Five Hours in a Courtroom: A Reminder of Why I Keep Writing

Personal recollection | Not an official court transcript

An observation about testimony, evidence, the presumption of innocence, and the importance of Belief Before Proof.

Before I Begin

Before sharing my experience in a Canadian courtroom today, I want to make a few things clear.

First, I will not be identifying the trial, the courthouse, the city, or any of the individuals involved in the proceedings. My intention is not to draw attention to a particular case or the people connected to it, but rather to share what I personally witnessed and the thoughts that followed.

Second, everything I am about to share is based entirely on my own recollection of what I observed and heard in the courtroom today. I am not working from an official court transcript, recording, or any other formal record of the proceedings. While I will make every effort to accurately describe what I remember, my account should not be interpreted as a verbatim record of what was said or what occurred. Any dialogue I reproduce is based on my recollection.

Finally, I want to be absolutely clear about something that matters deeply to me.

I do not condone abuse in any form. Sexual abuse, physical abuse, emotional or psychological abuse, and financial abuse are all serious matters. Every person deserves to be treated with dignity, to be safe from harm, and to have their experiences taken seriously.

At the same time, I believe just as strongly in the presumption of innocence, due process, and the importance of ensuring that allegations are examined fairly and thoroughly.

These principles are not mutually exclusive. We can take allegations of abuse seriously while also respecting the rights of those accused.

With that understanding, I want to share what I witnessed in a courtroom today.

My Experience in Canadian Courtrooms

Over the years, I have spent a considerable amount of time inside Canadian courtrooms.

Some of those experiences have involved my own legal proceedings in the criminal, family, and civil justice systems. I have sat in courtrooms where the decisions being made had a direct impact on my life and the lives of those closest to me.

But my time in courtrooms has not been limited to my own experiences.

I have also attended motions, trials, verdicts, and sentencing hearings involving members of the Presumption of Innocence Canada (PIC) community. Sometimes I have attended in person, sitting quietly in the courtroom. Other times, I have observed proceedings remotely through Zoom.

Many of the people I originally came to know through PIC are individuals I now consider friends.

While the circumstances that brought each of us into the justice system may be different, those experiences have created connections that extend well beyond our weekly meetings.

Today was another opportunity to sit in a courtroom.

And it was an experience that left me with a great deal to think about.

What I Witnessed

The trial I attended today is a lengthy one, and the accused remains in custody while the proceedings are ongoing, despite not having been convicted of the charges currently before the court.

Today's proceedings involved the cross-examination of a complainant.

I want to make an important distinction here. I was not present for this witness's examination-in-chief, when she was initially questioned and provided her testimony. I had also missed approximately half a day of earlier cross-examination.

I did not hear her complete testimony, nor have I reviewed a transcript of what was said before I arrived.

That distinction matters.

Of all the trials and courtroom proceedings I have attended over the years, I cannot recall ever witnessing the level of hostility from a complainant that I observed today.

I recognize that courtrooms can be emotionally charged environments. Testifying can be difficult, particularly when the subject matter involves allegations of abuse. Cross-examination can be uncomfortable, challenging, and, at times, confrontational.

I understand that emotions can run high, both inside and outside the courtroom.

But today felt different.

Before I go further, I should mention that a victim services worker was also present, seated in the public gallery. I will return to my observations concerning her later, but one detail stood out early in the proceedings.

On two separate occasions, she was asked to stop using her phone inside the courtroom.

As the cross-examination continued, defence counsel began asking the witness questions that, at least from my perspective, appeared relatively straightforward.

Yet the answers were anything but straightforward.

Again and again, the response was some variation of:

"Well, I just don't remember."

It wasn't simply the words that caught my attention. It was the tone in which they were delivered. To my ears, the responses often sounded sarcastic, dismissive, and at times openly hostile.

I want to be careful here. I cannot know what the witness was thinking or feeling. I can only describe how her responses appeared to me as someone sitting in the courtroom.

And I recognize that an inability to remember something does not, by itself, mean a person is being dishonest.

Nevertheless, there was something about the repeated exchanges that stood out to me.

An Unexpected Admission

During today's proceedings, defence counsel referred the witness to an answer she had apparently given during the previous day's testimony.

When asked about that earlier answer, the witness again indicated that she did not remember.

What followed was an exchange I was not expecting.

Defence counsel asked whether she had consumed alcohol or taken any substances on the previous day.

Her answer was yes.

As I understood her testimony, she stated that she had taken a pill outside the courthouse that had been given to her by another person.

She indicated that she did not know what the pill was.

I found that admission surprising.

But what followed surprised me even more.

The witness went on to suggest that she believed the pill had been given to her at the direction of the accused, who was, and remains, in custody awaiting the outcome of the trial.

As I understood her explanation, she believed the purpose was to interfere with her ability to testify accurately.

I sat there trying to process what I had just heard.

A witness had described taking an unidentified substance provided by someone outside the courthouse and then expressed a belief that the accused, despite being in custody, had somehow arranged for that substance to be given to her.

I want to emphasize that this was the witness's stated belief, as I recall it. I did not hear evidence establishing that the accused had directed anyone to provide her with a pill.

Defence counsel then asked whether she had taken anything that day that might affect her ability to testify.

She indicated that she had not.

But as the cross-examination continued, the questions raised in my mind did not go away.

Allegations of Corruption

As the questioning continued, the witness began making statements that, from my perspective, were increasingly difficult to understand.

She spoke about what she believed was a broader pattern of intimidation and corruption.

She described people being sent to walk past her apartment, individuals she said she had observed through her Ring doorbell camera. According to her account, these individuals would look toward the camera and give what she described as an evil smile.

But what struck me most was who she believed was involved.

This was a complainant who was now making allegations not only against the person standing trial, but also against police, the Crown's office, and even judges.

As I recall her testimony, she described these individuals and institutions as "being part of the corruption."

I sat listening, trying to understand what was being alleged and how these statements related to the evidence before the court.

Then came an exchange that particularly stood out to me.

Defence counsel asked the witness whether she was genuinely suggesting that the very judge presiding over the trial was somehow working with the accused to threaten or intimidate her.

Her response, as I remember it, was:

"Are we really going to say that corruption doesn't exist?"

It was a remarkable exchange to witness.

The question had been specific. It concerned whether she was alleging that the judge sitting in that courtroom was involved in threatening her in cooperation with the accused.

Her response raised the broader possibility of corruption without directly addressing the specific allegation put to her.

I do not know what evidence, if any, had been presented during the portions of the trial I did not attend concerning these claims. Nor can I know what experiences or circumstances informed the witness's beliefs.

What I can say is that I heard a witness make serious allegations involving multiple participants in the justice system, including the presiding judge.

And I found myself wondering how those statements would be considered alongside the other evidence in the trial.

The Messages to the Detective

As the cross-examination continued, defence counsel began showing the witness a series of text messages exchanged between her and the lead detective investigating the case.

What caught my attention was not simply the content of the messages, but the pattern of communication.

There appeared to be numerous consecutive messages from the witness before the detective would respond.

In those messages, she continued to express her concerns and beliefs about individuals she thought were involved in a much larger network of people working against her.

On several occasions, the detective responded by reminding her that she was in the middle of cross-examination and that he could not communicate with her about the case while her testimony was ongoing.

As I recall it, his responses were along the lines of:

"Please do not message me about the case. You are in the middle of cross-examination, and I cannot speak to you about this."

Despite those responses, the messages continued.

The detective's repeated requests appeared to have little effect on the witness's willingness to continue communicating her concerns.

At one point, she identified a particular woman whom she believed was involved in the alleged network.

I will not identify that individual, but I remember the witness making an extraordinary statement about her.

She claimed that this woman "owned the police department."

I sat there listening as these messages were discussed in open court.

Earlier, I had heard the witness suggest that police officers, Crown attorneys, and even judges were involved in corruption. Now, through the text messages being examined by defence counsel, I was hearing further allegations about individuals supposedly exercising influence over the police.

I had no way of knowing what evidence, if any, supported these beliefs.

What I did know was that the witness was continuing to communicate about the case with the lead detective during her cross-examination, despite his repeated requests that she not do so.

And I wondered what significance, if any, the court would ultimately attach to those exchanges.

An Experiment Involving a Serious Illness

As I continued listening, I was left with the impression that the witness believed a remarkable number of people were somehow working against her.

Whether it was individuals she claimed were walking past her apartment, members of the police service, the Crown's office, or even the judiciary, there seemed to be a recurring theme in her testimony: people were either threatening her, participating in corruption, or connected in some way to a much larger effort directed against her.

That was my impression from the portion of testimony I witnessed. I cannot speak to what evidence may have been presented on other days.

Then came another exchange that caught my attention.

Defence counsel presented a text message the witness had sent to another individual in which she stated that she had brain cancer.

When questioned about the message, the witness explained that it had been part of what she described as "an experiment."

She stated that her theory had now been proven.

It took some time for her to explain what she meant. Initially, she repeatedly described the matter as personal and appeared reluctant to elaborate.

Eventually, she acknowledged that she did not have brain cancer.

According to her explanation, she had deliberately made the statement as a test to see whether it would eventually find its way into the courtroom.

Now that defence counsel had introduced the message during cross-examination, she believed the experiment had succeeded and her theory had been proven.

She did not, at least during the exchange I witnessed, explain precisely what conclusion she believed could be drawn from that result.

I found myself reflecting on the distinction between what a person believes an event demonstrates and what that event actually establishes.

The message had been introduced in court. That much was clear.

But whether its appearance in the proceedings established the broader theory the witness was describing was an entirely different question.

And once again, I was reminded of the importance of examining evidence carefully, rather than assuming that a particular interpretation must be correct simply because someone believes it to be.

A Conversation in the Hallway

There was another incident during the morning break that has stayed with me.

It did not happen inside the courtroom.

It happened in a public hallway immediately outside.

The complainant was speaking with a victim services worker and a man whose identity and role I cannot confirm. I had noticed him earlier in the courtroom, seated directly behind the Crown. My assumption was that he may have been a detective, but I do not know that for certain.

The victim services worker suggested that they move into a private room to continue their conversation.

The complainant declined, indicating that she was fine where she was and wanted to remain in the hallway.

I heard very little from the victim services worker after that.

Most of the conversation I overheard was between the complainant and the man.

The complainant appeared frustrated with the questioning she was facing during cross-examination.

The man acknowledged that frustration and indicated that he could hear sounds being made by the accused during her testimony.

Then he offered what I understood to be a suggestion about how she might respond.

As I recall it, he suggested that she have a "go-to" statement she could return to: that she had been trafficked, that what happened to her was wrong, and that it was not her fault.

I cannot say whether he intended this as emotional reassurance or guidance about how to respond during testimony. I can only describe what I heard.

But the distinction matters to me.

This was a witness who was in the middle of cross-examination, and the conversation taking place in a public hallway concerned the very testimony she was giving.

There was another comment that caught my attention.

The man reminded her that, at the end of the day, she would be able to go home.

The accused, he said, would have to return to a jail cell.

I remember that contrast clearly.

The accused was being held in custody while his trial remained ongoing. He had not been convicted of the charges being tried.

I understood that the man may have been attempting to offer reassurance to someone who was finding the courtroom experience difficult.

But as I stood there, I found myself thinking about the importance of maintaining appropriate boundaries during an ongoing trial.

Supporting someone through a difficult experience is one thing. Discussing their testimony while they remain under cross-examination raises questions that, in my view, deserve careful consideration.

I do not know whether the conversation was subsequently brought to the attention of the court, or whether any instructions governing contact with the witness applied to the individuals involved.

What I do know is what I personally heard in that public hallway.

And it left me with questions.

A Supreme Court Decision I Had Just Written About

There was another moment during today's proceedings that caught my attention, although for a very different reason.

Just over a week ago, I had written about a decision released by the Supreme Court of Canada on October 16, 2026.

The case was R. v. A.M., a unanimous decision written by Justice Mary Moreau.

The decision addressed the circumstances in which evidence relating to a complainant's previous sexual activity may be admissible in prosecutions involving human trafficking and sexual services offences.

I found the decision particularly interesting because it addressed the balance between protecting complainants from harmful myths and stereotypes and preserving an accused person's right to make full answer and defence.

What I did not expect was to hear that very decision referenced in a courtroom just ten days later.

During the cross-examination, the Crown objected to a line of questioning being pursued by defence counsel.

In responding to the objection, defence counsel indicated that she believed her earlier questioning had established the necessary foundation for the questions she was asking.

She also indicated that she was prepared to have the witness excused from the courtroom so the objection could be argued. If that became necessary, she intended to rely on the Supreme Court's recent decision in R. v. A.M. as part of her argument.

The judge allowed the questioning to continue.

There was no need, at that moment, for the witness to leave the courtroom or for the proposed argument concerning R. v. A.M. to proceed.

I remember immediately recognizing the case.

Here was a Supreme Court decision I had written about just over a week earlier, now being raised by defence counsel during an ongoing criminal trial.

It was a reminder of how quickly developments in Canadian law can become relevant to proceedings taking place in courtrooms across the country.

The judge's decision to permit questioning to continue should not be mistaken for a formal ruling adopting the defence's interpretation of R. v. A.M.. I did not witness such a ruling.

Nevertheless, I found the moment particularly meaningful because it connected the legal education work we do through Presumption of Innocence Canada with something I was witnessing firsthand.

What I Did Not See

We were unable to remain in the courtroom for the entirety of the cross-examination and missed approximately an hour of proceedings during the afternoon.

I mention this because I believe it is important to be transparent about what I witnessed and, equally, what I did not.

I cannot speak to what occurred during that hour, whether additional explanations were provided, or whether any of the matters I have described were addressed further in our absence.

My observations are limited to the portions of the proceedings I personally attended, and I do not want readers to mistake my account for a complete record of the day's testimony.

Walking Away From the Courtroom

After approximately five hours in the courtroom, I left with Terri-Lynn and Melody at my side.

I was, quite frankly, in disbelief at much of what I had witnessed.

Over the years, I have sat through some extraordinarily difficult courtroom proceedings. I have experienced the justice system as an accused person, and I have watched others navigate proceedings that could change the course of their lives.

I have witnessed emotional testimony, difficult cross-examinations, disagreements between counsel, and moments that have stayed with me long after leaving the courthouse.

But today was different.

As I walked away, I found myself trying to process everything I had witnessed.

The repeated statements about corruption. The allegations involving police, Crown attorneys, and judges. The text messages presented during cross-examination. The explanation about an unidentified pill. The conversation I overheard in the hallway.

And throughout it all, I kept reminding myself of something important.

I had witnessed only a portion of a much longer trial.

I had not heard all the evidence. I had not attended the examination-in-chief of this witness. And I had missed portions of the cross-examination.

I was not in a position to determine whether the accused was guilty or innocent.

That was not my role.

But I was certainly entitled to reflect on what I had personally witnessed, the questions it raised for me, and the importance of ensuring that every allegation is subjected to a fair and thorough examination.

Why I Keep Writing

During my own criminal trial, I witnessed firsthand how failures during an investigation can have devastating consequences.

I experienced what can happen when belief takes hold before evidence has been fully examined and tested.

It is an experience that has stayed with me long after my acquittal.

And it is one of the reasons I am writing my book, Belief Before Proof.

Writing that book has not been easy.

There are periods when the words come naturally, when I can sit down and put my experiences onto paper with relative ease.

And then there are periods when writing becomes incredibly difficult. Revisiting those years, the investigations, the courtroom proceedings, and the impact on my family can take more out of me than I sometimes expect.

There are times when I have to put the manuscript aside.

But then there are days like today.

Days when I sit in a courtroom, listen to testimony, observe the process, and am reminded of why I started writing in the first place.

I do not know what the outcome of this trial will be. I have not heard all the evidence, and I would never suggest that five hours of observation are sufficient to determine anyone's guilt or innocence.

That responsibility belongs to the court.

But I do know that the presumption of innocence matters. The careful examination of evidence matters. The integrity of investigations matters. And ensuring that every person, whether making an allegation or defending against one, is treated fairly matters.

My book is not intended to tell people what to believe about every allegation or every accused person.

It is about examining what happens when institutions begin forming conclusions before the evidence has been properly tested.

Belief Before Proof.

Three words that describe something I experienced firsthand, something I continue to examine through my writing, and something that today's courtroom experience brought back into focus.

I may struggle with writing at times.

But days like today remind me why I need to keep going.