Episode 55 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 62 & Finding the Military in Our Criminal Code (text version)

Yet again, we have come to a section criminalizing misconduct relating to the military under section 62. Such behaviours amount to mutinous or treasonous actions, which we have already encountered in the previous podcast on s. 53 and inciting mutiny(the text version is here). The existence of such offences in the Codehighlight parallel military offences found in the National Defence Actand give us a sense of the hierarchical structure of military misconduct. It also suggests the parallel systems of justice we have in Canada involving the criminal justice system and the military disciplinary system. We can envision an assault occurring on a military base as sanctioned under the court martial regime but that same act could also be envisioned as part of our criminal justice system and just as easily could have been heard in a provincial courthouse. 

In terms of the Criminal Code, there are many references to the armed forces, some overt and some not so easily observed. As previously mentioned, we have already discussed mutiny under s.53, as an offence impacting military discipline. We also already discussed s.52 on sabotage(see podcastand text version), treason offences under s.46(see podcastand text version) and s. 50 assisting enemy alien(see podcast and text version) as offences potentially affecting the security and welfare of our armed forces. We also touched on military duty and military orders under s. 32 of the Codeon the military’s authority to suppress riots (see text and podcast here).

Sections we have not encountered yet show the breadth and depth of the criminal law in military affairs. First, the Codedefines the “Canadian Forces” under s. 2as the armed forces “raised” by Canada but also defines “Her Majesty’s Forces,” again under s. 2, as “naval, army and air forces of Her Majesty” wherever “raised,” including the Canadian Forces. Some of the Code provisions act to protect not only Canadian forces but Commonwealth nations as well. We do find in the Codeoffences a wide variety of military related offences, from falsely posing as a military member (s. 419) to torture under s. 269.1.

At this point, we should pause to remember how military law fits within the criminal law rubric. I touched upon this issue much earlier in this podcast series under Episode 8discussing s. 5 of theCodeas a section indicating the independence of military law from the criminal law. The section, as discussed in that podcast, together with s. 130 of the National Defence Act, create parallel but separate modes of sanctioning a member of the military, be it through disciplinary action or criminal prosecution. Again, this previous blog/podcast outlines in a very summary fashion, the procedure. The blog posting also points out the weaknesses in the military system to adequately underline the repugnant nature of some military offences pertaining to acts of cruelty toward the civilians in foreign nations. These human rights violations go beyond military discipline and treaty compliance and enter the realm of the criminal law to such as extent that only prosecution under the Criminal Codeseems appropriate even though the military courts’ sanctioning ability does permit for criminal law like punishment. 

Since the writing of that blog posting in 2013, the Supreme Court in R v Moriarity, [2015] 3 SCR 485, 2015 SCC 55 has further considered the issue of the use of military discipline under the National Defence Act, in that case, for criminal offences involving fraud. The arguments raised issue with the overbreadth of criminal-like crimes that can be sanctioned under the military system. The decision, written by an unanimous court under Justice Cromwell, found that  ss. 130(1)(a) and 117(f) of the NDA, permitting such sanctioning, did not infringe s. 7 of the Charter. As noted by Justice Cromwell in paragraph 8 of the judgment, only murder, manslaughter, and child abduction offences are not incorporated under the military Code of Service Discipline, which provides the underlying authority for disciplining such misconduct. The decision also reiterates earlier case law (see the 1992 Généreuxdecision) that “Parliament’s objective in creating the military justice system was to provide processes that would assure the maintenance of discipline, efficiency and morale of the military” (see para 46 of Moriarity). In order to fulfill these objectives the disciplinary process may sanction military offenders with these “criminal” offences.

Turning back to the issue at hand, s. 62 of the Codeis a broad section, overly broad I will suggest, outlining offences relating to military forces, some of which are reflective of other offences in the Code. This section applies to both Canadian Forces and those foreign armed forces present in Canada as provided for in the working definition of “member of a force” under s. 62(2).

Section 62(1) reads as follows:

62 (1) Every one who wilfully
(a) interferes with, impairs or influences the loyalty or discipline of a member of a force,
(b) publishes, edits, issues, circulates or distributes a writing that advises, counsels or urges insubordination, disloyalty, mutiny or refusal of duty by a member of a force, or
(c) advises, counsels, urges or in any manner causes insubordination, disloyalty, mutiny or refusal of duty by a member of a force,
is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding five years.

This section seems to take all of the other offences in the Coderelating to military such as sections 46, 50, and 52 to 53 and provide an omnibus offence with aspects of treason (see s. 62(1)(a)), mutiny (see s. 62(1)9c), and sedition (see s. 62(1)(b) all bound into one section. However, this section appears to offer offences considerably less serious than the other criminal offences it seems to mimic considering the punishment differences. For instance, treason under s. 47 is an offence punishable by a maximum of fourteen years or life (see as previously mentioned podcast Episode 43). Section 62 involves criminal conduct similar to those more serious sections but sanctions the conduct as an indictable offence with a maximum of 5 years imprisonment. 

Historically, it should be noted, the section was brought into the Codein the 1951 amendments and was initially a section involving “Miscellaneous offences of a seditious nature.” For a full discussion of sedition, see Episode 54of my podcast. Notably, however, section 62 does not exactly mirror the sedition section under s. 59 and permits a much broader unlawful act. Sedition under s. 59 criminalizes seditious words and intention as publishing, circulating or advocating. Section 62 criminalizes words of insubordination, disloyalty or mutiny, in the context of the armed forces, that are not only published and circulated but also distributed, issued, or edited. Although distributing and issuing may be synonyms for publishing and circulating, the act of editing is not. There are no other offences in the Codethat consider editing a document for a criminal purpose as a crime. The reference to interfering with loyalty or discipline is reminiscent of the mischief sections under s. 430. The prohibited act of “influences” is also found in the obstruct justice offences under s. 139and corruption like offences under ss. 123 and 121. Although “advises” and “counsels” are akin to the counselling section in the Codeunder s. 22, “urges,” as a prohibited act, is not found in any other section of the Code. This shows s. 62 to be an amalgam of offences providing for a broad range of misconduct. 

The fault requirement can be found in the word “wilful,” which as mentioned in previous podcasts (Episode 44and Episode 45), indicates a requirement for subjective liability but depending on the interpretation of the word, may indicate a form of subjective liability requiring a high-level of intention. There is no case law on the issue.

In fact I found no cases directly on s. 62 in my database search. One possible reason is the desire to use the more flexible court martials process for such misconduct considering the approval for such usage in Moriarity. Furthermore, s. 11(f) of the Charter, giving the right to a jury trial for offences punishable by 5 years or more, specifically exempts military tribunal sanctions. Thus, making for a summary procedure under the military laws. 

This brings us to my final comment on this section – a comment you who have listened to my podcasts may be already tired of hearing – that in the reform of the Code, the government should be pressed to review all of the military-like offences in the Codefor revision and/or deletion. 

 

 

Episode 54 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada: The Self-Fulfilling Words of Sedition under sections 59 to 61 or Presuming the Worst (Text Version)

Sedition, as with treason and other offences under Part II of the Criminal Code, is an offence against public order. It is directed to expressive communication, verbal or written, which promotes unlawful violent upheaval of the government, akin to treason. There are a number of exceptions to this general concept of sedition to permit lawful criticism of governmental actions. The punishment for sedition is severe, attracting a maximum term of fourteen years incarceration. There are many issues arising from this section. The obvious one involves a discussion of the constitutionality of the section considering it engages Charter expression, albeit violent expression that would most likely be saved under a s. 1 argument (for further discussion see Boucher v. The King,1949, SCC and R v Keegstra, 1990, SCC). An additional issue stems from the ever-present public policy question as to why certain sections still remain in the Code when there many other sections which could capture the essence of this offence.

For the sake of keeping this podcast contained in time and space, I will not discuss the obvious issues but will concentrate on the “presumption” of having a seditious intention by proof of the speaking of seditious words, the publishing of seditious libel or being a party to a seditious conspiracy. The podcast may seem a tad esoteric as a result, but I believe the discussion will reveal a singular truth about this section as well as raise a doubt in our mind as to the efficacy of a “common sense” notion regularly relied upon in our courts. The circularity and the historical meaning of this presumption, suggests this section raises Charter issues, not on the basis of s. 2(b), but on the presumption of innocence under s. 11(d).

First, a little housekeeping on the background of the sections. The offence, as with many of the offences under Part II, came to Canada from the English common law. A version of the offence is found in the 1892Criminal Code under sections 123 to 124. The punishment for the various forms of sedition in 1892 was two years imprisonment, a marked contrast to the punishment found in the current Code. Except for the punishment, the 1892 version of sedition is similar to the current s. 61 and to section 59(1) to (3). The original sections also provided very similar exceptions to the meaning of seditious intention as found under the current section 60. However, the original sections did not describe “seditious intention” nor did it provide for a presumption as stipulated under the current s. 59(4). This addition was brought into the Code in 1936. 

It is in Burbidge’s Digest of the Criminal Law of Canada, which predates the Code, where we perceive a clearer understanding of the meaning of seditious intention and the use of the presumption. Article 123 of Burbidge’s defines seditious intention as:

A seditious intention is an intention to bring into hatred or contempt, or to excite disaffection against, the person of Her Majesty, her heirs or successors, or the government and constitution of the United Kingdom or of Canada, as by law established, or either House of Parliament, or the administration of justice, or to excite Her Majesty’s subjects to attempt, otherwise than by lawful means, the alteration of any matter in the State by law established,or to incite any person to commit any crime, in disturbance of the peace, or to raise discontent or disaffection amongst Her Majesty’s subjects, or to promote feelings of ill-will and hostility between different classes of such subjects.

This form of sedition is certainly broader than the now contemplated offence as it does not restrict the intention to a violent one or an unlawful one considering a seditious intention can be shown through the intention to “excite disaffection” against the Crown and state. There are cases discussing the implication of this definition of sedition, notably cases involving actions during war time. For instance, in Rex v Barron1918 CanLII 195 (SK CA),the Saskatchewan Court of Appeal considered sedition in relation to seditious words spoken during World War One as follows: “Everyone who gives to the Red Cross is crazy. If no one would give to the Red Cross the war would stop. The other country would beat this country if no one would give to the Red Cross.” The accused was found guilty of sedition by a jury. The issue on appeal was the admission of similar previous sentiments expressed by the accused. The conviction was affirmed with a dissent. The court discussed the difference between a merely disloyal statement and one which is “calculated to raise disaffection.” An expression of an opinion in a “chance conversation” was different than the seditious intention evinced by trying to persuade people not to contribute to the war effort “for the avowed purpose of enabling the enemy to win the war.” The conviction was upheld as the purpose of the Appellant’s comments, according to Saskatchewan Chief Justice Haultain, were “equivalent to raising disaffection” as the words would “stir up a spirit of disloyalty, even by a mercenary appeal, leading to action or inaction in favour of the enemy.”

The present offence is found under section 61 and reads as follows:

61 Every one who

(a) speaks seditious words,

(b) publishes a seditious libel, or

(c) is a party to a seditious conspiracy,

is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding fourteen years.

There are three ways in which a person can be charged with sedition under this section. First, the accused can “speak” “seditious” words. Second, the accused can be charged for publishing “seditious libel” and thirdly the accused may be charged as a party to “seditious” conspiracy. 

All three modes of committing the offence require, as an element of the actus reusor prohibited act, proof of a “seditious” act as defined under section 59. Section 59 offers a cumbersome, layered definition of sedition. Section 59 (1) defines “seditious words” as “words that express a seditious intention.” The phrase “seditious intention” is a presumption based on conduct as enumerated, in a non-exhaustive manner, under s. 59(4). The conduct which gives rise to the presumption of “seditious intention” is teaching, advocating, publishing or advocating in writing, “the use, without the authority of law, of force as a means of accomplishing a governmental change within Canada.” Thus, actions are transformed into intentions. The actus reus becomes the mens rea

At first glance, this does not seem so radical. In crimes of “minimal intent” such as assault, Justice Wilson, in the 1988 Bernard case on the role of intoxication for general intent offences, suggested the mens rea can be inferred from the actus reus. In other words, the intention required under s. 265 – an intentional application of force – can be gleaned from the application of that force. This, however, is an inference which may be drawn, not must be drawn, and it does not relieve the Crown from its legal burden to prove the offence beyond a reasonable doubt. The problem with this circular relationship in sedition between the actus reus and mens rea is there is no inference to be made – the inference is self-made as a presumption.

Historically, the presumption relating to seditious intention was specifically described and articulated under Article 124 of Burbidge’s Digest of the Criminal Law of Canada as follows: 

In determining whether the intention with which any words were spoken, any document was published, or any agreement was made, was or was not seditious, every person must be deemed to intend the consequences which would naturally follow from his conduct at the time and under the circumstances in which he so conducted himself.

This presumption reads very similar to what is the permissive inference the trier of fact may draw that a person intends the natural consequences of their actions. This “common sense” inference, as Justice Moldaver will later call it in the 2012 Walle decision, sounds similar to the “minimal intent” comment made by Justice Wilson in the context of intoxication. In fact, intoxication was a factor in the Walledecision. The significant difference is the directive – “must” for a presumption – rather than a permissive in the “may” for an inference. The 'mandatory’ presumption is a legal construct in which a trier of fact mustinfer the presumed fact upon proof of an underlying fact. Presumptions are rebuttable but in being so, the party opposing the application of such presumption has the burden to displace it. In other words, the directive used for presumptions is the status quo or the default position, whilst the permissive does not suggest or contemplate a position, other than what is required in the legal burden and standard of proof of the burden on the Crown to prove beyond a reasonable doubt. 

 The difference is not puerile but real. In the 1969 Ontario Court of Appeal decision of R v Ortt, the court clarified that this “common-sense” notion of a person intending the consequence of their actions, was not a presumption or a “must infer” but was a permissive inference only. Making such an inference permissive was needed to ensure the burden on the Crown did not shift onto the accused in a criminal case. Such a shift of the burden of proof would be contrary to another more well-known presumption, the presumption of innocence. Of course, the presumption of innocence, as I have discussed in earlier podcasts here, is a fundamental expression of our societal values, and as constitutionalized under s. 11(d) must be preserved in the face of other presumptions which may run contrary to that core concept. 

It is all well and good to turn this “common sense” notion into a permissive concept in order to preserve the sentiment from Charterscrutiny, however, to merely flip a switch from Chartercaution to Charterfriendly causes concern. That concern is most evident when faced with the statutory presumption in sedition. In sedition, the very same notion – as defined under Burbidge’s Article 124 - is deemed a permissive inference under Walle. Which is it? Is it permissive and constitutional? Or, is it presumptive and contrary to s. 11(d)? Can a change of words, change the weight of such a “common sense” notion? One could argue that the concept relied upon with this presumption for sedition, that people mean what they do, is such a pernicious idea that labelling this notorious fact as a “permissive inference” is not only counter-intuitive but false. By not labelling this inference for what it is, as a presumption, the court is preserving the constitutionality of the concept in form yet permitting the presumption to live in content. This lends weight to in my previous blog posting on the Walle decision that the inference found in common law – that a person intends the natural consequence of their actions - imports an objective dimension into subjective mens rea offences, specifically murder.  

There are exceptions to the presumption, where, under s. 60, certain acts would not “deem” a person to have seditious intention. Even that term “deem,” strengthens the argument that we are working in a legal doctrine or construct, which is mandating a substitution of the actus reus for the mens rea upon proof of certain acts. A substitution, not an inference. This, I suggest, goes further than a violation of s. 11(d) and becomes a violation of s. 7, similar to the concern raised in R v Daviault in 1994, where the act of self-induced intoxication was used as a substitute for mens rea. This elimination of a need for a fault element runs contrary to the principles of fundamental justice as found in R v Vaillancourt and R v Martineau. An accused could still be convicted despite a reasonable doubt the accused intended to commit the sedition.

Those exceptions do permit healthy political dissent. Thus under s. 60:

... no person shall be deemed to have a seditious intention by reason only that he intends, in good faith,

(a) to show that Her Majesty has been misled or mistaken in her measures;

(b) to point out errors or defects in

(i) the government or constitution of Canada or a province,

(ii) Parliament or the legislature of a province, or

(iii) the administration of justice in Canada;

(c) to procure, by lawful means, the alteration of any matter of government in Canada; or

(d) to point out, for the purpose of removal, matters that produce or tend to produce feelings of hostility and ill-will between different classes of persons in Canada.

The s. 60(d) exception could use further explanation. I take this oddly worded exception as a provision for a public good argument.  This except brings the Buzzanger and Durocher case to mind, an Ontario Court of Appeal decision written by Justice G. Arthur Martin, who allowed the Appellants' appeal against conviction for wilfully promoting hatred under the now s. 319(2) of the Criminal Code. There, the Appellants did not have the requisite high level of intention required to commit the offence "wilfully" as their intention in publishing the pamphlet railing against the Francophone community was not to promote hatred but to highlight the absurdity of hatred through the use of satire. Often, in eradicating professions of hatred against others or against government initiatives, the message must reference those abhorrent sentiments to show the fallacy and harm of those repugnant behaviours. To do so, this subsection clarifies, is not seditious. Indeed, through this exception, we are not presuming the worst of people. 

The sedition sections are, as I said at the start of this podcast, an example of the kind of public behaviours we deem worthy of punishment through our criminal law. However, what was worthy in 1892 may not be as much of a concern now where we have many other tools at our disposal in other sections of the Code. The emphasis of this offence should be on the potential violence propounded by the offence and not on the words of dissent, which is protected and accepted in any healthy democracy. If violence is the key, then the section fails to resonate with that concept as a result of the poor wording of the section and the choice to rely on a mandatory presumption of intent. Here is yet another criminal offence to add to the list of Code reform.

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)

Episode 53: The Ideablawg podcast on s. 58 of the Criminal Code of Canada – The Good Citizen

In this episode, we are continuing our discussion of identity fraud and theft type offences. This particular offence involves documentation which confers status of citizenship on the subject holding the document. Section 58 involves the fraudulent use of such a certificate of citizenship or naturalization.

The section reads as follows:

58 (1) Every one who, while in or out of Canada,

(a) uses a certificate of citizenship or a certificate of naturalization for a fraudulent purpose, or

(b) being a person to whom a certificate of citizenship or a certificate of naturalization has been granted, knowingly parts with the possession of that certificate with intent that it should be used for a fraudulent purpose,

is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding two years.

(2) In this section, certificate of citizenship and certificate of naturalization, respectively, mean a certificate of citizenship and a certificate of naturalization as defined by the Citizenship Act.

The section uses similar language to the previous section 57 in that it applies to all those committing the offence while in or outside of Canada thereby extending the reach of our sovereign authority beyond Canadian borders. Unlike section 57, a section 58 offence does not involve the making or forgery of the document but the giving up of possession or the use of a citizenship document for a fraudulent purpose. This prohibited conduct of use is not as egregious as the creation of a false document under s. 57 as is suggested by the maximum punishment for this offence of two years imprisonment. However, the s. 58 offence is certainly more serious than the offence of making a false statement in relation to a passport under section 57(2), as section 58 is a straight indictable offence while 57(2) is a dual offence.

The documents in question – certificate of citizenship and certificate of naturalization – are defined as per the Citizenship Act. That Act, also of federal origin, is a statute conferring the right of Canadian citizenship on those individuals who attain that status pursuant to s. 3 of the Act. Indeed, there are only three sections to the Act, with s. 3, the application section, containing 24 subsections. Section 3(1) is one of the few sections I have seen which are a drafters’ paradise with the generous use of clauses, sub-clauses, and paragraphs such as in s. 3(1)(f)(i)(A). Needless to say, it is not the clearest of drafting.

To return to the certificates in question in s. 58 of the Criminal Code, the definition of the certificates under s. 2 of the Citizenship Act is not of much assistance. In accordance with that section, “certificate of citizenship” means a certificate of citizenship issued or granted under the Act or the former Act and “certificate of naturalization” means a certificate of naturalization granted under any Act that was in force in Canada at any time before January 1, 1947. I assume that the authorities would simply know the document when they see one.

The offence, as mentioned previously, involves the use of those documents for a fraudulent purpose or knowingly “parts with possession” of the certificate with the intent it be used for a fraudulent purpose. The offence, through the use of the terms “fraudulent,” “purpose,” “knowingly,” “possession” and “intent,” requires proof of a high level of mens rea. One cannot commit this offence through recklessness.

The offence has been in the Criminal Code since 1938 being an offence, as with s. 57, responding to the vagaries of pre-World War II Europe and the waves of immigrants trying to find a safe haven through whatever means possible. As I discuss in the previous podcast on s. 57, the Canadian government’s stand on the immigration “problem” was itself a casualty of the war as persecuted people were refused entrance into the country.

According to a series of British Columbia Court of Appeal decisions interpreting the phrase “fraudulent purpose,” the term “imports dishonesty in accord with community standards” as per R v Gatley, 1992 CanLII 1088 (BC CA), R. v. Long (1990) 1990 CanLII 5405 (BC CA), 61 C.C.C. (3d) 156 (B.C.C.A.), and R v RND, 1994 CanLII 403 (BC CA).

