vicarious liability and corporate liability, particularly in the area of copyright and patents.

In the criminal law, however, secondary liability has limited application, partly due to the Charter, which prohibits criminal liability and punishment on those individuals who are deemed responsible for the actions of others on the basis the individual has no mens rea for the crime or often no actus reus as well. Traditionally, in criminal law, as stated by Justice Estey in the 1985 Canadian Dredge & Dock Co case, “a natural person is responsible only for those crimes in which he is the primary actor either actually or by express or implied authorization.” This was reinforced through the application of section 7 of the Charter, when the SCC, in the 1985 Re B.C. Motor Vehicle Act, emphasized the minimum mens rea requirement for a crime required some form of mens rea, which could be found in objective liability. Thus, secondary liability, which required no mens rea on the part of the person deemed responsible, was contrary to the fundamental principles of criminal law and, therefore, contrary to the Charter.

An example of permissible vicarious liability can be found in the quasi-criminal or regulatory field such as speeding offences based on photo radar. A license plate of a speeding vehicle is caught on camera but the speeding ticket is sent to the owner of the vehicle, whether or not the owner was the actual perpetrator. Thus the owner has neither the mens rea (which in the regulatory field, depending on the punishment, is considered Charter appropriate) or the actus reus for the offence yet is still deemed guilty for purposes of the highway traffic regulation. Such a deeming of liability would be unacceptable in the criminal law as the components of a crime (criminal intention and prohibited act) would be absent and as the Charter requires some form of mens rea be present where an accused person may be subject to incarceration upon conviction. However, in the regulatory field, where public safety is at a premium and the stigma of a criminal conviction is absent, as long as the possibility of jail is not an option upon conviction, vicarious liability is acceptable.

Although this form of secondary liability is not found in the criminal law the traditional common law concepts of parties is acceptable as the accused person, in the party scenario, is criminally liable based on his or her participation in the crime albeit not as the principal or main offender. Parties may have lesser roles in the crime but their participation, in terms of criminal intention and action, is directly connected to them and to the commission of the crime, making them personally criminally responsible.

The parties sections in the Code therefore anticipate two situations of persons deemed parties: one situation as found in the following section 22 of the Code embrace those accused who induce others to commit crimes, with or without that accused person’s direct involvement in the criminal act and the other situation, as in s. 21 involve those accused persons who help others commit crimes.

Now let’s turn to section 21. There are four types of parties to an offence as outlined in this section.

The first type of party is found under section 21(1)(a) and is as follows:

s. 21. (1) Every one is a party to an offence who

         (a) actually commits it;

This may seem contrary to the party principles I just outlined but in fact it is a prosecutorial aide. This subsection, by making a principal or main offender (in other words the accused person who actually commits the offence) a party to an offence, relieves the Crown from specifying in the Information or at trial whether an accused person is the principal offender or a party. Thus, the Crown need not prove at trial that any specific accused was the principal offender as long as the Crown proves each accused knowingly assisted or abetted the other. This means multiple accused can be convicted as parties without anyone being convicted as a principal.

The second type of party is as follows:

s. 21. (1) Every one is a party to an offence who

(b) does or omits to do anything for the purpose of aiding any person to commit it;

Here, the person becomes a party by “aiding” another person, be that person a party or principal, in the commission of the offence. Here, the word “aid” means providing assistance. The party may “aid” by doing something or by failing to do something. The Crown must prove the accused aided as the actus reus or prohibited act of being a party. Remember that the Crown must not only prove an accused is a party but must also prove the elements of the offence to which the accused is a party.

The third way of becoming a party is under s. 21(1)(c):

s. 21. (1) Every one is a party to an offence who

(b) abets any person in committing it.

The actus reus here is abetting, which, according to the SCC in R v Greyeyes, includes "encouraging, instigating, promoting, and procuring" the crime.

To “aid” or “abet” are distinct forms of liability but what is the difference? The best way to explain the difference is through the following example: a person who distracts a security guard in a store so another person can steal an item, is acting as a party to the offence of theft by “aiding” the principal who took the item. Conversely, a sales clerk who encourages and allows another person to take an item is “abetting.”

However, in both of these forms of liability, the mere presence of the accused at the scene of the crime is not enough to convict the accused as a party nor is the mere inaction or passive acquiescence of the accused enough to convict. In the seminal Supreme Court of Canada (SCC) case on the issue, Dunlop and Sylvester v The Queen from 1979, the two accused were charged, with others, for a “gang” rape but were acquitted by the majority of the SCC as, according to the evidence, the two saw the rape but they did not encourage or assist in the act. Neither did they try to stop it, they simply left. Morally wrong - yes -but not legally responsible.

