Section 24 - Attempting the Impossible: Episode 29 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

In the previous podcast we tackled the possibilities but in this podcast we will discuss the impossibilities. Section 24 of the Criminal Code pertains to attempts to commit an offence in an “attempt” to clarify what it means under our criminal law to commit an attempt of a crime. The difficulty with an attempt crime can be traced back to the essential elements of a crime and to the reluctance of the criminal law to attach liability to “evil thoughts.” Thus, in criminal law is the requirement that for a crime to be committed there must be both a prohibited act or actus reus and a criminal intent or mens rea as highlighted by the Latin maxim actus non facit reum, nisi mens sit rea, which translates to “there is no guilty act, without a guilty mind.” Not only must these two elements be present for a crime but they must also coincide.

A good example is the entertaining 1968 UK case of Fagan v Metropolitan Police Force in which Fagan accidentally rolled onto a police officer’s foot but once he realized he had done so, he swore at the police officer and turned off his car. After a few agonizing moments, Fagan turned on his car and rolled off of the officer’s foot. Fagan was charged and convicted of assault police. On appeal, Fagan tried to argue that there was no assault in law as his criminal intent or mens rea did not manifest itself until after the prohibited act or actus reus of rolling onto the officer’s foot. The House of Lords found this argument too narrow and explained that the prohibited act can be a continuing action and indeed in Fagan’s case they found that from the time Fagan rolled onto the foot to the time he subsequently rolled off was one continuing transaction, during which  Fagan formed the criminal intent.

So what does this great case narrative have to do with attempts? In the case of attempts it becomes very difficult to know when the actus reus and the mens rea coincide as the prohibited act is a subtle one and falls short of the actual criminal act. Indeed, attempts are known as incomplete or inchoate (not fully formed) crimes. There are other crimes, which fall under this incomplete or unfulfilled category such as counseling to commit a crime not committed under s. 464 and conspiracy under s. 465. The issue then is identifying when an act of attempt occurs as it is not the completed act and yet it is also not the mere thinking of the act as that would criminalize mere evil intentions. Thus, an attempt takes place before the completion of the intended crime but the Courts must decide at what point the attempt is complete and criminal liability will attach. Something more is required and section 24 instructs us on how that “something more” is determined in a criminal case.

Section 24 has two subsections and reads as follows:

24(1) Every one who, having an intent to commit an offence, does or omits to do anything for the purpose of carrying out the intention is guilty of an attempt to commit the offence whether or not it was possible under the circumstances to commit the offence.

(2) The question whether an act or omission by a person who has an intent to commit an offence is or is not mere preparation to commit the offence, and too remote to constitute an attempt to commit the offence, is a question of law.

Other than s. 463, which we will get to much much later and deals with the punishment for an attempt, s. 24 is the only section in the Code dealing with attempts. The difficulty is that this section doesn’t exactly tell us what it means to commit an attempt of an offence. The section does however give some legal clues, which the courts have then used together with common law interpretations of attempts to fill in the doctrinal meaning of “attempt.” From subsection (2), and from case law, we can say that an attempt is complete when the accused person’s actions go beyond “mere preparation.” This usually means the next step done with the intent to commit the crime, after preparation is complete. There also must be proximity in time between the act and the intention.

Who decides when preparation is complete? Subsection 2 tells us that it is the trial judge, who determines this issue as a question of law. Therefore, if a jury tries the matter, the trial judge will instruct the jury on this issue. The jury, as triers of fact, will then apply the legal principles to the facts to determine if the accused is guilty or not guilty of the attempt.

Not only does the prohibited act for an attempt require specific findings based in law but the intention required for an attempt is specific as well. The mens rea required for an attempt is the mens rea required for the completed offence. But in the case of attempt murder, the intention required is the highest level of subjective mens rea under s.229(a)(i), intention to kill, and not the slightly relaxed intention under s. 229(a)(ii).

I am now going to add my own narrative to this issue by relating the circumstances of the first case I did as a lawyer. I was called to the Bar in March and within the week, I was representing a client charged with an attempt break and enter. Certainly, one can envision an attempt break and enter – for example here are the facts from the 1986 Alberta Court of Appeal Gochanour case wherein a homeowner was awakened by noises at her living room window and when she looked out the window she saw the exterior screen was ripped open and someone was running from her residence. In my client’s case, the allegation was that the client, who was under the influence of alcohol at the time, was found in a fairly upscale neighbourhood with a stick in his hand. The police found scratches around the lock of a front door of a nearby house. The client was discharged at the preliminary hearing but as we can see from s.24(1), not on the basis of impossibility – as it is impossible to open a locked door with a stick – but because a properly instructed jury acting reasonably could find no evidence that the client used the stick for the purpose of committing a break and enter of a residence.

