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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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).

 

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.

 

 

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

 

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

Let’s read the section in full:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Episode 40 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 35 - Defence of Property

Defending property is an ancient activity. The concept goes hand in hand with the old adage that a person’s home is his or her castle. That proverb became a legal principle, known as the “castle doctrine,” when Lord Coke commented in Semayne’s Case (1604), 77 E.R. 194 (K.B.) “that the house of everyone is to him as his castle and fortress, as well for his defence against injury and violence, as for his repose.” Therefore property, land, and defence are inextricably intertwined both socially and legally.

As mentioned in the previous podcast, the defence provisions underwent a complete make over in 2013 resulting in a pared down defence of property section. Section 35 is a lengthy section and is as follows:

       (1) A person is not guilty of an offence if

           (a) they either believe on reasonable grounds that they are in peaceable possession of property or are acting under the          authority of, or lawfully assisting, a person whom they believe on reasonable grounds is in peaceable possession of property;

           (b) they believe on reasonable grounds that another person

(i) is about to enter, is entering or has entered the property without being entitled by law to do so,

 (ii) is about to take the property, is doing so or has just done so, or

(iii) is about to damage or destroy the property, or make it inoperative, or is doing so;

(c) the act that constitutes the offence is committed for the purpose of

       (i) preventing the other person from entering the property, or removing that person from the property, or

       (ii) preventing the other person from taking, damaging or destroying the property or from making it inoperative, or retaking the property from that person; and

 (d) the act committed is reasonable in the circumstances.

                   (2) Subsection (1) does not apply if the person who believes on reasonable grounds that they are, or who is believed on reasonable grounds to be, in peaceable possession of the property does not have a claim of right to it and the other person is entitled to its possession by law.

                (3) Subsection (1) does not apply if the other person is doing something that they are required or authorized by law to do in the administration or enforcement of the law, unless the person who commits the act that constitutes the offence believes on reasonable grounds that the other person is acting unlawfully.

Similar to defence of the person, defence of the property involves an objective/subjective assessment. The person relying on the defence must have an honest but reasonable belief that they either have or are assisting someone who has “peaceable possession” of the property. In considering the meaning of the phrase “peaceable possession” the Alberta Court of Appeal in the 1992 Born with a Tooth case cautioned that “peaceable” should not be equated with “peaceful.” According to Stephen’s 1883 treatise, A History of the Criminal Law of England, the phrase describes possession of property, which does not provoke a breach of the peace. Therefore, “peaceable possession” is possession of property in which the community accepts and in which there are no adverse claims. This requirement is in place to discourage the use of force in property disputes, which appeared to be the norm in Medieval England. This concept will be discussed more thoroughly when we arrive at s. 72 relating to forcible entry and detainer.

Not only must the accused have a reasonable belief she has peaceable possession but she must also have a reasonable belief that the other person is entering the property unlawfully or for an unlawful purpose such as damaging or taking the property for which the accused has peaceable possession. If this holds true, then the accused may rely on the defence if the force used is for the purpose of preventing the unlawful act or removing someone after they have committed or are about to commit the unlawful act relating to the property.

Additionally, the force used must be reasonable in the circumstances. The circumstances will of course vary depending on the facts of each particular case. It must be emphasized that the force used must be connected to ejecting the person from the property or preventing the person from taking the property. If the force is not used for that specific purpose, the accused cannot rely on this section but must instead rely upon the self defence section 34.

Subsection 2 and 3 outline the situations in which the defence does not apply. In subsection 2, the accused cannot rely on the defence if he or she does not have a claim of right to the property and the other person is entitled by law to possess it even though the accused reasonably believed he had peaceable possession.

This means that if the other person has a lawful right to the property, the accused cannot rely on the defence unless he has a “colour of right” to the property. Colour of right is a common law defence based on a mistake of law. An accused would have a claim of right if she has an honest but mistaken belief in a legal right or claim to a thing even if unfounded in law or in fact. Such a belief must be honestly held but not reasonably held. The “defence” of colour of right will be discussed further when we arrive at those sections where the defence is statutorily available such as theft pursuant to s. 322.

Subsection 3 applies in circumstances where the other person is exercising a lawful authority by entering the property or by attempting to take the property as in the situation of a bailiff seizing property to satisfy judgment. However, if the accused reasonably believes the person is acting unlawfully then he or she may still rely on the defence.

As with s. 34, this is a relatively new section and there is very little case law applying it. However, previous case law from the Supreme Court of Canada respecting the scope of defence of the property suggests that the force used can amount to more than a minor assault against a trespasser and may also involve the use of a weapon. Whether or not the force used in those circumstances is excessive would depend on the facts of each particular case.


The “Science” Behind R v Tatton

Increasingly, the legal world and the empirical world intersect both in the approach lawyers take to present cases in court and in the decisions rendered by the courts. Statistics, studies and academic articles are used to connect the evidence to the issue at hand. Truly court cases have become “evidence-based” in the full meaning of the phrase as expert evidence elucidates the trier of fact on a particular material issue. This involves the calling of evidence and also the reliance on research done in the fields of science and social science.

This intermingling of fact and scientific fact has become even more important since the 1990’s when the Supreme Court of Canada relied upon social science research in determining whether or not a Charter breach can be saved under s. 1. Thus, the government, in order to sustain an argument that the legislative restriction is demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society, does so on the basis of academic research exploring the connection between the legislative policy and the real effects of such policy on individuals and institutions. For example, in the 1991 Seaboyer;Gayme case, concerning the constitutionality of the “rape shield” provisions of the Criminal Code, the SCC reviewed material outside of legal jurisprudence such as statistical and research-based reports and academic articles written by psychologists and criminologists. Indeed many of the SCC cases relating to child witnesses routinely refer to this extra-legal material as for example in R. v. F. (W.J.), [1999] 3 SCR 569 and R. v. L. (D.O.), [1993] 4 SCR 419.

The difficulty with relying on social science research is that such research can change over time. What is accepted can be undermined by further study. This occurred in the above-mentioned L.(D.O.) case where in the reasons of Madame Justice L’Heureux-Dube on the issue of the constitutionality of s. 715.1, which permitted the admission of a child’s videotaped statement, she referred to “child abuse accommodation syndrome.” Subsequently, the syndrome came under intense scrutiny and is no longer accepted as persuasive. Indeed, one study labeled the syndrome an example of “junk science.” Although, the reliance on science was not critical to the legal outcome, a Court relying on such information may find what seemed persuasive is no longer valid and the legal decision can no longer stand.

On the other side of the spectrum, it is most troubling when the Court pronounces on legal principles, which partly lie in the realm of public policy and therefore has a connection to experiential or empirical knowledge and yet does not support the decision with tested facts. In the recent Supreme Court of Canada Tatton case, Mr. Justice Moldaver, speaking for the Court, upheld a time honoured legal distinction between specific and general intent offences as it related to the applicability of self-induced intoxication. Liberally sprinkled throughout the decision is reference to the inextricable connection between intoxication and crime. Even the specific/general intent distinction is imbued with an analysis of the mental engagement of an individual. Despite this heavy reliance on what appears to be scientific truths, at no time did the Court refer to or support the position with scientific study or research. To be sure, the court referred often to the Daviault case, which did reference a number of governmental reports and studies on alcohol and crime. However, the Daviault case was rendered in 1994, twenty-one years ago, with the studies coming from the mid to late 1980s.

Surely, more recent evidence should have been used considering the decision finally determined the limited application of a legal defence. Since the 1980s there have been numerous studies (here, here, here, and here) done on intoxication and crime, some of which do show a high number of crimes committed while the offender was intoxicated. However, there are also studies, which cannot definitively connect intoxication as the reason for an offender committing crimes. So although 40% of crimes are committed while the offender is under the influence of some sort of intoxicant, this does not mean that these crimes would not have been committed without them. To make this connection, there is research concerning the effects of alcohol as a disinhibitor that impacts a person’s thought processes to such an extent that they perform acts they would not have otherwise performed. Further research on thought processes suggest that decision making is complex and highly individualized. Therefore, the additional ingredient of alcohol can have a profound impact on the mental reasoning or lack thereof of a person who acts contrary to the law while intoxicated. For some of these studies, go here, here, here, and here. What can be learned from these various studies are that the issue is has not been empirically determined and the relationship between alcohol, mental processes, and crime is highly complicated and variable.

What are the implications of this on the Tatton case? As mentioned earlier, the case’s import is twofold as it propounds on the general distinction between specific and general intent and then specifically relates these differences to the defence of intoxication. On both issues, I submit that Mr. Justice Moldaver relied upon the court’s perception of the “science” behind these legal principles in reiterating a long held position that intoxication is not a defence to a general intent offence without referencing any recent empirical studies but instead merely citing the twenty-one year old Daviault case. By proceeding on this basis, the Court missed the opportunity to provide some rational basis for the general/specific distinction. Instead, the Court has simply perpetuated a legal fiction as opposed to a scientific one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Episode 39 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 34 – Defence Of The Person

As with many of our legal defences, defence of the person comes to us through the English common law and was ultimately codified in our first Criminal Code of 1892. Over time the codified defence, together with the codified defence of property, which we will discuss in the next episode, became increasingly obtuse, ultimately stretching over nine sections from section 34, which offered differing forms of self defence depending on whether the accused was the aggressor, to section 42, which provided justifications for those persons peaceably entering a dwelling house or real property to take lawful possession of it.

This mash-up of sections resulted in a nightmare of a defence as certain sections applied only in specific circumstances and certain subsections applied in even other circumstances.  For example, in the old section, s. 34(1) applied where the accused was unlawfully assaulted and did not provoke the attack, while s. 34(2) applied where the accused either provoked or did not provoke the unlawful assault. The nightmare continued as Judges struggled to explain these differences to a Jury, eagerly awaiting instruction. It is unsurprising that appellate courts considered many of these self defence cases.