The importance of the section having extra-territorial reach cannot be underestimated. In the 1966 Ontario Court of Appeal decision of Regina v. Stojadinovic; Regina v. Stanojevich, the accused persons, who were facilitating the illegal entry of another person into the United States with the use of a fraudulent certificate of citizenship were acquitted on appeal as the then section did not pertain to an accused committing the offence while outside of Canada. In that case, the two accused planned an illegal entry into the United States but the individual to be sent was otherwise legally in Canada. Mere preparation was not itself fraudulent use per the section requirements. This decision followed earlier cases, in particular the decision of R v Walkem (1908), 14 C.C.C. 122, in which Justice Clement of the British Columbia Supreme Court concluded that “what takes place abroad cannot, in the eye of our law, be an offence against our law (unless indeed made so by statute)." This sentiment follows an even older English decision by Lord Chief Justice de Grey in Rafael v Verelst (1776), 2 W. Bl. 1,055 at p. 1,058 where he states that "Crimes are in their nature local, and the jurisdiction of crimes is local." After the 1966 decision, the section was amended in 1968 to ensure that the offence applied to “every one who, while in or out of Canada.”

The phrase in s. 58(1)(b) “parts with possession” is only found in two other sections of the Code pertaining to property; theft under section 322(1)(c) and section 390 an offence relating to fraudulent receipts under Bank Act. This phrase has a property-related meaning. The phrase is in fact common in landlord and tenant disputes involving “parting with” premises under a lease agreement. This “parting” can occur through bankruptcy or assignment (See Bel-Boys Buildings Ltd. v. Clark, 1967 CanLII 533 (AB CA)) and is akin to sub-letting the premises. However, such parting does not grant the person a right to hand over the premises with tenure. By using this term in defining the offence under s. 58, the handing over of the certificate to another person need not be permanent but can be only for a limited period and yet still be subject to s. 58.

Outside of the Criminal Code, there are other measures the government can take when faced with the misuse of citizenship documents such as refusing the issuance of a passport pursuant to the Canadian Passport Order, SI/81-86 or revoking or canceling fraudulent certificates of citizenship. The use of the Criminal Code provisions are therefore not the only response to this type of conduct but is an expression of the state’s desire to control and protect the status of citizenship through the criminal law.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Episode 52 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: The “Go Everywhere” Offence Under Section 57 (text version)

In the classic Jules Verne novel of 1873, Around the World in Eighty Days, the adventurer, Phileas Fogg, and his trusty side-kick, Jean Passepartout, race across the globe. There are many ways to “read” this text, such as a construct of British colonialization or as a “love letter” to the technological and scientific advances of the day.  For our criminal law purposes, however, we will think of this globe-trotting journey as setting the stage for the next section of the criminal code creating the offence of forging a passport. Specifically, I want us to imagine such a journey in modern terms and the strict requirement for entry into foreign countries. The importance of having a passport cannot be underestimated, not just for entry purposes, but as a symbol of belonging. This is a stark reminder of the refugees’ displacement and the vital need for an effective, efficient, and compassionate immigration regime. But I digress. I also want us to be mindful of the translation of the valet’s surname, Passepartout, which means “go everywhere.” A passport, like a pass key, opens doors and is a commodity in our global market.

Section 57 of the Criminal Code is a multi-purpose section. It protects personal identity, protects nationhood, has an international reach, and punishes falsehoods. It is a section that crosses the criminal equivalent of the “international date line” as it is both private and public in aspect. It involves individual privacy rights, public security and engages international obligations. It involves diplomacy and enforcement of the law. The section creates five different but related falsifying of passport offences. Subsection (1) is a forgery and uttering offence. Subsection (2) is a procuring offence relating to obtaining a falsified passport. Subsection (3) is a possession offence.

Section 57 reads as follows:

57 (1) Every one who, while in or out of Canada,

(a) forges a passport, or

(b) knowing that a passport is forged

(i) uses, deals with or acts on it, or

(ii) causes or attempts to cause any person to use, deal with or act on it, as if the passport were genuine,

is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding fourteen years.

(2) Every one who, while in or out of Canada, for the purpose of procuring a passport for himself or any other person or for the purpose of procuring any material alteration or addition to any such passport, makes a written or an oral statement that he knows is false or misleading

(a) is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding two years; or

(b) is guilty of an offence punishable on summary conviction.

(3) Every one who without lawful excuse, the proof of which lies on him, has in his possession a forged passport or a passport in respect of which an offence under subsection (2) has been committed is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding five years.

(4) For the purposes of proceedings under this section,

(a) the place where a passport was forged is not material; and

(b) the definition false document in section 321, and section 366, apply with such modifications as the circumstances require.

(5) In this section, passport has the same meaning as in section 2 of the Canadian Passport Order.

(6) Where a person is alleged to have committed, while out of Canada, an offence under this section, proceedings in respect of that offence may, whether or not that person is in Canada, be commenced in any territorial division in Canada and the accused may be tried and punished in respect of that offence in the same manner as if the offence had been committed in that territorial division.

(7) For greater certainty, the provisions of this Act relating to

(a) requirements that an accused appear at and be present during proceedings, and

(b) the exceptions to those requirements,

apply to proceedings commenced in any territorial division pursuant to subsection (6).

Before we discuss the section, a little bit of historical context is worthwhile. The first version of this offence went into the Criminal Code in 1935 Code amendments and was a procurement offence involving a passport and a visa. Note the timing as a measure implemented basically on the eve of war. Only four years later, in 1939, the steamer St Louis would be turned away by the Canadian government to return to Nazi Germany and almost certain death. It is no doubt a response to the desperate attempts to get out of pre-World War II Europe. In 1947, some two years after the end of World War II, the section was again revised to include a definition of passport. In the 1953-54 amendments, the section was again revised, this time adding to the section the forgery and uttering offence and the possession offence. The revised section clarified that the offence could be committed while the accused was in or out of Canada. In 1985, some procedural aspects were added to the section. The section was last revised in 2013 to define passport pursuant to the section 2 definition of the Canadian Passport Order. That definition of passport or in French, passeport, “means an official Canadian document that shows the identity and nationality of a person for the purpose of facilitating travel by that person outside Canada.”

We will first discuss the five offences created in section 57. The first offence under subsection (1)(a), creates a forgery offence in relation to a passport, forged in or out of Canada. The offence, therefore, should be approached as a traditional forgery offence with reference to the general offence of forgery pursuant to s. 366 of the Code. The Crown would need to prove as part of the actus reus components of the offence that the document is in fact a passport pursuant to the definition offered under subsection (5). In terms of proof of the forgery itself, another actus reus requirement, requires a review of the forgery section 366. That section essentially defines forgery as the making of a false document, knowing it to be false and intending the document be “used or acted on as genuine” to the prejudice of another. Section 321, the definition section for Part IX offences, including forgery under s. 366, offers a definition of “false document” which is then extended under section 366(2). Section 57(4) uses this definition of “false document” in proof of the forgery of the passport, with necessary modifications. What those “modifications” may be must be informed by the specific forgery at hand, namely a passport, and as informed by the definition of passport pursuant to subsection (5). Section 57(5) also clarifies that where the forgery was actually performed need not be specifically proven by the Crown. In terms of mens rea, it is clear by a reading of section 57 and by the application of s. 366 to the proof of forgery that the section requires proof of a high level of subjective intention.

The second offence is related to the forgery and is found under subsection (1)(b)(i). It is what we would historically call an uttering offence, requiring the accused, knowing the passport is forged, “uses, deals with or acts on it.” The offence parallels the general uttering a forged document section 368(1)(a). I label this as an “uttering” offence as when looking in the index of the Code for offences relating to forgery, “uttering a forged document” is listed under s. 368. Uttering is defined under section 448 in the Code but for purposes of Part XII relating to offences to currency. That definition of "utter" extends the traditional meaning of “uses, deals with or acts on it” by including as including “sell, pay, tender and put off.”  An argument could be made that those prohibited acts of “sell, pay, tender and put off” are not included in the offence as contemplated under s. 57(1)(b). Again, the offence requires a high level of subjective mens rea as read into the requirement the accused must have knowledge the passport is forged. The third offence under s. 57 (1)(b)(ii) is an offence, that again, appears in its general format under s. 268 and requires the accused, knowing the passport is a forgery, “causes or attempts to cause any person to use, deal with or act on it, as if the passport were genuine.” The only other offence for which the delict is so worded, is the offence under s. 246 involving the administration of a stupefying drug to overcome resistance to the commission of an offence. Of note, is the “attempts” to cause, thus the full offence can be committed based on an attempt.

For the offences of forgery, uttering and causing or attempting to cause another person to utter the forged document, the maximum sentence is imprisonment for 14 years. Both forgery and uttering under sections 366 and 368 respectively are dual offences with the maximum punishment for both, should the Crown elect to proceed by Indictment, of ten years. Clearly, the forgery of a passport, for national security and state integrity reasons, is considered a more serious offence.

The fourth offence created under s. 57 relates to someone making a false or misleading oral or written statement, while in or out of Canada, for purposes of procuring a passport for themselves or another person or for the purpose of altering a material aspect of the passport. This is a less serious dual offence where the maximum punishment under indictment does not exceed two years imprisonment, thus keeping even the worst offender in the reformatory, rather than the federal penitentiary, system. Again, it could be argued that by the use of the word “for the purpose,” the Crown must prove per R v Hibbert a high level of intention by the accused. The Crown must also prove, if the allegation involves altering or adding to the passport that it must be a change to a material aspect of the passport. This parallels the definition of false document under s. 366(2) where a false document includes “making a material alteration in a genuine document by erasure, obliteration, removal or in any other way.” What is “material” would be a question of fact. The phrase “material alteration” is a term often used in civil cases on such as sale of goods or in an action for default of a mortgage where a materially altered document by one party without the other party’s consent is considered void. In the 1909 Saskatchewan Queen’s Bench decision of Gogain v Drackett, 1909 CanLII 97, the court applied the definition of “material alteration” from the 1903 Cyclopedia of Law and Procedure published in the USA and edited by Julian William Mack, an American law professor, lawyer and jurist, and Howard Nash. In that tome, “material alteration” is defined as “Any change in an instrument which causes it to speak a different language in legal effect from what it originally spoke—which changes the legal identity or character of the instrument either in its terms or in the relation of the parties to it, is a material change, or technical alteration, and such a change will invalidate the instrument as against all the parties not consenting to the change.” But “It is not every change which will invalidate an instrument, but only a change which is material according to the principles above stated. In other words, any change in words or form, merely even if made by an interested party which leaves the legal effect and identity of the instrument unimpaired and unaltered, which in no manner affects the rights, duties or obligations of the parties and leaves the sense and meaning of the instrument as it originally stood is not material and will not destroy the instrument or discharge the parties from liability thereon.” Therefore, a material change occurs when the change would affect the rights and obligations of the parties.

The fifth offence under subsection (3) is a possession offence relating to possessing a forged or materially altered or falsified passport. Possession, pursuant to s.4(3), requires proof the accused has knowledge, consent and control of the object and requires proof of a high level of mens rea. This is a straight indictable offence with a maximum of five years imprisonment. A similar offence for possessing a forged document under s. 368 is a dual offence, whereby the prosecutor can proceed by summary conviction if by Indictment then the maximum is ten years.

The final comment is on subsections (6) and (7), which relate to the extraterritorial jurisdiction of the offence. If the person committed the offence out of Canada, the person may be charged, tried and punished for the offence in any territorial jurisdiction of Canada even if they are still out of Canada at the time of the proceedings. The section is therefore aptly named, the “go everywhere” offence and is reflective of the global reach of our criminal law.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Really Fun Episode 51 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Official Documents & Identity, Identity, Who Am I?

With this episode, we enter a new phase of offences, still under Part II – Offences Against the Public Order, relating to official documents. “Official Documents” is the heading for three offences, found under sections 56.1 to 58, relating to misuse of and falsification of government issued identification. The term “official documents” is not a phrase used in any of these sections and is therefore not defined under the Code. It is however a phrase used and defined in some provincial statutes, such as in the Plant Health Act, RSNB 2011, c 204. Those definitions refer to a document signed by a Minister or other government official. Some federal statutes refer to the term but do not define the full phrase. Although, “document” is often defined in statutes such as in the 2012 federal Safe Food for Canadians Act. These definitions tend to be very broad and define “document” as “anything on which information that is capable of being understood by a person, or read by a computer or other device, is recorded or marked.” Other statutes, most notably as under section 5 of the federal Security of Information Act, refer to “official documents” in sections on falsification and forgery of documents, which are similar to the Criminal Code offences we are about to discuss over the next three episodes.

Before we start discussing section 56.1, offences relating to identity documents, I have a comment to make on the numbering of this section. This section was placed in the Code in 2009 as a result of An Act to amend the Criminal Code (identity theft and related misconduct), where a number of new offences and revisions to pre-existing Code provisions were amended. Fair enough. My issue is why this section needed to be numbered as 56.1 and not say, section 57.1, which would connect this new section to the falsification or improper use of documents. Section 56, as I discussed in a previous episode, concerns offences relating to the RCMP as in deserting from your duty. It has nothing to do with official documents or identity. When the Code is amended, numbering should consider placement with like sections. This is another reason, I submit we need a total re-do of the Code, section numbering and all. I say this even though I have such a familiarity with Code sections that a new numbering system would be disarming. Enough said on this subject.

Section 56.1 offers us an offence under subsection (1), exceptions to the offence or what could be considered lawful excuses under subsection (2), and a somewhat lengthy definition under (3), and a punishment under subsection (4).

 Section 56.1(1) sets out the offence as follows:

Every person commits an offence who, without lawful excuse, procures to be made, possesses, transfers, sells or offers for sale an identity document that relates or purports to relate, in whole or in part, to another person.

The phrase “transfers, sells or offers for sale” is found in the older offence under s.368 “use, trafficking or possession of a forged document” which replaced previous versions of that section in the same amendment as the creation of the s. 56.1 offence. Possession is defined in the Code under s. 4(3) and is a subject of an earlier podcast that can be found here as text and here as the podcast audio file. The term “transfers” is used throughout the Criminal Code as an actus reus component of various offences such as those relating to firearms (i.e. s. 117.08) or relating to the transferring of nuclear material with intent such as under s. 82.3. The word “transfer” is the subject of statutory interpretation and the application of Dreidger’s “modern approach” in the 2004 Supreme Court of Canada decision of R v Daoust. Here the court was considering s. 462.31 known as the offence of “laundering” the proceeds of crime. The word “transfer” was examined both in English and in French (transfert) in effort to understand how “transfer” differed from the other prohibited acts listed in the section such as sends or delivers, transports or transmits. In the case, the accused was the purchaser of stolen goods and the issue was whether this act constituted a transfer.  Of interest to statutory interpretation aficionados is the use here of the associated words rule or noscuitur a sociis (say that quickly three times). After applying this rule, the court found that a buyer of stolen goods was not committing any of the prohibited acts under the section. The acts listed, including the “transfers of possession of,” depended on the person committing the acts having control over the stolen property or proceeds of crime. This person would then pass onto another the property and would be the person targeted in the offence, not the so-called receiver. However, the receiver could certainly be charged with other offences found in the Code such as possession of stolen property under section 354 of the Criminal Code.

Besides having to prove the actus reus element or the prohibited act as listed in the section, the Crown would also have to prove that the item is in fact an identity document per the definition under subsection (3) which reads as follows:

For the purposes of this section, identity document means a Social Insurance Number card, a driver’s license, a health insurance card, a birth certificate, a death certificate, a passport as defined in subsection 57(5), a document that simplifies the process of entry into Canada, a certificate of citizenship, a document indicating immigration status in Canada, a certificate of Indian status or an employee identity card that bears the employee’s photograph and signature, or any similar document, issued or purported to be issued by a department or agency of the federal government or of a provincial or foreign government.

That lengthy list of documents could probably be summed up as simply any government issued ID. Further to our previous statutory interpretation segue, note that there is a descriptive list of identity documents and then a broad description encompassing “or any similar document.” Again, the associated word rule could be used to interpret this phrase giving the general phrase “colour” from the more specific terms. Another related rule can also be applied– get ready for another Latin phrase – involving ejusdem generis or the limited class rule. This applies when there are specific terms followed by a more general phrase. The rule limits the general phrase to the same class as the specifically enumerated ones. In this case, one can argue, as I did at the outset that “any similar document” would include any government issued identification.

Another element of the offence requires that the accused commit the offence “without lawful excuse.” There is no definition of this term, which is used liberally throughout the Criminal Code. In a search, the phrase pops up about 53 times. What constitutes a “lawful excuse” is many and varied. Typically, in cases considering the issue, the court says just that. For instance, in R v Osmond, 2006 NSPC 52 (CanLII), in considering s. 145(2)(b) of the Criminal Code, the offence of failing to appear in court, “without lawful excuse,” stated, rather unhelpfully at paragraph 45, that,

I do not need to list all the types of things that could constitute a lawful excuse.  The Crown referred to some possibilities in its submissions.  What can constitute a lawful excuse is usually established by judicial decisions and must be put in the context of the offence in question.

Judge Embree continued to say that what “lawful excuse” is “definitely” not is “forgetting” to attend court. In the context of this section, if the person “lawfully” has the government issued ID of another person or has it for a “lawful” purpose, there is no offence. To perhaps clarify this phrase, we can look to subsection 2 for some “lawful excuses” as contemplated by subsection 1. Subsection 2 reads as follows:

(2) For greater certainty, subsection (1) does not prohibit an act that is carried out

(a) in good faith, in the ordinary course of the person’s business or employment or in the exercise of the duties of their office;

(b) for genealogical purposes;

(c) with the consent of the person to whom the identity document relates or of a person authorized to consent on behalf of the person to whom the document relates, or of the entity that issued the identity document; or

(d) for a legitimate purpose related to the administration of justice.

There are a couple of items to note. First, the subsection starts with the qualifier “for greater certainty.” This phrase appears 48 times in the Criminal Code. Sometimes the phrase is followed by exceptions to the offence, such as in this section we are considering. Other times, it clarifies what act is included in the offence, such as in the definition of terrorist activity under s. 83.01. Therefore, in accordance with (2), we have a few scenarios to contemplate as not attracting criminal liability. Such as under (2)(b), where the possession of another person’s identity document is permissible if for “genealogical purposes.” What immediately comes to mind are the various websites which provide services to those people interested in finding information on their ancestors, such as ancestry.ca. For example, I have my grandfather’s identity documents issued when he entered the country as an immigrant from Russia in 1912. I found them, by the way, digitized online through Library and Archives Canada, a federal government service. However, this “exemption” and indeed this section does not protect the possession and use of another person’s DNA. Considering the now booming business in collecting and testing DNA for those “inquiring minds” who need to know what percentage of their DNA is Neanderthal, this seems to be a gap in our legislative identity protections. In light of this, section 56.1 seems to be already dated, although a good example of how quickly our technology is expanding and the difficulty with our laws to anticipate or even respond to these increasingly complex issues.

Returning to the original phrase “without lawful excuse,” there is a question as to whether the Crown has the burden to disprove this as an essential element of the offence or not. This would be akin to the Crown’s burden to disprove “without the consent” pursuant to the assault section 265. There is some authority to the contrary (R v Gladue, 2014 ABPC 45 (CanLII) and R v Neufeld, 2014 ABPC 66 (CanLII)), that “without lawful excuse” is not an “essential” element but “incidental” to the offence. This argument, however, relies upon a passage in a Supreme Court of Canada case, R v B(G), [1990] 2 SCR 30, 1990 CanLII 7308 (SCC), wherein the Court found the time of the offence was not an essential element of the offence. This, I suggest, differs greatly from a phrase that appears in the offence creating section. The better approach can be found in R v Plowman, 2015 ABQB 274 (CanLII). There, Justice Nielsen, in considering the phrase in section 56.1, found “without lawful excuse” places an evidential burden on the accused, as a “defence” to the charge. Thus, the accused need only point to evidence on the issue to establish an “air of reality”, thus requiring the trier of fact to consider the evidence in determining whether the Crown has proven the case beyond a reasonable doubt. The legal burden remains on the Crown to disprove the lawful excuse beyond a reasonable doubt.

The next issue is what the phrase in the offence “another person” means and whether it must refer to a “real” person, living or dead. In R v Vladescu, 2015 ONCJ 87 (CanLII), whether the identity documents in question related to a “real” person, was the sole issue. The Crown’s evidence did not touch on this aspect and the defence, arguing that proof of this aspect was an essential element of the offence, urged Justice Watson to acquit. Employing, what I would suggest is a questionable approach to statutory interpretation by focusing on the “plain meaning” of “purport” and comments made in one Senate debate on the new section which referenced “fictitious” identity documents, the Court decided that the Crown did not have to prove that the identity document belonged to a “real” person. Justice Watson convicted the accused despite the cogent argument by the defence that the subsection (2) exceptions, particularly the reference to genealogical purposes, suggests a real person. However, the offence of identity fraud under s. 403 uses the phrase “another person, living or dead” which suggests that Parliament, by omitting the phrase “living or dead” did contemplate fictitious identity documents under s. 56.1. Either way, this is an issue open to argument at trial.

In terms of the fault element or the mens rea required for this section. As indicated earlier, one of the ways of committing this offence is by “possession”, which as indicated is defined under section 4(3) of the Criminal Code. Possession requires proof of a high level of subjective mens rea. However, if the Crown relies on the other modes of committing the offence such as transfer or sells, an argument can be made that the intention, although still requiring subjective liability, does not require the high level of mens rea needed for possession. Therefore, recklessness would be sufficient form of mens rea for those situations.