Impossibility is therefore not a defence to an attempt and therefore one cannot argue that because the completed offence was not possible, the accused must be acquitted of the attempt to commit the impossible offence. This proposition holds true whether or not the offence was legally or factually possible. But, as we will discover this does not necessarily hold true, for practical purposes, for every charge.

Let me wrap up the discussion of section 24 by offering some thought-provoking examples. A pickpocket who attempts to steal from an empty pocket is still liable to be charged for an attempt theft. Although this is legally fair, the question may be is it morally right? Should someone in that position face a possible criminal record and/or jail?

Here are some offences in which one may not be able to be charged with an attempt – even though according to s. 24 charges are possible. It is difficult to conceive of an attempt to commit a criminal negligence under s.219 – although this may be a too simplistic conundrum - it is hard to imagine how someone can attempt to be negligent. It is also difficult to conceive an attempt to be found in a common bawdy house according to s. 201(2)(a). How can someone attempt to be found in a place as required by the section? We can also apply this concept outside of the Criminal Code and to the quasi-criminal regulatory field. Can someone attempt to speed? Can someone attempt to commit an absolute liability offence, which requires no intention at all? Or in the regulatory field, can the defence argue that attempt charges are indeed not possible as they would be inconsistent with the spirit and purpose of those regulatory acts or that pursuant to, the enabling provincial statutes such a concept is inconsistent with the Act. For example, the defence could rely on s. 3 of the Provincial Offences Procedure Act or for federal acts s. 5 of the Contraventions Act, which provide for the application of the Criminal Code to regulatory offences as long as such sections are not inconsistent with the regulatory Acts. Of course, the contrary argument might be that those regulatory statutes are procedural while the concept of an attempt is a substantive issue. What has been made clear by case law is that someone cannot be charged with an attempt to commit an incomplete crime such as mentioned earlier in this podcast – counseling to commit a crime not completed and a conspiracy. So in the end, perhaps there is a defence to the impossible!

Episode 29 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada - Section 24 - Attempting the Impossible

Age As A Defence – Section 13: Episode 15 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

In previous podcasts I have spoken of defences, a legal construct which an accused person can use in answer to the charge. There are two essential elements of a crime: the actus reus or prohibited act, which is the illegal behaviour and the mens rea or the guilty mind, which is the fault requirement. Some defences, negate the actus reus or prohibited act requirement of a crime, meaning that the accused cannot be convicted of the crime as the prohibited act was not committed by the accused voluntarily. This would occur, for example, in the following scenario: a person was driving his car with the window partially open and a wasp flew into the car, attacking the driver, and causing him to drive erratically. In that instance, a charge of dangerous driving under s.249 of the Code would fail as the prohibited act or bad driving was involuntary. The accused did not choose to drive in such as manner but external circumstances, beyond the accused person’s control, caused him to do so.

Another category of defences, known as justifications and excuses, are available even though the accused could be found guilty of the crime. If such a defence is successful, the accused is acquitted of the crime as he or she may be justified in committing the crime or may be excused from responsibility. In Episode 11, I explain these defences more thoroughly and I discuss the defence of duress, an example of the defence of excuse, in my previous blog here. Although these defences, if accepted, typically result in a full acquittal, the exception is the defence of provocation, a form of justification, which is only a partial defence, reducing murder to manslaughter, per s.232 of the Criminal Code. See my previous blog on the issue.

There are also defences, which negate the mens rea or the criminal intention required for a crime. Mistake of fact is such a defence where the accused believes in a set of facts, which, if true, would exonerate the accused. In those circumstances, the accused would not have the intention required to commit the offence.

Still another category of defences, which also relates to the mens rea of an offence, is where the accused is incapable of forming the intent required. Incapacity is difficult to use as a defence and tends to require expert medical evidence to establish the incapacity such as in the defence of intoxication (a common law defence, which has been severely limited by the Code under section 33.1) and mental disorder under s. 16 (or insanity as it was originally called). Another form of incapacity, which does not require medical evidence, is incapacity based on age. This is where section 13 comes into play – in fact, child’s play – as the section reads:

No person shall be convicted of an offence in respect of an act or omission on his part while that person was under the age of twelve years.

