February blizzard break

I wrote this a little while ago and had some bandwidth challenges getting it posted. The delights of having only 2 gigabytes per month at slightly more than dialup speed...

Life got away from me after Christmas. Not an hour after arriving at the Ottawa Airport on January 2nd for the long trip back to Cam Bay, I came down with a truly evil flu that took two weeks to fully recover from. The misery ended just in time for the Cambridge Bay circuit court which started on January 17th. The day after that whirlwind ended, it was my turn to look after the Law Line. During that week I took after-hours arrest calls from anywhere in the Territory when misdeeds had been alleged. Since that week ended I've been busy getting ready for my two February traveling circuits. On February 10th I will be gone for 8 days for court in Taloyoak and Kugaaruk. And then I leave again for Gjoa Haven on the 28th.

But this Monday, everything was blissfully relaxed, peaceful and slow-moving for a change. I became more slug than human. I did not go to work. I did not go to the gym. I did not run a single errand. Cambridge Bay was in the middle of raging blizzard and everything came to a complete stop. Paul and I stayed inside because it was actually unsafe to venture out further than the partially sheltered safety of our front steps. From there, visibility was only a few metres. Winds were from the NNW and ranged between 65 and 80 km/h. If I had gone and stood away from the house I'm not entirely confident that I would be able to see my own feet.

Even though Paul and I both grew up in the Ottawa area which has winters that are very real, I don't think we really knew how spectacular a blizzard could be until we moved to Nunavut. In the south, a blizzard is a massive dump of snow with high winds and reduced visibility. Here, there is usually much less falling snow, but the winds are incredibly strong and huge drifts of snow blow in from the tundra instead. Typically there is zero or near-zero visibility. Life "as usual" simply can't go on in weather like that. You take a snow day. People in the south really should take more snow days. It is like being ten again. I was totally planning to be really, really busy and productive and work really, really hard 24/7, but then suddenly my Monday was completely out of my hands. I actually had *no choice* but to stay in my cozy home, snuggle up, prep some trials from the comfort of my dining room table, check my facebooks and bake some bread. A random gift from the heavens.

When the blizzard stopped the next morning, Mother Nature had unfortunately left quite a large gift on our front steps. Did I say steps? What I meant to say was a steep snow slide from the door to another big dump of snow on the road.

I should explain that the snow is very different here. In the south, snow comes in either the fluffy or the sticky wet variety. Here, the snow is really dense. Usually you can stand right on top of it. When I was a kid, I always wondered how the Inuit made igloos out of snow. Surely they weren't lucky enough to always have the sticky fun snow that you make snowmen and cool forts out of... Well, now I know. You could cut bricks out of the stuff up here. Yesterday morning, I walked over a fresh four-foot snow drift to get to the road. Even being a pretty big person wearing a huge full knapsack stuffed with trial files and a old heavy laptop, the snow did not depress even an inch as I walked over it. I won't embarrass myself by sharing the pounds per inch that the snow here is apparently capable of supporting. Let's just say quite a bit. Fortunately for efforts to improve my pounds per inch, I'm pretty sure that in my quest to rediscover our steps I lost at least one of those pounds by chopping the snow off in minus fifty-three windchill and flinging the chunks far away from the house.

Here is some video that I took of the blizzard. Note the part where you can't see anything at all. That is me pointing the camera at the road, in the direction of the DEW station, toward the airport, and at the tundra. Nothing but roaring pale blue.

Toronto!

After the circuit court in Gjoa Haven it was immediately time to get ready for the December 6th circuit in Cambridge Bay. We flew back from our overnight in Yellowknife on Saturday afternoon (November 27). Then, the next day, it was back to the office again to draft Charter applications, meet with clients, review the Crown's evidence against the clients (sigh) and prepare for trials and sentencing hearings.

In Cambridge Bay, the sun no longer rises by the end of November. There is only the weak bluish light of dawn and dusk in the middle of the day, as if the sun is trying to rise, or is pretending to, but then just gives up, overcome with ennui.

By the end of the week, just before circuit started, the lack of sunlight combined with increasing homesickness was causing me to feel the way our lethargic sun looked. Diana, a friend and colleague in Cambridge Bay, suggested that I change my ticket and go home a week earlier than planned. She would be in Toronto then, and we could share a hotel. I decided to go for it. Taking extra vitamin D and sitting under a happy light designed for people suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder had been helping to keep me from getting truly depressed, but I knew that time with loved ones, and the familiar comforts of home, would improve my condition a good deal more.

I'm so glad that I made the decision to leave, and that the earlier vacation date was approved. The knowledge that I would soon see my daughters and other loved ones put some pep in my step for circuit, and my court matters mostly went very well. My one regret about deciding to leave early was that Paul couldn't join me in Toronto. My vacation benefits are quite generous, and the law office closes during the holidays, so I could easily afford the time. But Paul, unfortunately, got to spend an extra cold week by himself in Cambridge Bay.

Toronto was wonderful. I saw my daughter Bronwyn three times, and will be seeing her even more when we are both in Ottawa. I shared a luxurious hotel room at the Westin Harbour Castle with Diana for my first few days in the city, and felt very pampered. Then my friend Nancy kindly let me stay with her in her beautiful Leslieville townhouse for the rest of the week, and we were able to spend lots of time hanging out, shopping, drinking white Russians, getting caught up, and having lots of good (well, evil) laughs together. I spent a lovely evening with my friend Muriel at Sarah's Cafe on the Danforth, our old local. On Saturday I enjoyed a Saturday-after-class breakfast at Occasions with karate girls Nikki and Chris, just like old times.

One of the things that I've missed terribly in Cambridge Bay is karate. Before I left Toronto in August, I had been training for six years at the Danforth Karate Academy, learning Shotokan karate. It has been a huge and positive part of my life, and it was really hard to leave my dojo behind. I'm very grateful that I was able to attend three times while I was visiting. Shihan and Sensei really put me through my paces! I feel re-energized now. I ended up with many sore muscles in places that I didn't even know I had, but my spirit is happy.

On Monday, I rented a car and drove to London to visit my daughter Gwenna who just finished her exams at Western. I decided to do the mom thing and restock her apartment with the some of the heavy and bulky items that are a real pain for a student to haul across town on a bus. We went to Costco and that was really something. Even before I left the big city, I found Costco an overwhelming, jaw-dropping monument to consumer excess. Now, with Nunavut-trained eyes, it no longer makes any kind of sense to me at all. There is so much. Everything is so cheap. It just seems crazy. We bought a term's supply (96 cans) of diet Coke for just under $30. The same amount in Cambridge Bay would cost at least $190. A huge bag of basmati rice was $10.59. Astonishing. We spent too long in the store, mostly due to me being stunned and indecisive in the face of too much choice and abundance. Gwen was very patient with me. Eventually, we made good our escape.

I fly to Ottawa this afternoon and I know that the rush of Christmas activity will make it seem like no time at all until it is time to return to Cambridge Bay. January and February are the coldest months in Nunavut, but they are mercifully not the darkest. The last day of 24-hour night is January 11th, and the amount of sunlight will quickly increase so that by the third week of May we will have 24-hour sun. I plan to come back to Toronto and Ottawa around the end of April. I'm pretty confident that this holiday time spent with loved ones, and the growing sunlight each day, will keep me in good spirits until then.

Yellowknife!

The weather cleared on Tuesday the 23rd of November and my colleague and I finally made it to Gjoa Haven early that evening. We dropped our stuff off at the hotel, went to the office and met with clients frantically until 10 or so. Then back to the hotel to meet with the crown until 11:30. The judge kindly extended the circuit by a day, so with hard work, and long hours for my colleague and I, the court was able to get through the docket using all of Wednesday and most of Thursday.

By Friday, I was completely exhausted. There was more work to get done in the morning and by the time it was time to fly out, sitting on the floor at the airport slumped on my carry-on was the most rested I'd felt in days. But when we boarded the plane, I began to perk up and get a second wind because a good job would not be the only reward this circuit.

You see, on Friday, my colleague and I got to go to what I now think of as the big city. Because of the way that the flights are scheduled, sometimes a challenging circuit concludes with an overnight stay in Yellowknife on the way home. After three months in Cambridge Bay, with a couple of visits to even smaller northern places, the detour was extremely welcome.

I probably shouldn't admit to this because I know it is kind of pathetic, but it was really exciting to spend a couple of hours wandering around the Yellowknife Walmart. It took a couple of hours because I was kind of stunned and overwhelmed by it all. To the point where I actually found it really hard to make decisions. The prices were so low compared to what I've grown accustomed to, and there were so many choices, that it didn't even seem real.

The other big city delight that I couldn't leave without experiencing was draft beer. There is no draft beer in Cambridge Bay. The best you can do beer-wise is a $7 can of Kokanee at the Elks on Fridays. Unfortunately, I no longer even experience that much because I attend only rarely, and would make it a very early night if I did go. Best for everyone involved if I minimize any possibility of witnessing someone breaching their no-alcohol conditions, if you know what I mean. So Paul goes sometimes, but sweet, sweet beer for me is quite a rarity.

Steps from the Explorer Hotel where I stayed is a decent little pub called the Black Knight. Paul and I decided it was our Yellowknife "local" when we stayed in Yellowknife at the end of August. After I was all shopped out, I dropped by for a pint of Moosehead and a pint of Kilkenny and they were both DELIGHTFUL! I know that Moosehead isn't usually described as DELIGHTFUL, but adapting to life in the far north means developing northern standards which are a little bit different than Ontario ones.

After my heavenly pints, I went back to my hotel suite. Compared to my stay at the Amundsen in Gjoa Haven, the Explorer seemed positively decadent. I had a whole room to myself. (In the far north, hotels commonly cram the rooms cheek-to-jowl with acquaintances or even complete strangers.) I had my own king-sized bed with 2 chocolates sitting on top of the many, many luxurious pillows. There was no danger of the water running out in Yellowknife, so I could indulge in a long, hot, utterly wasteful shower. There were enough towels for two people, even though there was only one guest. This was quite a nice change from towels-for-one in rooms with two or three people.

I was still exhausted when I got back to Cambridge Bay on Saturday afternoon. A change isn't strictly as good as a rest. But sometimes it can be pretty damned fabulous.

The Blizzard

Despite all efforts, I didn't get to Gjoa Haven for circuit court on the 18th. Or the 19th. Or the 20th. Or the 21st. Or the 22nd. There was a blizzard in Cambridge Bay. A monster blizzard. It lasted a full four days, which even here at the (seems like) North Pole, is exceptional. Everyone I've spoken to has said that two days for a blizzard would be normal, and three days would be a really big one, as big as they usually get. Paul and I have been here a whole three months and already we've experienced The Big Four-Day One. Lucky us!

My clients, not so much. Court was supposed to start yesterday and I was supposed to be meeting them and preparing for court with them since last week. The weather is clearing (finally!) so maybe I'll be able to fly out later today and get something useful accomplished.

I think that pretty much all of my facebook posts over the past few days have been blizzard-related. I've probably been kind of boring. I mean, it's weather. But when weather happens here, it is so extreme that it affects everything you do in a day. Shoveling to ensure you can get out of your house if you need to can become an obsession. (As it did for me, ahem...) The longer the blizzard goes, the more likely it will be that you will run out of water. The roads are blocked with drifts. Are there enough groceries? Can I go to the office? Sometimes it just isn't even safe to walk outside.

In the spirit of pictures being worth a thousand words, Paul and I videotaped the weather so that we could share a sense of what it was like.

This first one is of me, Sunday night, blizzard day#3. The winds in this shot are about 80km/h. They went as high as 93 overnight and into Monday.










The second one is Paul discovering what was waiting for us yesterday morning at the front door. He sounds despondent, but it was day #4 and in actual fact he was pretty good natured about the entire experience. The accumulation you see is just what happened overnight after obsessively shoveling out the front entrance and steps for the previous three days. Incredible.

My next circuit is in Gjoa Haven on November 22nd. Court takes place on Monday and Tuesday, and then we take a 20-minute charter flight with the court party to Taloyoak to have court in that community for as much of Wednesday as can be managed.

There is a great deal of preparation required to get ready for circuit. I have a number of trials and a preliminary hearing scheduled to take place over the course of two days. There will also be many first appearances, guilty pleas and other matters to accomplish as well. Most of the work of getting the trials and preliminary hearings ready can be done before leaving town. However, reviewing the new cases, meeting all of the clients, reviewing their sides of the story, telling them the crown positions and advising them about their options, can’t happen until we actually get there. For this reason, defence lawyers need to be in the community several days before the court party arrives.

Because court starts on Monday, the plan this circuit was to fly to Gjoa Haven via Kugaaruk and Taloyoak yesterday afternoon. The plan was to arrive a little after 5 p.m., check into the Amundsen Hotel just in time for dinner, and to meet with clients all day Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

But then, as is often the case this far north, the weather happened. Cambridge Bay woke up yesterday to wild winds, blowing snow and zero visibility. In Gjoa Haven, a blizzard was brewing that would be in full fury right about when we were scheduled to get there. By noon, our milk run flight had been cancelled. Over lunch, new plans were made to go to Gjoa Haven tomorrow afternoon, and to meet with clients Saturday night and Sunday.

But then late yesterday afternoon, the projected weather shifted again. The alarming red Environment Canada blizzard warning box for Gjoa Haven was replaced with a calming, warning-now-ended green. Cambridge Bay, on the other hand, found itself with an unexpected red box of impending weather hell. According to the forecast now, the surprise blizzard should be cleared up by tomorrow afternoon, so hopefully we will be able to go to Gjoa as (re)scheduled. Alas, the weather here comes from all directions and changes every hour, so the forecast is really just a guess.

I think the fact that I’m not stressed out by all this is a huge change. Easy-going, relaxed, and zen are not the kind of words that have ever been used in association with me. My family and friends are probably wondering if the sections of my brain that govern impatience have been destroyed by frostbite.

I’ve been wearing my fur-trimmed hoser hat quite religiously so I’m pretty sure it isn’t that. I think I’ve just adapted. This is life in the north. It would be foolish to do anything but just go with it. Everyone here has that attitude. It isn’t like Toronto where bad weather is viewed as an unjustified and criminal affront to the 24/7 gods of unrelenting productivity. It seems so long ago and crazy now how head-exploding mad I used to get from bad traffic or if the subway was delayed by a few minutes during a snowstorm, freezing rain, a torrential downfall or for reasons unknown. Having that kind of attitude isn’t even possible here. You stop. You make a new plan. And then there’s a really good chance you’re going to have to make another one.

Some differences between the court process and justice system in Nunavut versus Ontario

I wrote a bit last time about the Nunavut circuit court, but there are lots of other differences with respect to the court process and the justice system in the two jurisdictions. Many are good. Some are, well, less good. And some are just different.

There is only one kind of judge in Nunavut - a Nunavut Court of Justice (NCJ) judge. The same pool of four full-time judges and several deputy judges (who are appointed as-needed from outside of the territory) adjudicate at all of the court levels (territorial, superior and appeal). In Ontario, different pools of judges are separately appointed, either federally or provincially, for each of the different court levels. Having one judge wear multiple hats can lead to some interesting situations that would not occur in the south. For example, a recent NCJ decision just held that the same judge could adjudicate both a preliminary hearing (in Ontario, a provincial court proceeding) and the subsequent trial (in superior court) with respect to the same set of charges. You can read about it here. Having only one court also means that when you appeal the decision of one judge, it is an appeal to the sister or brother judge(s) of the same court.

Because there is no regularly sitting court other than in Iqaluit, bail hearings for local clients are a leasurely 5-minute stroll or wind-blown shuffle down Mitik St., past the Northern Store, for court in the coffee room at the RCMP detachment. There is no court reporter, so the role of reporter is played by a tape recorder. There is no court clerk, so court is called to order by a RCMP officer. There is also no crown attorney present, so a RCMP officer argues on behalf of the Crown. If the arrest is not local, the hearing is conducted in the RCMP detachment in the arresting community, with defence counsel appearing for the accused by phone.

Bail hearings in this part of Nunavut happen fast. In all Canadian jurisdictions the accused must be brought before a justice within 24 hours. But that doesn't mean they get their bail hearing then. In Ontario, an accused who actually manages to have their bail hearing within 24 hours can consider themselves lucky. In Nunavut, the question of whether an accused gets to go home to their family, or whether they will be enjoying the hospitality of Her Majesty, is often decided by the end of the day. Even when the result is not the one hoped for, the injury of being detained and shipped out-of-territory to Yellowknife is not compounded by lingering in cells for days or longer tortured by uncertainty.

The actual bail proceedings are not the long drawn-out spectacles that they are in Ontario. In Ontario, the Crown gets to read in a "synopsis" prepared by the police as their "evidence." However, the defence is nearly always expected to call prospective sureties and sometimes the accused as witnesses, who are then cross-examined at-length by the Crown. Here, it is unusual for the defence to call sworn evidence on bail except in the most serious cases. In the normal course, it is often enough for counsel to speak to people outside of court to prepare a plan for the accused's release, and then make representations to the court about those discussions. A typical submission would be: "Your Worship, this morning I called Mr. X and he advised me that the accused may live with him until the charges are dealt with." This is much more efficient than making Mr. X take multiple days off work to wait around at court to present what is generally uncontroversial evidence.

Surety bails are less common here than undertakings by the accused to a justice of the peace (JP). When an accused enters an undertaking before a justice, the accused themselves promises the JP that they will comply with their release conditions. If the accused doesn't comply, they are arrested and charged with failing to comply. In a surety bail, a relative or friend of the accused pledges a sum of money and promises the court that they will take responsibility for the accused until after their trial by acting as a sort of civilian jailer. If the accused doesn't follow the imposed conditions, the accused is arrested and the surety can lose the money that they pledge. In theory, this is supposed to make the accused's family member or friend more responsible to Her Majesty. But really, at the end of the day, it is usually the accused and the accused alone who is responsible for making choices that either comply or don't comply with their release conditions. Does punishing the accused's friend or family member for unsuccessfully trying to help their loved one and spare the state the expense of housing the accused serve anyone including the Crown? Probably not. If it did, there wouldn't be nearly the number of bail breaches before the Ontario courts.

Court is often conducted by phone in Nunavut because of the immense geographical distances and the impracticality and expense of having numerous lawyers all over the territory. Obviously, one would not want to do a trial by phone, but for routine matters, having court by phone makes lots of sense. When I think of all the time that I wasted as a defence lawyer in Ontario driving to and from all of the Toronto courts, and to/from Toronto to Brampton to Kitchener to Milton to Oshawa to Kingston to Belleville to Brockville to Hamilton etc. for adjournments, or to get disclosure, or for bails or to set a trial date, or for any number of small things for which an in-person appearance may not be necessary, I'm appalled by the ridiculous waste of time that defence counsel in Ontario must contend with. Wasted time which is tremendously stress-inducing, and mostly uncompensated. Wasted time which makes family life almost impossible in a small legal aid practice.

The telephone, in the north, also turns out to be a fine way to have contact and receive instructions from clients. During my very first week practicing here, I had to get instructions from a client in custody at the North Slave Correctional Centre (NSCC) in Yellowknife, NWT. My stomach went immediately to knots, a PTSD-like reaction to bad memories of the challenges of dealing with clients in custody in the south. Turns out that in Nunavut you can just call the jail in NWT and talk to your client. Pretty much whenever. How crazy and awesome is that? In Ontario, the corrections system does everything it can to prevent counsel from having contact with their clients. They ship the clients to megajails in Lindsay, Milton and Penetanguishine, and expect counsel to drive there from Toronto to meet with them. Corrections restricts the times of visits quite strictly, and often forces counsel to compete for time with their clients with lineups of skankily-clad accuseds' girlfriends. Adding to the insult, lockdowns where no one is allowed in to visit are very frequent and random. Too many times in Ontario I called jails before driving there to confirm that they were open for visits, only to get turned away upon arrival because they locked the jail down while I was in transit. In Nunavut, you just pick up the phone, ask the staff if you can speak to your client, and that's all there is to it.

Because I am still so new, I'm probably just scratching the surface here. But the most significant difference between court and the justice system here and there that I've seen is that Nunavut strives for efficiency. The limited resources and geography make this essential. The smallness of the communities facilitates cordiality and respect. In Nunavut, it seems that many in the justice system do everything they can to actually just git 'er done. In Ontario, I often felt that pretty much everything was put in place to create delay, to obstruct defence counsel, and to convenience everyone in the system except the accused.

Circuit court - Part 1

I've been away from my blog for too long. Our belongings arrived just before Thanksgiving weekend when Paul was sick with the flu. So I had lots of unpacking on my plate. A few days later, Paul gave the plague to me. I'm still not fully recovered from that evil virus. But the main reason I haven't been writing is that the Cambridge Bay circuit court ran from October 15th to October 21st, and court, and the preparation for it, took up most of my life until Thursday afternoon.

Circuit court. Where to begin... There is an awful lot to talk about. Which is why I'm calling this part one. Likely part one of many.

There is only one permanent court in Nunavut and it is located in Iqaluit. All the other courts are intermittent. A large (in Nunavut terms) community such as Cambridge Bay, has court roughly every second month. Other smaller communities such as Kugaaruk, have court only twice, maybe three times per year. When court takes place, every single matter, whether quick or lengthy, simple or complex, must be addressed in just a few days. The matters must also be dealt with in a minimum of appearances. Our clients are hugely prejudiced by too many adjournments because adjournments are for months instead of days, and people are typically subject to heaps of bail conditions (e.g. curfew, no booze) in a community where everyone (including, and most importantly, the RCMP) knows everyone and their business. The reality is that slips happen, and when they do, people are inevitably caught and charged with breaching their conditions. Sadly, delay in the courts means that our clients end up with even more charges for conduct that wouldn't be criminal but for fact that they were out on bail waiting for their original charges to be dealt with.

The crime rate in Nunavut is horrendous. It is also frequently fueled by booze. Accordingly, the number of people who are before the courts is huge. Macleans recently wrote an article about crime here, and my boss Peter was quoted extensively in it. Not surprisingly with the high crime rate, the docket was 18 pages long this circuit, with about 450 charges and 80 clients. The docket consisted of adjournments, applications, elections, guilty pleas, and trials (about 30 trials were scheduled). We didn't have any preliminary hearings on the list this time, but on other circuits we handle those too.

Now that I've joined the office, there are three of us to help all the clients. I honestly have no idea how they were managing to get so much done with only two criminal lawyers. Circuit is much more work than just the crazy court week because we need to meet with all the clients in advance to get instructions, prepare them for trial and gather biographical information for sentencing submissions. The days, evenings and the weekends before the court party arrived were jammed with appointments. We also had appointments every night after court.

It is just as crazy, in a different way, for the crowns. The Department of Justice sends two crowns, usually different ones each time. Luckily the ones sent for this circuit were both very experienced. The number of files that they were responsible for was just nuts. Every day they dragged two massive hockey equipment bags to court. I don't know how they carried their workload physically, never mind how they actually reviewed all that stuff.

I've worked in exhausting overloaded court circumstances before, both as defence counsel and as a crown, but my first circuit in Nunavut left me truly depleted. For sure recovering from the flu was part of it. But the biggest challenge I think was coping with overwhelming sadness. Significant long-term funding for intensive, culturally-appropriate, social services is desperately needed here, but the resources in this community lack stable funding and are the tiniest fraction of what is available in the south. The people we represent are casualties of that. They are casualties of an awful lot of things.

Over the past couple of weeks I spent many hours with clients prodding them with deeply personal questions and grossly invading their privacy. I did this so that I could tell the judge about who they are as a person, and what has happened to them in their family and community. I need to know these things to be an effective advocate for my clients and try to keep them out of jail -- or, if jail is inevitable, reduce the amount of time they will be spending there. Section 718.2(e) of the Criminal Code directs sentencing judges to consider all available reasonable sanctions other than jail with particular attention to the circumstances of Aboriginal offenders. The Supreme Court of Canada decision R. v. Gladue explains to judges how they must apply s.718.2(e) of the Criminal Code, and it creates an obligation for defence counsel to bring the individual and community circumstances of Aboriginal clients to the attention of the courts. Aboriginal people are grossly overincarcerated in Canadian prisons and R. v. Gladue provides a starting point in remedying this.

We had a good judge this circuit. My submissions were informed and impassioned. I got pretty good results in legal terms. But I am troubled that "winning" is next best to useless when we are really fighting the wrong battle. What good is haggling over less jail (even successfully) in a system and political environment that craves and demands more jail, when what the people really need is acknowlegement, respect, and to heal?