 Finally, it should be mentioned that subsection (4) sets out the possible penalties for committing the offence. Procedurally, the offence can be either an indictable or summary conviction offence and is therefore a dual or hybrid offence. This means the Crown has the option to elect the mode of proceeding. Although proceeding under indictment carries a longer maximum sentence of five years as opposed to the maximum of 6 months imprisonment (and/or maximum fine of $5000.00 if the accused is an individual). Of course, should the Crown elect to proceed by indictment then the accused would have an election to have a trial in either provincial court or in superior court, with or without a preliminary hearing and with or without a jury pursuant to s. 536(2).

 

Episode 50 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Criminal Code Reform and Section 55

Welcome to the fiftieth podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada. I started this project almost four years ago and although my output has slowed down, my commitment to providing you with some insight on every Code section has not changed. In this the fiftieth episode, I would like to generally reflect on the recent proposed changes to the Criminal Code and to specifically discuss the proposed revision to section 55 “Evidence of Overt Acts,” the subject of this podcast.

The new amendments contained in Bill C-51, which received first reading on June 6, 2017, will repeal some of the sections I have discussed in previous podcasts. These are sections which are archaic remnants of the initial 1892 Code and their deletion is welcome. In my opinion, however, repealing sections is not a substitute for badly needed reform of the Code into a readable, understandable and modern reflection of societal fundamental values. Piecemeal revision can lead to anomalous results. It can also lessen public confidence in the criminal justice system. Reform may take time but it is time well spent if the Code is one in which all citizens feel they have had an opportunity to create. I know what I am saying I have said before but, in my view, smart re-visioning of our criminal justice system is a position to be repeated.

Before we discuss section 55, I want to point out that Bill C-51, An Act to amend the Criminal Code and the Department of Justice Act and to make consequential amendments to another Act, also proposes to repeal section 49, Alarming the Queen. I discussed this section in podcast episode 44, which the text of this episode can be accessed here. Fortuitously, we recently used section 49 in a 1L criminal law final exam. A nice send off to an obsolete section, in which the prohibited behaviour could easily form the basis of other charges such as causing a disturbance under s. 175.

Section 55 “Evidence of Overt Acts” rounds out our discussion of the offences falling under the heading “Prohibited Acts” pursuant to Part II Offences Against Public Order. It is not a substantive section, meaning it does not create a criminal offence. Rather the section is, as the headline promises, related to evidentiary proof but in the context of a procedural rule. The section sets out the parameters of the process required to establish an essential element of the prohibited act or actus reus of any of the enumerated offences.

Section 55 presently reads as follows:

In proceedings for an offence against any provision in section 47 or sections 49 to 53, no evidence is admissible of an overt act unless that overt act is set out in the indictment or unless the evidence is otherwise relevant as tending to prove an overt act that is set out therein.

This section will be slightly revised if Bill C-51 passes as presented. The changes are very minimal, deleting the reference to s. 49, as it is repealed, and making slight wording adjustments to make the section more readable. The import of the section remains the same and it will read as follows:

55 In proceedings for an offence against any provision in section 47 or sections 50 to 53, evidence of an overt act is not admissible unless that overt act is set out in the indictment or unless the evidence is otherwise relevant as tending to prove an overt act that is set out in the indictment.

Essentially, the section requires an “overt act” to be specified in an Indictment for any of the offences enumerated in section 55 before the court before will admit evidence of such acts at trial. This requirement to specify an overt act in the Indictment is mirrored by section 581(4) of the Criminal Code, a section relating to the form of the counts in the Indictment and the sufficiency of such counts. Subsection (4) requires that where an accused person is charged with the offences, as enumerated under s. 55, “every overt act that is to be relied upon shall be stated in the indictment.”

Although the above explains why we have this procedural/evidentiary section amongst these criminal offences, questions still remain: what exactly is an “overt act” and why is there such a special procedural concern placed on this type of act for these particular offences? These offences are sections we have already encountered in previous podcast episodes and relate to Part II offences against the public order. Section 55, however, does not refer to all offences under the Part but specifically the punishment for treason, the offence of assisting an alien enemy to leave Canada or failing to prevent treason, the offence of intimidating Parliament or the legislature, and the offence of sabotage. These are offences which directly impact our national security interests and are also offences where the modus operandi might include a conspiracy. It is the offence of conspiracy from which the concept of overt acts is most applicable. In order to examine this connection, let’s try to define an “overt act.”

The phrase “overt act” does not appear in any of the enumerated sections found in section 55 but it is found in section 46, which describes the offence of treason, as opposed to section 47, which merely sets out the punishment. The phrase is also found in section 48, another section relating to the charging limitations for treason, requiring that if the charge is based on “an overt act of treason expressed or declared by open and considered speech” the charging document or Information must set out the overt act and the words and the Information must be laid “under oath before a justice” within 6 days of the time the words were spoken. In terms of the rest of the Criminal Code, the phrase is only used in the previously mentioned section 561. See Episode 43 of these podcasts, where I discuss “overt act” as it relates to sections 46, 47 and 48. As I mentioned earlier, treason and overt acts seem to go hand in hand with conspiracy as a treasonable “overt act” for purposes of the section. The crime of conspiracy, under section 46, is therefore a “manifestation” of the intention to commit high treason or treason as required for section 46(2)(d). As I explained in that previous episode, this treatment or really clarification of an overt act as conspiracy is consistent with the original description of treason under English common law and the 1892 Criminal Code.

Before we discuss the phrase itself, now that we wandered through the Criminal Code looking for an overt act, let’s wander a little bit off the path to find where else the phrase “overt act” appears in legislation. Interestingly, and importantly if you are an agriculturalist in the Maritimes, “overt acts” are referenced in the 1990 Newfoundland Poultry and Poultry Products Act, RSNL 1990, the repealed Prince Edward Island Poultry and Poultry Products Act and the repealed and re-enacted Agricultural Development Act of New Brunswick. In the Newfoundland statute, “overt act” is part of the definition of “ship”, “shipping”, “transport” and “transporting” which are defined as the “overt act of a person leading to the movement” of poultry and poultry products by certain specified means or conveyances. Certainly, not the kind of “overt act” contemplated under s. 55.

Now to the definition. An “overt act” is outward behaviour, which consists of readily ascertainable actions. A good example would be the description of the overt act under section 48 as “expressed or declared by open and considered speech.” We can find other examples from three World War One treason cases. In the first case of R v Snyder (1915), 24 C.C.C. 101 (ONCA), the overt act of treason consisted of the acts of the accused in helping people leave Canada to fight with the “enemy” during World War One such as bringing the people to a farm for purposes of then sending them overseas. Rex v Bleiler, a 1917 decision from the then Alberta Supreme Court (Appellate Division), offers another example of overt acts consisting of attempting to sell a “certain device” to the German Emperor or his agents. The case, sadly, never explains exactly what this device is but the overt acts involved the accused writing letters, recommending the device and offering it for purchase, to the German Ambassador to the United States. In these letters, the accused professes his loyalty to Germany and requests the details of the purchase be done secretly. The final case in the trilogy, is from 1918 decision of the Quebec Court of Appeal in The King v Schaefer, a case I referred to previously in the episode 43 podcast on treason. Of interest is the dissenting decision. The facts of the case suggest the cruel effects of wartime prejudices and the use of treason as punishment for ethnic origin and community loyalties rather than for the protection of the public. The facts are best read as excerpted from the dissent of Mr. Justice Lavergne as follows:

1 Israel Schaefer is a Jew who came to reside in Canada some twenty years ago or more. In the first years of his residence here, he became a British subject being naturalized under the Canadian statutes. In October 1914, he had a family of numerous children brought up here. His principal business since many years was to sell transportation tickets, both steamship and railway tickets. He was known as an industrious and very respectable citizen.
2 In October 1914, he sold transportation tickets from Canada to a port in Bulgaria. Bulgaria, at that time, was not at war with any other part of the British Empire. The number of tickets sold is alleged to have been ten. In addition he is alleged to have provided these ten people with documents to further transportation to the boundary line between Roumania and Austria-Hungary. The ten tickets were not all sold on the same date, but at different dates, in October 1914. This was done by Schaefer in the course of his ordinary business...
4 These people or most of them had come from Bukovina, which country formed part of Roumania and part of Austria. Most of these people, if not all of them, spoke Roumanian Language.
5 Schaefer was only charged with assisting the public enemy, but was only charged with assisting ten persons to leave Canada by selling them steamship tickets to a country not at war with Great Britain.
6 He is also charged with counselling these people to speak the Roumanian language. Another charge of furnishing these people monies was not pressed, was virtually abandoned, no attempt whatever was made to establish that allegation. The persons to whom Schaefer sold tickets having been resident in Canada for a few years were in the position of alien amis, and presumed to have paid local allegiance to our Sovereign. The fact that they were not arrested shows that the authorities did not regard them as offenders.

It was the opinion of the dissenting justice in the case that as the overt acts alleged were not connected to “any hostile intention or action,” the charge of treason must fail. Further, the dissent noted that the Indictment set out the acts of the people who left the country as assisting the enemy, not Schaefer, and there was no allegation of conspiracy. Additionally, there was no evidence these people in any way assisted the enemy other than they spoke the language and wanted to go home. Thus, there could be no inference that the overt act outlined in the Indictment manifested an intention for assisting the enemy or any other such treasonable acts. The majority disagreed and upheld the conviction for treason. In their view the Indictment sufficiently described the overt acts of treason being a treasonable design to assist the enemy and the overt acts in furtherance of it. This case presents quite a differing view of the overt acts and highlights the impact of contextual societal events can have on decision-making.

There are several cases, more recent ones, on the sufficiency of counts in an Indictment and specifically, in the case of a conspiracy charge. Certainly, section 55 could engage a sufficiency argument in the appropriate case and therefore this section, although only related to a few offences against the public order, has a relationship to other procedural sections in the Code. We will get to those sections as we continue our journey through the Criminal Code.

 

 

 

 

Unpacking R v Barton

R v Barton is a bold and intrepid decision. It is not so much a lengthy decision as it is densely packed and nuanced, examining and uncovering layers of issues. It is a case that identifies errors and then offers solutions. It is a decision that exudes the modern principled approach, now a staple in an appellate Court’s analysis of a variety of legal issues from the admission of evidence to the interpretation of statutes. Admittedly, the decision can give the reader a sense of discomfort, the kind of unsettling feeling one gets when being challenged to think differently. The kind of feeling one can have when reading something unexpected. But that does not mean the feeling is unwelcome. In this post, together we will “unpack” or identify some of the salient features of the decision. I will also try to respond to this feeling of discomfort. I caution however that the decision requires much contemplation and measured thought. What I am attempting to do here is to articulate my impressions upon reviewing the decision. I will leave to a later date in a further article an analysis of the myriad of legal issues raised in this decision through a review of precedent and legal principles.

The facts are startling, sad, and familiar. Cindy Gladue, a young Aboriginal woman, was paid sixty dollars by Mr. Barton to perform sex acts. Two interactions occurred over two days and on the second evening, Ms. Gladue died in the bathtub of Mr. Barton’s hotel room. She bled to death from a perforated vaginal wall. At trial, Mr. Barton admitted he had sexual contact with the deceased that evening. He admitted he repeatedly pumped his fist into Ms. Gladue’s vagina at which point she started to bleed. He maintained that he did not intend to harm her and that he was unaware of her condition until he awoke in the morning and found her immobile in the bathtub. In his evidence, he called the incident an “accident”. After finding her in an injurious state, Barton tried to mop up the blood, fled the scene, and discarded the bloody towel, only to return to the hotel room soon thereafter at which point he called 911. His statements after the incident, to both friends and the police, suggested Ms. Gladue came to his hotel room and asked to shower in his washroom, where he found her dead the next morning. At the time, he denied any physical interaction with the deceased. At trial, medical evidence was called on behalf of the Crown and the defence. The Crown’s expert contended the perforation was caused by a sharp object, while the defence expert disagreed and opined that weakness in the vaginal structure was the operating cause of the injury.

The trial was heard before a judge and jury in the early part of 2015 and Mr. Barton was ultimately acquitted. An application was made by the Crown, during the trial, to admit “real” evidence in the form of the vaginal tissue of Ms. Gladue to assist in understanding the evidence of the medical expert who examined the tissue (R v Barton, 2015 ABQB 159 (CanLII)). Real evidence is directly observable by the trier of fact. Like direct testimonial evidence of a witness who has personally observed an event, it does not require the trier of fact to draw an inference from the evidence, should it be accepted. Unlike direct testimonial evidence of a witness, the trier of fact becomes the direct observer, acting, in some sense, as the witness to the event. This act of “direct self-perception” or “autoptic proference” as Wigmore described it (John Henry Wigmore, Evidence in Trials at Common Law, revised by John T. McNaughton (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1961) vol. 4 at 1150), occurs with all real evidence such as photographs, audio and visual recordings, electronic and hard copy communications or the spent cartridges of a firearm. Similarly, application can be made pursuant to section 652 of the Criminal Code, RSC 1985, c C-46  during the course of a jury trial, up until the verdict is rendered, for a “view” of “person, place or thing” located outside of the Courtroom. These direct observations made by the trier of fact become part of the evidence assessed at trial. Often, real evidence or direct observations by the trier can “speak for itself,” such as those spent cartridges but real evidence, in terms of how it fits into the narrative puzzle, is subject to interpretation. Either way, real evidence is admissible at trial if it is relevant and material to the case. Relevancy depends on authenticity. An item that does not reflect its true nature at the time of the incident is worthless and has no probative value. Applications to admit such evidence are usually, therefore, framed in authenticity terms: Is the item unaltered and unchanged? The application, in this instance, was opposed by the defence, not because the tissue was irrelevant or not authentic but because the prejudicial effect of such evidence before the jury would outweigh the probative value. This exclusionary discretion or gatekeeper function of the trial judge is an important safeguard in ensuring a fair trial while ensuring the truth-seeking function of the trial is not inappropriately compromised. This discretion is an example of the balancing done over the course of a trial. In the area of expert evidence, for instance, the trial judge has an ongoing duty to ensure such evidence stays within its scope to ensure trial fairness (White Burgess v Haliburton, 2015 SCC 23 (para 54) and in R v Sekhon, 2014 SCC 15 (para 46)). In this instance, the trial judge admitted the evidence, recognizing the probative value outweighed the prejudicial effect. It was, in the Court’s opinion, evidence to assist the jury in their consideration of the case. The trial judge also reminded the jury to decide the case fairly and dispassionately and not to base the verdict on an emotional response to the evidence. Although, as noted by the Court at paragraphs 127 and 128, standardized cautions to the jury without contextualizing the instruction to the facts of the case are meaningless.

This narrative of the admissibility of the tissue evidence highlights the balancing required throughout the trial in both the admissibility of evidence and the instructions to the jury. But this story of admissibility goes even further than the bounded space of the Courtroom. Ms. Gladue’s family was devastated with the decision to admit the tissue evidence. To the family, it was a decision that required their input and consent to protect Ms. Gladue’s dignity as an Aboriginal woman. To the friends and family of Cindy Gladue, she was “more than a statistic, more than an addict and more than a piece of tissue” (Death and Life of Cindy Gladue by Kathryn Blaze Carlson, May 15, 2015, The Globe and Mail). In the interview for the Globe article, Ms. Gladue’s mother emphasized that Cindy is “still human, she still has a name, not just ‘prostitute’.” This evidentiary application highlights the concern the Court of Appeal has in Barton with the approach this case represents: We in the justice system are attuned to categories of legal issues to which we must respond such as the admissibility of real evidence, the inadmissibility of bad character evidence, the proper use of circumstantial evidence and the correct legal articulation of the substantive law. We are not trained to be mindful of the larger view of the case which involves a self-assessment of how the case, in totality, presents. We are not recognizing that important societal values, some of which are Charter values, must also be reflected in the justice system. This includes the way we refer to a witness as a “prostitute” rather than a “sex worker” or even why that kind of labelling, done throughout the trial by all participants in the case (para 116) is required. We need to constantly ask ourselves when we prepare and present a case, “why”? Why do we need the witness to be called a “prostitute”? How does it advance the case? Is there another way of making our point that does not fall into stereotypes or is the notion simply not required as its sole purpose is just prejudicial and irrelevant? These basic questions are part of the Court of Appeal’s “re-setting” to the modern approach to the contextual appreciation of a case.

The facts of this case do not serve merely as the framework upon which the legal issues are placed but are the essence of this decision. Woven in between these facts are the legal issues, which, to extend the metaphor, become the fabric of our discussion in this post or the “unpacking” of the case. Typically, this term “unpacking” refers to an analytical unfolding of issues that are difficult to ascertain without some sort of roadmap or guide. In essence, “unpacking” suggests an opening up of the folded map or triptych to reveal the whole route. It requires us to also extend ourselves and to examine the big picture. In seeing the whole, we can then consider how these various packets of legal issues fit together to provide the final outcome. But “unpacking” can also mean what it says – that a journey has ended and it’s time to clean out the baggage. We are done but not finished as when we “unpack” we might re-fold in a different or better way or we may clean and re-start again. We may even discard. After reading Barton and after reflecting on it, this post is about both types of “unpacking”. As I have already suggested, we need to ask broader and deeper questions such as: What is the long view of this decision? Where does it lead us? What will it impel us to do?

Admittedly, all of this may seem too existential for a legal blog but as a practitioner and academic, I am enjoying the pure joy of reading a decision which challenges me to set aside a legal response and instead to think about the kind of justice system which appropriately reflects who we are as a society and who we want to be. It sparks a badly needed conversation about our approach to the law and whether it is approachable for all those impacted by it. I can’t say with certainty that I know what the justice system should look like or can look like but I can say that this is something that we all need to be engaged in because change requires hard work and dedication. It also requires all of us to step out of our comfort zone, which cases such as R v Jordan, 2016 SCC 27 (CanLII), and now Barton push us to do. However, change does not mean we give up what is essential to us as a country committed to Charter values. It simply requires us to be mindful of those values in fashioning our justice system. We should not be pressured into cutting corners or rights in the name of expediency. Rather, we should be scrupulous in our desire to see justice done. Complacency or leaving the status quo, be it trial delay or conviction of the innocent, is a dead end to nowhere. Only thought that leads to action makes a difference.

As I first suggested, the Barton decision is nuanced, providing layers of discussion: I suggest at least seven layers which interconnect. Looking at the first layer of the unpacking of issues, there is an overarching theme, which in my mind extends far beyond the case at hand, relating to instructing the jury in a clear, robust and frank manner. We in the legal profession too often rely on the probity of legal nomenclature to get us to where we are going (model jury instructions can be found on the National Judicial Institute website: https://www.nji inm.ca/index.cfm/publications/model-jury-instructions/). Barton reminds us that justice is not only for those in the know but is also for those who really don’t care to know until they are face to face with questions of justice. Clarity of thought, simplicity of explanation, and frank conversation go a long way to inform the non-legal partners in our justice system. To be truthful, this approach goes a long way for those legal minds who are in the know as well. I will call this approach to jury instructions, in legal language, the modern principled approach, which embodies the contextual approach approved of and utilized by the Supreme Court of Canada in other areas of law such as in statutory interpretation (para 21 of Rizzo & Rizzo Shoes Ltd. (Re), 1998 CanLII 837 (SCC)) and in the admissibility of hearsay (see R v Khan, [1990] 2 SCR 531, and R v KGB,[1990] 1 SCR 740 as the foundational cases). This approach is open to doing law differently, within the bounds of legal principles and within the context of the case at hand. To do otherwise would be to detach the decision-making from the unique narrative offered by each case.  

A modern approach to jury instructions sounds grand but in the context of Barton it finds meaning. This is where the Alberta Court of Appeal provides us with guidance and helpful exemplars for the fulfillment of the modern approach. A jury instruction must provide meaningful assistance to the jury by simplifying the complex law on sexual assault while recognizing no two cases are alike. The trial judge’s role is to also “unpack” by unfolding the trial narrative with the concomitant legal issues as they are relevant in the particular case. The trier must ask, is this a case involving consent or no consent? Or is it an issue where consent is given but vitiated? If so, on what basis is there such a vitiation? This deep dive into the facts, this modern contextual approach, requires the trial judge to specifically identify the essential nature of the offence. As discussed throughout Barton, the emphasis in the charge was askew. For example, the focus should not have been on the “application of force” as required for the “assault” element of the offence but on the “sexual activity in question” per s 273.1 of the Criminal Code, which defines consent for the purpose of sexual offences. As recognized in the decision, sex, which is in and of itself a legal activity, is by nature a touching. This case is not one where the accused denied the sexual conduct so the emphasis in the instructions on a finding of an “application of force” was confusing and unhelpful for the jury (para 189). Instead, the focus for the jury should have been on the amount of force used as an aspect of the sexual activity (paras 193, 194).

