Читать книгу The True Story of Canadian Human Trafficking - Paul H Boge - Страница 12

chapter five

Joy watched the minister of justice stand in the House of Commons and head towards the lobby. She followed him, hoping to catch him before he became engrossed in another conversation. She walked through the door and entered the government lobby.

The House of Commons is split into two sides. The government sits on one side and the opposition on the other side. Behind each side is a lobby. The government goes to their side. Opposition to theirs. The lobbies are secluded places for members of Parliament only. The spaces are furnished with tables, sofas, chairs, computers and phones—everything members need while they are sitting in the House and don’t have time to get back to their office. Party whips (those assigned to keep the members in line, hence the title “whip”) assign staff as needed in the lobbies. Access to a given lobby is highly controlled by security.

Creating a perfect location for a captive audience.

Joy entered the long, narrow lobby. Other members of Parliament from the minority Conservative government talked on their phones, with each other, with staffers. Joy searched through the crowd. Caught a glimpse of the minister of justice.

“Hi, Joy. Good to see you again,” a fellow MP from Manitoba said, hoping to catch a word.

Joy greeted him back. “Good to see you, too. Are you coming by my office later today?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” Joy said with a smile. “I’m looking forward to meeting with you. Thank you for fitting me into your schedule.”

There was an art to being polite and staying focused on a mission without unnecessarily offending people.

Joy reached the minister, only to find him engrossed in a conversation with another member. She moved just to within eyesight of him, hoping to catch his attention. He saw her. Joy smiled and raised her eyebrows in a way that indicated she wanted to speak with him. The next reaction he gave would prove critical. So much in personality is involuntary. A person can only hide so much. If he acknowledged her right away, it would be a good sign. If he went back to his conversation, it meant he had other pressing issues that would not allow him to divert his attention.

He nodded.

Joy waited, using the time to rehearse in her mind. The point of this conversation was not to get lost in all the details. Stay focused, and figure out where the minister stood on the issue. Would he take on this kind of bill? If not, could he be encouraged to take it on?

He finished his conversation. Others wanted to talk with him. Joy moved in.

“Hello, Arthur.”

Some made the mistake of calling him Arty. But Joy knew better.

“Hi, Joy.”

“I wonder if you have a few minutes to talk.”

“Of course.” He pointed to a couch. They walked over and sat down.

“Thank you. I know how busy you are.”

“Not at all.”

“As you know, I’m involved in the fight against human trafficking.”

“Well done.”

“I wonder if at some point it might be worthwhile to look into a bill.”

“A bill? Why? You already have your Motion M-153.”

Some three years earlier Joy had drafted M-153 on human trafficking. It was part of a long and dedicated process in the fight against human trafficking. An event back home in Winnipeg had opened her eyes to the evil hiding in plain sight. An event that included her son Edward had propelled her into this fight.

When she came to Parliament her first official act to defend victims of trafficking started with calling on the Standing Committee on the Status of Women to initiate a study of human trafficking in Canada. Nearly a year later the committee passed the motion, and the study began. The result of that study was a report entitled Turning Outrage into Action to Address Trafficking for the Purpose of Sexual Exploitation in Canada. It was tabled in Parliament that same month.

The report’s key priorities focused on the prevention of trafficking, protection of victims and prosecution of offenders. It called on all Canadians to stand up for victims and implement the proposed recommendations. Joy made a motion in 2006 calling on Parliament to condemn the sex trafficking of women and children across international borders and implement a comprehensive strategy to fight the trafficking of persons worldwide. In March 2007, the House of Commons unanimously passed Joy’s Motion M-153. It was victory. But it wasn’t enough.

“Exactly,” Joy said. “The House gave one hundred percent support. That means they understand there is a problem.”

“Across international borders. I agree. And that’s an implementation issue for our border security.”

“But what if this isn’t just about victims coming into our country?” Joy asked. “What if it is about victims from within our country?”

“Again, it’s a matter of border security to ensure that all those coming in are coming in for lawful purposes.”

“I’m referring to girls born and raised right here in Canada.”

The minister stopped his train of thought. Had he heard that right?

“Girls not being brought into Canada but girls who are already Canadians?”

“It is true that human trafficking is happening from outside to inside. Foreign girls are being lured in under false pretenses and are then used for awful purposes by men who have deceived them,” Joy said. “But trafficking is also happening to the girl next door. Your average girl. Every income bracket. Every skin colour. Every neighbourhood. Canadian girls are victims of human trafficking.”

“Impossible.”

“No.”

“I simply don’t believe it.”

“I’ve seen it.”

“Joy—.” Another MP walked by and nodded to Arthur. Arthur returned the greeting. “Joy, human trafficking …” he seemed momentarily overcome with information. Like his mind was trying to process something it had not believed was possible. “Human trafficking is not on the government’s agenda.”

“Maybe it should be. The motion was carried unanimously.”

“Joy, your motion was impressive work. It really was. But no one would ever have voted against that motion. It’s so generic and calls on people to do what obviously should be done.”

“Exactly.”

“Joy, there are many important issues we have to deal with. Human trafficking is one of them. But the government doesn’t have time to address everything at the same time. You understand that.”

“I do. And I understand the many items you have to balance and move forward. Don’t think I don’t appreciate the magnitude of your position.”

“The government doesn’t have time to—” Something caught his attention. Another MP waiting her turn to speak. He nodded at her in acknowledgement. “You said it exactly right. Condemning human trafficking across international borders.”

“And now I’m asking to go a step further. To condemn it within our borders. To protect Canadian girls.”

That caught him off guard a second time. Like his mind had already chosen to disregard Joy’s earlier comment. He physically leaned back. Not a great distance. Had someone not been part of the conversation they might not even have noticed it happened. But Joy noticed. Even if he did do it involuntarily.

“Human trafficking is not happening to Canadian girls,” he said. It came out as more of an attempt to assure himself of what he knew. Or at least what he thought he knew. He fought against his cognitive dissonance. Then wondered. “It isn’t happening, is it? Not to our girls.”

“What if it is?”

“Joy, human trafficking as it relates to Canada is people being brought in from outside.”

“In part. But what if there’s more to it than that? We’re talking about a new crime here, Arthur. Something we have closed our eyes to. I’m not sure why. But we just don’t see it. Or maybe we don’t want to see it.”

Members started re-entering the House of Commons. The minister stood. Joy, too. He looked apologetically at the other member in waiting. Then to Joy, quietly enough that it would not be heard by others, “Joy, the information you’re giving me is … is staggering to say the least. I’m going to look into it. But I need to be clear with you. We are not going to put a bill forward on this.” He turned his hands palm up as an indication of a man already swamped with responsibilities who had become accustomed to rejecting new and good ideas that would capsize the boat if he took yet another task on. “But keep up the good work,” he said.

“Thank you for your time,” Joy said as the minister departed.

She took in a breath. How many conversations had there been in this lobby over the years? How many members had both good news and bad news delivered to them there? How many historically significant conversations had taken place there?

She wondered if this might have been one of them.

When the session ended, Joy returned to her office. Karen looked up from her desk. Joy motioned to her office. Karen followed her in.

“And?” Karen asked, sitting down.

“I think we have a very big battle on our hands, Karen.”

“He’s not going to support it?”

“It doesn’t look that way. He’s just … I don’t know. We passed the motion. Why is he not seeing this?”

“We can show him the bill. We can go through the evidence.”

“He’s not interested,” Joy said.

“Well, he’s the best chance we have at getting this thing through, so we have to get him interested.” Joy’s mind was already working through other scenarios. “If the minister of justice can’t be convinced, we’re in serious trouble,” Karen finished.

“He doesn’t believe there is a problem,” Joy said.

“Then how do we convince him he’s wrong?”

“He’s not going to put the bill forward. There has to be another way.”

“Well, not without him. If he is not willing to support the bill, all that’s left …”

She didn’t want to say it. The other route was just dumb luck. It was basing your plan on a lottery ticket. It was a joke of a way forward.

“You can say it out loud, Karen. A private member’s bill.”

“Lotto 649.”

Joy became quiet. The room became quiet. Almost eerily so. It felt strange all of a sudden. Like all the weight of the history of Parliament Hill was coming alive in their room.

Joy spoke quietly, her tone both soft and strange. “Can I let you in on a little secret, Karen?” she whispered.

Karen leaned forward. She titled her head slightly to the left the way she always did when she was giving someone her undivided attention.

Joy became still. All the experiences, all the many challenges, in her life and in her political career seemed to come to bear in what she was about to say.

“I know I’m going to get called in the top three in that lottery.”

Okay, that’s a little spooky. Karen didn’t know how to react. Didn’t know what to say. She felt a shiver. Like there were more people in the room than just the two of them. But what impacted Karen more than what Joy said was the conviction that Joy might in fact be right.

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

Karen swallowed. “You can’t know something like that.”

“I can’t?”

People can be optimistic. Even overly optimistic. But to actually know something in advance?

No one could hear their conversation. No one could pick up on what they were saying. Still, Karen chose to whisper as well. “How could you possibly be so sure of this?”

Joy paused. Like every leader, she had experienced her scars. And those scars had taught her how to be measured. How to listen. How to discern.

“My father inherited the family farm. It was a big, successful operation,” she said. “But he squandered it. He had no idea what he was doing. We sank down to poverty. It was so embarrassing.”

She shook her head as if doing so could somehow get the emotions of those painful memories out of her mind. “I remember being teased at school because we were so poor. One day at recess my brother was being beaten. I didn’t have the guts to intervene, so I ran to the schoolhouse, and a teacher came to stop the fight. By the time the teacher got there, my brother had been beaten so badly that he was full of blood and bruises.”

Joy squinted her eyes a moment as if she were right back there, trying to block out the image of what she was seeing. “I told myself that day that I would never turn away from someone who was suffering. Years later we managed to scrape enough together, and I went to university. Got a master’s degree. Began teaching. Then my son Edward changed everything for me. He was the catalyst.”

The thought entered her mind to share more about Edward. But she decided against it. Now was not the time. “I started teaching about the dangers of human trafficking. Started helping girls wherever I could. Got involved in politics. And here I am in Ottawa. Now let me ask you this question, Karen. A poor little farm girl from Manitoba becomes a member of Parliament. Does that sound like an accident to you?”

It was rhetorical. Karen knew it. Joy knew it. So they waited, both of them absorbing what she was saying.

“This thing is far bigger than me, Karen. I can’t do this on my own.” Joy glanced past her. It had been an exhausting day. Still, in the tiredness of her life, her mind focused every last bit of energy on this single issue until things became crystal clear. “I can’t convince the minister of justice. I just tried. That leaves one other option. The only way forward is a private member’s bill. If I don’t get called early in the lottery, the bill has no chance. No one else knows what I know. No one else feels what I feel. No one else will take the bill forward. And if there’s no bill, then thousands upon thousands of Canadian girls will continue to suffer in shame.”

She stopped. Squinted again. Thought even deeper. “But if there is a bill, if I do get drawn, then thousands will be saved.” She leaned forward. Put her elbows on her desk. Folded her hands beneath her chin. “And that’s how I know I’m going to get my name called.”

It was preposterous. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t it just simply too much optimism? Or was it more? Had she tapped into something? Had she received some conviction somehow, someway, of what would actually take place in the future?

Joy nodded her head ever so slightly. “You watch and see.”