So, in some sense, it was a relief in 2013, when the Federal government streamlined the defence into one applicable section. However, this streamlining, I would argue, may have re-focused the defence from a modified subjective/objective assessment to a more thorough consideration of the objective view of the accused’s conduct.

Before, we launch into the niceties of this new section, please remember that self defence and defence of the person is a category of common law defences known as justifications. Justifications, according to Justice Dickson in Perka v The Queen, “challenges the wrongfulness of an action which technically constitutes a crime.” In other words, the actions of the accused appear “rightful, not wrongful” and, as Justice Dickson further explained, “the concept of punishment often seems incompatible” with the act committed. Indeed, Justice Dickson opined, in the circumstances “the values of society, indeed of the criminal law itself, are better promoted by disobeying a given statute than by observing it.”

 In that aura of humanity, let us review section 34, which reads as follows:

(1) A person is not guilty of an offence if

(a) they believe on reasonable grounds that force is being used against them or another person or that a threat of force is being made against them or another person;

(b) the act that constitutes the offence is committed for the purpose of defending or protecting themselves or the other person from that use or threat of force; and

                        (c) the act committed is reasonable in the circumstances.

(2) In determining whether the act committed is reasonable in the circumstances, the court shall consider the relevant circumstances of the person, the other parties and the act, including, but not limited to, the following factors:

                      (a) the nature of the force or threat;

(b) the extent to which the use of force was imminent and whether there were other means available to respond to the potential use of force;

                        (c) the person’s role in the incident;

(d) whether any party to the incident used or threatened to use a weapon;

(e) the size, age, gender and physical capabilities of the parties to the incident;

(f) the nature, duration and history of any relationship between the parties to the incident, including any prior use or threat of force and the nature of that force or threat;

(f.1) any history of interaction or communication between the parties to the incident;

(g) the nature and proportionality of the person’s response to the use or threat of force; and

(h) whether the act committed was in response to a use or threat of force that the person knew was lawful.

 

(3) Subsection (1) does not apply if the force is used or threatened by another person for the purpose of doing something that they are required or authorized by law to do in the administration or enforcement of the law, unless the person who commits the act that constitutes the offence believes on reasonable grounds that the other person is acting unlawfully.

There are three parts or subsections to s. 34. Subsection 1 outlines the essence of the defence as containing both subjective and objective elements relating to the belief the accused was facing a situation that required the justified response. Subsection 2 enumerates a number of factors to be considered in determining whether or not the accused had a reasonable belief she was facing a situation where the use of force was justified. Although this list is lengthy it is not exhaustive and other factors may come into play depending on the case. Additionally, this list is derived from case law and reflects the many circumstances considered over the years of appellate review of the old sections.

Although the accused need only raise a doubt that her actions were so justified and therefore the burden to prove the accused actions were not justified are on the Crown, the defence must raise an air of reality to the defence before it will be considered by the trier of fact. I have written a paper on the application of the threshold test of air of reality to justifications and excuses at (2014) 61 Criminal Law Quarterly 531 or you may review my short blog version of that paper here.

Subsection 3 sets out when the defence is not available: where the force the accused was facing was lawful. However, the accused may rely on the defence if the accused believed on reasonable grounds that the force threatened was unlawful.

Since the change in the defence, there have been a number of trial court decisions applying the section. One of the first issues to be argued was whether or not the section is retrospective. The question was as follows: where the accused is facing a pre amendment charge but is tried post amendment, which statutory defence applies? The cases suggest that the section is not retrospective and the trial judge must apply the defence sections, which were in force at the time of the offence. For a discussion of this issue see R v Evans, 2015 BCCA 46 (CanLII).

In the end, how does the new section compare to the old sections? In my prior blog, Canada’s New Defence of the Person Section: Is It Too Reasonable, I argued that although the old sections, which blended objective/subjective considerations, provided a less than satisfactory defence, the new iteration is decidedly more objective and fails to adequately consider the accused’s subjective perception of the events. Thus, the section is concerned more with the hypothetical reasonable person’s viewpoint and less with the individual who is in reality facing the dire circumstances.

Further, the defence requires that the accused’s actions must be “for the purpose of defending or protecting themselves or others.” This requirement at first blush seems non-controversial, as obviously the conduct must be in response to an unlawful assault. However, on closer examination and upon reviewing some case law, this requirement may unduly restrict the defence.

In the 2015 Ontario Superior Court of Justice case of Allen before Justice Fairburn, Mr. Allen assaulted a police officer and appeared to resist arrest by punching the officer and placing him in a “choke hold.” In the end, the officer was found not to be in the lawful execution of his duty and therefore the arrest was unlawful. Although Justice Fairburn dismissed the defence of self defence under s. 34, as the act of the accused was not reasonable in the circumstances, the court commented on the “purpose” of the assault. According to Justice Fairburn, the accused did not testify and therefore the court inferred that the act was not for the purpose of defending himself but was force used purely for the “sake” of using force against the police officer. This analysis suggests that not only should defence counsel consider very carefully whether or not to call a client where self defence is raised but also provides a strict meaning of the term “for the purpose.” Defence counsel should be aware that this subsection could add a further evidential burden on the accused despite the fact the accused need only raise a doubt on the issue.

Although this section has been in use for two years, the section has not been subject to an appellate court decision. It will be interesting to see what interpretation ultimately is given to this section. For instance, an issue may arise considering the applicability of the common law version of the defence where this statutory defence differs from the common law and whether the courts are willing to modify the statutory defence in accordance with common law principles. In the meantime, counsel should carefully review the defence evidence on the issue of defence of the person in light of this new statutory defence and be mindful of the new requirements.

 

 

 

Section 33.1 & How Intoxication Became A Form of Mens Rea: Episode 38 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada – A Long Read (Or Listen)

In this episode we will explore the “defence” of intoxication and how this common law concept became a form of statutory mens rea in s. 33.1 of the Criminal Code.

Intoxication, as a defence, is a difficult concept involving a clash of perspectives. One perspective finds fault with the defence as it absolves a morally blameworthy accused who, in committing an offence, willingly places himself in an uncontrollable state. The other perspective aligns with traditional criminal law precepts by permitting the defence on the basis that only those accused who have the required fault element of the crime should be punished. Both perspectives have informed this defence through legal interpretation and legislative response. In the end, intoxication as a defence is cumbersome, artificial, and in many respects unsatisfactory. The law and legislature has simply been unable to reconcile these differing, yet valid, perspectives and the defence remains a legal anomaly.   

It is in this background, we must view the present iteration of the defence as found partly in s. 33.1 of the Criminal Code. I say “partly” as the judicial interpretation of the defence still applies in some respects. Indeed, we can for ease of discussion refer to s. 33.1 as representing the first perspective I previously outlined - the concept of moral blameworthiness. Conversely, the judicial perspective, as ultimately represented in the Daviault case through the application of the Charter, represents the traditional criminal law principle of ensuring those without criminal intent, the morally innocent, are not punished.

Historically, these two perspectives on intoxication were not separated and the courts fashioned an awkward alliance between these two visions of responsibility:  the morally responsible accused who choses to become intoxicated and the morally innocent accused who was acting without mens rea and therefore not criminally responsible. To fulfill these two visions the common law limited the defence to certain types of offences. The case, which reflects this common law principle, is the 1920 House of Lords decision in DPP v Beard. The principle in Beard’s Case, as it became to be known, holds that intoxication is not a defence to a general intent offence but is a defence to a specific intent offence.

To understand this split, let’s review the difference between general and specific intent offences: Crimes of specific intent are offences with a special mental element required above and beyond the general mental element of the offence. Thus, a crime such as theft, which requires the taking of something with the intent to steal, is a specific intent offence. So too is murder with the specific intent to kill. Conversely, general intent offences involve no ulterior goal and only require an intention to act to achieve an immediate goal. Assault is an example of a general intent offence. Applying the principle in Beard’s Case, intoxication is a defence for a murder charge but not for an assault. Although the Supreme Court of Canada consistently disapproves of this specific/general distinction as artificial and confusing, it still remains an integral part of the intoxication nomenclature.

In the 1977 Leary decision, the SCC considered the Canadian position on intoxication creating a rule similar to Beard’s Case. This rule was reconsidered after the advent of the Charter in the 1988 Bernard decision. Bernard produced a fractured court with three separate concurring decisions and a strong dissent from the then Chief Justice Dickson and Justice Lamer, who also dissented in Leary.

Justice McIntyre’s majority decision upholds the Leary rule that intoxication is not a defence to a general intent offence. Both Leary and Bernard involved the general intent offences of rape and sexual assault, respectively. There were strong public policy reasons for eliminating intoxication as a defence to sexual offences. Even so, Justice McIntyre conceded that intoxication might apply to specific intent offences as in those circumstances intoxication could negate the formation of the specific intent required. This was also a “safe” position to hold as typically a specific intent offence involved proof of an underlying general intent offence. Therefore an acquittal for a specific intent offence on the basis of intoxication still permitted a conviction on the lesser and included general intent offence. An acquittal for murder, for instance, could result in a finding of guilt for manslaughter. The “morally” responsible accused would still be convicted.

In terms of the Charter, Justice McIntyre found sections 7 and 11(d) were not violated by the Leary rule, as the morally innocent would not be convicted on the basis that the voluntary consumption of an intoxicant would be criminally blameworthy. Further, the Crown must still prove mens rea, which could be inferred from the prohibited act by assuming a person intends the natural and probable consequences of his or her actions. If, however, voluntariness was an issue, meaning the accused was so intoxicated that his actions were not voluntary and therefore the so called “willing mind” aspect of the actus reus could not be proved, then the Crown could prove the acts were of a willing mind based on the proof of the accused self-induced intoxication.  