Creating a jury charge that fits the case is not the only function of this modern jury instruction approach. A modern principled approach requires balance in the instructions to the jury. But balance does not mean the traditional evidential and procedural safeguards are no longer necessary. Instructions on the presumption of innocence and on impermissible inferences must be part of the discourse between trial judge and jury. However, the trial judge, who must remain balanced in thought and impartial in aspect throughout the trial, has a duty to present all evidence in a fair manner. The accused is to be judged on the evidence and not on improper inferences arising from it. In the Barton case, the trial judge admonished the jury to not engage in “reasoning prejudice” or “moral prejudice” that occurs when a trier draws an inference that the accused was a bad person and worthy of conviction because he consorted with an “unsavoury” person, in this case a “Native girl” who was a “prostitute” (para 130). This classic limiting instruction is given to ensure any potential “bad character” evidence, which is presumptively inadmissible, is not used for that impermissible purpose (see R v Mack, [2014] 3 SCR 3; 2014 SCC 58 para 57).  But in this case, the concern to protect the potential “bad character” of the accused was not informed by the gate keeper function of a trial judge that aims to provide balance and fairness into the trial. Here, again, is the problem with the silo approach to law where case approach is embodied by a check-list of issues. By this one-sided appreciation of “prejudice” in this case, as only the accused person’s prejudice, the full meaning of trial fairness, as functionalized by the gate keeper function of the trial judge, was missing.

The missing instruction, according to the Barton Court, was the lack of instruction cautioning the jury to refrain from entering into similar reasoning or moral prejudice in assessing the status of the deceased as a female, Indigenous sex worker. Similar to the instruction regarding the accused, the jury should have been told not to draw the impermissible inference that because the deceased was a “prostitute”, she implicitly consented to all forms of sexual interaction by virtue of her profession (Barton paras 116-132). This connects to the further error, discussed later in this post, relating to the lack of a section 276 application regarding sexual history evidence. The jury would also have benefited from a direction that Ms. Gladue was not less “worthy” as a person because of how she was “labeled” or defined by society as a female, as an indigenous person, and as a sex worker. Defence counsel and Crown counsel in this case should welcome such instruction as it would completely neutralize any suggestion of “bad personhood” on the part of Barton. It would also humanize the case, placing it in real terms. As eloquently referenced in para 128 of the Barton decision, the case is about relationships between race, gender and status. It is also about the trial judge’s relationship with the jury, the relationships between all parties in the case and the relationships between the justice system and the community. These relationships are at the core of the criminal justice system. They are based on trust and confidence. In these relationships we expect a “fair” trial not a “fixed” one as emphasized by the Court of Appeal in Barton (at para 262).

This kind of instruction, I suggest, is also consistent with the Supreme Court of Canada’s position on the editing or excising of an accused person’s criminal record in R v Corbett, [1988] 1 SCR 670, 1988 CanLII 80 (SCC). There, the Court considered the prejudicial effect of placing an accused’s criminal record before the jury in a situation where the accused will testify, and the resultant moral and reasoning prejudice which may arise from the accused person’s prior criminal convictions. The concern is two-fold; that the jury will find that the accused is a bad person who has a propensity to commit crimes, and therefore likely committed the present crime and is therefore worthy of punishment and that such a prior record could distract the jury from their duty to determine guilt or innocence on the basis of the evidence before them. Although the Corbett Court recognized the discretion of the trial judge to edit or excise a criminal record to ensure trial fairness, Chief Justice Dickson cautioned that such application must not result in a “serious imbalance” where the Crown witnesses may also have previous convictions and where, as a result, their credibility is attacked (Corbett para 34). This requires the judge to look at the context of the case or the long view of the facts which would be before the jury to ensure the case was not reimagined unfairly and that the truth-seeking function of the Court remained intact. This application is an example of the exclusionary discretion or gatekeeper function of the trial judge I mentioned earlier in this post in which the focus is on trial fairness. The Alberta Court of Appeal in Barton was applying the same reasoning in calling for a more balanced and contextual approach in the jury charge.  

The second layer of issues in the case, which flow from the general concern with the jury instructions, are the numerous specific “traditional” legal errors in the charge identified by the Court. I am labeling these issues as “traditional” as they are the kind of legal errors in instructing a jury one regularly argues on a murder appeal. Here too, I would suggest, the errors are connected. For instance, as I will explain further, the misdirection and non-direction to the jury on the use to be made of the post-offence conduct is related to the misdirection on the “defence” of accident. In turn, these errors are compounded by the misdirection in the charge on unlawful act manslaughter and the inadequate charge on the two potential pathways (standard and Jobidon related as I will discuss later in the post) to manslaughter. I caution again that the purpose of this post is not to thoroughly discuss the legal niceties of these errors. These errors, however, serve to highlight the entanglement of issues found in this case.

Post-offence conduct must be approached by the trier of fact with caution to ensure such potentially damning evidence is considered in its proper context (see R v White, [1998] 2 SCR 72, 1998 CanLII 789 (SCC)). There are instances where an accused person’s actions after the incident “look suspicious” but are in fact consistent with an innocent explanation. Of course, it is within the purview of the trier of fact to accept or reject evidence and to determine the weight, if any, to place on evidence. However, as with impermissible character evidence, the trier of fact should not be concerned with evidence that has no probative value and merely distracts the jury from its duty to fairly and objectively assess the evidence. The concern with post offence conduct is the potential illogical “leap in logic” which can occur should the trier unreasonably infer guilt from evidence that merely “looks bad”. This does not mean that such evidence is presumptively inadmissible. On the contrary, post-offence conduct can be useful circumstantial evidence of guilt, of motive and of credibility, as noted by the Alberta Court of Appeal in Barton (paras 57-75). The misdirection and non-direction on the use of such evidence in Barton impacted the jury instructions on Mr. Barton’s position that what happened was an accident, as his “innocent explanation” seemed to negate a proper instruction on the use to be made of the post-offence conduct (paras 63-69).

The Court in Barton raises the “elephant in the room” concern, which is whether “accident” is a positive defence the jury will be specifically instructed to consider like self defence or duress (paras 184-293). Of course, such an instruction would only be given if the defence has an “air of reality.” This test requires the trial judge to determine “whether there is evidence on the record upon which a properly instructed jury acting reasonably could acquit.” (R v Cinous, [2000] 2 SCR 3 paras 47 to 57) Without entering into a thorough discussion here on that issue, put simply, the Barton Court finds that there is no self-contained “defence” of accident as such a position merely negates the essential elements of a crime, be it actus reus or mens rea. Further, the characterization of the defence as “pure accident” in the charge (para 287) was inconsistent with Mr. Barton’s admission at trial that he repeatedly and forcibly entered Ms. Gladue’s vagina with his fist. I would add that even if “accident” is a “defence,” it is arguable whether, on the evidence, the defence had any “air of reality” such that it was properly placed for consideration before the jury. Further, this emphasis on “accident,” as it is mentioned enhances the error in misdirecting the jury on post offence conduct and on the mens rea for unlawful act manslaughter, which is based on an objective foresight of bodily harm per R v DeSousa, [1992] 2 SCR 944, 1992 CanLII 80 (SCC), and R v Creighton, [1993] 3 SCR 3, 1993 CanLII 61 (SCC). Additionally, the lack of direction on the objective dangerousness of Barton’s actions in the context of a manslaughter charge is in and of itself worthy of appellate intervention.

These “traditional” errors also led to the third layer of legal errors to be unpacked relating to the law of sexual assault, now so sadly prevalent in the appellate courts. These errors impact the substantive instructions on the law of murder and manslaughter, as the element of sexual assault causing bodily harm is integral to a proper understanding of the homicide instruction. This layer takes us back to the beginning as it reveals the fragility of the model jury instructions, the weaknesses inherent in a categorical “check list” approach rather than the modern contextual holistic approach, and the lack of a “humanity litmus test”, which reminds us that this case is about real people, whose voices (or lack thereof in Ms Gladue’s case) are being heard by real people. This set of errors impacts how we generally and traditionally approach the law of sexual assault but also reminds us of the need to step back and look at the case we are presenting and ask ourselves those “why” questions. For the Crown and the defence those “why” questions should be in the context of their theme/theory, strategic decisions including the thought processes on how to present the best and most effective case before the jury that promotes trial fairness. The Court in Barton identified legal errors in the instructions on the law of sexual assault but also in the manner in which the law of sexual assault was presented as part of a “boiler plate” or “fossilized” (para 8) instruction (paras 173-258).

This misdirection in the charge was preceded by and imbued with the missing procedure under s 276 of the Criminal Code or what is known as the “rape shield” law (paras 85-153 of Barton and for further discussion see R v Seaboyer;R v Gayme, [1991] 2 SCR 577). Again, this fourth layer of error relates to the admissibility of evidence that may lead to impermissible, prejudicial, and illogical inferences. Section 276 prohibits evidence whose sole purpose is to perpetuate the “twin myths” (para 89) relating to sexual assault complainants that prior sexual conduct, including being a “prostitute,” means consent was present at the time of the offence and that prior sexuality is a form of “bad personhood” making such a person of “loose morals” less credible. This prohibition is to ensure trial fairness and balance. The same balance that requires the instructing judge to remind the jury that Ms. Gladue, like all people in the justice system—the accused, the lawyers, the witnesses—must be treated with dignity and respect. A person is not to be “judged” by race, sexual orientation, gender or profession.

An application to use prior sexual history evidence for purposes other than the prohibited twin myths relating to consent and credibility is required whenever the accused is tried on a sexual assault charge. However, s 276 does not specifically reference homicide, which requires, according to s 222(5), an unlawful act. Such an unlawful act can be sexual assault or as in this case, sexual assault causing bodily harm. The Barton Court interprets the s 276 requirement that the application is engaged “in proceedings in respect of an offence” as including a homicide, where the underlying act is a sexual offence. This interpretation, using the modern approach as defined by Rizzo & Rizzo Shoes Ltd. (Re), [1998] 1 SCR 27, 1998 CanLII 837 (SCC), is consistent with the purpose and objective of the section. To interpret it otherwise would present an absurdity and would be contrary to Parliamentary intention in creating the protection under s 276. The section provides a mechanism whereby the accused can apply to have such evidence admitted if it is connected to a relevant matter that goes beyond the realm of myth and is needed for fair trial purposes and to fulfill the accused’s right to full answer and defence under s 7 of the Charter.

The fifth area to unpack is the obiter comments found in the reasons. There are three areas of concern involving, as already discussed, whether there is a recognized stand-alone “defence” of accident (paras 284-293), the use of public policy in defining or confining consent pursuant to Jobidon, and a call for clarification of the “reasonable steps” requirement for mistaken belief in consent under s 273.2(b). All three of these concerns are valid and worth investigating, particularly the continuing struggle to reconcile R v Jobidon, [1991] 2 SCR 714, 1991 CanLII 77 (SCC), with the much-changed legal landscape on the matter of consent since its release 26 years ago (paras 301-310 and for further discussion see my previous post on Jobidon). Again, these discussions require a detailed response for a later date, however, I would like to acknowledge the pressing issue of the clarification of the “reasonable steps” requirement as raised in Barton (paras 294-300). Section 273.2 enumerates situations where the accused in a sexual assault case cannot rely on the defence of mistake of fact in consent.  Under subsection (b) the mistaken belief in consent defence is unavailable where the accused does not take reasonable steps to ascertain consent. Soon after the release of Barton, the Supreme Court of Canada released R v George, 2017 CanLII 24267 (SCC), involving a charge of sexual interference under s 151 where the accused was 35 years of age and the complainant was 14 and a half years old. Section 150.1(4) of the Criminal Code prohibits a mistake of age defence unless the accused took “all reasonable steps”. In the George case, the Court found that where there is an air of reality to the defence of mistake of fact, the burden is on the Crown to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that either the accused did not honestly believe the complainant was at least 16 or the accused did not take all reasonable steps to ascertain the age of the complainant. Considering the similarity in wording with s 273.2, as recognized by the Barton Court, this obiter issue, which was not raised in the Barton appeal, becomes even more pressing to consider (para 294).

The sixth unpacking involves the notion of appellate review of an acquittal. Section 676(1) of the Criminal Code confines an appeal against acquittal by the Attorney General to a question of law alone. This limitation arises from the core values of our justice system. As articulated by Justice Wilson in the majority decision of R v B(G) [1990] 2 SCR 57, 1990 CanLII 115 (SCC) at 66, the restricted appellate review “reflects the fundamental principle that an accused is presumed to be innocent until proved guilty by proof beyond a reasonable doubt”. In B(G), Justice Wilson reviewed what the term “question of law” entails. Although factual errors alone, as in an unreasonable verdict or sufficiency of the evidence, would not amount to a question of law, a misapprehension of fact could be if it amounted to a misdirection on the law (pages 70-72). Throughout Barton, the Court is careful to characterize the errors as irreversible misdirections and non-directions of law.

As raised earlier in this post, the recent Supreme Court of Canada George decision may have an impact on the obiter legal issues raised by the Court in Barton on the clarification of the “reasonable steps” requirement for a defence of an honest belief in consent under s 273.2(b) of the Criminal Code. George was a case of an appeal against acquittal and it is the comments on the jurisdiction of appellate review of an acquittal, which may pose further discussion points in the review of the Barton decision. For the appellate Court to intervene in an appeal against an acquittal, there must be an error in law and that error must materially impact the not guilty verdict. The threshold for such materiality is quite high. There must be at least an error that with a “reasonable degree of certainty” has a material effect (George para 27). In paras 6 and 52 of the Barton decision, the Court suggests the identified legal errors “might reasonably” have a material bearing on the outcome, which could suggest too low of a threshold. However, later in the reasons the Court clearly finds the specific legal errors did have a material bearing on the acquittal. In any event, although it might seem like semantics, I could see an argument made on a further appeal that the threshold they used was too low. Additionally, the Court in George discussed the concern with conflating what are factual issues with legal issues, whereby the “legal” errors are actually factual ones (George para 17). Again, it would be difficult to suggest the Barton Court entered into the same error. 

A final comment to make, the seventh unpacking, is a connection I see with some of the research I have been doing on the evolving role of the trial judge in a criminal case as the trier of fact, the arbiter of the law, and the gate keeper and guardian of the courts, and the impact the sense of community or societal values is having on this “enhanced” version of the trial judge. I jokingly refer to the new and improved vision of the trial judge as “gate keeper on steroids” but really a trial judge does not sit alone but sits in the heart of the community of justice. It is the relationship or connection between all individuals in the criminal justice system which interests me and which I believe profoundly impacts the way the courts impart justice. It also, in my view, explains why we are now struggling, in an existential way, with our conceptions of what the justice system should be. Cases like Barton, Jordan and even older cases such as R v Anthony-Cook, [2016] 2 SCR 204, 2016 SCC 43 (CanLII), R v St-Cloud, [2015] 2 SCR 328, 2015 SCC 27 (CanLII), and R v Lacasse, [2015] 3 SCR 1089, 2015 SCC 64 (CanLII), signal a new modern approach to criminal law. If this is so, then we need to be prepared to answer the issues raised in those cases, to be modern in our aspect and approach while continually ensuring the fundamental values embodied in our presumption of innocence and fair trial principles are not diminished and remain central to that modern approach.

The Barton decision is fresh and challenging. It will impact, not only the re-trial of this case but also future cases and has already been cited in a recent Alberta Court of Appeal decision (R v ARD, 2017 ABCA 237 at para 57). We are put off balance by the intricacies offered by the decision but then only until we re-adjust to a new balance. The unpacking we have just undertaken is a step toward discussion and review of what has been done in the past and whether the past can be a jumping off point that, as the Court recommends in Barton, allows for a “re-setting” to the modern approach.

 

 

The Delicate Balance of Sentencing: The Application of the Totality Principle in Regulatory Offences

Chief Justice Lamer succinctly described the sentencing process and the sentencing judge’s role in that process in R v M(CA), [1996] 1 SCR 500 (CanLII):

The determination of a just and appropriate sentence is a delicate art which attempts to balance carefully the societal goals of sentencing against the moral blameworthiness of the offender and the circumstances of the offence, while at all times taking into account the needs and current conditions of and in the community. The discretion of a sentencing judge should thus not be interfered with lightly. (at para 91)

In the recent split decision of the Alberta Court of Appeal in Alberta (Health Services) v Bhanji, the court considered the “delicate” balance needed in determining a fit global sentence in quasi-criminal or regulatory offences where the only sanction available is a monetary one. Specifically, in Bhanji, the penalty provision in section 73 of the Public Health Act, RSA 2000, c P-37 was at issue. However, in an arena where public safety is paramount and sanctioning limited, this “delicate” balance is difficult to maintain. Indeed, the response tends to be a pure mathematical exercise, an apportioning of blame through numbers.  The Bhanji decision is an excellent reminder that regulatory behavior does matter and that sentencing is not mere number crunching, nor is it simply “the cost of doing business” (at para 17). Rather, regulatory sanctioning must be an even-handed reflection of society’s disapprobation for public welfare misconduct. In an era where the health and welfare of the “community” is becoming increasingly more important to societal well-being and sustainability, regulatory responses must keep pace with this priority.

The facts of Bhanji describe an all too familiar scenario. The motel at issue in the case was owned by a married couple through a closely held numbered corporation. The motel was part of a family inheritance and the couple, who did not live in the area, employed a manager for the property. The facility was inspected by public health officials and on June 6, 2011 the corporation was ordered to repair the facility, which was in a derelict condition, posing public health and safety hazards. Renovation work was started but some long-term residents remained on site despite the poor condition. The remedial repair efforts continued for a lengthy period, causing the health officials to issue an Order for closure of the motel on June 8, 2012. Finally, on October 4, 2012, the corporation, the couple, and their seventy-two-year-old uncle, who was helping with the renovations, were charged with 144 offences under the Public Health Act covering the period from June 27, 2011 to September 6, 2013. During some of the time covered in the Information, although the facility was not in compliance with the Act, there were no real risks to the public as there were no residents (at para 17).

The offences were narrowly framed, pertaining to several specific violations in each motel unit. Many of the offences overlapped by relating to similar violations for closely connected items of disrepair. For instance, two charges for the same unit engaged the same issue of bathroom disrepair and involved the same problem, a lack of proper waterproofing of the shower/bath area: one offence was a failure to maintain the wooden shower frame and the other offence alleged inadequate caulking. Every individual motel unit which suffered the same deficiency was the subject of a separate charge. In the majority’s view, this type of “doubling up” of charges resulted in “over charging” for the number of offences arising out of the same transaction and the number of closely related parties charged (at para 76).

The sentencing principles engaged in the regulatory sentencing process would be familiar to any criminal lawyer making sentencing submissions in the criminal courts. Section 3 of the Provincial Offences Procedure Act, RSA 2000, c P-34 incorporates applicable Criminal Code provisions, to the extent the provisions are not inconsistent with the Act or regulations, effectively importing the “Purpose and Principles of Sentencing” as found in sections 718 to 718.2. Of note, and not referenced in Bhanji is a further sentencing section, 718.21, added to the Code in 2003, on factors to consider in sentencing an “organization.” The term “organization” is defined under section 2 of the Code and includes a “body corporate” or any business association such as a company or partnership. I will return to these sentencing factors later in this post. The section that is discussed in Bhanji is the fundamental sentencing principle as codified under section 718.1, that “a sentence must be proportionate to the gravity of the offence and the degree of responsibility of the offender.”

This key concept of proportionality is central to the Bhanji decision as it directly engages the further sentencing concept of “totality.” The concept of totality, arising both from common law and statute, requires that the global or total sentence imposed on an accused, or in the regulatory sense, the defendant, must not be, in the words of section 718.2(c) of the Criminal Code “unduly long or harsh.” This sentencing concern was at issue in Bhanji as multiple parties were charged with multiple offences resulting in a total fine of some magnitude. The four defendants entered a plea of guilty to count one in the Information, which was an offence of failing to comply with the remedial work orders for 801 days pursuant to section 73(2) of the Act. Under that provision, an offender is liable to a fine of not more than $100 for each day of non-compliance, resulting in a potential maximum fine for each of the defendants of $80,100. Considering the close relationship of the defendants, the Bhanji family would be liable for a maximum fine of $320,400 on that count. The defendant corporation entered pleas of guilty to 40 of the further 143 charges with each charge having a maximum fine of $2000, amounting to a total maximum fine of $80,000 for the 40 offences. These further counts related to specific deficiencies identified in the original inspection. There was, therefore, an overlapping of the actus reus or prohibited acts, as delineated in these original violations, with count one, which was the failure to comply with the subsequent order to remediate those deficiencies. The total potential fine for all counts and for all defendants was $400,400.

At the sentencing hearing, the prosecutor urged the trial judge to impose a global monetary penalty that was not simply “a cost of doing business” and reflected the sentencing principle of deterrence (at para 9). The prosecutor grouped the 41 offences into three categories: general maintenance issues, items relating to public health, and more serious violations involving risks to the safety or lives of the guests and tenants. On count one, where the maximum global fine would be $320,400, the prosecutor submitted the “starting point” would be half the amount or $160,200 divided evenly between the four defendants, $40,050 per defendant (at para 10). For the remainder of the corporate convictions, the prosecutor suggested the maximum fine for the seven offences in the most serious category and the balance of the offences should attract a fine of $1000 each, again 50% of the maximum, for a total fine of $47,000. In real terms this would be a global fine of $207,200.