Mere presence and passive acquiescence may be enough if accompanied by other factors such as prior knowledge of the principal’s intention or if the presence of the accused prevents the victim from escaping or receiving assistance. Also, a failure to render assistance may be enough to make an accused person a party if that person was under a legal duty to act. For example, merely watching a crime being committed does not make someone a party unless the person is a police officer (let’s make this easy and say on duty and in the execution of that duty) and is therefore under a legal duty to stop the crime.

The Crown must also prove the mens rea requirement for s. 21(1) by showing the accused intended to assist or encourage the principal accused. However, the Crown need not prove that the accused knew the exact details of the crime to be committed. The accused need only be aware of the type of crime to be committed and must be aware of the circumstances necessary to constitute the offence. A final caution: motive is not intention. The accused need not desire the end result for the mens rea requirement.

If the accused is charged as a party to a murder, the mens rea requirements for murder are applicable. Therefore, the Crown must prove that the accused party intended death or was reckless whether or not death ensued. This requirement is Charter based and requires the Crown prove the accused person had subjective foresight of death. Due to this high level of liability, an accused party may be acquitted of being a party to the murder, even if the principal offender is convicted of murder, but convicted as a party to a manslaughter, which requires a much lower level of mens rea found in the objective foresight of bodily harm. (Click on the hyperlinks for the case authority)

The fourth type of liability as a party under section 21(2), common intention, will be the subject of our next podcast!

 

 

Episode 23 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 21(10 - Parties - Modes of Participation

Let’s Be Clear: The Supreme Court of Canada and the Enhanced Credit Cases

The enhanced credit trilogy cases released by the Supreme Court of Canada are truly a lesson in clarity on many levels. First, the main judgment in the Summers case, written by Madame Justice Karakatsanis, is clear, concise (at least for a SCC judgment) and readable. Second, the main basis for dismissing the Crown appeal is the government’s lack of clarity in defining the meaning of “circumstances” that justify enhanced credit under s. 719(3.1). Conversely, third, is the seemingly clear intention of the government to “cap” the credit at a 1:1.5 ratio. However, fourth, are the clearly defined and “well-established” and “long-standing” sentencing principles, which included enhanced credit for the lack of parole eligibility during pre-trial custody. In order to “overturn” these principles, Parliament must, fifthly, use clear and explicit language in the legislation.

What is also clear about this judgment (sixth) is that the Court is engaging in a dialogue with the government. If the government wants to change the law, they must do so, well, clearly – the government cannot hide behind value-laden words such as “truth” and “transparency.” However, the Court, albeit in an aside in paragraph 56 of the Summers judgment, also places a caveat on the government’s ability to change entrenched legal principles when Justice Karakatsanis states “Parliament does, of course, have the power to exclude these circumstances from consideration (barring a constitutional challenge).” Certainly, this advice is clear: if the government chooses to change legislation, then any changes must be consistent with the Charter.

 

Parliament, the ball is now in your “court!”

 

 

 

Section 17 – The Statutory Defence of Duress: Episode 19 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

In previous podcasts we have discussed the category of legal defences called justifications and excuses. We know that despite codification our criminal law permits an accused person to raise at trial a common law defence, as long as it is not inconsistent with the Code. There are purely common law defences such as the excuse of necessity (which by the way is exemplified in the seminal case taught in every first-year law school criminal law course – Regina v Dudley and Stevenson – where the two accused charged with murder committed cannibalism when their ship floundered in the high seas and they were forced to drift on a lifeboat – think Life of Pi without the animals) but there are also common law defences, which are subject to codification and found in the Criminal Code. The excuse of duress is one such defence from the common law, which appears in the Code under the section we are contemplating today, section 17.

When we first look at this section, and it is a long one, we realize that the word “duress” is never used in section 17. We therefore immediately feel that what we are about to look at and think about is not the same as the common law defence of duress. This is a correct assumption, on the face of this section. When we look behind this section however and look at the case law, which has developed in conjunction with the advent of the Charter on the mechanics of this section, we will see that in reality this section entitled “Compulsion By Threats” is really very similar to the common law version and only differs in terms of what category of accused person can use this section and for which offences.

Section 17 reads as follows:

A person who commits an offence under compulsion by threats of immediate death or bodily harm from a person who is present when the offence is committed is excused for committing the offence if the person believes that the threats will be carried out and if the person is not a party to a conspiracy or association whereby the person is subject to compulsion, but this section does not apply where the offence that is committed is high treason or treason, murder, piracy, attempted murder, sexual assault, sexual assault with a weapon, threats to a third party or causing bodily harm, aggravated sexual assault, forcible abduction, hostage taking, robbery, assault with a weapon or causing bodily harm, aggravated assault, unlawfully causing bodily harm, arson or an offence under sections 280 to 283 (abduction and detention of young persons).