Justice McIntyre’s decision is difficult to reconcile. Proving mens rea on the incongruous premise that an intoxicated person intends the natural and probable consequences of their actions is debatable.  Although, as an aside, this concept has enjoyed recent SCC approval in the Walle case. See my blog on that case here.  Further, Justice McIntyre’s response to the voluntariness issue is a tautology: by filling in the proverbial fault “hole” with proof of intoxication, intoxication is no longer a “defence” or even a state of mind but is evidence of the state of mind, which is the key element of the an offence.

Justice Wilson, concurring in Bernard, offers a more “flexible” approach to the Leary rule permitting evidence of extreme intoxication “involving an absence of awareness akin to a state of insanity or automatism” to be left with the trier of fact in general intent offences. On the issue of mens rea, Justice Wilson does not approve of the substitution of self-induced intoxication for proof of the mental element component. In her view, the Crown is still required, even in general intent offences, to prove the minimal intent needed for conviction.

In the dissent, Chief Justice Dickson and Justice Lamer found the Leary rule violated the Charter and could not be saved under s.1. The rule, according to the minority, imposed a form of absolute liability, requiring no proof of mens rea for those general intent offences where intoxication could negate the mental element of the offence. They also firmly disapproved of the “artificial” distinction between specific and general offences. Intoxication, in their view, was relevant to mens rea and should be left to the “fair and responsible” trier of fact, who was able to sift through the evidence and determine if in fact intoxication was to such an extent that mens rea was absent.

Unsurprisingly, the Bernard decision attracted many critics, particularly Justice McIntyre’s position that self induced intoxication could substitute for the mental element of an offence.  There was the concern that the legally innocent, those accused whose level of intoxication was sufficient to raise a reasonable doubt on the mental element, were being convicted as a result of the Leary rule. Other commonwealth countries, such as Australia in the O’Connor case and New Zealand in the Kamipeli case, which previously supported the rule in Beard’s case, ultimately resiled from that ruling.  Eventually, Britain too modified the Beard’s Case ruling. Critics also lambasted the specific/general distinction as irrelevant and, as suggested by the dissent in Bernard, creating artificial barriers to valid defences.

In this climate, the SCC heard the Daviault case in 1994, also a sexual assault conviction, where the issue concerned the application of extreme intoxication as a defence to a general intent offence as considered by Justice Wilson in her decision in Bernard.  This time, the majority of the court found the Leary rule unconstitutional and agreed with Justice Wilson’s approach in Bernard that extreme intoxication was a defence to a general intent offence. In order to raise this defence, the accused, similar to a s.16 or automatism defence, must prove the defence on a balance of probability and is required to produce expert evidence in support.  The majority disagreed with Justice McIntyre that self-induced intoxication could provide the mens rea for the offence. The dissent, written by Justice Sopinka, found that the Leary rule was based on sound public policy reasons even though the specific and general intention distinction could lead to “illogical” results. The majority allowed the appeal and remitted the case for a new trial wherein the defence of intoxication could be raised.

The response to Daviault was swift. The government quickly legislated a response to the case and within a year a new amendment to the Code under s. 33.1 received Royal Assent.  Section 33.1, as suggested by the summary preceding the text of the Bill, amended the Criminal Codeby legislating a basis of criminal fault in relation to extreme self-induced intoxication and violence.”

The section, entitled “ self-induced intoxication,” reads as follows:

(1) It is not a defence to an offence referred to in subsection (3) that the accused, by reason of self-induced intoxication, lacked the general intent or the voluntariness required to commit the offence, where the accused departed markedly from the standard of care as described in subsection (2).

Criminal fault by reason of intoxication

 (2) For the purposes of this section, a person departs markedly from the standard of reasonable care       generally recognized in Canadian society and is thereby criminally at fault where the person, while in a state of self-induced intoxication that renders the person unaware of, or incapable of consciously controlling, their behaviour, voluntarily or involuntarily interferes or threatens to interfere with the bodily integrity of another person.

  Application

 (3) This section applies in respect of an offence under this Act or any other Act of Parliament that includes as an element an assault or any other interference or threat of interference by a person with the bodily integrity of another person.

The section is a difficult read.  Subsection 1, which confusingly refers to (2) and (3), essentially eliminates the Daviault exception to the Leary rule by legislating that extreme intoxication is not a defence for general intent offences, which interfere with or threaten to interfere with the ”bodily integrity” of another person.  The concept of interference with “bodily integrity” is broad and includes, as per the SCC Tessling case, the right not to be touched.

However, the subsection also substitutes the self-induced intoxication for the mens rea of the offence. In subsection 1, this substitution arises from the connection between the elimination of the defence and the accused’s conduct as “departed markedly from the standard of care as described in (2).”  Subsection (2), entitled Criminal fault by reason of intoxication, describes a marked departure from the norm, typical language used to explain criminal negligence from the SCC Tutton case, as occurring when the accused commits the offence “while in a state of self-induced intoxication that renders the person unaware of, or incapable of consciously controlling, their behaviour, voluntarily or involuntarily.” Therefore, the deficient state of the accused, both physically and mentally, fulfills the mental requirement of a criminal act. Needless to say, this artificial mens rea is contrary to traditional criminal law precepts and in violation of the Charter as articulated by Chief Justice Dickson and Justice Lamer in the Leary and Bernard dissents and as found by the majority in Daviault.

Even so, the legacy of Daviault still has precedential value. The courts never overruled the decision and s. 33.1 has not eliminated the defence for those general intent offences which do not involve the interference with the bodily integrity of another person nor has it eliminated the defence for specific intent offences. The 2007 SCC Daley case nicely outlines the application of the defence of intoxication in light of this.  Further, some courts in Ontario, such as in R v Cedeno, have found s. 33.1 unconstitutional, although oddly enough the constitutionality of the section has not be considered by appellate level courts.  The closest an appellate court has come to discussing the constitutionality of the section is in the 2001 North West Territories Court of Appeal case in R v Brenton where the court reversed a lower court decision finding the section unconstitutional on the basis that the lower court did not have a sufficient “factual foundation at trial upon which to mount a constitutional challenge to s. 33.1. In our respectful view, this was not a proper case in which to engage this important constitutional issue.”

There is a pressing need for the higher level courts to pronounce on this issue. Certainly, there is societal repugnance for the defence particularly where the crime committed involves sexual assault. However, there is now societal recognition that alcoholism and drug addiction can be a disease and may leave the affected person helpless to control their substance abuse problem. The concept of “self-induced” intoxication is brought into question in those situations and the subsequent warehousing of these offenders becomes part of the problem instead of the solution. There is, of course, still the doctrinal concern that the law, by not taking into account intoxication, is creating an artificial mental state where the accused does not actually have the blameworthy intent and yet is punished as if he or she did. In a very real sense, therefore, we are punishing the intoxication rather than the crime.

 

Episode 36 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Preventing Breach of Peace – Sections 30 and 31

Immediately preceding the “suppression of riots” sections in the Code, which we discuss in Episode 37, are two sections on preventing breach of the peace, sections 30 and 31. The are only two other sections, which make specific reference to the “breach of the peace.” One is section 72 relating to forcible entry and forcible detainer – a section that we will eventually discuss but without giving away the fascinating history of this section, is a definite nod to old English common law from the medieval period. The other reference to breach of the peace is found in section 319 “public incitement of hatred.”

Although this term appears sparingly in the Code, it is referred to in many criminal decisions as an underlying objective of the criminal law, which is to prevent and contain breaches of the peace. The phrase is used for instance in discussing a breach of a recognizance condition of “keep the peace and be of good behavior.” It has meaning for a “peace bond” under s. 810 and pursuant to the common law. It also relates to the historical creation of trespass as a citizen’s means to address breaches of peace on private property - Harrison v. Carswell, [1976] 2 SCR 200. The term is also relied upon in Jobidon as a justification for the English common law prohibition against consensual fist fights as they notoriously lead to breaches of the peace. Finally, in R. v. Kerr, [2004] 2 SCR 371, the breach of the peace is discussed in relation to the required elements of s. 88 offence of possession of a weapon for a purpose dangerous to the public peace.

What exactly is a “breach of the peace”? The phrase was considered in Frey v. Fedoruk et al. a 1950 Supreme Court of Canada decision on a claim of false imprisonment and malicious prosecution. The claim arose when the Appellant was placed under a citizen’s arrest for unlawfully acting “in such a manner likely to cause a breach of the peace by peeping at night through the window.” Apparently, the window was curtain-less, which caused the defendant to chase the Appellant down the street and effect a citizen’s arrest. Justice Kerwin, in concurring with the majority in allowing the appeal for the Appellant, relied upon the following definition of the phrase “breach of the peace” from Clerk and Lindsell on Torts (then in its 10th edition and now, impressively, in its 21st iteration):

“A breach of the peace takes place when either an actual assault is committed on an individual or public alarm and excitement is caused. Mere annoyance or insult to an individual stopping short of actual personal violence is not breach of the peace. Thus a householder - apart from special police legislation - cannot give a man into custody for violently and persistently ringing his door-bell.”

The majority too preferred a more restrictive definition of such a breach of the peace, which did not contemplate a potential vigilante reaction but was more akin to a “riots, tumults, and actual physical violence.” The broader interpretation, so the Court held, was more applicable to the special case of forcible entry and forcible detainer pursuant to s.72, which as I earlier stated, we will discuss further down this Criminal Code road. In any event, the Court found the Appellant’s conduct did not amount to a known offence in criminal law as there was no breach of the peace and mere trespass was not a criminal offence.

Sections 30 and 31 grant authority to a citizen who witnesses such a breach of the peace to prevent it under section 30 and permits a police officer to arrest a person breaching the peace under s. 31. The sections read as follows:

Preventing breach of peace

30. Every one who witnesses a breach of the peace is justified in interfering to prevent the continuance or renewal thereof and may detain any person who commits or is about to join in or to renew the breach of the peace, for the purpose of giving him into the custody of a peace officer, if he uses no more force than is reasonably necessary to prevent the continuance or renewal of the breach of the peace or than is reasonably proportioned to the danger to be apprehended from the continuance or renewal of the breach of the peace.