The defendants’ counsel, who acted for all four parties, submitted that the penalty should consider the defendants’ actions to remediate and should recognize that for a part of the period of non-compliance, the facility was without tenants. Counsel also identified the potential for “over-charging” through multiple counts against multiple closely related parties. Additionally, the motel, due to its poor state, was not profitable. In other words, the fines would not be merely a “cost of doing business” but would be a very real penalty to the defendants. Counsel submitted the fine on count one should be $2500 for Mr. and Mrs. Bhanji and $1000 for the uncle. For the corporation, the global fine should be $52,250 with a “global discount” for totality, bringing it down to $22,250. The final amount for all defendants would be $28,250, close to 14% of the fine suggested by the prosecutor.

The sentencing judge acknowledged that the sentencing principles engaged in the case involved deterrence, proportionality and totality. On count one, involving non-compliance with remedial work orders, the court imposed $20,000 fines on Mr. and Mrs. Bhanji separately and a $3000 fine on the uncle. The corporation was fined $50,000 plus the maximum fine of $2000 for seven of the most serious breaches and $1000 for each of the remaining 33 charges for a total of $97,000. The global fine for all counts on all defendants equaled $140,000 (at paras 18-19).

On appeal the Summary Conviction Appeal Judge found that the global fine, based on precedent, was not proportionate to the gravity of the offence and the culpability of the various offenders and that therefore the sentencing judge had imposed an unfit sentence (at para 21). Further, the sentencing judge failed to appreciate the mitigating factors that the defendants were not in flagrant or deliberate violation of the work orders and that the motel was empty for much of the non-compliance period. Additionally, although the sentencing judge referred to the correct sentencing principles, there was no indication of how the judge applied the concept of totality to the global fine. Ultimately, the sentence as it stood was unduly harsh and excessive.

The Summary Conviction Appeal Judge allowed the appeal, reduced the sentence on count one to $5000 each to Mr. and Mrs. Bhanji and $25,000 to the corporation, the entity primarily responsible for the offences. For the 40 corporate offences, the sentence was reduced to $25,000. The total fine on all defendants was $63,000. The appeal judge did not adjust the global amount further as the sentence, globally, was fit and appropriate in the circumstances.

Leave to appeal this sentence to the Court of Appeal was permitted on a narrow basis, which the majority called “unfortunate” (at para 31), as it was based on a specific question of law. The question on appeal asked the court to consider the approaches to the application of totality in two previous Alberta Summary Conviction Appeal decisions, R v Goebel, 2003 ABQB 422 (CanLII) and R v 50737 Alberta Ltd, 2009 ABQB 476 (CanLII) to determine if they “overlap, compete with, or duplicate each other, so that full application of both may improperly overcompensate or double deduct for totality” (at para 29). The majority decided that to adequately answer this question, the court needed to consider the broad implications of applying totality in regulatory sentencing where a fine was imposed.

In Goebel, Justice Slatter, who was then on the Court of Queen’s Bench and was a member of the majority in Bhanji, overturned the sentence as the sentencing judge inappropriately imposed a global sentence based on the “condition of the building” as opposed to imposing a fit sentence on each count and then adjusting for totality. In effect, the sentencing judge erred as he imposed a sentence without regard to the nature and severity of the breach. The court found that the approach of the sentencing judge to sentence globally was “not an appropriate way of initially setting a sentence in the case of multiple convictions on multiple counts” (Goebel at para 86). The appropriate approach, according to Justice Slatter, was to impose an appropriate sentence for each count and then to review the global sentence to ensure it was not unduly harsh or excessive. As the sentencing judge “never turned his mind to the appropriate sentence for each count” and gave no “express reasons” for the decision, the matter was remitted to the sentencing court to do so (Goebel at para 89). It should be noted that the offender in Goebel was an individual charged with several Public Health Act violations, some of which were failures to comply with work orders (Goebel at paras 83-84). This case did not engage concerns with sentencing closely-related multi-parties with overlapping multi-charges.

The sentencing approach and the type of defendant in R v 50737 Alberta Ltd. were much different than in Goebel and more akin to the scenario in Bhanji. There, Justice Burrows was reviewing the sentence of three closely-related defendants, a husband and wife and a closely held corporation, for 54 violations of the Public Health Act. The sentencing judge applied the approach recommended by Justice Slatter in Goebel but, according to Justice Burrows, imposed demonstrably unfit sentences in relation to some of the counts by failing to consider multiple charges arising from the same breach in multiple housing units, namely guardrails not to code and deteriorating concrete. It was therefore an error to impose the same fine for each count of the same violation even before consideration of totality of the sentence. In Justice Burrows’ view, “the moral blameworthiness of a violation in respect of 15 balconies is not 15 times the moral blameworthiness of a violation in respect of one balcony when all violations occur at the same time” (50737 at para 33). Instead, the sentencing judge, in considering the totality principle, should have considered a graduated fine for the multiple charges based on the same prohibited act and arising from multiple units (50737 at paras 35-38).

In effect, Justice Burrows considered these type of offences as engaging the criminal law concept of ordering sentences of imprisonment on multiple charges to be served at the same time or concurrently. By employing this power, the sentencing court, in a criminal case, ensures the global sentence adheres to the principle of totality. The imposition of concurrent terms is particularly appropriate where multiple charges arise from the same subject matter or the same series of events. In the regulatory field, where often a monetary penalty is the only sanctioning option, as in the Public Health Act, fines cannot be imposed concurrently but can be imposed pursuant to the spirit of that concept by utilizing graduated fines for similar offences. In R v Great White Holdings Ltd., 2005 ABCA 188 (CanLII), Justice Côté commented on this anomaly and emphasized the duty on the court to review the sentence for its global cogency, especially when arising out of the same set of facts (paras 26, 29). Not only can fines not be imposed concurrently, but they must also be paid as a global amount. Totality is therefore a controlling feature of sentencing fine-only offences where there are multiple counts.

Additionally, the Public Health Act contemplates fine-only penalties within a very specific range. In criminal sanctioning, the options for sentencing an individual offender are varied, providing for a range of sentencing options and for the imposition of a combination of those options. For instance, under section 734(1) of the Criminal Code, a court can order a fine in addition to another sentencing option such as probation or imprisonment. Under section 735, an organization, when convicted of a summary conviction offence, is subject to a maximum fine of one hundred thousand dollars, in lieu of imprisonment. As an aside, traditionally, there were few sentencing options for a corporation convicted of a criminal offence other than monetary sanctions, however the Code amendments which came into force in 2004 provided for the imposition of probation orders on offender organizations. The conditions of these orders can have a profound impact on the corporate culture of an organization by requiring the establishment of “policies, standards and procedures” to reduce the likelihood of further offences (see section 732.1(3.1)(b) of the Criminal Code). For more discussion of these changes in the Code, read A Plain Language Guide to Bill C-45 – Amendments to the Criminal Code Affecting the Criminal Liability of Organizations.

Although criminal law principles are applicable, the court recognized that there are very real differences between regulatory and criminal offences, which must modify the general sentencing approach to proportionality and totality (at para 32). Regulatory offences are not constitutionally required to be full mens rea offences. The presumptive mens rea for regulatory offences, per R v Sault Ste Marie, [1978] 2 SCR 1299 (CanLII), is strict liability, a form of civil negligence. This parliamentary presumptive intention can be rebutted by Parliament in favour of absolute liability, requiring a “no fault” element. However, in accordance with section 7 of the Charter and our principles of fundamental justice, an absolute liability offence is only viable where there is no potential loss of liberty. In other words, where the penalty is fine-only. The fact, therefore, that the public health sanctioning system is purely monetary may suggest that these offences require no proof of a blameworthy state of mind or even no inference of such a fault requirement from the proof of the prohibited act. The concept of proportionality then, that the sanction be consistent with the gravity of the offence and the blameworthiness of the offender, may not have the same gravitas as in the case of an offence where an element of fault is required. However should the offender facing an absolute liability offence have an intention to commit the offence or, in other words, be found blameworthy, that would certainly be a factor aggravating the sentence.

In R v Maghera, 2016 ABQB 50 (CanLII), Justice Jeffrey commented on this aspect of sentencing for absolute liability regulatory offences. The defendant in that case entered pleas of guilty to offences under the Alberta Fair Trading Act, RSA 2000, c F-2, which did attract penalties of incarceration. Nevertheless, Justice Jeffrey noted that “typically the degree of moral blameworthiness will be less than in criminal offences, as will be also the gravity of the offence” (Maghera at para 12). On that basis, there is a different approach to regulatory sentencing which does not require proof of a blameworthy state of mind. The primary sentencing objective in those cases is the “balancing” of “competing considerations in favor of rehabilitation of the offender and protection of the public” (Maghera at para 13). This shift, from individual interests to public interests or from denunciation to the protection of the public from harm, is in a sense the hallmark of a regulatory offence as opposed to a criminal one. It is the consequences of the behavior being sanctioned as opposed to the culpability of the offender being punished. However, the more serious the regulatory offence, as evidenced by the fault requirement, which in turn is proportionate to the possible punishment, the closer that regulatory behaviour comes to criminal law. In the end, much regulatory behaviour, as in the Public Health Act, is concerned with the potential or risk of harm as opposed to actual harm. Sentencing for risk or the potentialities of the conduct is inherent in much regulatory sanctioning (Maghera at para 14).  

The majority in Bhanji found no inconsistency between the Goebel and 50737 decisions. In their view, each case applied the same principles but in differing fact situations. In sentencing, a judge could use either or both approaches depending on the case providing the judge did not “double count” or use totality as a double deduction of the appropriate sentence (at para 78). The majority goes further to give an excellent survey of the sentencing principles to be employed in the case (at para 79). This paragraph gives clear direction for sentencing in this area where totality is engaged.

To elucidate the principle of totality and the approaches used, the majority referred to some previous Alberta Court of Appeal decisions in criminal cases but did not refer to their most recent decision, R v Meer, 2016 ABCA 368 (CanLII). Coincidentally, Justice Watson, the other member of the Bhanji majority, was a member of this panel. Although it was a criminal case, the appellant in Meer argued that the appropriate approach in a case of multiple charges, some of which are related factually, is to group those offences into like categories and then apply the totality principle on each group or category of offences. Then, the sentencing judge, as a “last look,” should review the total global sentence imposed to ensure the global sentence is appropriate. This requirement for an “intermediate totality adjustment” was soundly rejected by the Court of Appeal (Meer at paras 17-19). However, the court did find the sentencing judge erred by not applying the statutory totality requirement under section 718.2(c) of the Code as required in the earlier Alberta Court of Appeal decision of R v May, 2012 ABCA 213 (CanLII), (at paras 13-14), a decision which is referenced in Bhanji.

In the May decision, and as echoed in Bhanji, totality engages the principles of proportionality and of restraint (see R v Proulx, [2000] 1 SCR 61 (CanLII), at para 90, Lamer CJ), both of which must be balanced, indeed “delicately” balanced, in arriving at a just and appropriate sentence. Restraint, returning to Chief Justice Lamer in M(CA), is an underlying tenet of our sanctioning system which tempers the potentially heavy hand of retributive justice by fashioning a fair and human sentence which “invigorates” (see May at para 14) public confidence in the justice system and thereby is consistent with the community’s sense of justice. The comments in Proulx are specifically directed to incarceration as the “last” resort as recognized under section 718.2(d). The sentencing judge, although not required to apply intermediate totality, was required to apply totality globally. In M(CA) Chief Justice Lamer explains the purpose of totality is “to ensure that the cumulative sentence rendered does not exceed the overall culpability of the offender” (at para 42). In this paragraph, Lamer CJ approves of the description of totality as requiring “a sentencer who has passed a series of sentences, each properly calculated in relation to the offence for which it is imposed and each properly made consecutive in accordance with the principles governing consecutive sentences, to review the aggregate sentence and consider whether the aggregate sentence is ‘just and appropriate’.”.

However, the Bhanji majority does refer to the case of R v Elliot, 2012 ABCA 214 (CanLII), on the totality issue. Elliot is not referenced in the Meer case but is a decision rendered on behalf of the court by Justice O’Ferrall, the dissenter in Bhanji, as a Memorandum from the Bench. Of interest, Justice Watson, a member of the majority in Bhanji, was also on the Elliot panel. In Elliot, Justice O’Ferrall, for the court, outlines the totality approach to multiple counts, again, as consistent with the earlier case of Goebel and the later decision of Meer (at para 7). Individual sentences must be fit and appropriate, then the court considers which sentences should be concurrent or consecutive based on similarities in the fact situation, and then a final review of the global sentence to ensure compliance with section 718.2(c). If the global sentence is unduly long or harsh, then the judge should reduce the individual sentence, even though in isolation the sentence is fit, or direct that some consecutive sentences be served concurrently. I would add to this discussion that the court in determining concurrent sentences must also be mindful of the direction under section 718.3(4)) to consider imposing consecutive terms under certain circumstances, including where the offences do not arise out of the same series of events or where the accused was on judicial release at the time an offence was committed or where the offences were committed while fleeing from police. The clear tension between the approach to totality and this statutory requirement suggests that sentencing judges must clearly and explicitly articulate how they are crafting a sentence where totality is an issue.

In the end, the majority, after a thorough discussion of the relevant sentencing principles engaged in the case and after due consideration of the aggravating and mitigating circumstances, found the Summary Conviction Appeal Court Judge did not error in overturning the sentencing judge’s disposition and reducing the global fines (at paras 21, 24). Nor did they find, as urged by the appellant, that the appellate judge “double counted” or improperly applied totality concepts in imposing the individual sentences and in the final “last look” (at para 76). As discussed above, the majority was not satisfied that in the unique circumstances of regulatory sentencing, where there is no option to impose concurrent sentences, and where there is a suggestion the offences “overlap” both factually and by relationship of offenders, the original sentence was globally appropriate. The sentencing judge did not merely fail to adequately compensate for totality, the judge also failed to adequately consider the mitigating features of the offence as well as the multi-party/multi-offences conundrum (at para 76). The Summary Conviction Appeal Judge therefore properly reconsidered the matter by considering all relevant sentencing principles.

The dissent of Justice O’Ferrall offers a different perspective, finding there was no error in principle made by the sentencing judge and that effectively the Summary Conviction Appeal Judge substituted his own opinion on a sentence in which there was no clear error. The dissent does not share the multi-party totality concerns that the majority found to be engaged. Indeed, Justice O’Ferrall questions whether the principles of totality as conceived in criminal law even have a place in the regulatory context when monetary fines are the norm (at paras 85, 94, 108, 109). Neither the approach in Goebel nor in 50737 Alberta Ltd., in Justice O’Ferrall’s opinion, was therefore applicable. There was no “discretion” to forgive any of the 801 days of non-compliance and the sentence should reflect that. In finding the original penalty fit, Justice O’Ferrall viewed the aggravating and mitigating features of the case in a much different light than the Summary Conviction Appeal Judge and the majority decision. His position emphasizes the regulatory nature of the sentencing and the overarching objective of regulation to, in the words of Justice Blair of the Ontario Court of Appeal decision in R v Cotton Felts Ltd, (1982), 2 CCC (3d) 287, “enforce regulatory standards by deterrence.” The complexities of sentencing are further reinforced by the special nature of organizations and those peculiar factors that must be considered in sentencing such an offender as evidenced by the Criminal Code sentencing factors in section 718.21. However, it should be noted that some of those factors are more applicable to a large corporation, one less closely held than the case at bar.

The Bhanji decision, despite its specific application, does remind us of the difficulties in crafting an appropriate sentence in any area of criminal or quasi-criminal law. The disjunction between the majority and dissent decisions exemplifies the inherent obstacles found in the “delicate art” of sentencing and helps explain the panoply of decisions, at all level of courts, on the proper approach to those principles. This “delicate” balance of sentencing becomes more fragile and at risk when a confluence of common law and statutory sentencing principles is engaged. In Bhanji, there are issues of proportionality, totality, consecutive terms, multi-parties, multitude of counts, corporations, and closely related offenders superimposed on the strictures of regulatory liability and regulatory sanctioning. In the end, the sentencing judge’s “last look” must, colloquially, “do the right thing.” But how? How does a court reflect society’s desire to protect with the law’s commitment to principle? Do we simply graft onto the regulatory process the punitive sanctioning principles from criminal law and from those principles craft regulatory principles consistent with the uniqueness of the regulatory arena as a quasi-criminal process? Is that even simply done? These are in fact the difficult issues at the heart of the Bhanji case.

Although the court in Bhanji is rightly concerned with this delicate balance, when reading through this case and the other cases engaged in this issue, one realizes that perhaps, as suggested by Justice O’Ferrall’s dissent, this “last look” loses meaning when applied to the regulatory field. To be sure, the courts have it right in terms of principle but the ultimate question may engage whether those principles themselves are appropriate considering the heightened importance of regulation and the deepening moral values we attach to proper regulatory conduct. There is a tension there between what we once thought regulatory behaviour to be - consequence-based conduct which is not inherently wrong - as opposed to what we feel now - conduct which has the great potential to be inherently wrong. In a sense, it is our initial approach to these cases which deserves a second look, including a move away from straight monetary penalties to more “creative” sentencing as found in other regulatory statutes and even as envisioned under section 732.1(3.1) of the Criminal Code, dealing with possible probationary terms on organizations. To end with Lamer CJ’s metaphor in M(CA), the “delicate art” of sentencing needs artists who are fully equipped for their task. 

Episode 49 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: “Just Desserts?” The Offence of Assisting a Deserter Under Sections 54 & 56

In this episode, we will discuss two sections closely related to previous sections involving offences against the integrity of Canada’s security forces. Section 54 specifically relates to the armed forces. As with mutiny, the offence is also found in the National Defence Act but in much greater detail from section 88 (offence of desertion) to sections 90 to 91(absence without leave). The offence was in the 1892 Code (s. 73) and in the precursor to the Code, Burbidge’s Digest of the Criminal Law in Canada (Article 71).

Section 54, entitled “Assisting Deserter,” reads as follows:
54 Every one who aids, assists, harbours or conceals a person who he knows is a deserter or absentee without leave from the Canadian Forces is guilty of an offence punishable on summary conviction, but no proceedings shall be instituted under this section without the consent of the Attorney General of Canada.

Originally, in the 1892 Code, the offence was a hybrid or dual offence, permitting the Crown to prosecute either by indictment or summarily “before two justices of the peace.”  The maximum penalty by way of Indictment was a fine and imprisonment “in the discretion of the court.” If proceeding summarily, the maximum penalty was a two hundred dollar fine with six months imprisonment in default. The 1892 offence required that the accused person was not a member of the armed forces.

Section 56 specifically relates to the RCMP, our national police service, which has militaristic parallels in structure and purpose. This offence too had an equivalent in Burbidge’s Digest under Article 73 and was also in the 1892 Criminal Code under s. 75. Of course, at that time the reference was to the North-West Mounted Police. The current Royal Canadian Mounted Police Act, RSC, 1985, c. R-10 does not have a desertion section per se but does have a provision for terminating a member’s pay and allowances if absent from duty under s. 22. Under the RCMP regulation and pursuant to the Code of Conduct, a member must “remain on duty unless otherwise authorized” or be subject to discipline.

Section 56, entitled “Offences in relation to members of R.C.M.P.,” reads as follows:

56 Every one who wilfully

(a) persuades or counsels a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to desert or absent himself without leave,

(b) aids, assists, harbours or conceals a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who he knows is a deserter or absentee without leave, or

(c) aids or assists a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to desert or absent himself without leave, knowing that the member is about to desert or absent himself without leave,

is guilty of an offence punishable on summary conviction.

The actus reus component of section 54 requires the accused person to “aid, assist, harbours or conceals” in committing the offence. Similar terminology is used under s. 56 in offences relating to RCMP officers. This phrase is also used under s. 299 of the National Defence Act to describe the offence of accessories to desertion or absence without leave under that Act. Section 23 of the Criminal Code, the offence of accessory after the fact, as discussed in a previous podcast (episode 27 and the text can be found here), uses slightly different terminology to describe the prohibited conduct, using the phrase “receives, comforts or assists.” The phrase “harbours or conceals” is found under section 83.23 of the Criminal Code, which is the offence of concealing a person who carried out or is likely to carry out terrorist activity. The offence of procuring, under s. 286.3, refers to “recruits, holds, conceals or harbours.” Similar language is found in the human trafficking section 279.011and 279.01 and in abduction sections 281 to 283. Of course, the party section 21 requires the accused person aids or abets under subsection 1 but under subsection 2, common intention, the act is assisting. It seems, therefore, that s. 54 is a combination of a party offence and an accessory after the fact offence.

It is difficult to contemplate when an act would be “aiding” rather than “assisting.” Dictionary meaning suggests the two words are effectively synonyms as “aid” means “to give assistance.” The term “harbour,” according to the dictionary, includes an aspect of “comfort” as it is defined as “a place of security and comfort” similar to a “refuge.” “Comfort,” is defined as “to give hope and strength to” or “to ease the grief or trouble of.” In the 2016 Ontario Superior Court of Justice decision considering the offence of human trafficking in R v D’Souza, Justice Conlan, in paragraph 146, defined “harbour” narrowly as simply providing shelter and “conceal” as “to hide or keep secret.”

It should be noted that the s. 54 offence cannot be prosecuted without the consent of the Attorney-General of Canada. This requirement suggests the prosecution of this offence requires special scrutiny, adding an additional layer of prosecutorial discretion. There are other offences in the Code requiring similar consent, for example, such as offences related to the Space Station and are committed by crew members of the Space Station pursuant to sections 7(2.3) and 7(2.31). This gives some idea of the delicacy of the offences and requirement for a second look by the federal government prior to prosecution.

