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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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It’s Time To End Canada’s Protectionist Supply Management Regime

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From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy

By Brian Giesbrecht

Senior Fellow Brian Giesbrecht says it’s time to stop coddling millionaire dairy barons. Supply management drives up grocery bills, blocks trade and makes Canada a global joke. Australia fixed it—we can too.

Canadians are paying the price for political cowardice

Canada’s outdated supply management system forces the average Canadian family to spend $500 a year to protect a small group of wealthy dairy producers, most of them millionaires. This protectionist regime enriches a few at the expense of many, drives up food prices and undermines Canada’s credibility in trade negotiations. It no longer fits the times, and it has to go.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about attacking dairy farmers. Most are hardworking, conscientious people who’ve built their lives around a system they didn’t create. They rise early, work long hours, rarely take holidays and deserve fair compensation if the system is dismantled. But good intentions don’t justify bad policy.

Under supply management, the government tightly controls how much dairy, poultry and eggs Canadian farmers can produce and imposes steep tariffs—sometimes more than 400 per cent—on imported products to limit competition. The result is artificially high prices, limited consumer choice and retaliatory tariffs from other countries.

This system, once designed to protect small family farms, is now dominated by fewer than 10,000 large operations, many worth millions. It no longer serves its original purpose, yet it remains in place because of political cowardice. Pierre Poilievre and Mark Carney both know the system is flawed but won’t challenge it. Why? Because it’s popular in Quebec, a province with significant electoral influence. No party wants to risk alienating those voters.

Australia and New Zealand once faced similar challenges. They phased out their systems, fairly compensated farmers through levies and built globally competitive dairy sectors. We can too. Trump’s return to power may force our hand, but it also gives us an opportunity to act on what we should have done long ago.

Even without outside pressure, the inefficiency is clear. Every year, billions of litres of milk are dumped when quotas are exceeded. At the same time, Canadian companies like Saputo are forced to relocate abroad to reach global markets. Our artisan cheese producers are trapped in a small domestic economy while foreign markets block our exports in retaliation for our own protectionism.

The hypocrisy is glaring. We call for free trade but defend a system that imposes up to 400 per cent tariffs on imports. Our global partners are right to scoff.

Trump did. In a social media post, he wrote: “Canada is a very difficult country to TRADE with, including the fact that they have charged our Farmers as much as 400 per cent Tariffs, for years, on Dairy Products.” And in his July 10 letter announcing 35 per cent tariffs on Canadian goods, he added: “Canada charges extraordinary Tariffs to our Dairy Farmers—up to 400 per cent—and that is even assuming our Dairy Farmers even have access to sell their products to the people of Canada.”

This isn’t just an American objection. High-quality dairy from France and Germany can’t be sold in Canada because of our import barriers. Their governments respond by blocking our dairy exports. Canada loses jobs, investment and credibility.

Some defenders claim foreign dairy is unsafe. But countries like France and Germany have food safety standards as strict as ours. And Canada already has legal mechanisms to block substandard imports. We don’t need tariffs for that.

Former Liberal MP Martha Hall Findlay said it plainly: supply management is a dead end. So did Maxime Bernier, who made it a central issue during his bid for the Conservative leadership. The dairy lobby made sure he didn’t win. And we’re still stuck.

Now, all parties have voted to exclude supply management from current trade talks. We are entering negotiations that demand fair treatment while protecting one of the most unfair systems in the developed world. It’s a national embarrassment.

But this can change. A phased buyout funded by a modest, temporary levy—not taxpayer dollars—could end supply management and open our dairy sector to global opportunity. Australia and New Zealand proved it works. Their citizens don’t pay $10 for butter or yogurt. Neither should we.

It’s time to stop protecting the past. Dismantle the system. Free our producers. Lower grocery bills. Restore our credibility.

Maxime Bernier saw it in 2017. Trump is saying it again in 2025.

This time, we’d better listen.

Brian Giesbrecht is a retired judge and senior fellow at the Frontier Centre for Public Policy.