Before we dissect this section to have a clearer understanding of it, I want to remind you of the key elements of the class of defences we call excuses.

Both the actus reus and the mens rea of the offence must be proved beyond a reasonable doubt by the prosecution before a legal excuse or for that matter a legal justification can be used as a defence. This means that the case against the accused is made out and, but for this defence, the accused would be found guilty. In light of that prerequisite, the class of defences known as excuses acknowledge the wrongfulness of the conduct but as a result of the circumstances facing the accused person, the accused should not be held criminally responsible for his or her criminal actions. However, the circumstances facing the accused must be dire, in other words, the defence of excuse can only be used in emergency situations. It is therefore the accused’s reaction to these dire situations, which cause society to excuse or absolve their conduct.

Excuses are a concession to human frailty and therefore reflect our humanity in two ways. First, this defence realizes that as individuals, as part of our humanity, we may act inappropriately in order to preserve our life or others. Secondly, as humans we understand that we are not perfect and that our laws must bend to this truth in order to have a compassionate society.

Despite the above, the situations in which excuses can be used are very restrictive because we fear that permitting too broad an excuse for criminal conduct will result in cases where we as a society may not be so sympathetic. So, the rule of law draws a line between what is excused and what is not. The difficulty then becomes, where to draw this line in order to remain true to our humanity without losing it.

As I already mentioned, the section is a reflection, albeit as we will see an imperfect one, of the common law defence of duress and thus this section was in the 1892 Criminal Code under section 12. This original section, except for certain language changes, is virtually the same as the now section 17. Not much changed over the years to this section and yet, as I have already mentioned, the section has changed dramatically since 2001 when the Supreme Court of Canada gave this section a constitutional make-over in R v Ruzic.

The Court in Ruzic, under the auspices of section 7 of the Charter, found that the statutory duress defence was too restrictive, particularly in relation to its common law partner, which even with s.17, could be used by parties to an offence. In the Court’s view, the statutory defence, available only to principal offenders, should not be more restrictive than the common law. In order to re-balance s. 17, the Court took out those passages in the section, which did not accord with the common law equivalent. Even so, the Court did not remove the offences for which the defence was available, choosing to leave those changes, if desired, to the government.

In light of this, let’s return to section 17 and this time, I will edit the section to accord with the Ruzic decision:

A person who commits an offence under compulsion by threats of immediate death or bodily harm from a person who is present when the offence is committed is excused for committing the offence if the person believes that the threats will be carried out and if the person is not a party to a conspiracy or association whereby the person is subject to compulsion, but this section does not apply where the offence that is committed is high treason or treason, murder, piracy, attempted murder, sexual assault, sexual assault with a weapon, threats to a third party or causing bodily harm, aggravated sexual assault, forcible abduction, hostage taking, robbery, assault with a weapon or causing bodily harm, aggravated assault, unlawfully causing bodily harm, arson or an offence under sections 280 to 283 (abduction and detention of young persons).

Even with these changes the defence is a difficult one to employ. According to the newest Supreme Court of Canada case, in Ryan, the defence can only be used on the following bases:

  1. There must be a threat of death or bodily harm;
  2. The threat can be directed at the accused or a third party;
  3. The accused must reasonably believe that the threat will be carried out;
  4. There must be no safe avenue of escape, evaluated on a modified objective standard;
  5. There must be a close temporal connection between the threat and the harm threatened;
  6. There must be proportionality between the harm threatened and the harm inflicted by the accused, evaluated on a modified objective standard;
  7. The accused cannot be a party to a conspiracy or association whereby he or she is subject to compulsion as long as the accused actually knew that threats and coercion to commit an offence were a possible result of this criminal activity, conspiracy or association;
  8. The accused must be the principal offender and;
  9.  

In closing, there are a few items to note. First, the modified objective test is a creation of the Supreme Court of Canada in the series of cases on the meaning of criminal negligence. A discussion on this “test” and whether it is in fact a modifying one can be found in one of my previous blogs entitled The Subjective/Objective Debate Explained.

Second, the common law defence of duress in Canada is not restricted by type of offence, even though, in the UK the common law defence of duress cannot be used in a homicide charge, be the accused principal or a party.