The mens rea component for s. 54, as subjective mens rea, can be found in the knowledge requirement that the accused “know” the person so assisted is “a deserter or absentee without leave from the Canadian Forces” or from the RCMP. Again, section 54 must be read in light of the deserter and absentee without leave sections in the National Defence Act. Clearly, the Criminal Code section is to be used in an especially egregious case of accessory after the fact and is an offence in a range of offence-like sections found under the military legislation.  Section 56 also has a knowledge requirement under subsection b and c but the offence must also be committed “willfully.” As per Buzzanga and Durocher, 1979, ONCA, the word can suggest a requirement for a high level of intention or it can denote the general form of subjective mens rea, which includes recklessness. However, considering the additional knowledge requirement, an argument can be made that the accused must have a high level of intention in order to commit the offence.

I could not find any relevant case law on these two sections suggesting they are rarely used. No doubt the requirement for the consent of the Attorney General of Canada to prosecute the s. 54 offence contributes to this lack of use. It also suggests that these sections need to be reviewed in any Criminal Code reform and possibly repealed as historical offences no longer required in our criminal law.

 

 

 

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 48 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Inciting Mutiny Under Section 53

Mutiny is a familiar subject. It is familiar in a narrative sense: take Mutiny on the Bounty for instance and the well-known story of an uprising against the cruel authority of Captain Bligh. Yet the story is not fictitious. Pitcairn Islands which harboured First Officer Fletcher Christian and the “mutinous” soldiers of the Bounty, is still populated by the descendants of the mutineers and remains a remnant of British colonialism. In that story, we tend to sympathize with the mutinous survivors who are depicted as justified in their actions. The story and the sympathies find repetition in the classic 1950s Henry Fonda/James Cagney movie, Mister Roberts.  Again, the concept of struggling against unjust authority appears to be the theme. Yet, the actual Criminal Code offence of mutiny does not contain these built-in sympathies. In fact, although we rarely consider mutiny as a modern circumstance, it is a serious offence in our Criminal Code. Today, in the 48th episode of the Ideablawg podcasts on the Criminal Code, we will explore the offence of inciting mutiny.

 

Mutiny or inciting to mutiny as the offence is framed in section 53 is an English common law offence found in our first 1892 Criminal Code. It is one of the prohibited acts against the public order along with other offences such as alarming the Queen under s. 49. It is an offence whose purpose is to sanction treasonous or mutinous actions involving seduction or inciting of Canadian military personnel to act against the interests of the state. It reads as follows:

 

 53 Every one who

 

         (a) attempts, for a traitorous or mutinous purpose, to seduce a member of the Canadian Forces from his duty and allegiance to Her Majesty, or

         (b) attempts to incite or to induce a member of the Canadian Forces to commit a traitorous or mutinous act,

 

is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding fourteen years.

 

Originally, until 1952-53 Code amendments, this offence was punishable by life imprisonment and therefore considered as serious as treason and murder. In fact, the offence remains a s. 469 offence, and, therefore, must be tried in Superior Court.

 

It should be noted that this is an offence of attempting to seduce, incite or induce as opposed to the actual completion of the contemplated action.  The complete offences would fulfill the elements of the full offence of treason under s. 46 or even sedition under s. 63. Indeed, the original wording of the offence, as found in the 1892 Code, requires the offender to “endeavor” to seduce, incite or “stir up.” According to the Oxford Dictionary online, “endeavor” means “an attempt to achieve a goal.” The use of the term “endeavor” is consistent with the ulterior purpose required for the mens rea element of this section, which is to effect the prohibited conduct for “a traitorous or mutinous purpose.” Applying the 1995 SCC Hibbert case to the use of the word “purpose,” the Crown would need to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the accused acted with a high level of subjective mens rea.

 

Returning to the actus reus components of the section, the term “mutinous” or “mutiny” is not defined in the Criminal Code. “Mutiny” is defined under the National Defence Act as “collective insubordination or a combination of two or more persons in the resistance of lawful authority in any of Her Majesty’s Forces or in any forces cooperating therewith.” This definition reiterates the fact this crime is not unlike a counselling or conspiracy offence under the Code. It also requires “collective” behaviour involving more than one individual. The term “insubordination” has a peculiar meaning as reflected by the sections 83 to 87 of the National Defence Act. These insubordination offences cover a broad range of behaviour such as using threatening or insulting language to a superior officer under s. 85 or “strikes or uses violence” toward a superior officer. Desertion, however, is not considered an offence of “insubordination” but a separate infraction as is sedition.

 

In the Criminal Code, the term “insubordination” is used in “offences in relation to military forces” under s. 62 of the Code. We will discuss this offence later in this journey through the Criminal Code but in reading s. 62, which makes it an offence to counsel insubordination or mutiny, one wonders what the differences are between the two offences. Section 62 was not in the 1892 Code but was added in 1951 Code amendments. Certainly, section 53 is the broader offence and, as mentioned earlier, punishes an attempt to incite mutiny or treason. However, section 62 punishes the full or complete offence of mutiny, among other prohibited acts such as insubordination, yet the maximum punishment is by a term of imprisonment not exceeding five years. Clearly, section 62, the full offence, is considered a less serious offence than its counterpart s. 53, which punishes an attempt. Considering this, the assumption must be that the s. 53 offence is meant to capture more serious behaviour than just “collective insubordination.” However, in a 2004 court martial decision, Blouin P.S. (Corporal), R. v., 2004 CM 25 (CanLII), the presiding military judge in sentencing Corporal Blouin for a form of insubordination under s. 84 of the National Defence Act involving an assault of a superior officer, described the act as “attacking not merely the individual but the cornerstone of the military institution he or she represents: the chain of command.” The judge then characterized the offence of insubordination as “objectively serious as the offence of treason or mutiny.”

 

Another aspect of the actus reus is the requirement the accused “seduce” under 53(a) or “incite or induce” under 53(b) a member of the Canadian Forces. The concept of seduction is an old one as found in offences of seduction in the 1892 Code, which have now been repealed, such as the offence of seduction of females who are passengers on vessels, or the offence of seduction of girls under sixteen years. Presently, s. 53 is the only section in the Criminal Code referring to seduction. What does “seduce” then mean? The word “seduction” arises from the Latin word “seduco” meaning to draw aside or lead astray. Of course, there was a decidedly gender bias to those original seduction offences and the case law on the interpretation of the word “seduction” reflects that. In the 1927 Saskatchewan Queen’s Bench decision, R v Schemmer, seduction was deemed to be a word connoting a loss of a woman’s virtue imbuing the offence with a moralistic condemnation. By analogy therefore “seduce” as used in s. 53 has an aspect of a “fall from grace” as epitomized by Darth Vader in Star Wars who attempts to “seduce” his son, Luke Skywalker, to the dark side of the force.

 

The Court in the Schemmer decision suggests seduction requires an element of enticement and inducement, which happen to be the prohibited act requirements for the mutiny offence under s. 53(b). “Incite” as defined in the Merriam Webster online dictionary is to “urge on” or “stir up”. As previously mentioned the phrase “stir up” was included in the original 1892 offence. “Induce” is to “move by persuasion or influence” and is related to “seduce” but in the online dictionary “seduce” is to “lead astray by persuasion” or by “false promises,” giving seduction a fraudulent tone. A further definition of “seduce” includes “to persuade to disobedience or disloyalty” which seems to be the conduct underlying s. 53.

 

It should be noted that Canadian Forces is defined under section 2 of the Code as the armed forces “of Her Majesty raised by Canada.”

 

A final aspect of the section 53(a) offence is the requirement that the prohibited act involves an attempt to seduce a member from his or her “duty and allegiance to Her Majesty.” This requires proof that the seduction is directly linked to the member’s duty and allegiance to the sovereign. 

 

Section 53 is presently rarely used and appears to have a “doppelganger” section in the form of section 62. This section should certainly be considered in the revisions of the Code as a section no longer used or needed in our criminal law.

 

 

 

 

R v Anthony-Cook and the Community’s Sense of Justice

In R v Anthony-Cook (2016 SCC 43 (CanLII)), Justice Moldaver, on behalf of the full court, clarifies the test to be applied by a sentencing judge when departing from a joint submission on sentence and then gives clear step-by-step instructions to judges on how to properly apply the appropriate test. The joint sentence recommendation in this case arose out of a tragic set of circumstances in which the 28-year-old offender, who suffered from addiction and mental health issues, assaulted a fellow attendee at a local addiction and counselling organization. The assault resulted in death and ultimately, Mr. Anthony-Cook, after his lawyer negotiated a plea resolution with the Crown prosecutor, including an agreement on sentence, entered a plea of guilty to the charge of manslaughter. At the sentencing hearing, the defence and Crown prosecutor offered the joint submission on sentence, recommending the offender receive a further 18-months incarceration (he had already been in custody for a total of 11 months) without out any period of probation.

The sentencing judge declined to accede to the joint recommendation as the proposed sentence did “not give adequate weight to the principles of denunciation, deterrence, and protection of the public” (R v Anthony-Cook, 2014 BCSC 1503 (CanLII), Ehrcke J at para 68) and instead imposed a sentence of two years less a day to be followed by 3 years of probation. (at paras 54 to 63) In the sentencing judge’s view, the sentence proposed was unfit and therefore he was not bound by the joint submission. As a result, he departed “to some extent” from the negotiated sentence recommendation. (at para 67) The British Columbia Court of Appeal agreed with the sentencing judge’s assessment that the proposed sentence was unfit and not in the public interest and found no error in his sentencing departure. The matter was further appealed to the Supreme Court of Canada (hereinafter SCC) to clarify the test to be used by a sentencing judge in departing from a joint submission on sentence. Appellate courts across Canada were not ad idem on the issue, using four different tests for departure: the fitness test, the demonstrably unfit test, the public interest test, and a test which viewed the issues of fitness and public interest as the same.  The Supreme Court of Canada was asked to clarify which test was the controlling one with the court unanimously approving of the public interest test. As the sentencing judge erred by applying the incorrect test, Anthony-Cook’s negotiated sentence was imposed by the court.

As we have come to expect from Justice Moldaver, it is a plain language decision giving practical guidance to the sentencing judge in the context of the realities of our criminal justice system. This system is realistically depicted in other recent Supreme Court of Canada (SCC) decisions, most notably in R v Jordan, 2016 SCC 27 (CanLII), where we are told that trial fairness, a most cherished aspect of our principles of fundamental justice, is not in fact in “mutual tension” with trial efficiency; rather they are, “in practice,” in a symbiotic or interdependent relationship. (at para 27) According to Jordan (at para 28), “timely trials further the interests of justice.” These “interests of justice” involve our “public confidence in the administration of justice” and most notably our “community’s sense of justice.” (at para 25) It is therefore within the public interest to create clear and articulable bright-lines in our justice system to promote these community values. In the Anthony-Cook decision, the SCC continue their search for clarity by delineating the line at which a sentencing judge can depart from a joint recommendation agreed to by the defence and the prosecution as determined by the “public interest test.” Yet, as illuminating as this public interest test may be and as clear as the guidance is, just what the Court means by “public interest” must be unpacked by reference to other SCC decisions and by the Court’s concept of the “community’s sense of justice.”

I purposely use the metaphor of “unpacking” for a reason. For to fully understand the public interest test in Anthony-Cook we must not only travel to those obvious decisions cited in Anthony-Cook, such as R v Lacasse, [2015] 3 SCR 1089, 2015 SCC 64 (CanLII) and R v Power, [1994] 1 SCR 601, 1994 CanLII 126 (SCC), but also to those decisions not mentioned by Justice Moldaver, such as Jordan, that have a clear and convincing connection. For the sake of “timeliness,” I will travel to one such notable case, R v St-Cloud, [2015] 2 SCR 328, 2015 SCC 27 (CanLII), another unanimous decision rendered by Justice Wagner, on the test to be applied in the oft troublesome yet revamped tertiary ground for bail release under s. 515(10)(c) of the Criminal Code. (For a further discussion of the St-Cloud decision, read my post on ideablawg.)

We find in St-Cloud a fulsome discussion, a “deep dive” so to speak, into the meaning of the term “public.” This case sheds the brightest light on the SCC’s emphasis on the public as the litmus test for concerns relating to the administration of justice generally and advances future SCC decisions on the trial judge’s specific role as the guardian or “gatekeeper” of a properly functioning justice system. I would argue, but leave to a future time, that the gatekeeping function of a trial judge is expanding under recent pronouncements from the SCC. This feature, in my view, is no longer confined to the traditional evidentiary gatekeeping duties but is reflected in the Court’s vision of the trial judge, in the broadest sense, as the protector and keeper of the administration of justice as informed by the public’s confidence in that system.

How much does this concept of the public impact the Anthony-Cook decision? I would argue, quite a lot. In Anthony-Cook, Justice Moldaver refers to both the phrase “public interest” and the term “confidence.” In Moldaver J’s view, “confidence” is a key indicator of the public interest. Therefore, the public interest test not only directly relates to the public’s confidence in the administration of justice but also to the offender’s confidence in that same system. This twinning of the public and the accused harkens back to Jordan’s twinning of trial fairness and court efficiency. We, in criminal law, do not traditionally align the community’s sense of justice with the offender’s need for justice. We tend to compartmentalize the two as the antithesis of one another except when directed to do so by law, such as in considering the imposition of a discharge under s. 730 of the Code, where such a sanction depends on the best interests of the accused and is not contrary to the public interest. In Anthony-Cook, we have come full circle as the sentencing judge must take into account all aspects of the term “public”.

Indeed, as recognized by the Court in Jordan and the many recent SCC decisions on sentencing, this silo approach is no longer useful or valid. Now, the “community’s sense of justice” is approached holistically in the grandest sense yet tempered by the balance and reasonableness our Canadian notion of justice is founded upon. Indeed, as discussed earlier the key descriptor of the community in Anthony-Cook and, quite frankly in most community oriented legal tests, is “reasonableness.” A “reasonably informed” and “reasonable” community participant is the embodiment of the “public interest.” Although this limiting notion is expected in order to provide the bright-line needed in criminal law, to ensure citizens fair notice of the law and to give those enforcing the law clear boundaries (see R v Levkovic, [2013] 2 SCR 204, 2013 SCC 25 (CanLII), Fish J at para 10), in a society where we value multiculturalism and diversity, this concept of “reasonableness” might not resonate and might not “in practice” fulfill the promise of the “community’s sense of justice.” No doubt, this is a matter that needs to be further “unpacked” as we continue our legal journey through the vagaries of the rule of law.

In any event, whatever inferences are needed in order to apply the public interest test, according to the SCC, it is the responsibility of our judiciary to be mindful of us, the public, and to apply our common sense, our “community’s sense of justice” in the “delicate” task of sentencing. (see Lacasse, Wagner J at paras 1 & 12, see also R v CAM, [1996] 1 SCR 500, 1996 CanLII 230 (SCC), Lamer CJ at para 91) This sense of community justice, as articulated in Anthony-Cook, will provide the guidance the sentencing judge needs in assessing whether or not a departure from a joint recommendation as to sentence, which is an acceptable and desirable practice promoting the twin desires of fairness and timeliness, is just and appropriate.

Also posted on the Ablawg.ca website.

 

Episode 46 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 51 – Intimidating Parliament or Legislature

In this episode, we will continue to acquaint ourselves with Part II – Offences Against Public Order – by considering s. 51 Intimidating Parliament or Legislature. It is a section within the theme of the previous sections, starting from section 46, which prohibit treasonable activities. It reads as follows:

Every one who does an act of violence in order to intimidate Parliament or the legislature of a province is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding fourteen years.

The section also intersects with other statutes. In the federal Citizenship Act, a conviction under s. 51 disentitles a person from Canadian citizenship as does a conviction for a terrorism offence under the Code as well as a conviction under s. 47 (“high treason” as discussed in episode 43 of this podcast series) and s. 52, sabotage, the next section in this podcast series.  Oddly enough, a conviction under s. 52, among numerous other Code sections, may act as a barrier to applying for various kinds of bingo licences in Quebec as per sections 36(3), 43(2), 45, 47(2), 49(2), and 53(1) of the Bingo Rules, CQLR c L-6, r 5.

The section does not define the phrase “act of violence” nor the term “intimidate.” “Violence” is not defined anywhere in the Criminal Code and has been subject to judicial interpretation. The term is difficult to define as it is an oft-used word with an unspoken and assumed societal meaning. This meaning is imbued with societal mores and values and is therefore not strictly legal. In other words, in the everyday context, the term does not need interpretation or elucidation. Due to this ephemeral nature of the term, there is no ordinary and grammatical meaning for purposes of statutory interpretation. Re-enforcing this problem is differing dictionary meanings. As a result, the definition of violence could be viewed as harm-based, whereby the focus is on the acts that a person uses in an attempt to cause or actually cause or threaten harm. Or it could be force-based, which focuses on the physical nature of the acts and not the effects.

This discussion was at the core of the 2005 Supreme Court of Canada case, R v CD; R v CDK. There, the court considered the meaning of “violence” as used in the s. 39(1)(a) of the Youth Criminal Justice Act, which permits a custodial disposition where the youth is convicted of a “violent” offence. The majority preferred a harm-based approach that would produce a more restrictive definition of violence consistent with the objectives of the young offender legislation to only incarcerate as the last resort. Later in the 2014 Steele decision, an unanimous panel of the Supreme Court of Canada approved of the harm-based approach in interpreting violence, in the context of the “serious personal injury requirement” for a long-term offender determination. In the Court’s view, this approach was consistent with the context of the term as used in the Criminal Code, particularly offences such as threaten death under s. 264.1, where the act of threatening death or bodily harm was in and of itself violent. (See R. v. McRae). This discussion can therefore lead us to define “act of violence” under s. 51 as harm-based as well and therefore would include threats of violence.

Interestingly, there may Charter implications to this section as the “acts of violence” could be considered an expression under s. 2(b) of the Charter, particularly where the act is a threat of violence by words or writing. However, as discussed in the Supreme Court of Canada Reference re ss. 193 and 195.1(1)(C) of the criminal code (Man.) decision, s. 2(b) would likely not protect expressions of harm or violence. Of course, the justiciability of this argument may be based on the factual underpinnings of the charge.

The term “intimidate,” although not defined in the Code, is also subject to much judicial consideration. Unlike the term “violence,” “intimidation” does have a fairly consistent dictionary definition. Additionally, the term is used in other offences in the Code, most notably “intimidation,” where to intimidate is itself an offence under s. 423. The online Oxford Dictionaries define “intimidate” as “frighten or overawe (someone), especially in order to make them do what one wants.” Comparably, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines it as “to make someone afraid... especially to compel or deter by or as if by threats.” The British Columbia Supreme Court in the 2002 Little case used the Oxford Dictionary definition in assessing the voluntariness of an accused person’s confession. The 2013 Saskatchewan Provincial Court decision of Weinmeyer has an excellent overview of the authoritative definitions of the term. The court in that case was considering a charge of uttering threats under s. 264.1 of the Code. Although “intimidate” is not a word used in the section, courts have looked at intimidation as an element of the conveyed threats. After reviewing the case law on the meaning of intimidation, Agnew PCJ found at paragraph 18 that:

“the essence of intimidation is the use of action or language to overawe or frighten another, with the intention of causing that person to change their course of action against their will.  This change may be to undertake an action which they would not otherwise have done, or to refrain from doing something which they would have done in the absence of such action or language, but in either case the intimidator intends that the recipient not act in accordance with their own wishes, but rather in accordance with the intimidator’s wishes; and the intimidator employs menacing, violent or frightening acts or language to cause such change.”

This definition is also consistent with the elements of the s. 423 offence of intimidation. It should be noted that the offence of extortion, contrary to s. 346 of the Code has similar elements to intimidation and may overlap with a s. 51 charge as well.

In terms of the fault element, s. 51 requires the prohibited conduct (an act of violence) be done for a specific purpose ulterior to the violence, namely for the purpose of intimidation. This would require the Crown prosecutor to prove a high level of subjective intention.

Looking at s. 51 as a whole, it is apparent that the offence is an intersection between extortion/intimidation sections and treason/terrorism sections. Historically, the section came into our first 1892 Criminal Code under s. 70 as a conspiracy crime to intimidate a legislature. That offence read as “every one is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to fourteen years' imprisonment who confederates, combines or conspires with any person to do any act of violence in order to intimidate, or to put any force or constraint upon, any Legislative Council, Legislative Assembly or House of Assembly.” It was based upon a similarly worded offence found in article 66 of Burbidge’s Digest of Criminal Law of Canada published in 1890. As an aside, Burbidge’s Digest was the Canadian version of Sir James Fitzjames Stephen’s Digest of the Criminal Law of England. Stephen was, as mentioned previously in these podcasts, the founding father so to speak of our Code as he supported criminal law codification in the UK. George Wheelock Burbidge was a Judge of the Canadian Exchequer court, the precursor to the Federal Court of Canada. Early in his legal career Burbidge was involved in the drafting of the consolidated statutes of New Brunswick. He later became the federal deputy minister of justice and as such was instrumental in devising the consolidated statutes of Canada. Returning to s. 51, in the 1953-54 amendments to the Code, the offence was revised to the wording we have today.