Arrest for breach of peace

31. (1) Every peace officer who witnesses a breach of the peace and every one who lawfully assists the peace officer is justified in arresting any person whom he finds committing the breach of the peace or who, on reasonable grounds, he believes is about to join in or renew the breach of the peace.

 (2) Every peace officer is justified in receiving into custody any person who is given into his charge as having been a party to a breach of the peace by one who has, or who on reasonable grounds the peace officer believes has, witnessed the breach of the peace.

As already recognized in the case I previously referred to, Frey v Fedoruk et al, the concept of breach of the peace is old indeed and certainly the authority to prevent such a breach and arrest on the basis of such a situation comes to us from the English common law tradition. The eminent English legal scholar, Glanville Williams, thoroughly discussed this concept in his oft-quoted seminal article,  “Arrest for Breach of the Peace”, [1954] Crim. L. Rev. 578. Please note this article cannot be found online but an excellent discussion on his views are examined in The Sanctity of Life and the Criminal Law: The Legacy of Glanville Williams edited by Dennis J. Baker, Jeremy Horder, in the chapter on “Preventative orders and the rule of law.” I highly recommend this book. This excerpt of the book can be accessed on Google Books. Glanville Williams lucidly explains the purpose behind the English common law “breach of the peace” provisions as preventative in nature.

Section 30 is essentially a legal justification for the use of force and therefore it is important for defence counsel to keep this section in mind when representing an accused for a violent offence. An accused who relies on this section must use no more force than is necessary and it must be proportionate to the potential harm inflicted by the continuance or renewal of the breach of the peace.  However, as with any legal defence, there must be an “air of reality” to the defence before the trier of fact will consider it. Again, it must be remembered that the meaning of “breach of the peace” as previously discussed also circumscribes the defence. Also be mindful of some of the other words and terms used in the section – as the defence will have to establish the existence of these terms as well in order to rely on the legal justification. The person must “witness” the events. Additionally, the person is merely required to “interfere.” The dictionary definition of “interfere” is “to become involved in the activities and concerns of other people when your involvement is not wanted.” This is a much less onerous requirement than an actual use of force. Also, this section, as mentioned previously, also applies in preventative situations where there is a potential for a person to become involved in a breach of the peace.

Section 31 is temporally connected to section 30 as it contemplates the arrest of an individual who is breaching the peace and who, the arrestor believes on reasonable grounds will join or renew any such breach. Here the arrestor must either “witness” the events or receive an accused from a person who has witnessed the events. The actions, as is usual for these justifications and protections, must be reasonable in the circumstances. The section therefore gives an officer or an assistant the power to arrest in the circumstances and the right to take into custody a person who is detained pursuant to section 30.

 

 

 

Episode 34 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada: Sections 27 and 27.1 – The Use of Force in Preventing the Commission of an Offence

 In the last episode we discussed the Criminal Code sections pertaining to the excessive use of force. This section recognizes that force may be justifiably used in certain circumstances but even so, must be used reasonably, proportionally, and when necessary. Sections 27 and 27.1 continue this conversation of the appropriate use of force in providing justification, in certain circumstances, for those who use force to prevent the commission of an offence. Section 27 provides a general justification while section 27.1, being a new amendment to the Code from 2004, provides a specific justification relating to acts committed on board an aircraft.

What must be remembered when we discuss these Code sections is that the elements of an offence resulting from the force used are proven. In other words, if the act is an intentional application of force without consent and the intention to commit this act is present, all of which the Crown can prove beyond a reasonable doubt, then an assault has occurred and but for the justification the person so applying the force would be convicted of a criminal offence. This is in line with the legal defences known as justifications recognized by common law and our criminal law through the Code. We will discuss the concept of self-defence as we move through these sections, but we must recognize we are not suggesting the essential elements of the crime cannot be proven but that the person’s actions are justified on the basis of a recognized legal defence.

 We shall first look at section 27, which reads as follows:

Every one is justified in using as much force as is reasonably necessary

 (a) to prevent the commission of an offence

(i) for which, if it were committed, the person who committed it might            be arrested without warrant, and

(ii) that would be likely to cause immediate and serious injury to the person or property of anyone; or

(b) to prevent anything being done that, on reasonable grounds, he believes would, if it were done, be an offence mentioned in paragraph (a).

 

This section has basically remained the same since the 1892 Criminal Code. It contains the essentials of statutory and common law concepts of self-defence by requiring the force used to be no more than is reasonably necessary.

However, the section, under subsection (a), restricts the reasonably necessary use of force to the prevention of the commission of an offence for which the person could have been arrested without a warrant and only if that person’s actions would “likely” cause “immediate and serious injury” to person or property. The Code has a number of sections, which pertain to the arrest of a person with or without a warrant. Most notably, section 494 outlines the circumstances where any person may arrest another for an offence without a warrant and section 495 outlines when a peace officer may arrest a person without a warrant. As section 27 refers to “every one,” it covers both an arrest by a citizen and an arrest by a peace officer. Section 494, which I do not want to discuss in detail as yet, was recently amended as a result of some high profile lobbying by storeowners, who wanted the ability to pursue an alleged shoplifter for the purpose of a citizen arrest. Prior to the amendments such arrest was predicated on the person immediately arresting a person found committing an offence in relation to their property.

Although the arrest provisions in the Code are circuitous, in the end the only people who should be arrested without a warrant are those charged with more serious indictable offences or those who may be charged with less serious offences but will not show up for trial unless arrested or there is a public interest in arresting the accused. The public interest would therefore require an arrest where the accused won’t identify him or herself or if the offence might continue if no arrest is effected such as in an impaired driving offence. Also an accused may be arrested without a warrant where evidence will be destroyed or tampered with should the accused not be in custody. Ultimately, even after arrest, the accused can still be released by appearance notice or summons.

Even if the offence is one for which the person could be arrested without a warrant, the force used to prevent the commission of the offence cannot be justified unless the accused’s actions would “likely” cause immediate and serious injury to person or property. There is no Criminal Code definition of “serious injury.”  According to the dictionary meaning, injury means any “harm or damage.” “Serious” is defined as a significant event with possible dangerous results. In accordance with the 1991 Supreme Court of Canada McCraw case, “serious bodily harm” was defined as “any hurt or injury that interferes in a grave or substantial way with the physical integrity or well-being of the complainant.” Section 27 refers not only to serious injury of the person but also of property. Also, the serious injury need not have occurred but need only “likely” to occur, meaning that the serious outcome may be the likely result of the actions as opposed to the certain results of the action.

Subsection (b) of section 27 justifies the use of reasonably necessary force when the person using such force believes, on reasonable grounds, the suspect is doing acts that would lead to the commission of an offence in the circumstances as outlined under 27(a). In other words, the person using force has an honest and reasonable belief that the acts fulfill the criteria as outlined under (a). As (b) focuses on the person’s belief, force may be justified under this section even if the acts did not amount to a commission of an offence under (a) as long as the subjective belief was reasonable in the circumstances. This assessment is therefore a blend of subjective and objective factors, consistent with the kind of assessments done in determining the applicability of the defence of the person and property provisions under sections 34 and 35.

Section 27.1, is a new addition to the Code and extends the justified use of force to circumstances on board an aircraft. It employs slightly different wording than the broader s. 27. In fact the section, in my view, appears to be a better worded section probably because it is a newly written section.  Section 27.1 reads as follows:

(1) Every person on an aircraft in flight is justified in using as much force as is reasonably necessary to prevent the commission of an offence against this Act or another Act of Parliament that the person believes on reasonable grounds, if it were committed, would be likely to cause immediate and serious injury to the aircraft or to any person or property therein.

(2) This section applies in respect of any aircraft in flight in Canadian airspace and in respect of any aircraft registered in Canada in accordance with the regulations made under the Aeronautics Act in flight outside Canadian airspace.

This section clearly sets out a justification for use of force on board an aircraft if it is reasonably necessary force used to prevent a commission of an offence for which the person believes on reasonable grounds would likely cause immediate and serious injury to any person or property within the aircraft. Again the assessment involves subjective and objective determinations, as the person’s subjective belief must be based on reasonable grounds. Also note that the offence need not be one for which the accused must be arrested without a warrant but for any offence either under the Code or any federal statute such as the Aeronautics Act. Subsection (2) specifies that that the acts must occur on any aircraft as long as the aircraft is in Canadian airspace or in international airspace as long as the aircraft is registered in Canada.

Parliamentary debates and backgrounders on section 27.1 suggest that the Liberal government, in power at the time, requested these amendments, not to change the general provisions under s. 27, but to ensure that such protection was extended to the appropriate use of force on a Canadian aircraft “outside of Canadian airspace.”

It should finally be noted that together with this new section 27.1, the government further amended the definition of “flight” under section 7(8) of the Criminal Code to include reference to s. 27.1. An aircraft is “in flight,” in accordance with that definition until the later of the time at which the door is opened for disembarkation or until, where the aircraft makes a forced landing, in circumstances where the owner or operator of the aircraft is not in control, the owner or operator of the aircraft resumes such control of the aircraft. Clearly the definition of “in flight” has been extended to include the use of force to prevent possible terrorist acts relating to the highjacking of an aircraft up until the suspect is overwhelmed and is no longer in control of the aircraft.

 

 

Section 25 of the Criminal Code Part II: Episode 31 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

In the previous episode, I introduced section 25 of the Criminal Code as a protective measure for those persons enforcing or administering the law and those persons assisting in such activities. Under subsection (1), the section permits the use of force and justifies it if the authorized person acts on “reasonable grounds” and the authorized person uses no more force than is necessary to affect his purpose. Thus, when an authorized person steps outside this reasonable and necessary protection, the force would be considered excessive. However, this justification is qualified under subsection (3) when the force used is “intended or likely to cause death or grievous bodily harm.”

Although, subsection (3) discusses the scenario when the authorized person is not protected under s. 25, in actuality, the subsection establishes when an authorized person would be justified in using, for the want of a better term, “deadly” force. Such force is justified if the authorized person “believes on reasonable grounds that it is necessary for the self-preservation of the person or the preservation of any one under that person’s protection from death or grievous bodily harm.” However, subsection (3) adds a qualifier to subsection (1), where the force is intended to cause death or grievous bodily harm. In those heightened circumstances not only must the force be reasonable and necessary for the enforcement and administration of the law but it must also be used in the context of a reasonable belief on the part of the authorized person that using such force was necessary to protect himself or others under his protection from death or grievous bodily harm. This qualifier is itself subject to (4) and (5). Thus, under subsection (4) such force is justified where the authorized person is arresting someone in circumstances outlined under the subsection. Further, such force is justified against an inmate who is escaping from the penitentiary if the authorized person believes on reasonable grounds that any of the inmates pose a threat of death or grievous bodily harm and the escape cannot be reasonably prevented by less violent means.

There is a large amount of case law on whether the authorized person falls outside of this section and therefore the force is excessive and not justified. The courts have tended to interpret this section generously and to the benefit of the authorized person using the force. For instance, the court recognizes that in the determination of whether or not the force used was reasonable and necessary, the court must not assess the situation through the “lens of hindsight” but must take into account the immediacy of the decision in light of the heightened emotional and stressful circumstances typically surrounding the event. However, the issue of excessive force is a nebulous one driven by factual considerations. Interestingly, though the court is cautious not to be  “a Monday morning quarterback,” many of these cases involve expert evidence not only on appropriate use of force training but also on the ultimate issue as to whether the force used in the case was in fact excessive. By elevating these cases to almost a scientific interpretation of events, the admonishment not to view the cases through the “lens of hindsight” seems to obscure rather than elucidate. A case-by –case determination, applying the relevant legal principles, seems like a more judicious approach.

I don’t intend to go through the case law on this issue in this blog but I would like to point out how the use of force as authorized under this section has impacted areas both outside of criminal law and in criminal law but in a non-traditional basis. The issue of use of force has greatly impacted tort law and civil litigation against police officer and police services. Some of these cases relate, not just to individual officers but also to the concept of use of force in the tactical decisions made by the police. Thus, in the Alberta Court of Appeal case of Webster v. Wasylyshen from 2007, the court considered whether or not the use of the tactical team in the search of the plaintiffs’ home amounted to excessive force. The Court, in that case, found the use of the team was not an excessive use of force “given the need for public protection in the circumstances known to the police.” Excessive use of force by the police is also an issue, which tangentially finds relevance in certain Charter cases where a violation of Charter rights requires an exclusion of evidence under s. 24(2) as the officers’ excessive use of force shows bad faith on the part of the police resulting in the administration of justice being brought into disrepute. Such an argument was accepted in the dissenting decision of the Supreme Court of Canada 2010 Cornell case.  Further, excessive use of force has been used as a mitigating factor on sentence, where an offender is being sentenced for offences but in which the officers were found to be using excessive force.

Although some form of section 25 has been in the Criminal Code since its inception, the section has continued to be tested by the courts in many differing areas of law. The issues raised under this section will no doubt give rise to further advancements in the test to be used in determining excessive use of force and the circumstances in which the court will make such a finding as the world moves into the digital age and the image finds prominence in the courtroom setting. Instead of “dueling” use of force experts the courts will be faced with “dueling” videotapes emanating from citizen cell phones and officers body worn cameras. These new evidentiary tools will, I suggest, push the evidentiary limits of the law in this area and will, I suspect, provide a whole new area of case law in this area.

 

 

Section 25 – The Use of Necessary Force In Law Enforcement Part One: Episode 30 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

As a result of the release of the Iacobucci Report on the Toronto Police Service’s response to people in crisis precipitated partly by the Sammy Yatim incident and the recent Michael Brown incident in Ferguson,  never before has the issue of necessary use of force in law enforcement been so prominent in the public forum. Although much of the present media focus has been around body worn cameras for police to monitor and record police practice relating to the use of force, the Iacobucci Report actually goes further and recommends a “zero death” policy, meaning “no death of the subject, no death of the officer involved or of any member of the public.” Whether or not that is possible is a debate for another day but for our purposes, we need to face the reality that force can be used and is authorized under section 25 of the Criminal Code.

We should first note the section descriptor – “Protection of Persons Acting Under Authority.” The section therefore is not a “use of force” section as we tend to describe it but a section focused on protection of those administering or enforcing the law. The protection afforded by the section precludes attaching criminal liability to the authorized person’s actions. Also note that the section covers all “persons” who are acting under authority and not merely the police. Thus, private citizens benefit from this protection as well. In fact, let’s look at the first part of s.25(1) as it lists the “persons” so protected as follows:

Every one who is required or authorized by law to do anything in the administration or enforcement of the law

(a) as a private person,

 (b) as a peace officer or public officer,

 (c) in aid of a peace officer or public officer, or

              (d) by virtue of his office,

 

As is with most sections in the Code, the section is both narrow and broad scope. It is narrow as the persons protected must be acting under authority or as required by law. It is broad as the act can be “anything.” Furthermore, the person so authorized, as already mentioned, may be a private citizen or a law enforcement officer as per the definition of “peace officer” and “public officer” under the s.2 definitions. The section also includes those persons aiding law enforcement and those individuals acting “by virtue of his office,” meaning a person who is acting in a position of a public nature. Now, lets look at the complete subsection 1:

Every one who is required or authorized by law to do anything in the administration or enforcement of the law

(a) as a private person,

                  (b) as a peace officer or public officer,

                  (c) in aid of a peace officer or public officer, or

                  (d) by virtue of his office,

is, if he acts on reasonable grounds, justified in doing what he is required or authorized to do and in using as much force as is necessary for that purpose.

 

 

Thus, the protection against imposing criminal liability is limited and only protects the actor if he or she “acts on reasonable grounds.” If the person does act on reasonable grounds then he or she is “justified” in his authorized actions and “in using as much force as is necessary” for effecting that purpose.  This section outlines a common law defence of justification. I have discussed justifications in previous blogs and podcasts but I will provide a refresher. Justifications (and excuses) are defences, which are available after the essential elements of a crime, both the prohibited act and the criminal intention, have been proven. Thus, these defences are a concession to human frailty and a recognition that people are, well “human,” and may act contrary to the law in special circumstances. These special circumstances usually involve exigent circumstances whereby the person has no choice but to act in a manner inconsistent with the law. In the case of justifications, which are defences of the person and property, the offender, by raising the defence, is challenging the “wrongfulness” of the act. In other words, the act is a crime in name only as the circumstances require that the offender be absolved of any criminal responsibility. Thus, the conduct is not wrong as the offender is justified in using force. Of course, flowing from this argument is the requirement in every justification that the force applied be no more than necessary to repel the perceived harm. This brings us full circle to this section as a “use of force” section and the emphasis on whether or not the force was “excessive” in the circumstances.

It is useful to compare the wording of subsection (1) to the old defence of the person sections. I say, old, as the previous sections 34 to 42 were repealed and replaced by the new sections 34 and 35. In the old section 34, which provided for self-defence against an uprovoked assault where death or grievous bodily harm is not intended, an accused was justified in using force that is “no more than is necessary” to defend himself. As you can appreciate, self defence for a non-authorized person is restricted and the admonishment is to minimize the use of force to what is only required. In contrast section 25 is permissive as the authorized administrator of the law is permitted to use as much force as is required to fulfill his duty. The new section 34 does not use the same language but instead requires that the act be “reasonable in the circumstances.”  The “nature and proportionality” of that response, under the new section, is only one factor in determining the reasonableness of the act in the circumstances of the case. In contrast, section 25 only offers a list of factors in determining the reasonableness of the authorized person’s actions, where the force is “intended or likely to cause death or grievous bodily harm.”

Another similar section, which protects persons in authority, is section 43 concerning the correction of a child. In that section, a schoolteacher, a parent or a person standing in place of a parent is justified in using force to correct a child if the force “does not exceed what is necessary under the circumstances.” Again, this section appears to restrict as oppose to permit. This section does not contain a list of factors in considering the necessity of the actions.

The history of the section also sheds some light on the protection afforded by the section. Originally, the precursor to section 25 covered a number of sections. For example the present s. 25 not only applies to an arrest but also refers to the use of force in executing a warrant, in incarcerating a sentenced offender and in preventing an escape from a penitentiary. In fact, historically, these scenarios were part of the use of force protection but were found in separate sections. For example, in the original 1892 Code under Part II “Matters of Justifications or Excuse,” arguably similar subject matter is covered in the multiple sections from 15 to 44, which comprise over half of the sections found under that Part. There were some changes by the 1905 Code but major changes, as in the compression of the bulk of these sections (essentially sections 15 to 37 from the 1892 version), did not come until the numerous amendments in the 1950s, which resulted in major changes to the 1953-54 Code. It is in this version that the various sections were combined and re-enacted as section 25.

How does the present iteration compare with the 1950s version? The first part of the present section, under (1) to (3), is substantially identical to the version used half a century ago. In other words, no changes have been made to the essential elements of this legal protection. However, significant changes were made to the latter part of the section under subsections (4) and (5) as a result of the 1994 amendments to the Code. Those changes brought in the list of “factors” to assist in the determination of the justifiability of using force “ that is intended or is likely to cause death or grievous bodily harm to a person to be arrested.” In the next podcast we will look at these changes more closely as well as the general issue of excessive use of force under the section.

Section 19 - Ignorance and the Law: Episode 21 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

Reviewing the past few episodes, I have noticed a thematic connection: from section 13 to the section 18, the discussion has focused on the availability of specific defences. Today’s section 19 continues that Code conversation by speaking of the “defence” of “ignorance.” The section reads as follows:

Ignorance of the law by a person who commits an offence is not an excuse for committing that offence.

In fact, the section does not set out a defence but seems to take away a defence, the one of – I-did-not-know-that-was-a-crime – kind of defence. We know that mistake of fact is an excuse, which if accepted goes to the mens rea or criminal intention required but why should ignorance of the law not be accepted as an excuse considering there are so many laws. Not even a lawyer can keep track of the myriad of laws and regulations out there so why deem knowledge to seemingly naïve citizens?

This presumption of knowledge has actually been in place a long time: not only since the Code’s inception but also since laws were even glimmers in Hammurabi’s eyes.  The actual section comes from the English common law, which hails from a Latin maxim found in Roman law: ignorantia juris non excusat. Once laws were codified and therefore written down for all to see, this idea, that a breach of the law cannot be excused through lack of knowledge, became an important aspect of the internal workings of the law.

One reason for this presumption is to ensure that people did not become a law unto themselves – one cannot pick and choose the laws he or she wishes to follow. Everyone is considered to be equally knowledgeable and therefore equally liable if the law is breached.

Practically, it is about incentives – ignorance is no excuse so you better inform yourself before you do it. This ensured people did not remain willfully blind. Of course, as already mentioned, to inform oneself of all the laws is an almost impossible burden, but section 19 places the information burden, to a certain extent, on the individual as opposed to the state. The government does inform the general public of our laws through publications on websites, books, and, formally, in the Canada Gazette. It is then the responsibility of the specific individual to take advantage of these publications and inform him or her as needed. Putting it into historical context, if a citizen breaks the law, Hammurabi need only say “there is no excuse, the law is clearly here on the Stele!”

Histrionics aside, as I said earlier in the podcast/posting, section 19 “seems” to take away the defence of ignorance of the law. There are two reasons for this caveat.

First, there are numerous scholarly articles on how ignorance is in fact an excuse, in certain circumstances, and that the blanket statement in section 19, and found in the legal principles of most western legal systems, simply does not reflect the true state of the law. In support of this view, I recommend just some of the following articles: “Ignorance of the Law is No Excuse?,” “Ignorance of the Law is No Excuse, Except for Tax Crimes,” “Ignorance of the Law IS an Excuse, But Only for the Virtuous,” and my favourite, “The Death of a Maxim: Ignorance of the Law is No Excuse (Killed By Money, Guns, and a Little Sex.”

Second, there is a defence known as mistake of law, which I submit is not exactly an ignorance of the law excuse, and has found only limited success in the criminal law arena. This defence, known as the defence of officially induced error, is not so much about ignorance as it is about knowledge and from where that knowledge comes. This defence, which has its origins in the regulatory context, is a form of due diligence, which exonerates an accused who reasonably relies upon an erroneous legal opinion or relies upon incorrect advice from an official responsible for that particular area of law. So, the defence does not revolve around a complete failure to inform but around a mistaken but reasonable belief in the interpretation of the law. This exception to section 19 is permitted, as stated in the Supreme Court of Canada Jorgensen case, to ensure “that the morally blameless are not made criminally responsible for their actions.”

The main conceptual difficulty with s.19 is that knowing the law, as in knowing what the section says, does not mean one understands the law or understands what kind of behaviour a particular section may or may not prohibit. Meaning hinges on interpretation and therefore depends upon case law. To access this judge-made law one must have legal expertise. Surely, s. 19 does not take into account the seemingly endless complexities of our laws and of the legal interpretation of them.

On that note, I leave you to consider another Supreme Court of Canada decision, in the McIntosh case, wherein the then Chief Justice Lamer, on behalf of the majority, disapproved of reading-in words into the then s.34, self-defence section, as:

Under s. 19 of the Criminal Code, ignorance of the law is no excuse to criminal liability. Our criminal justice system presumes that everyone knows the law. Yet we can hardly sustain such a presumption if courts adopt interpretations of penal provisions, which rely on the reading-in of words, which do not appear on the face of the provisions. How can a citizen possibly know the law in such a circumstance?

The Criminal Code is not a contract or a labour agreement. For that matter, it is qualitatively different from most other legislative enactments because of its direct and potentially profound impact on the personal liberty of citizens. The special nature of the Criminal Code requires an interpretive approach, which is sensitive to liberty interests. Therefore, an ambiguous penal provision must be interpreted in the manner most favourable to accused persons, and in the manner most likely to provide clarity and certainty in the criminal law.

Section 19 may provide certainty in the criminal law but the real question is whether it provides clarity.

Section 19 - Ignorance and the Law: Episode 21 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code

Section 18 – A Duress Addendum? Episode 20 of the Ideablawg Podcasts On The Criminal Code of Canada

Last week we discussed the codified version of the common law defence of duress or, as it is know in the Code, “Compulsion By Threats.” This week, we have a section, also concerned with compulsion but the specific compulsion, which may arise as a result of marriage. Section 18 faces this possibility and states as follows:

No presumption arises that a married person who commits an offence does so under compulsion by reason only that the offence is committed in the presence of the spouse of that married person.

This section is saying that the criminal law does not presume that a person who commits an offence in the presence of a spouse has been compelled to do the criminal act merely by virtue of their relationship. Immediately, one speculates on why it is the marriage relationship singled out in this fashion. Why does the section not speak to the parent/child relationship, which is also a strong bond between two people or even a sibling relationship? The answer lies in the original version of this section and although the present iteration seems benign enough, the historical version, on today’s standards, is much more contentious.

The section was in the original 1892 Code under the then section 13 and was entitled “Compulsion of Wife.” The section was, as you probably guessed, based on gender stereotypes as it held that “no presumption shall be made that a married woman committing an offence does so under compulsion because she commits it in the presence of her husband.” This one-sided notion was changed to gender-neutral language in the 1980 Code amendments. But this still does not explain why this section was codified in the first place.

As I explained in previous podcasts, there are many common law defences available to an accused and still available through s. 8(3). I have talked about the major types of defences that are regularly used today – such as justifications and excuses and the defence of mistake of fact. However, there are other common law defences, which are not regularly used such as the defence of de minimus non curat lex. This translates to the “the law does not concern itself with trifles” and has been used in many different kinds of scenarios such as in theft cases where the subject matter value and/or the criminal actions are trivial. Leaving that aside, there are, as I said, other common law defences and the defence of marital coercion is just one such common law defence.

The defence, if successful, exonerated a woman of criminal responsibility for criminal acts carried out in the presence of her husband on the reasoning that the wife unquestionably obeys her husband and therefore has no choice but to commit the criminal offence. She is not acting under her own volition and therefore should be excused for her conduct. It is a defence that inures only to the benefit of the married woman as in common law the husband is not so duty bound. Although the defence appears to be very similar to the defence of duress there are differences in application. The accused must be the legal wife of the husband in question and therefore legally married at the time. Even an accused who has an honest but mistaken belief of marriage cannot use the defence. There is some case law in the United Kingdom, which also suggest that the coercion need not be physical but can be moral and psychological as well.

Although this common law defence, in a modified form, is still in use in the United Kingdom (the defence cannot be used for murder or treason, see Section 47 of the Criminal Justice Act 1925), section 18 of the Criminal Code abrogates that defence. As we discussed in earlier episodes, common law defences are only available unless they are “altered by or inconsistent with” the Criminal Code and thus the defence of marital coercion, be it husband or wife, is not available. Even so, this does not preclude the accused person from raising the defence of duress, either under the common law or under s.17 as applicable.

As an aside, there is a move to abolish the defence in the UK as a result of the 2013 Pryce case. Vicki Pryce, a well-known government economist, raised the defence in her trial of perverting the course of justice when, at the behest of her then husband, she lied to the police that she was driving the family car allowing her husband to avoid demerit points. The use of the defence in this case, caused an outrage in British society, particularly in light of Pryce’s elevated position in the government. She and her husband were convicted and sentenced to eight months incarceration. Just recently, the UK government announced plans to abolish the defence.

 

 

Episode 20 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 18 - A Duress Addendum?

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

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

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

Section 17 reads as follows:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Section 15 – De Facto Laws, Criminal Responsibility and War Crimes:Episode 17 of the Ideablawg Podcast

During the Nuremberg trials, many Nazis tried to exculpate themselves by suggesting they were only following superior orders. This was not a valid defence according to the Charter of the International Tribunal under article 8. However, it was a mitigating factor in determining punishment. If the defendant, however, was the superior, according to article 7, the de facto defence was also not available but neither was it to be considered in mitigation. In Canada, prior to the war, obedience to the laws made at the time was a bar to conviction pursuant to English common law and as codified under section 15 of the Criminal Code. However, after the war, in order to conform to international conventions and to ensure the prosecution of war criminals, the Criminal Code was amended to include an exception for war crimes. When the Crimes Against Humanity and War Crimes Act was enacted in Canada in the year 2000 the Code was again amended and the exception was moved from the Code to the new Act under sections 13 and 14.

Section 15 of the Code presently reads as follows:

No person shall be convicted of an offence in respect of an act or omission in obedience to the laws for the time being made and enforced by persons in de facto possession of the sovereign power in and over the place where the act or omission occurs.

 An equivalent to this section has been in the Code since its inception but with different wording. Until the section was re-enacted as s.15 in the 1953-1954 Code amendments, the section “protected” a person from “criminal responsibility” as opposed to barring conviction.

In one of the oldest cases on the issue, the 1911 case of Kokoliadis v. Kennedy from the Quebec Superior Court, Justice Davidson considered to what extent a person was protected from criminal responsibility under the old section. In the case, Justice Davidson turned to the English common law for explanation and determined that laws as an expression of the “will of the legislature” “protects all who obey it and justifies all who do what it authorizes.” Furthermore, the law in question need only be made by persons with de facto or in fact authority, not necessarily legal authority. Thus, even if the authority is ultimately found to be ultra vires under the Constitution Act, the person obeying this law is still within his or her rights. Similarly, when a person is faced with two conflicting laws from two levels of government, he or she cannot be convicted of choosing to follow one over the other.

The purpose of the de facto doctrine, according to case law, “is to preserve law and order and the authority of the government” and “to protect the rule of law.” According to Albert Constantineau, a French-Canadian jurist writing in 1910 on this subject, without this doctrine “insubordination and disorder of the worst kind would be encouraged, which might at any time culminate in anarchy.”

For obvious reasons, this de facto doctrine was not applied at the Nuremberg trials and was specifically not accepted at “The Justice Trial,” wherein members of the Reich Ministry of Justice, including the law courts, were tried for their part in upholding Nazi laws.

The applicability and constitutionality of the combined effect of section 15 and the exception to it was at issue in the Supreme Court of Canada Finta case. Both the majority decision written by Mr. Justice Cory and the dissent (in part) written by Mr. Justice La Forest delve extensively into the defence of obedience to superior orders. Both decisions found that the exception to s.15 was not unconstitutional.  In his dissenting reasons, Justice La Forest pointed out that s. 15 was more generous than international law, as we already noted in discussing the International Tribunal Charter. However, the defence under s.15 was available under the military law of other nations and therefore section 15 not only upheld the rule of law as submitted by Constantineau, but also acknowledged the realities of being a member of the military or police force. In La Forest’s view the defence of obedience to superior orders could provide a valid defence “unless the act is so outrageous as to be manifestly unlawful” as in the case of the Nazi atrocities.

When would an order be “manifestly unlawful?” When, according to Justice Cory writing for the majority, “it offends the conscience of every reasonable, right-thinking person” and is “obviously and flagrantly wrong.” According to Justice Cory, if the exception to s. 15 did not exist and obedience to de facto law was permitted in all scenarios “not even the most despotic tyrant, the author and enforcer of the most insidious laws against humanity, could be convicted of crimes committed under his regime.”

Harkening back to Constantineau’s concern that without section 15 chaos would ensue, we can see the tension between upholding the rule of law and the consequences of so doing it. Chaos may reign in not following de facto laws but surely in some situations death will reign in following them. However, in the situation envisioned by Justice Cory and unfortunately realized in our recent past, this conflict resolves itself in favour of using the criminal law as a reflection of society’s fundamental values and the societal abhorrence we feel toward crimes against humanity.

Although we like to believe the age we live in is the most peaceful and civilized, every day as we flip through the news, either digital or in print, we see the fallacy of this belief. Criminal law in Canada is built upon traditions and our Code is no exception but in this case, thankfully, there are exceptions to the rule.

 

 

 

Episode 17 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 15 - de facto Laws, Criminal responsibility and War Crimes

Section 14 – Consenting To Death: Episode 16 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

Although we have not traversed very far into the Criminal Code, we have already discussed some fundamental principles of English common law, including common law defences. Codification, as we have seen, does not usually change these traditional concepts but crystallizes the customary into the written rule. Even with codification, common law has informed the interpretation and implementation of the Code sections through the application of case law. Later, we will see how codification can and has radically changed common law, but the section we are now discussing, section 14 of the Criminal Code, is a reiteration of the common law rule – that a person cannot consent to their own death. The corollary to that presumption is that even if a victim does consent, an accused person cannot use this consent as a defence and is still legally liable for his or her actions. The section reads as follows:

No person is entitled to consent to have death inflicted on him, and such consent does not affect the criminal responsibility of any person by whom death may be inflicted on the person by whom consent is given.

Let’s take a deeper look at what this section is saying and what it is not saying. First, the section is actually speaking to us all – not just to an accused person – and acts as a warning: “no person is entitled to consent to have death inflicted.” But why this wording? Why doesn’t the section simply say, “no person shall consent to death?” By putting in the word “entitled,” I submit that not only can we not consent to our own death but we also have no right to do so. This of course opens up a much larger debate on who has ownership over an individual’s life – is it the person or is it the state as the Code seems to suggest? Or is it a combination of the two?

This debate continues, as the Supreme Court of Canada will reopen the issue of the right of a person to die when they consider the constitutionality of the assisted suicide section 241 of the Code in the British Columbia Carter case. I have written previous blogs on the issue: Whose Life Is This Anyway? The Canadian “Right To Die” Debate Part One – Definitions and A Story and Whose Life Is This Anyway? Sue Rodriguez and the Supreme Court of Canada. We will further discuss this when we come to the relevant section in the Code but the issue of whether or not society has an interest in the continuance of our individual lives is a weighty one. The difficulty is we do want society to take responsibility for ensuring the necessities of life such as food, clothing and education – all of which by the way have been subject to great constitutional debate. But we do not want society directing the manner in which we live our lives such as our sexual orientation and our decisions around childbirth. Of course, all of these issues are predicated on the decision to live, not on the decision to die. The question “whose life is this anyway?” does not generate an easy or static answer.

The other part of section 14 is a warning to the offender - the victim’s consent cannot be used to relieve the accused of the criminal responsibility for causing the victim’s death. Again, this argument may be raised in an assisted suicide situation but it could also arise in other scenarios such as sporting events. Although we no longer live in a world where a fight to the death is an acceptable spectacle (do we?) this does not mean the issue is dead – excuse my pun. Although dueling under section 71 is a Criminal Code offence, there are contests where death may not be the object but serious bodily harm certainly is and death may be probable if you engage in the “sport” enough times – prize fighting comes to mind. Certainly, in Canada, “blood” sports are either prohibited or highly regulated as in section 83 of the Criminal Code. Recently, the Canadian government changed the meaning of a “prize fight” under this section to permit mixed martial arts events such as the Ultimate Fighting Championships, a highly popular form of entertainment.

Still when death does occur during the course of a sporting event there may be criminal code repercussions. An infamous example is the Todd Bertuzzi – Steve Moore case, when well –known defence man Todd Bertuzzi punched Moore from behind during a hockey game in Vancouver. Moore suffered serious injuries and Bertuzzi was not charged with the more serious criminal negligence, but with the lesser offence of assault causing bodily harm, which is an infliction of bodily harm without consent. Bertuzzi entered a plea of guilty and received a conditional discharge, a lesser punishment available under the Code.  

This brings us to the related consideration of whether one can consent to bodily harm. A much more difficult issue considering many contact sports involve serious injury. It also brings to mind the fistfight or the let’s-take-this outside kind of attitude that is not unknown in bars across the country. Interestingly, this is where common law and codified law intersects. Although we know from section 8(3) that common law defences are available, this seemingly straightforward exception becomes complicated when consent, as in an assault, form an essential element of an offence.

In determining whether or not consent exists as per the Code, how far can a court rely on and apply the common law principles? This was the issue in the Supreme Court of Canada Jobidon case, wherein the accused stepped out of a bar with the victim and engaged in a seemingly consensual fistfight, which left the victim dead and the accused facing a manslaughter charge. Jobidon was acquitted at trial on the basis of the consent but the Ontario Court of Appeal reversed the decision. The majority judgment in the Supreme Court of Canada, written by Mr. Justice Gonthier, found that the common law conception of consent was relevant to whether or not the victim’s consent was applicable in the circumstances. To that end, Justice Gonthier stated at page 738:

If s. 8(3) and its interaction with the common law can be used to develop entirely new defences not inconsistent with the Code, it surely authorizes the courts to look to preexisting common law rules and principles to give meaning to, and explain the outlines and boundaries of an existing defence or justification, indicating where they will not be recognized as legally effective -- provided of course that there is no clear language in the Code which indicates that the Code has displaced the common law.  That sort of language cannot be found in the Code.  As such, the common law legitimately serves in this appeal as an archive in which one may locate situations or forms of conduct to which the law will not allow a person to consent.

In accordance with these comments, the SCC took an expansive view of section 8(3) and did not feel encumbered by the argument that consent forms part of the actus reus or prohibited conduct of an offence. In this instance, the common law restricted consent in fistfights, where there was bodily harm, for reasons of public policy – to ensure good order and appropriate behaviors. The Court however was very clear to restrict this decision to circumstances, which “vitiates consent between adults intentionally to apply force causing serious hurt or non-trivial bodily harm to each other in the course of a fist fight or brawl.”  This was an important caveat for the court as:

Stated in this way, the policy of the common law will not affect the validity or effectiveness of freely given consent to participate in rough sporting activities, so long as the intentional applications of force to which one consents are within the customary norms and rules of the game.  Unlike fistfights, sporting activities and games usually have a significant social value; they are worthwhile. 

Indeed, this comment is puzzling. Although sports such as hockey and football are for some worthwhile pursuits, the issue does not lie in the sports themselves but in the injuries occasioned in these sports. Are these injuries equally worthwhile should be the question. The answer lies in the rules of the sport and certainly Bertuzzi’s criminal responsibility depended upon going outside the rules or norms of the sport.  Although only a certain level and type of harm will be tolerated, this tolerance, as it bends and flows, will have an impact on the future of acceptable violence in Canadian society and in Canadian sport.

Episode 16 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada; Section 14 - Consenting To Death

Age As A Defence – Section 13: Episode 15 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

In previous podcasts I have spoken of defences, a legal construct which an accused person can use in answer to the charge. There are two essential elements of a crime: the actus reus or prohibited act, which is the illegal behaviour and the mens rea or the guilty mind, which is the fault requirement. Some defences, negate the actus reus or prohibited act requirement of a crime, meaning that the accused cannot be convicted of the crime as the prohibited act was not committed by the accused voluntarily. This would occur, for example, in the following scenario: a person was driving his car with the window partially open and a wasp flew into the car, attacking the driver, and causing him to drive erratically. In that instance, a charge of dangerous driving under s.249 of the Code would fail as the prohibited act or bad driving was involuntary. The accused did not choose to drive in such as manner but external circumstances, beyond the accused person’s control, caused him to do so.

Another category of defences, known as justifications and excuses, are available even though the accused could be found guilty of the crime. If such a defence is successful, the accused is acquitted of the crime as he or she may be justified in committing the crime or may be excused from responsibility. In Episode 11, I explain these defences more thoroughly and I discuss the defence of duress, an example of the defence of excuse, in my previous blog here. Although these defences, if accepted, typically result in a full acquittal, the exception is the defence of provocation, a form of justification, which is only a partial defence, reducing murder to manslaughter, per s.232 of the Criminal Code. See my previous blog on the issue.

There are also defences, which negate the mens rea or the criminal intention required for a crime. Mistake of fact is such a defence where the accused believes in a set of facts, which, if true, would exonerate the accused. In those circumstances, the accused would not have the intention required to commit the offence.

Still another category of defences, which also relates to the mens rea of an offence, is where the accused is incapable of forming the intent required. Incapacity is difficult to use as a defence and tends to require expert medical evidence to establish the incapacity such as in the defence of intoxication (a common law defence, which has been severely limited by the Code under section 33.1) and mental disorder under s. 16 (or insanity as it was originally called). Another form of incapacity, which does not require medical evidence, is incapacity based on age. This is where section 13 comes into play – in fact, child’s play – as the section reads:

No person shall be convicted of an offence in respect of an act or omission on his part while that person was under the age of twelve years.

Interestingly, the word “child” is not used in the actual section, although it is used in the descriptive heading for the section, Child Under Twelve. As there is no statute of limitation on criminal offences, meaning that a person is still liable for a crime committed years previously, not using the descriptive word “child” in the actual section does make sense. Also note that although the section states a person under twelve years of age cannot be convicted of an offence, he or she may be charged with an offence. Again, if you have been listening/reading my previous podcasts, the Code seems to be focused on the “end game” of conviction and punishment.

Furthermore, this type of incapacity differs from intoxication and mental disorder as the simple proof of age, which is easily done, bars conviction. Intoxication and mental disorder as a defence, not only may require medical evidence but are complex defences, and in the case of mental disorder, has a complex procedure in the Criminal Code.  Certainly, in the case of mental disorder, an alternate mental health system is available to take over when the criminal law cannot.

So why is there such a limitation and why is it set at under twelve? Perhaps it is time we do a little historical review to find some answers.

In the 1892 Criminal Code, section 9 prohibited conviction of a person under seven years of age. Traditionally, English common law did not attach responsibility to young children for crimes, as children, like the mentally challenged, could not understand the consequences of their actions and therefore could not be held responsible in criminal court. This was the norm until the advent of the 1980 Young Offenders Act, which replaced the Juvenile Delinquents Act, when the present day age of twelve was substituted for the age of seven. This change in age was supported by psychological and medical research, which showed that the neurological development of a young person was not fully advanced until well into the teens. Thus developed the concept that a person under twelve years of age was incapable of forming the criminal intent. The research on this issue is certainly more complex as I have summarized and I invite you to do your own research on this topic. Needless to say, some academics presently question whether the child is truly incapable of forming an evil intent, although most agree that a child, due to developmental factors, should not be treated the same as an adult. Certainly Canada’s Youth Criminal Justice Act is based on that premise.

Politics has also come into the issue as the Conservative Party in 1999, through a private member’s Bill, attempted to change the age of incapacity to a child under ten years of age. This Bill did not survive but this concept has survived and may be raised yet again by the government particularly as the now Justice Minister, Peter McKay, was the sponsor of that 1999 amendment.

Additional pressure to change the age of incapacity comes from media reports of children under the age of 12 committing crimes, usually murder, both here and in the UK. It should however be noted that in terms of statistical evidence, 61% of the offences committed by young offenders are committed by the oldest offenders between the ages of 16 and 17. I know all of this fails to explain why the age barrier is under twelve as opposed to under eleven or under thirteen. I believe much of this is connected to societal perceptions and expectations, which do change over time.

To be sure, even though the criminal justice system is not engaged when a child under twelve commits a crime, the social service system can and will deem such a child in need of protection and he or she will be taken into the child welfare system. The focus is then on the reason why the child acted inappropriately and focuses on treatment and not punishment. However, the difference between these two concepts tends to become blurred in the eyes of a young person. An example of this in Alberta is the Protection of Children Abusing Drugs Act wherein a child using drugs or alcohol may be taken into a protective “safe house.”

Although the child welfare system may seem to be a kinder and gentler way of dealing with a troubled child, the system is rife with problems such as the power of the state to take children from their biological families and the difficulty of treatment without the fair trial procedures as would be required in the criminal courts. On the other hand, the stigma of a criminal charge and the use of the process-oriented criminal justice system, even if it is supposed to look towards rehabilitation of a young person, tend to provide band-aid solutions, where there are consequences, a bit of treatment, but no long-term solutions.

In the end, the criminal justice system is probably not the answer for a troubled child but the child welfare system may not be either. Perhaps, it is time for us to start thinking of alternative ways, proactive ways, to ensure that all children have the opportunity to engage in play and not crime.

 

 

 

Episode 15 - Section 13 Age As A Defence: The Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

Section 12 – Anyone Want To Play Double Jeopardy?: Episode 14 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada

Double jeopardy, like the presumption of innocence, is a legal term, which is a familiar part of our social discourse. The phrase is at once a movie, a book (actually multiple books), and even a segment of a game show. The concept, that an accused may not be tried or punished for the same offence more than once, is ancient and runs deep in our “fundamental freedoms” psyche. The Greek orator, paid speech writer, and all-around democrat, Demosthenes in his speech of 355 BCE Against Leptines, reminded the Athenian jury that “the laws forbid the same man to be tried twice on the same issue.”  Roman law later codified this concept when they published The Digests or Pandects of Justinian and referred to the maxim ne bis in idem or “not twice in the same” in Book 48, Title 2, Section 7(2). The maxim eventually was subsumed into English common law, however it was strictly defined and originally applied to those acquitted or convicted of capital offences. See Blackstone Commentaries in Book 4, Chapter 26 for more on the English law equivalent.

Not surprisingly, this restricted concept was handed down to us when we codified our Canadian criminal laws. In the 1892 Criminal Code, section 933 codified the Canadian principle under Proceedings After Conviction pertaining to “Punishments Generally.” As it is very similar to our present version under section 12, I will not reproduce it here but please note that the prohibition against double punishment is not limited to capital crimes. Also note that I referred to the concept as “double punishment” and not “double jeopardy.” To explain this difference, let’s read section 12:

Where an act or omission is an offence under more than one Act of Parliament, whether punishable by indictment or on summary conviction, a person who does the act or makes the omission is, unless a contrary intention appears, subject to proceedings under any of those Acts, but is not liable to be punished more than once for the same offence.

Immediately, it is clear that this section protects double punishment, not double jeopardy – an accused can therefore be charged and tried for similar offences, but once convicted, the accused cannot be punished more than once. This is much different than the American concept of double jeopardy as found in the Double Jeopardy Clause of the Fifth Amendment, in which a person, who is subject to the same offence, is not to be “twice put in jeopardy of life or limb.” In the American version, therefore, even the risk or danger of being convicted is being protected. The Canadian codification in the Code, like the English principle, does not go as far.

In fact, even our Charter protection under section 11(h), albeit broader than section 12 of the Code, is still not as robust as the American conception.  Section 11(h) of the Charter reads: 

Any person charged with an offence has the right if finally acquitted of the offence, not to be tried for it again and, if finally found guilty and punished for the offence, not to be tried or punished for it again.

The Charter prohibits double punishment, like section 12 of the Code, but also prohibits retrying an already acquitted accused. It is unsurprising that section 12 of the Code does not refer to acquittals considering its antecedents as a section under the punishment part of the original Code. Also, both of these concepts – not to be convicted or tried twice – come from the common law and, as we learned in a previous podcast, common law defences under section 8(3) are still available. Therefore, does section 12 really need to be under the Criminal Code? Those common law defences are known as autrefois acquit and autrefois convict. Autrefois acquit, meaning previously acquitted, and autrefois convict, meaning previously convicted, are actually referred to in the Criminal Code as “special pleas” under s. 607. Yes, we will eventually discuss this section but much much further down this podcast road.

In any event, autrefois convict has been further refined as it only applies after there has been a complete adjudication on a matter including sentence. Before punishment, pursuant to s. 12 of the Code, an accused who has been tried and convicted of offences arising out of the same transaction, can rely on the case law principle prohibiting multiple convictions from the 1975 SCC R v Kienapple. Thus, an accused charged and convicted of driving with over 80 mgs of alcohol (section 253(1)(b)) and driving while impaired (section 253(1)(a)) arising from the same transaction, will not be punished for both offences but will have one of the charges stayed or “kienappled” as defence lawyers like to call it. As an aside there are a few cases, which have become verbs in the legal nomenclature, such as a case being “askoved” or stayed due to a trial not being heard within a reasonable time pursuant to s. 11(b) of the Charter.

The lesson learned from this podcast and the previous podcast on s. 6 the ersatz “presumption of innocence” found in the Code, is that our societal perspective of law is not really reflected in our Criminal Code. Instead our perspective is coloured by the media, by the American experience, and by our own assumptions of what the law is and what the law is not.

Join me for the next podcast when we discuss section 13 of the Criminal Code.

 

 

Episode 14 of the Ideablawg Podcast on Section 12 of the Criminal Code of Canada