Interestingly, the word “child” is not used in the actual section, although it is used in the descriptive heading for the section, Child Under Twelve. As there is no statute of limitation on criminal offences, meaning that a person is still liable for a crime committed years previously, not using the descriptive word “child” in the actual section does make sense. Also note that although the section states a person under twelve years of age cannot be convicted of an offence, he or she may be charged with an offence. Again, if you have been listening/reading my previous podcasts, the Code seems to be focused on the “end game” of conviction and punishment.

Furthermore, this type of incapacity differs from intoxication and mental disorder as the simple proof of age, which is easily done, bars conviction. Intoxication and mental disorder as a defence, not only may require medical evidence but are complex defences, and in the case of mental disorder, has a complex procedure in the Criminal Code.  Certainly, in the case of mental disorder, an alternate mental health system is available to take over when the criminal law cannot.

So why is there such a limitation and why is it set at under twelve? Perhaps it is time we do a little historical review to find some answers.

In the 1892 Criminal Code, section 9 prohibited conviction of a person under seven years of age. Traditionally, English common law did not attach responsibility to young children for crimes, as children, like the mentally challenged, could not understand the consequences of their actions and therefore could not be held responsible in criminal court. This was the norm until the advent of the 1980 Young Offenders Act, which replaced the Juvenile Delinquents Act, when the present day age of twelve was substituted for the age of seven. This change in age was supported by psychological and medical research, which showed that the neurological development of a young person was not fully advanced until well into the teens. Thus developed the concept that a person under twelve years of age was incapable of forming the criminal intent. The research on this issue is certainly more complex as I have summarized and I invite you to do your own research on this topic. Needless to say, some academics presently question whether the child is truly incapable of forming an evil intent, although most agree that a child, due to developmental factors, should not be treated the same as an adult. Certainly Canada’s Youth Criminal Justice Act is based on that premise.

Politics has also come into the issue as the Conservative Party in 1999, through a private member’s Bill, attempted to change the age of incapacity to a child under ten years of age. This Bill did not survive but this concept has survived and may be raised yet again by the government particularly as the now Justice Minister, Peter McKay, was the sponsor of that 1999 amendment.

Additional pressure to change the age of incapacity comes from media reports of children under the age of 12 committing crimes, usually murder, both here and in the UK. It should however be noted that in terms of statistical evidence, 61% of the offences committed by young offenders are committed by the oldest offenders between the ages of 16 and 17. I know all of this fails to explain why the age barrier is under twelve as opposed to under eleven or under thirteen. I believe much of this is connected to societal perceptions and expectations, which do change over time.

To be sure, even though the criminal justice system is not engaged when a child under twelve commits a crime, the social service system can and will deem such a child in need of protection and he or she will be taken into the child welfare system. The focus is then on the reason why the child acted inappropriately and focuses on treatment and not punishment. However, the difference between these two concepts tends to become blurred in the eyes of a young person. An example of this in Alberta is the Protection of Children Abusing Drugs Act wherein a child using drugs or alcohol may be taken into a protective “safe house.”

Although the child welfare system may seem to be a kinder and gentler way of dealing with a troubled child, the system is rife with problems such as the power of the state to take children from their biological families and the difficulty of treatment without the fair trial procedures as would be required in the criminal courts. On the other hand, the stigma of a criminal charge and the use of the process-oriented criminal justice system, even if it is supposed to look towards rehabilitation of a young person, tend to provide band-aid solutions, where there are consequences, a bit of treatment, but no long-term solutions.

In the end, the criminal justice system is probably not the answer for a troubled child but the child welfare system may not be either. Perhaps, it is time for us to start thinking of alternative ways, proactive ways, to ensure that all children have the opportunity to engage in play and not crime.

Episode 15 - Section 13 Age As A Defence: The Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

Section 11: The Parallel Universe of Criminal and Civil Law: Episode 13 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada

Today we will step out of our criminal law comfort zone to talk a little bit about the civil law, in particular how criminal and civil law reside in a parallel universe due to section 11 of the Criminal Code.

To start, let’s discuss how civil law and criminal law differ from one another. First, it should be noted that when I speak of “civil law,” I am using this term generously to refer to the legal system controlling private disputes, particularly where there is harm caused either physically (tort law) or through a breach of contractual obligations. Another definition of “civil law” may be the civil law tradition, which comes from the Continental legal tradition (The Napoleonic Code for instance), and involves codified civil statutes governing society, such as found in Quebec.

As you probably already noticed, the main difference between criminal and civil laws is the type of parties engaged in each of these systems. Civil law is between private individuals, whilst criminal is between the state or the government and an individual, although a corporation can also be charged with a criminal offence. Thus, in criminal law we are concerned with public wrongs and harms against society. As, I have mentioned before, the criminal law underlines society’s fundamental values and is reflective of how we view our society at any given time.

As a result of this differing viewpoint, civil and criminal law employ different legal processes, on occasion differing legal rules, and even a different standard of proof. To reflect the specialness of the criminal law, the burden of proof, which is on the state, is beyond a reasonable doubt, and for the civil world it is proof on a balance of probabilities, which is a lower standard of proof than the criminal one.

The civil law also employs some different types of remedies than the criminal law, although sometimes not. Criminal law remedies are about punishment, with the concomitant ideals of retribution and rehabilitation. Typically, civil remedies are about compensation, to ensure the injured party is recompensed for the harm caused. However, there are occasions where these remedies do meet such us in the criminal law when compensation is ordered or in civil law when punitive damages are assessed. This blurring of the lines between civil and criminal law is best seen in the regulatory field of legislation. For further reading on this issue, My Masters Thesis considered the criminalization of regulatory offences and the use of the civil punitive sanction as an alternative.

Now that we understand the differences between civil and criminal, let’s take a look at section 11 of the Criminal Code to try and figure out what it means and what it is doing in our Criminal Code.

Section 11 is entitled Civil Remedy Not Suspended and reads as follows:

No civil remedy for an act or omission is suspended or affected by reason that the act or omission is a criminal offence.

As an aside, a similar section can be found in the 1892 Criminal Code under s. 534. It is under the General Provisions of procedure section of the Code, while the present section 11 is under the General Part.

On the face, the meaning of the section is fairly clear: a civil action may proceed despite a parallel criminal action. In other words, a person charged with an offence can also face a civil suit for his or her actions and that civil case can continue at the same time as the criminal prosecution. However, as discussed in the last two previous podcasts, as the court retains an inherent jurisdiction over its process, a judge, in exceptional circumstances, can suspend a civil case until the criminal matter concludes. The circumstances for such abeyance would involve the right of the accused to a fair trial and the prejudicial effect of a continuing civil case. It must be emphasized that this power is discretionary and there is no automatic right to stay a civil case until a criminal matter is completed.

Another concern for an accused facing a civil suit is the civil requirement for questioning the parties on the suit. Such responses may later incriminate the accused at the criminal trial. However, there is protection for the accused under s.13 of the Charter, which prohibits the use of such testimony in a criminal proceeding, except in a prosecution for perjury or “for the giving of contradictory evidence.” Therefore, the state cannot advance such incriminatory evidence at the accused’s trial unless the evidence forms the basis of a perjury charge or unless the accused testifies at the criminal trial and his testimony at the criminal trial is contradictory to the previous testimony in the civil proceeding. In that instance, the civil testimony does not go in for the truth of its content but can be used to cross-examine the accused on a prior inconsistent statement. However, under provisions in the Canada Evidence Act, an accused must still answer the questions put to him when questioned in a civil case.

There are cases where the civil trial judge has stayed the civil proceeding when the accused is facing criminal charges in the United States. In that forum, the accused, as a Canadian citizen, would not be entitled to invoke the protection of the Fifth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution and would not be protected by the Canadian laws.

Our final consideration is why is the section in the Code. I suggest the section is in place to reiterate the differences between criminal and civil law. The sections speaks of civil remedies or the outcome of a civil case and also a civil suit’s purpose – to enforce a right of the party, which has been harmed, or unrecognized by the other party’s actions. This enforcement is between these two parties – not between Her Majesty and the accused - therefore the action is in respect of different parties. The harm is a private one, and again does not underline the social values at stake in a criminal case. Finally, the standard of proof is lower in a civil suit and therefore a civil remedy may be ordered even if an accused is ultimately acquitted of the criminal case – see the O.J. Simpson trial as an example of this.  So they are different proceedings, for a different reason, making parallel proceedings possible. Finally, there is a desire that civil matters, like criminal cases, be heard in a timely manner to ensure the integrity of the civil system. Of course, with the caveat that, in matters of justice, the criminal case will prevail.

Episode 13 of the Ideablawg Podcast on the Criminal Code of Canada: Section 11

Section 5 – The Criminal Code and The Canadian Forces: Episode 8 of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

The following is the text version of Episode Eight of the Ideablawg Podcasts. The podcast can be found at the end of the text.

In this episode, we are still in Part I, the General part of the Criminal Code. As the title of this Part suggests, many of the sections under this Part are broad statements applying to the Code as a whole – like the previous section 4, which included some general terms and procedures. Section 5 also makes a sweeping statement but about the military. Section 5 reads as follows:

Nothing in this Act affects any law relating to the government of the Canadian Forces.

Well, that sounds very straight forward – The Criminal Code does not affect martial or military law. Or, in other words military laws take precedent over the Criminal Code. Now, that is quite a statement – an exemption from the Criminal Code for the military? Is that what this section is really doing?

Well, not exactly. Certainly members of Canadian Forces are not exempt from the Criminal Code but they are exempt from the procedures found under the Criminal Code if the military decides to try a member for a Criminal Code offence before a military tribunal. Thus, in accordance with Section 130 of the National Defence Act any Criminal Code offence committed by a member of the Canadian Armed Forces or any person accompanying the Canadian Forces has also committed an offence under the National Defence Act (hereinafter NDA) and the Code of Service Discipline, found under Part III of the NDA applies.

These two sections – s. 5 in the Criminal Code and s. 130 in the NDA – create a separate judicial scheme for the armed forces. This concept is not new and has been a cornerstone of our military disciplinary regime from the conception of the armed forces. The Parliamentarian right to legislate on military matters was given under the Constitution Act, 1867 through s. 91(7). It has also been argued that the legitimacy of this federally created military judicial system is recognized by s. 11(f) the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, which exempts military offences, even if punishable by five years imprisonment or more, from the right to a jury trial.

The purpose of such a separate regime is ostensibly to enforce military discipline. However, the courts have interpreted that purpose generously. For instance, in the 1992 Supreme Court of Canada Genereux case, the court considered the application of s. 11 of the Charter to military trials involving Criminal Code offences. The majority of the court speaking through the decision of Chief Justice Lamer, reiterated that s. 11 of the Charter did apply to military courts or, as in the Genereux case, the proceedings of the General Courts Martial. The Chief Justice explained:

Although the Code of Service Discipline is primarily concerned with maintaining discipline and integrity in the Canadian Armed Forces, it does not serve merely to regulate conduct that undermines such discipline and integrity.  The Code serves a public function as well by punishing specific conduct which threatens public order and welfare. Many of the offences with which an accused may be charged under the Code of Service Discipline, which is comprised of Parts IV to IX of the National Defence Act, relate to matters which are of a public nature.  For example, any act or omission that is punishable under the Criminal Code or any other Act of Parliament is also an offence under the Code of Service Discipline.  Service tribunals thus serve the purpose of the ordinary criminal courts, that is, punishing wrongful conduct, in circumstances where the offence is committed by a member of the military or other person subject to the Code of Service Discipline.”

However, we must remember that it is the choice of the military or, in some cases, the federal government, whether or not to prosecute a member under the Code of Service Discipline. For example, the infamous case of Col. Russell Williams was heard in the civilian court. So too was the spying case of sub-lieutenant Jeffrey Delisle (I have written previous blogs and this case here and here), although apparently the military was not pleased with the government’s decision to try him in the civilian court.

This military judicial regime is actually a two-tiered system. Most discipline matters are dealt with under the summary trial procedure at the unit level where the maximum punishment is thirty days incarceration.  The more serious and formal process is a court martial with a “legally qualified military judge” presiding. In this procedure the accused are entitled to counsel and a member of the Judge Advocate General prosecutes the case. A court martial may be by way of a General Courts Martial, which consists of a judge and a panel of five members of the Armed Forces, or a Standing Courts Martial, which is a military judge sitting alone. Both Courts can impose a sentence of life imprisonment.

Although this military system has been in use for years and has seemingly been upheld by SCC decisions, there are significant pressures for reform. In a recent paper, presented by Professor Michel William Drapeau, a retired Colonel who once was the Director of the National Defence Headquarters Secretariat and is now a law professor at the University of Ottawa, for The Global Seminar for Military Reform held at the Yale Law School on October 18-19, 2013, Professor Drapeau argues strongly in favour of reform of the military judicial system based on the worldwide trend to reduce military jurisdiction and reintroduce civilian jurisdiction, particularly where criminal offences are involved.

In Drapeau’s view, reform is needed so our military conforms to accepted human rights practices and based upon previous calls for reform from within Canada through the 1998 Royal Commission into the repugnant actions of some members of the armed forces in Somalia and through the 2003 Lamer Report, written as a five year review of the NDA after legislative changes were implemented as a result of the 1998 Commission. In this excellent paper, Drapeau outlines a number of reform recommendations, which, if accepted by the government, would ensure that military justice is not only on par with our civilian criminal justice system but consistent with our global role as a model of a free and democratic society. I also recommend another paper presented at this seminar written by the Honourable Gilles Letourneau, a retired judge of the Court Martial Appeal Court of Canada and the Federal Court of Appeal but also the Commissioner for the 1998 Somalia Inquiry mentioned earlier, entitled Two Fundamental Shortcomings of the Canadian Military Justice System.

I leave this topic reluctantly as quite frankly it is so complex and interesting I would like to delve deeper into the issues I have briefly raised. I encourage everyone to go out and learn more on how the military judicial system operates. In particular, there are a number of recent Charter cases in which it has been argued that various sections of the NDA are unconstitutional. Although, the applications have been dismissed, they were decided at the court martial level and I believe we will be seeing more such challenges in the future and some on appeal.

Of course, this podcast will be published the day before November 11, Remembrance Day, and whatever criticisms there may be of the military judicial system, I think we can all agree that our veterans and current members of the Armed Forces should be lauded and remembered for their courage and bravery. On that note, I would like to conclude this podcast with a poetry reading. Every November 11, my family and I mark Remembrance Day with readings from war poets such as Wilfred Owen from WW I (I recommend Dulce Et Decorum Est) and Keith Douglas from World War II (I recommend How To Kill). I have written a previous blog on war poetry, which can be found here called “Lest We Forget,” which includes these poems and a poem by F. R. Scott, a civil liberties lawyer and a previous Dean of McGill Law School. I have written a blog posting called Poetic Justice wherein I discuss the role of poetry in law and discuss Scott’s poetic legacy. (As an aside, Norman Bethune was in love with Marian Scott, F.R. Scott’s wife.)

I could, of course, end this podcast with the most famous Canadian war poem, In Flanders Field, by John McCrae, but instead I will read another of McCrae’s poems, not as well known but just as meaningful, entitled Disarmament:

One spake amid the nations, "Let us cease

From darkening with strife the fair World's light,

We who are great in war be great in peace.

No longer let us plead the cause by might."

But from a million British graves took birth

A silent voice -- the million spake as one --

"If ye have righted all the wrongs of earth

Lay by the sword! Its work and ours is done."

Episode 8: Section 5 and Military Law Ideablawg Podcast

Section 4(3) Possession – An Example of Judge-Made Law: Episode Six of the Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada

I ended last episode with a bit of a teaser: I said in this episode we would explore the old adage: possession is nine-tenths of the law. Well, sorry to say, this is not the law, particularly in the criminal law meaning of “possession.” What we will explore in this podcast is what section 4(3) tells us about the meaning of “possession” and what it does not.

Once again, we will encounter the difficulty of using the Criminal Code as an inclusive repository of criminal offences. According to section 9 of the Code, which we will be discussing on these podcasts very soon, all crimes in Canada are in the Code, except for the common law crime of contempt of court. However, although all crimes are found under a particular section of the Code, on the plain reading of a particular section one cannot be certain of the requisite elements. Sometimes, we need to look elsewhere in the Code for further illumination, such as s. 2 definitions or the definitions found under the relevant Part.

More often, we need to look at case law for the answer. This reality suggests the concept in s.19 of the Code, that ignorance of the law is no excuse, is a bit of a joke, as certainly the average reasonable person, who has no legal training, could not access with certainty the requirements for each crime. This is even more evident when case law does not just define certain words used in a section but actually reads into the section additional words.

This is the case with the s.4 (3) meaning of “possession.” This section is a perfect example of how the Courts have restricted or narrowed the prohibited act of a crime, as originally conceived by Parliament, through legal interpretation. Of course the courts do not do this whimsically. There is a method to their madness and the modifications ensure the integrity of the criminal law as a whole. In the case of possession the added requirements ensure the law is not overly broad and does not capture those whom we would consider legally and perhaps, although not necessarily, even morally innocent. The big puzzle is why Parliament doesn’t take the hint and, in the next round of omnibus Criminal Code changes, amend the section accordingly. To not do this smacks of “ostrich-in-the-sand” kind of mentality. Or better yet, is to liken the attitude to the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal from the Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy– what you can’t see isn’t there.

In any event, with this lengthy introductory rant, let’s look at section 4 (3), which reads as follows:

For the purposes of this Act,(a) a person has anything in possession when he has it in his personal possession or knowingly(i) has it in the actual possession or custody of another person, or(ii) has it in any place, whether or not that place belongs to or is occupied by him, for the use or benefit of himself or of another person; and(b) where one of two or more persons, with the knowledge and consent of the rest, has anything in his custody or possession, it shall be deemed to be in the custody and possession of each and all of them.

What we really want to focus on is the concept of joint or constructive possession under s. 4 (3)(b), which requires “knowledge and consent.” The difficulty with this definition started with the Alberta case, from the sixties, Marshall.  The teenager, Daniel Marshall hitched a ride with some friends from B.C. intending to make his way home to Alberta. During the ride, the other teens smoked a hookah pipe filled with marijuana, which Marshall passed along but did not partake. When the Alberta police stopped the car for a broken headlamp, billows of marijuana smoke drifted out of the open windows. Everyone was charged with joint possession of marijuana on the basis of s. 4(3). Marshall was convicted at trial on the basis there was knowledge and consent per the wording of the section. The Alberta Supreme Court, Appellate Division, as it then was, disagreed, finding that consent required more than the mere presence of Marshall in the car and that although he consented to be in the car, that did not mean he consented to the presence of the drugs. Furthermore, the court, in discussing whether or not Marshall was a party to the possession, noted that Marshall had no power to control the people with the drugs nor was he the driver of the car.

This control aspect was applied directly to the meaning of possession in the 1983 Supreme Court of Canada Terrence case. In this case, the issue was possession of a stolen vehicle and Terrence’s presence in the vehicle as a mere passenger. In referring to and approving of the lower Court of Appeal for Ontario decision in the case, the SCC agreed that an element of control was required for proof of possession. In their view, if control was required for proof of being a party to an offence, then, similarly, control was required for joint possession, which was also a mechanism for deeming multiple parties legally responsible for a crime.

This case law restricting the meaning of joint or constructive possession under s. 4(3) does make sense and does ensure that responsibility is properly meted out. However, the concept can be a bit of a stretch. Take for example the 2001 Mraz case from the Saskatchewan Provincial Court wherein the accused was acquitted of possession of marijuana. There the judge found there was no control, even though the accused shared a “joint,” one of the many euphemisms for a rolled marijuana cigarette and apropos here as we are talking about joint possession, with his co-accused. There was no control because the co-accused had full control of the bagful of marijuana from which the previously smoked “joint” came. There was some dispute as to where the bag was found, as the accused believed his co-accused kept it on his person, while the bag was actually found in the car under the seat.

As a quick aside, this leads me to consider the origin of the slang “joint” used to describe a rolled marijuana cigarette. Although I am loath to use Wikipedia, the webpage on the etymology of the slang “joint” seems credible. “Joint,” which is derived from the French word “joined” was used in the 1800s to refer to an annex to a main room. The term picked up an unsavoury flavour when in the late 1800s it was then used in reference to a run-down bar or even an opium den. In the thirties the slang was used in reference to a heroin hypodermic needle because the needle was often shared. The same reasoning is applied to the use of the word “joint” for a marijuana cigarette, as it too, as seen in the cases of Marshall and Mraz, is usually shared.

Thank you for joining me. In the next podcast we will complete our discussion of section 4 when we look at the three “esses;” subjects, sexual intercourse, and service.

Episode Six Ideablawg Podcasts on the Criminal Code of Canada Section 4(3) Possession as an Example of Judge-Made Law