Despite the longevity of this section as an offence under our laws, I could find no reported case directly involving a charge under this section. Consistent with the terrorism/treason aspect of this charge, there are recent cases, involving terrorism offences, which do consider this section. A unique use of this section occurred in the 2005 Ghany case, a bail application in the Ontario Court of Justice before Justice Durno. There the defence argued that as the terrorism charges facing their clients involved an aspect of s.51, which is an offence subject to s. 469, the bail should be heard before a Superior Court Judge. Section 469 gives Superior Court Judges exclusive jurisdiction over a list of offences for purposes of bail and trial procedure. These listed offences are deemed the most serious in our Code and pertain to murder and treason but does not refer to terrorism offences. The argument did not turn on the list of offences under s. 469 jurisdiction but rather on the conduct or substance of those named offences. This position is particularly attractive considering the creation of s. 469 authority was created well before the advent of terrorism crimes. In the end, Justice Durno declined jurisdiction and dismissed the application.

Considering current lack of use, the future of this section is questionable. This is particularly so in light of the various other offences for which a person can be charged instead of this crime, such as intimidation or terrorist activity. This is certainly a section worthy of reform and one to watch in the future.

On The DLW Decision and The Meaning of Modernity

Despite our common law system, statute law remains a key source of law in Canada. Its importance cannot be underestimated as lawmakers rely on legislation to implement policy on various social and economic issues. In many ways, legislation is reflective of who we are as a society and serves to reinforce our collective values. No other piece of legislation in Canada exemplifies this more than our Criminal Code, RSC 1985, c C-46. Contained in this piece of legislation is conduct we deem as a society to be so abhorrent, so contrary to who we are, that we will punish those who commit these prohibited acts, often through a loss of liberty. Although the concept of codification relieves us from speculating on the substance of criminal behaviour, it carries with it the mystique of interpreting or discerning Parliamentary intent in creating those crimes. As a result, statutory interpretation is often the main issue in criminal cases as judges wrestle with words, meanings, and intentions. This process is vital in criminal law, where a turn of phrase can mean the difference between guilt or innocence. The difficulty lies in dealing with crimes that carry centuries of established meaning, such as murder, assault, and theft. Yet, the crimes so interpreted must remain relevant. In this blog post, I will explore certain aspects of the DLW judgment, 2016 SCC 22, the most recent Supreme Court of Canada decision employing statutory interpretation principles, on the crime of bestiality (section 160 of the Criminal Code). Here, the Court enters into an age old process of interpretation yet does so, seemingly, in the name of modernity. This case highlights the inherent problems in discerning or interpreting value-laden legislation as it then was and then, ultimately, as it needs to be.

Before we delve into DLW, we must set our general legislative expectations. As mentioned earlier, legislation is based upon sound public policy. Seen in this light, legislation should provide a narrative displaying the objectives and goals of the rules contained within their sections. It should provide clarity of purpose with which we can identify. Legislation should be accessible to all, not just in a physical sense, but also intellectually. Moreover, legislation, as a delivery platform, should be flexible and responsive to the societal values it is meant to emulate. However, these expectations seem to dissolve as soon as the ink dries on the paper. In the context of a written document, legislation seems to lose its dynamic quality. Indeed, as suggested by Lord Esher in Sharpe v Wakefield (1888), 22 Q.B.D. 239, at p. 242, “The words of a statute must be construed as they would have been the day after the statute was passed,” meaning that the words have a frozen quality as they encapsulate a moment in time. The key is in knowing what that moment reveals, which is crucial for the proper implementation and application of the legislation.

Although, the courts have entered into the legislative fray since time immemorial, or at least since 1235 when the first Act of the English Parliament was passed (see for example, Statute of Merton, Attorneys in County Court Act, 1235), it is still far from clear how the courts perform this interpretive function. To be sure rules have been fashioned such as the “Plain Meaning Rule,” also known as the “Literal Rule,” or the “Mischief Rule” or even the “Golden Rule.” Just to clarify, that is the other Golden Rule, not the biblical one. In any event, sprinkled liberally between these over-arching rules are specific rules and maxims, usually proposed in Latin, making the whole exercise very structured, formalistic, and confusing. Thankfully, this conundrum was noted by Elmer Driedger, long-time Solicitor for the Attorney-General of Canada and author of the seminal work in the area.  In the Construction of Statutes 2nd ed., Toronto, Butterworths, 1983, at 87, Driedger summed up all of the disparate rules into one sentence:

“Today there is only one principle or approach, namely, the words of an Act are to be read in their entire context and in their grammatical and ordinary sense harmoniously with the scheme of the Act, the object of the Act, and the intention of Parliament.”

Within the year, in Stubart Investments Ltd v The Queen decision, [1984] 1 SCR 536, the Supreme Court of Canada endorsed this “modern rule.” By 1985, the principle was deemed “oft-quoted” in Vachon v Canada Employment and Immigration Commission, [1985] 2 SCR 417 (at para 48). Despite the Court’s quick embracement of the “modern rule” or “modern principles,” decades later, it is still unclear what this rule encompasses and how “modern” it truly is. This topic is thoroughly canvassed in the fascinating article on the development and use of the “modern principle” authored by Stéphane Beaulac and Pierre-André Côté, entitled “Driedger’s “Modern Principle” at the Supreme Court of Canada: Interpretation, Justification, Legitimization” ((2006) 40 R.J.T. 131. In the paper, Beaulac and Côté persuasively argue that the principle is far from modern, even at the time of its reception by the Court. They posit the principle, as articulated by Driedger in 1983, was simply a rough summary of the main statutory principles in use at the time. Certainly by 2006, the principle was far from “modern” having been in use for years. As an aside, some of these principles can be traced to the thirteen rules of Talmudic textual interpretation, particularly rule twelve, which suggests a contextual interpretation. In any event, the Supreme Court of Canada still confers the moniker, “modern,” to the approach (see R v Borowiec, 2016 SCC 11 at para 18). Its modernity, therefore, appears to be in question.

However, in the spirit of Driedger let us first do a little interpretation on the term “modern.” In the DLW case, “modern” appears to mean “new” as opposed to “old.” Looking at the “grammatical and ordinary sense” of the word “modern,” the Oxford Dictionary, the go-to text for the Supreme Court of Canada (CanLii search found 147 SCC cases referencing the Oxford Dictionary as opposed to a paltry 11 cases for Merriam-Webster), the definition is “relating to the present or recent times as opposed to the remote past” or “characterized by or using the most up-to-date techniques, ideas, or equipment.” Indeed, in Justice Abella’s dissent in DLW, she frames the issue as the new against the old with her newer more “modern” interpretation of the crime as opposed to the majority, written by Justice Cromwell, an old hand at statutory interpretation cases, as the purveyor of the old fashioned, decidedly out of sync with today’s realities.

Abella J accomplishes this new/old dichotomy through her deft use of metaphor directed at the majority decision. The opening paragraph of her dissent utilizes agricultural metaphors of abundance (at para 125) describing the “fertile field” of statutory interpretation with the “routine harvest” of “words and intentions” as “planted” by the lawmakers.  This metaphor brings to mind not only quantity but also the longevity of the interpretative technique as she then extends her position that the crime of bestiality must receive a modern interpretation despite the fact it is a “centuries old” crime (at para 126) whose “roots” are “old, deep, and gnarled” (at para 125). Thus an interpretation of the crime, based on tradition as per the majority under Cromwell J, is not a living tree but an ancient inaccessible relic of the past. Cleverly, Abella J’s opening of the issue is an effective foil to Justice Cromwell’s majority where he characterizes bestiality as a “very old” crime in his opening paragraph (at para 1) but one which cannot be made “new” without clear Parliamentary intention and certainly not through judicial intervention. In paragraph 13, Justice Cromwell hands Justice Abella her thematic metaphor by setting out the “root” of the issue as an interplay between common law and statutory intention. A similar technique was used by Justice Karakatsanis, with Justice Abella concurring, in the dissent in the Fearon case, [2014] 3 SCR 621, 2014 SCC 77 (CanLII), wherein Justice Cromwell too authored the majority decision. There, through the deliberate choice of word use, the dissent of Karakatsanis J breathes modernity in stark contrast to Cromwell J’s reliance on traditional legalistic nomenclature (for further discussion on this see, as published on my website, my previous blog entitled A Fresh Look At Fearon: How Language Informs The Law).

In fact, Justice Abella is right: the issue in DLW is very much bound up with the old and the new as the court is faced with the task of defining the meaning of “bestiality” as it relates to a disturbing child sexual abuse case where a family pet was used to molest a child. The “old” or “traditional” view of bestiality, undefined in the Criminal Code but as gleaned through common law, has the requirement for penetration. This definition fails to not only capture the conduct in DLW but also fails, according to Justice Abella’s dissent, on a cultural, social, and public policy level as well. The irony, in the context of interpreting our codified criminal law, is the reliance on the common law conception of the crime. Since its inception in 1892, the Criminal Code has been the only source, with one limited exception, for identifying which conduct should be considered criminal. If conduct is not proscribed in our Code as a crime, then it is not one. In other words, the common law, or those unwritten rules which have developed over time, cannot create a crime. The only exception being the common law offence of contempt of court pursuant to s. 9 of the Criminal Code. Otherwise, only our Parliament under s. 91(27) of the Constitution Act, 1867 has the authority to create criminal law. Nevertheless, the common law is not ignored in the interpretative process. For the majority, the common law remains unchanged by codification and therefore can be equated with Parliamentary intention. To go any further, in the view of the majority, the courts would be creating a “new” crime, which is not within the judicial function. Conversely, for Justice Abella, the common law conception of bestiality reinforces the present need to move beyond it.

In this sense “modern” can also denote more than a chronological time. It can also, according to the Oxford Dictionary, refer to a “current or recent style or trend in art, architecture, or other cultural activity marked by a significant departure from traditional styles and values.” In this definition, looking at legislation as a “cultural activity” in the broadest sense, Justice Abella’s reading of the term proposes a departure from the traditional “modern principles” through the lens of current societal interests as reflected in the present policy decisions behind the creation of crimes. However, in the realm of traditional statutory interpretation, although Parliamentary intention -through the scheme and objectives of the legislation- lends context to the statutory interpretation process, such context does not necessarily include a deep dive into the policy behind the legislation. Certainly, Driedger’s principles do not directly make reference to it. This lack of clarity, according to Beaulac and Côté in their article, has resulted in uneven judicial treatment of policy in statutory interpretation. For instance, in Canadian Broadcasting Corp v SODRAC 2003 Inc, [2015] 3 SCR 615, at paragraph 55 the majority decision written by Justice Rothstein (Cromwell J, among others, concurring) effectively cautions against the dissent’s use of policy considerations in textual interpretation. In that case, Justice Abella, yet again, writes the main dissenting position. The DLW decision, therefore, is just another example of this interpretive tension. However, considering traditional statutory interpretation in discerning Parliamentary intention was reluctant to go beyond the four corners of the document, the now ubiquitous use of Hansard to elucidate on such intention shows how far the court has and can move from tradition towards modernity. This will definitely be a continuing dialogue within the court to watch for in future cases.

So what of the modernity of the principle in use in the DLW case? It has already been established that this principle has been in use for years and, according to Beaulac and Cote, may even be a mere reiteration of what had been in use prior to 1983. However, as Beaulac and Cote also recognize, Driedger’s principle is both a “method of interpretation” and a “framework for justification.” It is that dual nature, which provides an inherent flexibility to the principle, permitting it to discern or interpret even the most profound words found in our rules of law. Its application, as seen through the discourse in the DLW case, cannot be confined by the four corners of a piece of legislation but must permit a deeper analysis involving societal values and purpose to remain meaningful. In short, it requires, a touch of modernity.

This blog is also posted on Ablawg website: www.ablawg.ca

 

 

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.

 

Who Are the “Parents of the Nation”? Thoughts on the Stephan Case and Section 215 of the Criminal Code ( also published on the ABlawg.ca website)

Much has been written and said on the characteristics of a “good” parent. Such information is easily accessible by anyone with a library card and internet access. It can be found by a click of our mouse on various blog postings (click here for a list of parenting blogs, which share the “real truth” about parenting) and dedicated websites (click here for a list of “not-to-be-missed” websites). Even celebrity has something to say about parenting practices; cue self-styled “lifestyle” guru, Gwyneth Paltrow, who famously has her children on a controversial low-carb, sugar free diet. Social media is another fount of information, often in the form of criticism or apologies. All of these venues enforce a “normative” notion of parenting. But through all this data there seems to be a bright-line drawn between “good” and “bad” parenting. For example, “bad” parents administer cocaine to a child (R v TB, 2010 ONSC 1579), knowingly leave a child in a car for an extended period of time during a hot summer afternoon (R v Huang, 2015 ONCJ 46), or intentionally attacks a child with a knife (R v BJG, 2013 ABCA 260). In those instances, the egregious conduct is not merely “bad” parenting but criminal behavior deserving of state imposed sanctions and its concomitant stigma. Although we can recognize “criminal” parenting when we see it, the real difficulty lies in identifying behaviors that are not so evidently “bad.” The recent Stephan case has ignited a debate on where that line between “bad” and “criminal” should be drawn; or is the line already drawn perhaps not as bright as we might have previously believed?

David and Collet Stephan were convicted of failing to provide the necessities of life to their 19-month old child, Ezekiel, who died from bacterial meningitis after the couple rejected medical treatment for the child opting instead for naturopathic remedies. The seven-day trial attracted intense media and social media attention. For instance, a quick and crude Google search of “David Stephan” provided 91,400 results, while “Collet Stephan” produced 67,700 hits. Interestingly, a Google search for “David and Collet Stephan” netted 40,800 results, while the reverse search of “Collet and David Stephan” suggestively revealed only 912 web hits. This difference can probably be explained by David Stephan’s very public disappointment in the verdict and the “open letter” to the jury he posted on Facebook. In any event, the reaction to the verdict was not homogeneous, with many people supportive of the couple shocked at the guilty verdict, while others were distinctly unsurprised. The reason for this disconnect may lie in the actual offence charged, which is found under section 215 of the Criminal Code.

Section 215(1) creates legal duties on people based on the nature of the relationships between them, or based on undertakings to care for a person in need. Under subsection 2, it is the failure to perform that duty which lies at the crux of the offence. Traditionally, criminal law is disinclined to base criminal sanction on omissions or failures to act. This disinclination can be seen in the parameters of criminal omissions such as found in s. 219, criminal negligence, wherein an omission can be an element of the offence if it involves a “duty imposed by law.” Indeed, such a legal duty can be found under s. 215. Even though omissions sit uncomfortably within the criminal law, section 215 as a crime of neglect has been in the Criminal Code since its inception in 1892.

Section 215 has changed very little over the ensuing 134 years other than making the application of the section gender neutral and increasing the maximum penalty upon conviction. Since 2005, if the Crown elects to proceed by indictment, the maximum sentence is five years incarceration, increased from the previous maximum of two years. On summary conviction maximum has also increased to a period of eighteen months incarceration, up from six months and/or a $2,000 fine. Despite the longevity of this section, there appears to be a surprisingly small number of reported cases (Westlaw search produced 371 cases with 149 of those pertaining to the duty of a “parent” to a child). The historical reason for the parental legal duty was to account for the husband/father deserting a wife and child, which caused an endangerment of life and health (R v Middleton, 1997 CanLII 12350 (ON SC) LaForme J (as he then was) at para 10). Although in later amendments, the definition of “parent” included either spouse, the broader objective of criminalizing parental conduct remained the same.

Case law has distinguished the duty imposed as a result of a familial or familial-like relationship from the duty arising from an undertaking to care for a person in need. In the latter case, it is this “undertaking” to protect and provide for another person which controls the duty. This focus on an “undertaking” has its genesis in contract law as noted in Burbidge’s Digest of the Criminal Law published in 1890 before the Criminal Code was introduced. In Article 269 the duty to provide the necessaries of life arises “by contract or by law, or by the act of taking charge.” This concept of “taking charge” with a resultant undertaking to assist is consistent with common law omissions, which arises from a positive act of the accused. Once an accused acts by undertaking to care for another then the duty to continue those actions arise. Any failure or neglect of that undertaking or duty, which results in harm or a risk of harm, becomes the omission under the criminal law. Much of the legal controversy regarding this duty naturally focuses on the actual initial act or undertaking and in what circumstances the law should find such a duty to exist or not.

In the matter of a “parent, guardian or head of a family” who fails to provide the “necessaries of life” for a child under sixteen years, it is the ongoing nuclear relationship which binds them. Case law, as it relates to a parent’s duty to a child, does not focus on the creation of that relationship. Rather, the more pressing issue, in terms of the actus reus requirements, is whether or not the neglect constitutes the “necessaries of life” which endangers the life or health of the child. In the 1912 Sydney case (20 CCC 376 (SKCA)), the term “necessaries” included “food, clothing, shelter, and medical attendance.” That list was non-exhaustive and depended upon the circumstances of the case. The term also acquires its meaning from the Criminal Code as the heading under which s. 215 is found is entitled Duties Tending to Preservation of Life. By this “preamble,” necessaries must be those which “tend to preserve life” and are not necessaries “in their ordinary legal sense” (Rex v Brooks (1902), 5 CCC 372 (BCCA)).

This uncodified judicial definition of “necessaries of life” has broadened in scope over the years to reflect society’s changing values. Modernity lies at the core of these changes as technological advances, the humanistic approach, and as mentioned earlier, the advent of media has required more or even different parental obligations. The “necessaries of life” has become more than adequate subsistence as it reflects society’s concern to protect the most vulnerable in our society from harm. To that end, Justice G. A. Martin in the 1981 Ontario Court of Appeal case of Popen (60 C.C.C. (2d) 232) found the “necessaries of life” should not be confined to specific necessities such as food and shelter. Rather, it also includes a more general duty to provide “necessary protection of a child from harm” (Popen at para 20). This broader definition was applied in the 1999 Hariczuk case ([1999] OJ No. 1424 (ONCJ)), in which Justice Vaillancourt found a parental duty, under s. 215, to provide a safe environment for a child. Tragically, the accused, who was making great progress in his drug addiction treatment in order to be a “good” parent to his six-year old son, prepared his methadone treatment by mixing it with his son’s favourite beverage. Although Mr. Hariczuk cautioned his son not to drink it, the child did so when he awoke thirsty in the middle of the night. In that case, Hariczuk was convicted of manslaughter.

Although society shares the obligation to protect children as seen through the myriad of child protection legislation both federally and provincially, public policy requires that parents must meet the standard of conduct of a reasonably prudent parent. It is in those cases where the failure in the s. 215 duty is a “marked departure” from the norm, that the criminal law bright-line is drawn between a “bad” parent and a “criminal” one (R v Naglik, [1993] 3 SCR 122, 1993 CanLII 64 (SCC), Lamer CJ at paras 45 to 46). This marked or criminal departure from the accepted standard of care constitutes the mens rea or fault element of the offence under s. 215. It is an objective standard of liability, which does not depend on the awareness or intention of the accused but on the legal construction of a standard embodied by the “reasonably prudent parent.” Therefore, the determination of criminal responsibility depends on "a marked departure from the conduct of a reasonably prudent parent in circumstances where it was objectively foreseeable that the failure to provide the necessaries of life would lead to a risk of danger to the life, or a risk of permanent endangerment to the health, of the child"(Naglik at para 46; R v JF, [2008] 3 SCR 215, 2008 SCC 60 at para 8).

Despite Lamer CJ’s great efforts in the late eighties and early nineties to imbue the objective standard with the personal characteristics of the accused as a concession to human frailties in order to ensure the morally innocent would not be captured by the criminal law, the “reasonably prudent parent” does not “look” like the accused. The “modification” to the objective standard, if it can even be called that, lies in the requirement that the trier of fact assess the standard in light of the circumstances of the case. Therefore, it is in the determination of the facts and how they connect to both the actus reus and mens rea requirements, which will result in a finding that certain parental conduct is or is not criminal.

Of course, this suggests a range of contextualized conduct that will attract penal sanctioning. In fact, many cases involving the death of a child result in charges of murder (s. 229) or manslaughter (s. 222(5)(a) or (b)) or criminal negligence causing death (s.221). The legal duty found under s.215 can provide the underlying unlawful act for all of these charges, even for the offence of murder, which requires a subjective fault element. For example, in R v Boittneau, (269 CCC (3d) 227, 2011 ONCA 194) the grandparents were convicted of second-degree murder for the neglect of their grandson. Another Alberta trial is soon to begin in which the parents are charged with first-degree murder as a result of the death of their son who died of a bacterial infection, allegedly contracted as a result neglect.  Some cases, not involving a fatality, may be a criminal negligence charge, under s. 219 of the Criminal Code, predicated on s. 215 as the legal duty required as part of the actus reus of the offence. In those cases, the prosecution must not only establish the required elements of s. 215 but must also prove that the conduct of the accused, objectively viewed, displayed a “wanton and reckless disregard for the lives and safety of others” and was a marked and substantial departure from the required standard. The higher degree of departure being both “marked” and “substantial” is consistent with the higher possible penalties upon conviction (see R v ADH, [2013] 2 SCR 269, 2013 SCC 28 Cromwell J at para 61).