Third, despite section 8(3) of the Code, which holds that common law defences continue unless they are altered or are inconsistent with the Code, section 17 changed to become more aligned to the common law as opposed to the common law defence changing to become more aligned to the Criminal Code iteration. This is because the common law defence of duress is for parties to an offence and the statutory defence is only for principal offenders. It is this distinction allows the common law defence to stand apart from the Code.

Fourth, even though Ruzic changed section 17, the Code does not reflect this change. One has to read the case law in order to know how the section should actually be implemented. This insistence by the federal government not to reflect court imposed Charter changes to sections is something that will come up again in the Code and in these podcasts. Indeed, there are whole sections, such as s.230 of the Code known as the constructive murder section, which have been struck down by the courts as constitutionally invalid and yet still appear in our Criminal Code. Why this is so is a matter of speculation but one wonders if the government believes that a differently composed court will take a different view or that the Charter may somehow change in the future. Either way, it is an oddity that these sections remain as they do as a vestige of the pre-Charter past.

Finally, there is much to be said about the recent Supreme Court of Canada decision in Ryan, which precluded the use of the duress defence in a situation where the accused was an abused woman who contracted an undercover police officer to kill her husband.  I will not, however, discuss those issues here in this podcast. Instead, I invite you to access my previous blog on the matter entitled Not To Make Excuses, But - The (Un)Responsiveness of the Supreme Court of Canada To Duress. I have also written on the application of the “air of reality test,” which is the threshold test used to determine if, in the circumstances of a case, a legal defence will be available to an accused in my blog entitled Poof! Into Thin Air – Where Have All The Defences Gone?: The Supreme Court of Canada And The Air Of Reality Test. I am currently writing a full article on this issue for publication.

We will of course come to further sections in the Criminal Code codifying common law defences where we will continue to peek back at the common law to frame the statutory doppelganger in the Code

Episode 19 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 17 - The Statutory Defence of Duress

Section 16: The Defence of Mental Disorder - Episode 18 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

Section 16 describes the defence we now know as mental disorder but which we previously called the insanity defence. It is an incapacity defence, meaning that if successful the accused person is found to be incapable of forming the requisite intent for the crime. Thus, the accused could not even formulate the malicious intent required to commit the crime and is therefore absolved of criminal responsibility. The insanity defence is from English common law; specifically the 1843 British House of Lords Daniel M’Naghten case and thereafter the insanity defence became known as the M’Naghten Rule. This rule was codified into our Criminal Code from the Code’s inception.

In the 1892 Code, the defence was found under s.11. To read the section is a lesson in now inappropriate language as the section absolves those “labouring under natural imbecility” or disease of the mind. Other than this, the section does read very similarly to the present section 16 as a person “labouring” or “suffering,” as we say now, is exempt from criminal responsible if that disease or disorder rendered the person “incapable of appreciating the nature and quality” of his or her actions. However under the 1892 section the accused must also be incapable “of knowing that that the act or omission is wrong.” Let’s quickly look at the present section 16(1) for comparison:

No person is criminally responsible for an act committed or an omission made while suffering from a mental disorder that rendered the person incapable of appreciating the nature and quality of the act or omission or of knowing that it was wrong.

Our present defence requires that the person suffering from a mental disorder must be “incapable of appreciating the nature and quality of the act or omission” or “knowing it was wrong” and not and “knowing it was wrong” as in 1892 version.

The balance of the subsections under the 1892 section 11 is as follows:

2. A person labouring under specific delusions, but in other respects sane, shall not be acquitted on the ground of insanity, under the provisions hereinafter contained, unless the delusions caused him to believe in the existence of some state of things, which, if it existed, would justify or excuse his act or omission.

3. Every one shall be presumed to be sane at the time of doing or omitting to do any act until the contrary is proved.

Subsection 2 from the 1892 insanity section qualifies subsection 1 by providing an exception. A person may be “labouring under natural imbecility or a disease of the mind” but if they suffer from specific delusions and are otherwise sane, they cannot use the insanity defence unless those delusions “caused him to believe in the existence of some state of things which, if it existed, would justify or excuse his act or omission.” Subsection 3 indicates that everyone is presumed sane “until the contrary is proven.” Once an accused is found NCR or not criminally responsible, the person would be held in detention until the “pleasure” of the Lieutenant Governor. This “pleasure” had no time limitation. Although, I will not discuss this here, this indeterminacy was changed in later amendments.

The 1892 version of the defence continued until the 1953-54 amendments at which point the section was re-enacted as s. 16 but this version, again, is quite different from what we have today. The revised section reads very much like the original version except that it changes the “and” “knowing that such act or omission is wrong” to “or.”

