Читать книгу The True Story of Canadian Human Trafficking - Paul H Boge - Страница 14

chapter seven

Neither of them had to say it out loud.

Joy and Joel often worked on the bill preparation late into the evenings. Weekends. Later evenings. Then even longer weekends. They did everything they could to provide research for the bill. The next step was to craft a summary of it. How to put this whole thing together in two sentences so that anyone would be able to read it and understand? They were working together with the Legislative Services Branch of the Office of the Law Clerk and Parliamentary Counsel to draft the bill. There was a ton of hard work going into all of this. But it was all going to be for naught if Joy’s name didn’t get called in the private members’ lottery.

Joy knew it. Joel knew it.

No need for discussion.

Though Joy was more convinced than anyone about the result.

Late one evening in her office, Joy finished a call with her husband. Joel did the same with his wife from his office. Both had supporting spouses. No easy feat in Ottawa, where the divorce rate among MPs is twice the national average.

Joy sat at her desk. Joel entered.

“We have to put forward a bill that targets child traffickers with a minimum sentence,” Joy said. “Otherwise, victims won’t have the security to come forward and testify against their traffickers.”

“But you think minimum sentences might scare off some MPs from voting for it?”

Joy took off her glasses. Rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know what it will take to get them to vote. And yes, I know there is resistance to minimum sentences.” She exhaled and squinted, as if doing so could help her see the light at the end of a dark tunnel. “If we put minimum sentences in, we’ll get pushback and we might risk losing the bill. If we don’t put it in, the bill will lack teeth, and the girls won’t come forward.”

“Then we have to find a way to get those MPs to vote for it in spite of their differences.”

Joy angled her chair to the side. Looked out at the eternal flame.

“What does every politician want?”

“To do a good job and serve the country,” Joel said. “And to stay out of trouble,” he added with a laugh. It was needed. The tension in the room lifted momentarily.

“There are a few MPs who are only driven by re-election,” Joy said. “But even those who aren’t still think about re-election. So how do we craft this bill to … encourage them?”

She felt the answer in the back of her mind. Allowed it to formulate as the thought worked its way forward.

“You’re thinking of inserting a clause they can’t vote against no matter what.”

The room stayed quiet. She felt the thought arrive.

“We target the bill to protect children,” Joy said, remembering a conversation she and Joel had with Ben Perrin, a Canadian lawyer who had spent a lot of time bringing the issue of human trafficking in Canada to light.

“That’s excellent,” Joel said. “We can use it in two ways. First we can appeal to an MP’s sense of logic to protect minors. But it can also be used to put a potentially dissenting MP behind the eight ball. Which MP wants to be seen as someone who votes against child safety?”

“Precisely.”

“That might work,” Joel said. “But then the bill won’t specifically protect those being trafficked who are 18 and over. Strictly speaking, it would be for 17 and under.”

Joy closed her eyes, touched the bridge of her nose and prayed silently for wisdom. “If we leave out the part about the bill addressing minors—if we say it targets everyone who is being sexually exploited—then, on the one hand, we cast the net of trafficking as wide as possible to protect all victims. But then we won’t have a carrot, or stick, for the MPs to be encouraged to vote for the bill. On the other hand, if we add in the clause about it being addressed to protecting minors, we may lose some of the power to protect adult girls, though we definitely increase the chances of the bill being passed.”

Joy sighed. Why was doing the right thing so difficult?

They stayed quiet for a while. Thinking. Evaluating. For two people who were in arguably the most talkative profession, they both found the kind of solace that only silence can bring.

“We’re already facing pushback on a bill that amends the Criminal Code, and we haven’t even introduced it. We also know some people are opposed to the idea of minimum sentences.” She stopped. Time to make the decision. “I think we are better off being more sure of passing a bill that targets minors than we are being less sure of passing a bill that targets all victims. It is what it is. The path forward is to have the bill amend the Criminal Code to include a minimum sentence of five years for anyone trafficking someone under the age of 18. Thoughts?”

The logic was sound. It made sense to Joel. “I agree, Joy.”

No, it wasn’t the best answer. But better off to get a result than to aim too high and risk total failure. Joy smiled. Joel wondered where her reservoir of optimism came from.

“Isn’t politics great?”

Joy was stepping off a plane in Ottawa when she received an email. The subject line read “Private Member’s Bill Ranking.” She clicked on it. Took a breath. She skipped the preamble and scrolled down to the list. She wasn’t first. She wasn’t second.

Then she looked at the next one. Her heart pounded. She smiled.

She recognized the name.

Joy walked down the hallway to her office. Her steps echoed on the marble floor. The thrill of being selected third only served to reinforce her mission of getting the bill through. It was an important step, but it was just the beginning. Base camp of the first Everest. Now came the challenge of getting the bill through. She had to convince people.

Including her own party.

She saw Joel approaching from down the hallway. His mouth dropped open slightly when he saw her. He raised his hands in amazement.

“Third. Third!” he said.

“You seem surprised, Joel,” she said with a laugh that reverberated louder than her steps.

“I just … I … It’s incredible.”

“Not really,” she said.

They opened the door to her office. A recent addition to her team, a political science grad in her early twenties, rose to her feet. The nervousness on her face betrayed her concern. “Congratulations, Joy,” she said, unable to hide what she really wanted to say.

“What’s the matter?” Joy said, picking up on cues she had learned while being a mother to six children.

“Justice Department. They’re waiting in your office.”

Joy smiled. Turned to Joel. “You see? The battle begins. Shall we?” she said with a laugh, motioning to her office.

She opened the door to her personal office. Two men in their mid-thirties, wearing dark suits, identical short haircuts and black polished shoes, stood from their chairs. They did so in unison, as if they had done this many times before. Somehow the Justice Department always managed to have a similar kind of person working in their system. Like they had a factory somewhere that cranked these guys out.

“Mrs. