By Ricardo Lamour
For Sale. Baby Shoes. Never Worn. These were the words spoken three quarters into my first meeting with my supervisor at Thomson House. As I anxiously looked forward to starting my internship with the Cree Nation Government (CNG), Department of Justice and Correctional Services (DOJCS), I also feared not being up to the task. The type of concision expected of us in writing Gladue Reports: No empty sentences, only charged and purposeful ones, resembling the sensitivity, concision and precision of the words attributed to Ernest Hemingway.
Gladue Reports involve thorough interviews resulting in a quote-heavy document framed by the client’s own authentic words. These reports summarize the client’s background and suggest appropriate sentencing options within a land-based paradigm. Rooted in Section 718.2(e) of the Canadian Criminal Code, Gladue Reports serve as a legal requirement to encourage alternatives to incarceration for Indigenous people facing sentencing and whose unique circumstances must be considered by Canadian courts.1 The absence of application of the Gladue principles in such cases will likely be considered an error in law2. When permitted by the court, these reports require an interview with the client (the subject) and at least two secondary interviews, often with relatives or friends. They must follow a structured format and avoid becoming blatant advocacy pieces.
Quite a hard ask for someone like me, who found his way into McGill Law through a track record of fierce advocacy. A strength in one context can become a weakness in another. The temptation to abandon neutrality grows when a growing sense of injustice pierces through the writer’s being as they hear stories riddled with plot twists. Ones leaving behind vivid images and the echo of silent trauma.
My first Gladue Report was sent to the lawyer of the subject and the prosecution lawyer, on the eve of the anniversary of the Canadian Confederation, ironically. I felt relieved and proud to serve despite my shortcomings. Shortcomings in terms of a deficit in deep-rooted knowledge of Cree culture. Of unfamiliarity with the weight of the wind of Mistissini in my face. Of being estranged to the 8-hour drive that physically separates me from the region.
I tried to make up by binge downloading The Nation magazine3, a news outlet serving the James Bay Cree and having talks with a friend from the region. Questions remain, however, as to what will be the outcome for the client. Will they get a sentencing deemed fair? Will the report be of service? Will they remain away from the revolving doors? Will the report be disregarded, discredited?
I reconcile my distance from Mistissini by thinking of the intense territorial dislocation Indigenous individuals before the courts face, often being sent thousands of kilometers from home. While the Criminal Code and jurisprudence often use the term Indigenous offenders, I prefer to speak of Indigenous people involved in the criminal justice system, to centre their humanity and the broader structural context rather than define them by the alleged or committed offense. It’s reassuring that DOCJS can receive contributions from trained Gladue writers across the country. Yet what can truly compare to a report written by someone deeply familiar with the subject’s cultural background? These are the tensions I navigate in this internship.
As Ralston notes, “Some Gladue reports put before the courts have verged on advocacy, employed leading questions, taken a ‘cut-and-paste’ approach, or otherwise lacked objectivity or specificity.”4 What feels self-evident to me, what urges me to scream a particular recommendation, might be inadmissible if unsupported. Every recommendation must be grounded in corroborated evidence. I cannot be seen as prescribing a sentence to the judge. Instead, suggestions must be couched in language like, “Should the Court deem fit and proper, it is respectfully recommended…’’ Gladue writing is less the work of a cartographer than that of a portraitist: not drawing a map with directions, but holding up a mirror, layered with context, care, and complexity.
Most of the internship and report writing has taken place at home. The stories I encounter tend to stay with me, even after I close the computer. In other contexts, people might say, “what happens at the office stays at the office.” But in my case, I have to train myself: If I cannot help but sit with the story, then I must learn to sit with it in a way that’s helpful and hopeful, for both my spirit and spine.
So, I have no photos yet to post. No celebratory meal. No office selfies. I have what sits with me. The cries of the Client sharing that he does not want to be the person his father was. He wants to do better. I wrote: Subject is contrite.
It was January when I learned that this placement was possible for me. As a mature student, with some experience in advocacy, mainly in urban settings and in interaction with international bodies, I concede that this internship opportunity is the perfect challenge. Not only to test whether what I have learned so far can be of help, but more importantly, to confront what has long remained in my blind spot yet essential for the road ahead.
The internship is mostly in Montréal, with possibility of travel, but in interaction with personnel based in the client’s home region. I salute my fellow interns, who are currently immersed in otter settings, languages, time zones, and cultures. Reading their blogs nurtures in me a deep respect and sense of wonder for their experiences. Still, I believe it was meant for me to hear the stories I now sit with.
Stories emerging from training, and my first case, which pushed me to reflect on my own family history. Gladue Reports require us to document a subject’s grandparents on both sides. The questions can seem intrusive, out of place. For someone like me, a person who bears the surname of colonizers who wielded power on lands where Indigenous people were decimated and where my ancestors, kidnapped Africans, were later transplanted to generate wealth for the metropolis, the entire process feels surreal.
It led me to see, in some sense, the subject, their family, and the entire process as a kind of teaching moment, about the standards of knowledge one should, if possible, hold regarding their own family history. Even in contexts where fractures are not obvious, palpable, or even present, there is still value in tracing the patterns. This kind of awareness is not just vital for athletes or equity market analysts; it matters just as much, if not more, in intra-familial and intergenerational settings.
- R. v. Ipeelee, 2012 SCC 13 at para 75. ↩︎
- See R. v. Ipeelee, 2012 SCC 13 at para 87, where the Supreme Court states:
“The sentencing judge has a statutory duty, imposed by s. 718.2(e) of the Criminal Code, to consider the unique circumstances of Aboriginal offenders. Failure to apply Gladue in any case involving an Aboriginal offender runs afoul of this statutory obligation… a failure to do so constitutes an error justifying appellate intervention.” ↩︎ - The Nation Magazine is the only independent Indigenous news source serving the Cree of James Bay. For almost 30 years we have acted as the sole and most-trusted provider of Cree and James Bay-related print content in northern Quebec and Ontario. ↩︎
- Benjamin Ralston, The Gladue Principles: A Guide to the Jurisprudence (Saskatoon: Indigenous Law Centre, 2021) at 5. ↩︎