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Frontier Centre for Public Policy

Canada’s New Border Bill Spies On You, Not The Bad Guys

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From the Frontier Centre for Public Policy

By Lee Harding

Lee Harding warns that the federal government’s so-called border bill lets officials snoop on your data, ban big cash payments and even open your mail – all without a warrant

Think Bill C-2 is about stopping fentanyl? Think again. It lets the feds snoop your data, open your mail and ban big cash payments – no warrant needed

The federal government is using the pretext of border security, the fentanyl crisis and transnational crime to push through Bill C-2, legislation that dangerously expands surveillance powers, undermines Canadians’ privacy and restricts financial freedom. This so-called Strong Borders Act is less about protecting borders and more about policing citizens.

Bill C-2, a 130-page omnibus bill introduced on June 3, grants broad new powers to government agencies to spy on Canadians and share personal information with foreign countries. A more honest title might be the Snoop and Gossip Act.

Among its most intrusive provisions, the bill would make it illegal for any business, profession or charity to accept cash payments over $10,000, even if made in smaller, related transactions. Want to pay a contractor $10,001 in five separate payments for home renovations? Too bad.

The Justice Centre for Constitutional Freedoms quickly condemned the move. “Restricting the use of cash is a dangerous step toward tyranny and totalitarianism,” the organization posted to X. “Cash gives citizens privacy, autonomy, and freedom from surveillance by government and by banks.”

Under Bill C-2, internet service providers could be compelled—under threat of fines—to hand over names, locations and “pseudonyms” of users without a warrant. Any peace officer or public officer can demand this data by merely claiming “reasonable grounds to suspect” an offence “has been or will be committed.”

It doesn’t stop there. The bill would also authorize the government to open private mail under the same vague threshold of suspicion.

Experts in law and privacy say the bill is a massive overreach. University of Ottawa internet law scholar Michael Geist and Kate Robertson of the University of Toronto’s Citizen Lab both point out that successive federal governments have sought to expand internet surveillance for years, but Bill C-2 goes further than ever before.

“Bill C-2’s big brother tactics combine expansive warrantless disclosure with unprecedented secrecy,” Geist warns. He adds that the bill “overreaches by including measures on internet subscriber data that have nothing to do with border safety or security but raise privacy and civil liberties concerns.”

If the intent were truly to combat fentanyl trafficking and transnational crime, better tools already exist. Conservative MP Frank Caputo pointed out that the bill has 16 parts but says nothing about increasing penalties or jail time for fentanyl traffickers.

“There is nothing about bail in the bill,” Caputo said during early debate on the bill. “In this omnibus bill, it says that offenders can serve their sentence for trafficking in fentanyl from their couch.”

Bloc Québécois MP Claude DeBellefeuille argued that strengthening border security requires more boots on the ground. Two rural border crossings in her riding recently had their staffed hours cut in half.

“It is estimated that the CBSA (Canada Border Services Agency) already has a shortage of between 2,000 and 3,000 border services officers for current duties. If they are given new responsibilities, however necessary, there will be an even greater shortage,” she said.

Not only does Bill C-2 contradict Supreme Court precedent. It also sets the stage for Canada to share sensitive personal information with foreign governments. In 2014, the court ruled that Canadians have a “reasonable expectation of privacy in the subscriber information” provided to internet service providers and that police requests for such data amount to a “search” requiring a warrant.

Robertson warns that the bill not only defies this precedent but also enables Canada to share this dubiously acquired information with 49 other countries under the Second Additional Protocol to the Cybercrime Convention. Canada signed the agreement in 2023 but hasn’t ratified it. Bill C-2 would make that possible.

She calls the protocol’s weak human rights safeguards “a direct threat to existing protections under international human rights law.” Robertson co-authored a submission urging the Department of Justice to reject the 2AP and instead support data-sharing frameworks that are built on consistent rights protections across all signatories.

Further complicating matters, Canada is in negotiations with the United States over a data-sharing agreement under that country’s CLOUD Act. Canada’s willingness to comply may reflect lingering trade pressures from the Trump administration, pressures that could again push Canada to compromise its legal independence and citizens’ rights.

This bill should be scrapped or thoroughly revised. Canadians should not have to surrender their privacy and human rights to serve a global law enforcement agenda that disregards civil liberties. If the line between national security and authoritarianism is erased, the greatest threat to Canadians may no longer be drug traffickers—it may be their own government.

Lee Harding is a research fellow at the Frontier Centre for Public Policy.

 

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