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Frontier Centre for Public Policy

The Worrisome Wave of Politicized Prosecutions

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Unusual punishment: The 2022 truckers’ protest at the Coutts, Alberta border crossing (top) led to charges against four men (bottom left to right), Chris Carbert, Tony Olienick, Jerry Morin and Chris Lysak; Morin and Lysak were held in custody for almost two years while the other two are still in prison. (Sources of photos: (top) The Canadian Press/Jeff Mcintosh; (bottom) CBC)

From the C2C Journal

By Gwyn Morgan

Shaping criminal charges, bail decisions or prison sentences around an accused person’s political or religious beliefs is utterly odious – a hallmark of tinpot tyrannies and totalitarian hellholes. Such practices have no place in any constitutional nation, let alone a mature democracy that presents itself as a model to the world. But that is increasingly the situation in Canada, writes Gwyn Morgan. Comparing the treatment of protesters accused of minor infractions to those of incorrigible criminals who maim and kill, Morgan finds a yawning mismatch that suggests political motivations are increasingly a factor in today’s criminal justice system.

On January 29, 2022, a small convoy of trucks headed down to the U.S. border crossing at Coutts, Alberta to join in the nationwide protests against the Covid-19 vaccine mandate that the Justin Trudeau government had recently imposed on cross-border truckers – the very people Trudeau had previously described as “heroes” for delivering food and other essentials in the depths of the pandemic. Joined by many locals in pickup trucks and farm machinery, the truckers’ border protest turned into a full-scale blockade that would last 17 days. Just as it appeared to be settling into an extended stalemate, heavily armed police tactical teams swooped down upon several locations and arrested 14 protesters, charging four with the ominous crimes of conspiracy to commit murder (of police officers), mischief, a raft of weapons offences and uttering threats. These were bewildering accusations given the overall context of the event.

As the blockade almost instantly dissolved given that none of the protesters wanted to be linked to potentially violent offenders, the four men – Chris Lysak, Jerry Morin, Chris Carbert and Tony Olienick – were locked away. Lysak and Morin spent 723 days – nearly two years – in pre-trial custody, 74 of which Morin was kept in solitary confinement. Finally, after their new lawyer, Daniel Song, filed a Charter of Rights and Freedoms application demanding that the courts re-examine the case, the Crown suddenly accepted a plea deal on much lesser firearms charges. One month ago – on February 6 – Morin and Lysak were abruptly released. But they had already served the equivalent of a typical sentence for a serious crime in Canada – manslaughter or assault, say. Hard-working tradesmen with young families, Morin and Lysak will never get those two years back. Carbert and Olienick remain in prison and still face the full raft of charges; their trial is to begin in May.

Contrast this with the recent case of a mother and daughter – Carolann Robillard and Sara Miller, 11 – who were fatally stabbed in a horrific random attack outside an Edmonton school. Their accused killer, Muorater Arkangelo Mashar, had a long criminal record of assaults, assault with a weapon and robbery; he had been released from custody 18 days prior to the murders. Such events are no longer exceptions in Canada’s criminal justice system. They’re not cases of someone “falling through the cracks” – getting out due to a glitch or individual act of incompetence. They are routine. This is how things are now done in Canada. Vancouver police, for example, catch and release the same criminal offenders over and over, sometimes close to 100 times, because they always make bail.

By contrast, the four Coutts protesters were repeatedly denied bail despite having no criminal records. For this reason, social media users raised the possibility that they were, in effect, political prisoners being persecuted for having stood up so defiantly against the vaccine mandate and embarrassing Trudeau. Just a week or so following their arrests, over 3,000 km away on Parliament Hill, the Trudeau government moved against a peaceful protest that was breaking no significant laws other than, possibly, some municipal noise ordnances and parking bylaws. Police arrested and incarcerated four prominent protesters whom there was no credible basis to imprison and hold without bail. Of the four, Chris Barber was released within a day. Pat King and George Billings, however, were denied bail despite facing only minor mischief charges; they would spend months in jail. Billings eventually pled guilty to one charge and was released, while King’s trial has yet to begin.

Political prisoners: At the Freedom Convoy protest in Ottawa (top), police arrested (bottom left to right) Chris Barber, Pat King and George Billings; Barber was released but King and Billings were denied bail despite facing only minor mischief charges. (Sources of photos: (top) Maksim Sokolov (Maxergon), licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0; (bottom left) Public Order Emergency Commission; (bottom middle) Calgary Herald; (bottom right) The South Peace News)

The treatment of the fourth prominent protester was especially egregious. The day before police wielding the draconian powers of the federal Emergencies Act moved in to forcibly break up and disperse the Ottawa protesters from Parliament Hill and Wellington Street, they arrested a woman who had journeyed across the country to serve as co-organizer and spokesperson for the protesting truckers. Tamara Lich, a Métis grandmother from Alberta, was criminally charged with “one count each of mischief, intimidation, obstructing a highway and obstructing a police officer, as well as five counts of counselling others to commit those same charges.” It’s hard to imagine how this petite, soft-spoken woman could “obstruct police or intimidate” anyone. Handcuffed between two towering federal police officers, Lich was placed in solitary confinement in a dungeon-like cell with a tiny window 5 metres above her head.

Section 515 of the Criminal Code of Canada covers Judicial Interim Release – the formal term for bail – and states in part: “…the justice shall, unless a plea of guilty by the accused is accepted, make a release order in respect of that offence, without conditions, unless the prosecutor, having been given a reasonable opportunity to do so, shows cause, in respect of that offence, why the detention of the accused in custody is justified or why an order under any other provision of this section should be made.” The Criminal Code also specifies that bail should be granted with the fewest conditions possible and should consider the person’s background, criminal record and any threat their release might pose to the public.

Lich spent two weeks in jail and was then released under strict and stifling bail conditions that went beyond what is typically imposed even on accused bank robbers or murderers, including a prohibition against using social media and orders not to communicate with anyone associated with the convoy. That summer, the Justice Centre for Constitutional Freedoms selected Lich as the 2022 recipient of its annual George Jonas Freedom Award “in recognition of her outstanding dedication to the cause of freedom.” At the awards ceremony in Toronto, Lich was photographed with another person associated with the convoy. She was then rearrested in Alberta, handcuffed and shackled, and flown back to Ottawa. She spent another 30 days in prison before again being released on bail after a different judge ruled that there had been “no significant interaction” at the awards ceremony – though the judge did not strike any of the oppressive bail conditions themselves.

Convoy organizer Tamara Lich, a Métis grandmother from Alberta, was put in solitary confinement on charges of mischief and “intimidation” then released with draconian bail restrictions; she was later re-arrested after a gala in Toronto (right) and sent back to jail for 30 days. (Sources of photos: (left) X; (right) Facebook/Stacey Kauder)

Around the same time, Randall McKenzie, a habitual offender charged with weapons violations and assaulting a police officer, was set free with no conditions other than periodically reporting to his parole officer. On December 27, 2022, Ontario Provincial Police Constable Greg Pierzchala was murdered in an ambush-style attack; McKenzie and his girlfriend stand accused of the horrific crime. Again, such events now occur with sickening regularity. Just three months previously, habitual violent offender Myles Sanderson went on one of Canada’s worse-ever rampages, stabbing 10 people to death, including his own brother, and wounding another 18 on the James Smith Cree Nation in Saskatchewan. Over the years Sanderson had racked up the impossible-sounding total of 125 criminal charges plus numerous parole violations, but had been again let out because a parole board member deemed he “will not present an undue risk to society.”

In stark contrast to the treatment of freedom protesters, hardened criminals such as (left to right) Muorater Arkangelo Mashar, Randall McKenzie and Myles Sanderson have been routinely set free with no enforcement of their bail conditions, and then go on to commit more horrific crimes. (Sources of photos: (left to right) Global NewsThe Hamilton SpectatorCBC)

In contrast to Mashar, McKenzie, Sanderson and many hundreds of other criminals, it is inconceivable that Tamara Lich could be considered a risk to anyone. She has no criminal record. And under Canada’s warped justice system her Indigenous background should have worked to her advantage in providing even lighter than normal treatment. Lich would probably recoil at asking for such a thing, but the Crown and court are obliged to consider it.

All of that went out the window in Lich’s case, however. In opposing bail at one of her several such hearings, Crown Prosecutor Moiz Karimjee told the judge the government might well seek a prison sentence of 10 years – something never previously imposed in Canada for a mischief charge and fully in keeping with sentences for murder, bank robbery or violent sexual assault. It is difficult to avoid concluding that people in high office wanted the court to teach Lich and the others a lesson – and send a message to dissidents across the country.

Whether or not there has been direct political interference, Canada’s justice system is no longer entirely trustworthy. Just two months after the forcible takedown of the Ottawa protests, no less a figure than Richard Wagner, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Canada, described the Freedom Convoy protest as “the beginning of anarchy where some people have decided to take other citizens hostage.” It was a grotesque exaggeration, but it wasn’t all that Canada’s highest-ranked impartial jurist had to say. “Forced blows against the state, justice and democratic institutions like the one delivered by protesters,” he declared, “should be denounced with force by all figures of power in the country.” Who outside a dictatorship even talks that way?

Supreme Court Chief Justice Richard Wagner speaks during a welcoming ceremony, Thursday, October 28, 2021 in Ottawa. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Adrian Wyld

Lich’s trial, together with that of convoy co-organizer Barber, finally began last September in the Ontario Court of Justice. It was expected to finish by mid-October but has been taking much longer. After adjourning in December, it resumed in January but was interrupted again after one day. Further hearings are to be held this week. The completion date is uncertain due to limited court time and the tenacious, tireless defence by the formidable Lawrence Greenspon, which appears to have rattled the prosecution.

Tamara Lich, Pat King, George Billings, Chris Lysak, Jerry Morin, Chris Carbert and Tony Olienick have spent a cumulative total of more than 3,200 days in jail – nearly 9 years – and this total will climb further because two of them remain in prison awaiting trial. Meanwhile, Canada’s bail laws continue to allow violent habitual offenders loose after just a few days in custody, while the parole system leaks like a poisonous sieve.

One of the cornerstones separating a democracy from a dictatorship is the prohibition of government interference in the judicial process. But in 2013, the then-aspiring political leader Justin Trudeau stated, “There is a level of admiration I actually have for China[’s]…basic dictatorship.” Even worse, Trudeau named China as the government he admired most in the world. Since then, Canadians have been given reason to believe he meant this literally.

Punishing dissent: The treatment of the freedom protesters under Justin Trudeau’s government seems disturbingly similar to the behaviour of totalitarian regimes in China, Russia and the former Soviet Bloc. Shown at top, Chinese Christians (left) and Uyghur inmates (right) jailed in China; at bottom, political dissidents in Russia (left) and Kazakhstan (right). (Sources of photos: (top right) The Guardian; (bottom left) Ilya Pitalev/RIA Novosti; (bottom right) Epa-Efe/Igor Kovalenko)

Given the facts at hand, given the Prime Minister’s venomous rhetoric against his opponents, given his repeated ethical lapses, and given that he has interfered in at least one prosecution before, it is hard to escape the conclusion that Lich and the others are political prisoners being persecuted at the behest of the Trudeau government. Whether this is due to key players in the justice system reading the implicit signals and acting accordingly, or due to direct interference, we cannot say – and might never know for sure. Either way, Canadians should be revolted. One thing we do know: news of yet another murder or egregious assault by a violent offender out on bail will come all too soon.

Gwyn Morgan is a retired business leader who was a director of five global corporations.

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armed forces

Canada At Risk Of Losing Control Of Its Northern Territories

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From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy

By Gerry Bowler

Canada has left the North wide open to foreign powers eager to grow their Arctic foothold

Canada is in danger of losing the Arctic because Ottawa has ignored the North for far too long.

The Canadian North makes up 40 per cent of our land mass and includes more than 19,000 islands in the Arctic Archipelago. Yet only about 120,000 people live across this enormous stretch of wilderness. Canada took control of the region in the late 19th century through territorial transfers from the Hudson’s Bay Company and the British Crown, one of the largest land transfers in history.

For decades afterward, the North received little federal attention. The Second World War briefly changed that, prompting construction of the Alcan Highway to Alaska and bringing new airfields and telephone lines.

The Cold War, along with the threat of Soviet bombers crossing the Pole, led to multiple radar lines. Still, Prime Minister St-Laurent admitted in the 1950s that Canadian governments had treated the North “in an almost continuing state of absence of mind.”

John Diefenbaker’s Progressive Conservative administration tried to reverse that neglect. In 1958, he told a Winnipeg audience: “I see a new Canada—a Canada of the North! … We intend to carry out the legislative program of Arctic research, to develop Arctic routes, to develop those vast hidden resources the last few years have revealed.”

Plans for a research and industrial city in Frobisher Bay, new roads and railway lines and wide-ranging surveys were ambitious but ultimately unaffordable. In the years that followed, both Liberal and Conservative governments again set northern development aside.

Foreign interest, however, continued to grow. The Canadian Security Intelligence Service recently reported Russian and Chinese attempts at influence and subversion in our northern territories.

American governments over the past 20 years have shown serious interest in the region’s resources, which include significant oil, gas and mineral deposits, along with control of the Northwest Passage, a shipping route becoming increasingly accessible as Arctic sea ice recedes.

Canada considers those waters national; the United States, the European Union and at times China argue it is an international strait.

For all practical purposes, Canada has what amounts to no meaningful presence north of the tree line, leaving the field open to countries with far more ambition and far better-equipped forces.

Canada is in no position to defend its claims. We have no icebreakers capable of operating through the Arctic winter. We have no submarines that can work under the ice cap. We have no permanent air base for fighter jets.

And to cover two million square kilometres of Arctic territory, we have only 300 troops stationed there. The chance they could detect, let alone repel, a serious intruder is essentially zero. Without these capabilities, Canada cannot properly monitor activity in the region or enforce its sovereignty claims.

In the last federal budget, Ottawa announced a $1-billion Arctic infrastructure fund for new airports, seaports and all-season roads. Our foreign affairs minister has urged NATO to pay more attention to the Arctic, saying it “must be an organization not only that focuses on the eastern flank, but also that looks north.”

These steps are gestures, not strategy. Canadian governments excel at promises but struggle with procurement, and the idea that European allies might fill the gap, considering their weak response to Russia’s assault on Ukraine, is unlikely.

Our northern territory is under threat. We must use it or lose it.

Gerry Bowler is a Canadian historian and a senior fellow of the Frontier Centre for Public Policy.

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Crime

How Global Organized Crime Took Root In Canada

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From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy

By Scott McGregor

Weak oversight and fragmented enforcement are enabling criminal networks to undermine Canada’s economy and security, requiring a national-security-level response to dismantle these systems

A massive drug bust reveals how organized crime has turned Canada into a source of illicit narcotics production

Canada is no longer just a victim of the global drug trade—it’s becoming a source. The country’s growing role in narcotics production exposes deep systemic weaknesses in oversight and enforcement that are allowing organized crime to take root and threaten our economy and security.

Police in Edmonton recently seized more than 60,000 opium poppy plants from a northeast property, one of the largest domestic narcotics cultivation operations in Canadian history. It’s part of a growing pattern of domestic production once thought limited to other regions of the world.

This wasn’t a small experiment; it was proof that organized crime now feels confident operating inside Canada.

Transnational crime groups don’t gamble on crops of this scale unless they know their systems are solid. You don’t plant 60,000 poppies without confidence in your logistics, your financing and your buyers. The ability to cultivate, harvest and quietly move that volume of product points to a level of organization that should deeply concern policymakers. An operation like this needs more than a field; it reflects the convergence of agriculture, organized crime and money laundering within Canada’s borders.

The uncomfortable truth is that Canada has become a source country for illicit narcotics rather than merely a consumer or transit point. Fentanyl precursors (the chemical ingredients used to make the synthetic opioid) arrive from abroad, are synthesized domestically and are exported south into the United States. Now, with opium cultivation joining the picture, that same capability is extending to traditional narcotics production.

Criminal networks exploit weak regulatory oversight, land-use gaps and fragmented enforcement, often allowing them to operate in plain sight. These groups are not only producing narcotics but are also embedding themselves within legitimate economic systems.

This isn’t just crime; it’s the slow undermining of Canada’s legitimate economy. Illicit capital flows can distort real estate markets, agricultural valuations and financial transparency. The result is a slow erosion of lawful commerce, replaced by parallel economies that profit from addiction, money laundering and corruption. Those forces don’t just damage national stability—they drive up housing costs, strain health care and undermine trust in Canada’s institutions.

Canada’s enforcement response remains largely reactive, with prosecutions risk-averse and sentencing inadequate as a deterrent. At the same time, threat networks operate with impunity and move seamlessly across the supply chain.

The Edmonton seizure should therefore be read as more than a local success story. It is evidence that criminal enterprise now operates with strategic depth inside Canada. The same confidence that sustains fentanyl synthesis and cocaine importation is now manifesting in agricultural narcotics production. This evolution elevates Canada from passive victim to active threat within the global illicit economy.

Reversing this dynamic requires a fundamental shift in thinking. Organized crime is a matter of national security. That means going beyond raids and arrests toward strategic disruption: tracking illicit finance, dismantling logistical networks that enable these operations and forging robust intelligence partnerships across jurisdictions and agencies.

It’s not about symptoms; it’s about knocking down the systems that sustain this criminal enterprise operating inside Canada.

If we keep seeing narcotics enforcement as a public safety issue instead of a warning of systemic corruption, Canada’s transformation into a threat nation will be complete. Not because of what we import but because of what we now produce.

Scott A. McGregor is a senior fellow with the Frontier Centre for Public Policy and managing partner of Close Hold Intelligence Consulting Ltd.

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