In 1975, the Law Reform Commission of Canada, as it then was (it was disbanded in 1993 and re-enacted as the Law Commission of Canada in 1996 but then had its budget cut in 2006 and was closed down), published Working Paper #14 on “The Criminal Process and Mental Disorder.” The significant commissioners at the time were two soon to be Supreme Court of Canada Justices – Antonio Lamer (Vice-Chair and later to be Chief Justice of the SCC) and Gerard La Forest (commissioner) and the Chair, E. Patrick Hartt, who became a Justice of the High Court of Ontario in 1996 and retired in 2001. For more information on the fascinating history of Canada’s law reform agencies, I recommend reading Gavin Murphy’s paper that can be accessed here.

In any event, this Working Paper, although not partially acted upon until the 1991 amendments (which were done in response to the constitutional striking down of the old sections by the Supreme Court of Canada), suggested various fundamental changes to the insanity defence and the procedures surrounding it. As a result, it is with some irony that the Paper opens with the words “It [the Paper] examines many of the important but sometimes neglected problems of mental disorder in the criminal process.” It seems the issue was even further neglected legislatively for a further sixteen years.

However, there was some groundwork done in the intervening time. The government, in 1982, through the Department of Justice, started the Mental Disorder Project as part of a comprehensive review of the criminal process by provincial and federal Minister of Justice officials. In 1983, a discussion paper was published and again the procedural difficulties and inherent unfairness in the system were discussed. Additionally, with the advent of the Charter, the system’s constitutional compliance was questioned. A full report was eventually tabled in 1985 and a draft Bill was introduced in 1986 by the then Minister of Justice John Crosby. The Bill was still under scrutiny when in 1991, the Supreme Court of Canada found the insanity rules and some of the Criminal Code sections unconstitutional in the Swain case. It should be noted that the then Chief Justice Lamer together with Justice Cory and Justice Sopinka wrote what would be the majority decision. Justice La Forest concurred with Justice Gonthier, who agreed substantially with Lamer CJ’s conclusion.

Thus we have the 1991 amendments under which we practice today. Although the new amendments have not anticipated all issues, certainly section 16 is a much better and fairer section than the previous iteration.

The present version retains the presumption of sanity but also clarifies the burden of proof required to overcome the presumption. It must be noted that either the Crown prosecutor or the defence may raise the issue of mental disorder. If this occurs the trier of fact must be satisfied on the civil standard of balance of probabilities that the presumption of sanity does not apply. There is no exception, in the present s. 16, for specific delusions. The balance of the present section 16 (2) and (3) is as follows:

Presumption
(2) Every person is presumed not to suffer from a mental disorder so as to be exempt from criminal responsibility by virtue of subsection (1), until the contrary is proved on the balance of probabilities.

 Burden of proof
(3) The burden of proof that an accused was suffering from a mental disorder so as to be exempt from criminal responsibility is on the party that raises the issue.

Although section 16 sets out the defence of mental disorder, the presumption of sanity and the burden of proof, it is Part XX.1 of the Criminal Code, entitled Mental Disorders, which sets out the procedure to be followed in considering the defence. It is a lengthy Part and thus the defence of mental disorder is complex and time consuming requiring often-competing experts and the application of circuitous special procedures. A full discussion on this Part will come when we discuss sections 672.1 to 672.9, much further down this Criminal Code journey.

One last comment on the recent controversial nature of this issue, particularly with the finding that Vince Li, who beheaded a passenger on a bus, was found not criminally responsible due to a mental disorder and was sent to a psychiatric institution for treatment. Just recently Li’s terms of segregation at the hospital were relaxed by the Criminal Code Review Board of Manitoba to permit Li to leave the hospital unescorted. This relaxation has resulted in a call to tighten once again the consequences of a finding of mental disorder.

The Federal Government has been most vocal in wanting changes and introduced last year a Bill C-54 to amend the Code to include strict restrictions on a person found mentally disordered under s.16. Critics of the Bill suggest that the further stigmatizing of the mentally ill will not “make society safer.” The Bill received its First Reading in the Senate in June of 2013. Read the presenting speech made by the original sponsor of the Bill, the then Justice Minister Rob Nicholson, as well as the response speeches here. Read also the article by the Canadian Psychiatric Association on the “fundamental flaws” in the new proposal.

It should also be noted that in a recent legal conference on mental disorder and the criminal justice system, questions were raised on the constitutionality of the proposed new amendments. Although, section 16 has come a long way from M’Naghten and the 1892 Code, the future of criminal responsibility and mental disorder is still unsettled and may only be determined, once again, by court intervention.  

 

Section 16 - The Defence of Mental Disorder: Episode 18 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada