The View From Up North: Changing The 'Justice System' Into A 'Human System'

Once it becomes a “human” system rather than a “justice” system, won’t it become harder to ignore how stupid and wasteful the current system is?

I remember when I entered law school. I had these vague notions about “justice” and “saving the world.” I think a lot of my colleagues entered law school with good intentions. I wouldn’t call it noble. More like, that’s why many people go to law school. We believe with legal training we can make some kind of difference to the world.

I don’t really know what happened between day one and graduation. We all arrived wide-eyed and scrubbed behind the ears. We left three years later with a lot of education, but no magic formula to right the wrongs.

Of course, a little thing called “reality” also struck. Those students who wanted to make a difference learned a new phrase—“crushing debt.” It became apparent in order to serve the poor, you might actually have to join them, as there weren’t a lot of well-paying jobs championing the rights of the underrepresented.

And Bay Street called, offering gobs of money to those who achieved good grades and could sit through a 15-minute interview without peeing themselves.

From there, we just kind of leaked into the system. We became corporate lawyers or commercial litigators or employment lawyers.

Fast forward a decade, I bet most of my classmates have forgotten why they went to law school. At the very least, most of them are far removed from the “justice system.” Thus, I thought it would be interesting to take a day to see and hear what it’s like to confront the full force and fury of our justice system…

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This is the A. Grenville and William Davis Courthouse in Brampton, Ontario.

First thing I noticed as I walked up—it’s freakin’ huge. Do we really have so many criminals that we need a courthouse this large? Apparently it’s the busiest one in Canada.

Pearson International Airport is just up the road. So, if you feel like smuggling a few keys of heroin in your luggage, and the sniffy-dog rats you out, you will meet the nice prosecutors of the Public Prosecution Service of Canada at the Grenville Courthouse. That’s the branch of the federal government that deals with all the serious drug charges. Grenville also houses a branch of the Crown Attorneys’ Office on site. They deal with most other criminal matters like assault and murder.

Once I entered the premises I was immediately greeted by a security gate and four armed police officers, who screen visitors that enter the building. It reminded me of airport security. After I exited security, I walked around the massive building to get a feel for it. A few things struck me. First, it was very busy. There were people moving to and fro all over the place. Second, there were very few smiles. Nobody seemed happy to be in the building—not that I was surprised by this. I had been in courthouses before, but I had never really looked at the faces of people ensnared by the justice system. On this trip I studied the demeanour of people milling about. They spoke quietly, hands clenched, eyes darting about. Nervous, anxious. From what I could gather, a lot of the attendees were family members there to support loved ones.

Of the hundred items on the list of things I would like to do today, going to court to support a family member does not make the list. It was a definite take-away from my trip. It’s easy to condemn the criminals—don’t do stupid things and you won’t end up facing a judge. The criminal justice system, however, affects so many more people—victims, for one. But, the families of people charged with crimes also suffer greatly. They feel the gravity of attending the Grenville Courthouse every bit as much as the accused does.

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That’s what I saw in the halls—anguish. Some of it brought on by an inability to follow the rules. But, a lot of it brought on simply by loving another human being and wanting the best for him or her.

I overhead one conversation between the family of an accused and a prosecutor. The accused was sitting in a jail cell in the subcockles of the courthouse because he missed a court date while out on bail. As a result, the police arrested him. The prosecutor had to decide whether to revoke the accused’s bail or not. If he revoked bail, the accused would sit in jail for many months until his trial.

The accused’s family worked earnestly to convince the prosecutor that it was an innocent mistake and that the sister, acting as his surety, would ensure that he didn’t miss any more court dates.

Take a step back, most people don’t realize Dog the Bounty Hunter can’t get work in Canada. We use a more civilized system based on someone acting as a surety for the accused. When you act as a surety to obtain the release of a family member on bail, you pledge a debt to the court. The amount depends on the gravity of the crime and your ability to pay, but it might be, for example, $25,000.

As surety, you are one hundred percent responsible for the conduct of the accused. He or she has to follow the rules set out in the bail court order. For example, a common requirement is for the accused to abstain from any drugs or alcohol. If the police re-arrest the accused after a cocaine binge, the surety will most likely forfeit $25,000 because he or she failed to keep the accused on the straight and narrow. Thus, family members frequently put their often meagre net wealth at risk in order to obtain a family member’s freedom leading up to trial.

Additionally, when you propose to act as a surety, you have to take the stand under oath to answer questions. The court always wants to know how much your house is worth, how big your mortgage is, and how you much you make. Obviously, these are important questions to determine what quantum you can afford to lose if the accused breaches bail and the court enforces on its security. But, these questions are asked in open court in front of strangers. Thus, on top of the gravity of the situation, family members have to share private information with a courtroom full of strangers. Again, not a lot of fun.

Is there a lesson in all this? I don’t know. I just think it’s good for all of us who attended law school with more noble thoughts to go spend some time in a criminal courtroom. We call it the justice system, but that’s a construct. A courthouse is a tangible thing filled with human beings facing some of the worst problems of their lives.

At the end of the day, we spend ga-zillions of dollars on jails. We toss criminals into cells. We do a terrible job of dealing with the underlying problems—addiction, mental health issues, lack of education/training, proper re-integration into society, etc. Criminals often exit jail in a worse shape than when they entered.

Throwing people in jail is a temporary solution to a permanent problem.

Surely, there has to be a better system? Perhaps it starts with the old joke, how many people does it take to change a light bulb? One, but the light bulb’s got to want to change.

I don’t know what a better system looks like, but I do know nothing will change unless we as a society want it to happen. Could it begin simply by more lawyers and citizens attending court to look at the faces of all those entrapped by the system? Once it becomes a “human” system rather than a “justice” system, won’t it become harder to ignore how stupid and wasteful the current system is?

It’s certainly easier to toss a man in jail and forget about him than it is to attack the underlying causes that led him to crime in the first place. But, if an important goal of jails is to prevent/reduce crime, it doesn’t appear to be working very well. And it’s bloody expensive.

We certainly have the wealth and intelligence to run the most progressive, smartest justice system in the world. So, why would we accept something less—like the current system?

That’s the View From Up North. Have a super week.


Steve Dykstra is a Canadian-trained lawyer and legal recruiter. He is the President of Keybridge Legal Recruiting, a boutique recruitment firm that places lawyers in law firms and in-house roles throughout North America. You can contact Steve at steve@keybridgerecruiting.com. You can also read his blog at stevendykstra.wordpress.com, follow him on Twitter (@IMRecruitR), or connect on LinkedIn (ca.linkedin.com/in/stevedykstra/).