Understanding the background and make-up of s. 215 does assist us in discussing the Stephan case and the resultant public interest in the file. In many ways, the circumstances fit easily within the legal duty as outlined in s. 215 and the judicial interpretation of the necessaries of life. There are many cases where a parent’s failure to provide a child with prompt and adequate medical attention has resulted in a conviction under s. 215 or for the more serious offences of criminal negligence or manslaughter. Some of these cases are in the context of the belief system of the parents, typically on religious grounds. In the seminal case of Tutton and Tutton ([1989] 1 SCR 1392), Arthur and Carol Tutton were convicted of manslaughter as a result of stopping their diabetic child’s insulin injections in favour of faith healing. The Supreme Court of Canada sent the matter back for retrial but on the basis of the inadequacy of the charge to the jury on the defence of mistake of fact. In that case too, public opinion was divided. According to a news article describing the conviction, “a number of supporters cried and embraced” the Tuttons.

Although factually, the Stephan case seems to “fit” the kind of conduct prosecuted under s. 215, the emphasis must not be on the tragic outcome but on whether or not the conduct was a “marked departure” from the reasonable parent standard. As with so many legal terms “marked” is not quantified but is to be read in the context of the criminal sanction. As with driving offences, to attract a criminal sanction, the conduct must involve more than mere imperfections. Thus, the question of what is “marked” is not based on “are these parents “bad” parents,” or even, “based on my own personal standards are these parents bad parents,” but rather the question is based on the societal standard in place in the context of the circumstances.  Therefore, it is not those who occasionally slip off that standard or even those who are continually slightly below that standard, who should be subject to society’s ultimate approbation through our criminal law. For instance, in the 2006 Brennan case (243 NSR (2d) 18 (NSPC)), Rhonda Brennan was acquitted of failing to provide the necessaries of life to her two-month old child. The child was born seven and a half months premature. Although the baby initially gained weight and seemed to thrive while in the hospital, once in the mother’s care, the baby’s weight declined. Rhonda generally followed medical instruction, took her baby to the public health nurse and pediatrician, and implemented a feeding regime. In acquitting Rhonda, Provincial Court Judge Tufts found that although she failed to adequately feed the baby, the risk of harm to the child would not have been apparent to a reasonably prudent parent. Another parent may have been more “attuned” to the situation and more “aggressive” in their approach but the accused’s conduct was not a marked departure from the standard.  In the Stephan case people will disagree on the verdict based on their own concept of parenting and strongly held beliefs but, accepting that the jury was properly instructed on the law, the finding of guilt would be based on a finding that in all of the circumstances, objectively viewed, the Stephans’ conduct was a marked departure from that of the reasonably prudent parent.

Still there is room for debate over the criminalization of parenting and the efficacy of permitting the law access into our most intimate relationships (in a different context I harken back to Prime Minister Pierre E. Trudeau’s oft quoted statement that “The state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation”). We should, as a society, discuss where the line should be drawn and when we should “invite” the law into our homes or sanction its entrance through our Criminal Code in the guise of parens patriae (translates to “parents of the nation”). Perhaps we should also reconsider how we judge ourselves and our neighbours, particularly in social media.  In an age of opting out of vaccinations and home schooling, the boundaries of “good” and “bad” parenting seem to shift and waver with each Twitter re-tweet and every Facebook “like”: Was that lunch nutritious enough? Do my kids go to bed too late? Are my children too scheduled? And, finally, am I being judged for my parental decisions? Although all of these concerns are a far cry from the kind of conduct underlying s. 215, all of those criminal cases, including the Stephan case, raise the tension we all feel between private life and public expectations.

 

R v LSM and the “Sanctity” of the Joint Submission: A Case Commentary for ABlawg (http://ablawg.ca)

In R v LSM, 2016 ABQB 112, Associate Chief Justice Rooke of the Court of Queen’s Bench of Alberta, sitting as a summary conviction appeal court, considers the “sanctity” of the joint submission and the circumstances in which the subsequent sentence will be varied on appeal. In his view “an appeal of a joint submission should rarely succeed” (at para 20). He supports this position by outlining three very narrow exceptions to this rule. After a thorough analysis of the principles, Associate Chief Justice Rooke reluctantly allows the appeal in part. He does so by finding only one ground of appeal, the ground presented on consent, falls within an exception. The decision, on its face, appears to be a straightforward application of the principles at hand. Yet, on further contemplation, this decision may not be about the “sanctity” of a joint submission but rather about ensuring that, in the end, justice is done.

Associate Chief Justice Rooke immediately frames the issue in sweeping terms in the opening paragraph of the decision: “This case concerns the sanctity of the ‘joint submission’ on a guilty plea and sentence in the administration of justice.” On a review of case law, the descriptor “sanctity” seems overdrawn. Although, joint submissions enjoy a “high level of deference” and must be given “serious consideration” by the sentencing judge (See R v GWC, 2000 ABCA 333, Berger, JA at para 20), they are not inviolable. A sentencing judge is not bound by the proposed sentence. Indeed, as explained by Mr. Justice Berger in GWC (at para 19), it is incumbent on the sentencing judge to undertake “a careful and diligent inquiry of counsel as to the circumstances underlying a joint sentencing submission” before exercising the discretion to accept it.  This is done to ensure the proposed sentence, in accordance with sentencing principles, is a fit one. Accordingly, sentencing judges should only reject a joint submission where the sentence proposed is unfit or unreasonable (See R v Gibson, 2015 ABCA 41 at paras 9 to 10).  Indeed, departing from a joint submission, which is fit, should not be done “even if he or she would impose a harsher sentence which would also be fit and reasonable” (See R v Bullock, 2013 ABCA 44, Berger, JA for the majority at para 18).

Some appellate jurisdictions have taken the position that a joint submission may also be rejected if the sentence is contrary to the public interest and would bring the administration of justice into disrepute. Currently, the efficacy of this additional more stringent ground for departing from a joint submission will be argued on March 31, 2016 before the Supreme Court of Canada in the Anthony-Cook case on appeal from the British Columbia Court of Appeal (R v Anthony-Cook, 2015 BCCA 22). In Alberta, this ground has not been consistently adopted. In the GWC decision, Mr. Justice Berger does refer to this position in paragraph 18 without endorsing it as a viable ground beyond fitness or unreasonableness. In the dissenting decision of Shular, (2014 ABCA 241) Madame Justice Hunt at paragraph 106 does rely on this ground as providing an additional basis for rejecting a joint submission. However, leave to appeal to the Supreme Court of Canada was dismissed in this case (Robert Shular v Her Majesty the Queen, 2014 CanLII 76800 (SCC).

Additionally, the joint submission itself is not considered a binding undertaking between the defence and prosecution. In the 2011 Nixon case ([2011] 2 SCR 566), the Supreme Court of Canada agreed with the Alberta Court of Appeal’s decision that the repudiation of a plea agreement, on the basis it was contrary to the public interest, was not an abuse of process but a proper exercise of prosecutorial discretion. In that instance, the plea negotiation included a joint submission on sentence.  

Even though the original joint submission cannot be considered sacrosanct, is the sentence imposed on the basis of a joint submission essentially “appeal proof?” Associate Chief Justice Rooke finds it is, except in three very narrow circumstances. In his view, where a joint submission is proffered by competent counsel and accepted by a sentencing judge, the offender should not be permitted to “resile” later on appeal (para 2). Further, according to Associate Chief Justice Rooke, the the appeal court should “support” joint submissions by upholding them on appeal (para 21). As he explains, in paragraphs 21 and 25, a joint submission is an efficient and effective way to deal with criminal matters in the “busy docket courts.” It would therefore be counter intuitive to the realities of the practice of criminal law and the quest for finality to provide a further forum for change. The appellate arena is not, as described by Associate Chief Justice Rooke in paragraph 25, an opportunity to express “buyer’s remorse.” This last comment has some truth to it as there must be articulable grounds for appeal in accordance with sentencing principles and s. 687 of the Criminal Code. However, Associate Chief Justice Rooke further contends that a sentence resulting from a joint submission does not exist “until we allege there is an error in the sentencing judge accepting our representations or some other way.” This premise comes very close to suggesting an erroneous position: that even an error in principle should not be a ground for appellate intervention. As argued in this commentary, that is exactly when appellate intervention is not only permitted but also desired.

In any event, Associate Chief Justice Rooke cites three “very narrow” circumstances in which an offender can “resile” from a sentence imposed by way of joint submission (para 2). The first exception is where the sentence imposed is illegal as it is statutorily unavailable (para 3). The second instance is where the sentence, “for some unusual reason,” is demonstrably unfit (para 4). Third, which according to Associate Chief Justice Rooke is the situation in LSM, is where there is a “change in circumstances” after sentence is imposed (para 5).

The first exception, illegality of sentence, makes sense. Certainly, there is an obligation on the appellate court to correct an illegal sentence. Even in cases where an appeal has not been filed within the designated appeal period, the court has allowed extensions to file an appeal where an illegal sentence was imposed (see for example R v MJR, 2007 NSCA 35). In R v Hunter (2004 ABCA 230), the Alberta Court of Appeal vacated the illegal conditional sentence of 18 months imposed for a summary conviction offence, where the maximum sentence was six months incarceration, in favour of time served.

The second exception permits an appeal where, for “unusual” reasons, the sentence imposed is demonstrably unfit. As an example of this, Associate Chief Justice Rooke refers to in paragraph 4 the unusual situation in which competence of counsel is raised on appeal. Granted, competency of counsel as it relates to the efficacy of a joint submission is a valid ground and, due to the presumption of competency, may be viewed as rarely raised. Leaving that situation aside, there may be other situations, not as rare, where a sentence resulting from a joint submission is demonstrably unfit or unreasonable. Associate Chief Justice Rooke in paragraph 21 depicts the heightened circumstances in which a joint submission might occur as a “busy docket court” where counsel “deemed to be competent and knowledgeable in the law” proffer a joint submission thereby “impliedly certifying” the sentence is fit and requesting the sentencing judge to “endorse” it.  Indeed, as mentioned earlier, it is precisely in those heightened circumstances of “busy docket courts” where matters are dealt with summarily, which may provide the perfect environment for an unfit sentence. It is in those scenarios where an accused may too readily accede to a joint submission or where “competent and knowledgeable counsel” may accept a position that upon further reflection may require appellate scrutiny. In the end, it is the ultimate fitness of the sentence imposed by whatever means, which is at issue on appeal. As Mr. Justice Wagner explains in paragraph 3 of the Lacasse decision ([2015] 3 SCR 1089), it is the very credibility of the criminal justice system at risk when an unfit sentence, be it “too harsh or too lenient,” is imposed. An unfit sentence does not become fit merely because everyone agrees to it just as an illegal sentence, imposed on consent, does not then become legal. There are numerous appellate decisions upholding departures from joint submissions to further this contention. Surely, the same reasoning should hold in the converse situation of an offender appealing a sentence he or his counsel agreed to previously, particularly considering it is the offender’s liberty interest which is at risk.

It is the third exception, permitting a variation where there is a change in circumstance after imposition of the sentence, which seems an incongruous ground considering Associate Chief Justice Rooke’s position. Indeed, a change of circumstance (not even a material change of circumstance is required) is a generous ground for intervention. In paragraph 27 of the decision, Associate Chief Justice Rooke attempts to support this ground for intervention by reference to the 2012 decision of the Alberta Court of Appeal in R v Gangl (2012 ABCA 121). There, the majority of the court found the sentencing judge made no errors in imposing sentence yet reduced the sentence. In the majority’s view, the appellant’s circumstances were exceptional and the accused who had “serious health problems” was impacted by the “consequences” of the conviction. As a result, the majority converted the conviction to a conditional discharge. The dissenting justice disagreed as there was no “reviewable error.”

Although Associate Chief Justice Rooke characterizes the Gangl decision as authority for an exception to the general rule, this finding is questionable for two reasons. First, this was a case, according to the majority, for a conditional discharge. A discharge under s. 730 of the Criminal Code, is a sanction in which a finding of guilt is made but no conviction is entered. A discharge, per s. 730, is granted where it is “in the best interests of the accused and not contrary to the public interest.” A consideration in imposing a discharge is whether a conviction would have “serious repercussions” (See R v Sanchez-Pino, 1973 CanLII 794 (ON CA)) for the accused, such as employment difficulties or, as suggested by the court in Gangl, “a number of consequences flow from this conviction” (para 2). Admittedly, the court’s analysis in Gangl is brief and does not discuss the six factors to consider in granting a discharge as required by the MacFarlane decision (1976 ALTASCAD 6 (CanLII)), but, on the face of the record, one could argue that in Gangl there was a “reviewable” error.

Second, this exception for a change in circumstances post-sentence is not a ground for appellate intervention according to the newly released decision of the Supreme Court of Canada in Lacasse and as quoted by Associate Chief Justice Rooke in paragraph 24. Associate Chief Justice Rooke makes further reference to the Ontario Court of Appeal case in Wood (1988, 131 C.C.C. (3d) 250). This is a 1988 case decided before the Supreme Court of Canada decision in Lacasse in which, as previously discussed, emphasizes the importance of deference to the sentencing judge. Further, Justice Lacourciere at paragraph 9, in rendering the Wood decision, states that “certainly the accused is given greater latitude than the Crown on an appeal of this kind in that he is generally not bound to the same extent by the submissions of his counsel as to sentence.” Wood was referred to approvingly in both the GWC decision at paragraph 19 and in the LRT decision (2010 ABCA 224 at para 11). As succinctly put by Justice Lacourciere in Wood (para 9), “the ultimate responsibility to determine the fitness of sentence is on the Court of Appeal.”

Associate Chief Justice Rooke, applying his rule, ultimately finds only one ground of appeal as a matter properly coming under the third exception. Earlier, in outlining this exception in paragraph 5, he offered s. 161 as an example of when such a change in circumstances may occur. This section provides for a variance of conditions in a prohibition order imposed on an offender convicted of any number of sexual offences involving children. As he notes and as contained in the wording of s. 161(3), an application to vary the sentence is heard before the sentencing judge or “where the court is for any reason unable to act, another court of equivalent jurisdiction.” In other words, the proper forum for the change is not on appeal but on application to the originating court.  Yet, Associate Chief Justice Rooke despite the matter of jurisdiction, varies sentence on this ground, not because of s. 161 but because the change in circumstance is a new joint submission proffered on appeal by two competent counsel. One can infer, as equally competent as sentencing counsel. Here, Associate Chief Justice Rooke finds himself between the proverbial “rock and a hard place”: on one hand, he outlined the difficulties of appealing a joint submission, the rarity of success, the limited circumstances it should be done, the sound policy reasons for not permitting such an appeal. On the other, he accedes to the new joint submission, not based on any principles of sentencing, but rather on a procedural availability not even within his purview on a strict reading of the section.

Perhaps, in the end, this pragmatic and experienced trial judge, sitting as a summary conviction appeal court, recognized that principles and rules do not always produce a just outcome. Perhaps, he agrees with the majority of the Alberta Court of Appeal in Gangl that the appellate court “is the last stop on the road to mercy” (see Gangl, Watson JA at para 21). Or perhaps, as initially suggested by Associate Chief Justice Rooke, the LSM decision may indeed be all about the “sanctity” of the joint submission, in whichever forum it is offered and in whatever circumstances it arises.

 

Episode 44 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 49 – Alarming The Queen

In this episode, we are still considering Offences Against Public Order involving treasonous conduct. Section 49 prohibits acts tending to alarm Her Majesty or acts that break the public peace. The section reads as follows:

Every one who wilfully, in the presence of Her Majesty,

            (a) does an act with intent to alarm Her Majesty or to break the public peace, or

            (b) does an act that is intended or is likely to cause bodily harm to Her Majesty,

is guilty of an indictable offence and liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding fourteen years.

The purpose of the section is to protect The Queen from harm, alarm, or even a rowdy crowd. This is a serious offence: Those who are found guilty under the section face up to 14 years incarceration. Although the fault element is clearly subjective, the word “wilfully” does not necessarily denote a high level of intention to be proven and may include the lower level of subjective mens rea of recklessness. That argument is strengthened by subsection (b) which requires that the accused either intend to cause bodily harm or does an act that is “likely” to harm The Queen. This likelihood requirement suggests foresight of risk to the prohibited consequences including recklessness. Alternatively, the section can also be interpreted as to require full subjective intention for an offence under s. 49(a) and a more general form of intention, including recklessness, for a 49(b) offence. This interpretation is supported by the requirement in (b) for the more serious and direct harm to The Queen. However, the sanction is as severe for both prohibited acts. Considering, the offence is listed under s.469 as within the exclusive jurisdiction of the Superior Court, an argument could be made that only the highest level of intention will fulfill the mens rea requirements for both subsections.

To fulfill the actus reus requirements, the accused would have to commit the prohibited acts in the “presence” of Her Majesty. Although this term suggests a face to face encounter, mere presence may mean the accused need only be in the general area.  If that is the interpretation, again, relying on symmetry between the actus reus and mens rea, the accused would have to be aware The Queen was also present at the time of the prohibited acts.

Under (a), the prohibited act is “alarm” or “break the public peace.” Alarm is not defined under the Code, but the term does appear in other sections such as s. 372, the offence of false information. We will on another occasion discuss that section more thoroughly but the wording in s. 372 is similar to s. 49. Under 372 (1), the accused must intend to injure or alarm a person by conveying false information. Notice there is no requirement the accused act “wilfully.”  Under subsection (2), the accused must intend to alarm or annoy a person by making an indecent communication.  This offence is a dual offence, punishable by summary conviction or indictment with a sentence of 2 years less a day (meaning an accused who receives the maximum sentence will be sent to a provincial institution as opposed to a federal institution, which requires a sentence for two years or more). Clearly this offence is viewed as less serious than alarming the titular head of state. Again, this increase in penalty for s. 49 is consistent with the concern with treasonous activities. The other section in the Code, requiring “alarm” is s. 178, in which the accused possesses, throws or injects an offensive volatile substance that is likely to alarm, inconvenience, discommode or cause discomfort to any person or to cause damage to property. According to the dictionary, “alarm” means “a sudden sharp apprehension and fear resulting from the perception of imminent danger.” It seems alarming The Queen means much more than merely surprising her.

The section also prohibits the accused from breaking the public peace in Her Majesty’s presence. The phrase “break the public peace” is unique to the section but the term “public peace” is used elsewhere. “Public peace” is found in s. 88, which prohibits the possession of a weapon dangerous to the public peace. It is also used to describe the duties of a peace officer under s. 2, as someone who “preserves and maintains” the public peace. In the 2004 Supreme Court of Canada Kerr decision, the concurring judgment of Justice Lebel (with Justice Arbour) defined “public peace,” in the context of s. 88. The phrase was an ancient one, referring to the King’s Peace as defined in the 1888 Volume 7 of Murray’s New English Dictionary of Historical Principles, the precursor to the Oxford Dictionary. There, the King’s Peace is defined in a more general sense as the “general peace and order of the realm, as provided for by law.” Hence, the term “keep the peace and be of good behaviour” as found as a condition in common law peace bonds. In Kerr, Justice Lebel preferred a more restrictive meaning to ensure the offence was not overbroad and to relate the phrase to the modern realities of society. Therefore, a breach of the public peace under the Code contemplated actual harm done to a person or harm likely to be done as a result of a disturbance.

Also, as mentioned earlier, this section is a s. 469 offence and within the exclusive jurisdiction of the Superior Court. Like a murder charge, another s. 469 offence, if a person is charged with this crime, the bail hearing must be before a superior court judge. At the accused’s first appearance before a provincial court judge or justice of the peace, the accused would be detained in custody pursuant to s. 515(11) of the Code to be dealt with thereafter in the superior court. Under s. 522, the burden is on the defence to apply for bail and show cause why release is warranted. This is an exception to bail principles and the Charter right under s. 11(e), which presumes release of the accused unless the Crown shows cause for detention. The trial must also be heard before the superior court judge and jury per s. 471, unless the accused and the Attorney General consent under s. 473 to trial by superior court judge sitting alone.

There is no Canadian case law relating to this section. Historically, the section was broader and in the 1892 Code was entitled “assaults on the Queen.”  This original section did require that the accused act “wilfully.” Part of the punishment upon conviction in 1892 was “to be whipped, once, twice, thrice as the court directs.” This offence must be seen in its historical context: at this time there had been several assassination attempts against Queen Victoria. Indeed, the 1892 offence included specific prohibited acts, which parallel these attempts. For instance, it was prohibited to strike or strike at the Queen. In June 1850, The Queen was hit on the head with a short cane. Although not seriously injured, the accused, Robert Pate, was sentenced to 7 years of penal transportation to serve his sentence abroad in the Australian penal colony. In 1906, the offence remained virtually the same but was changed to “assaults upon the King.” The present iteration was from the 1954 Code amendments. Most likely, this section will be changed yet again when King Charles ascends the throne or it may be seen as an archaic section, not worth retaining considering there are other sections in the Code, which would suffice. In any event, this section should be reviewed as part of Criminal Code reform.

For further discussion on the criminal law as seen through “Her Majesty,” read my previous blog entitled In The Name Of Her Majesty’s Criminal Law.

Next podcast, we will continue with the treason theme and discuss s. 50 prohibiting assisting an alien enemy to leave Canada or omitting to prevent treason.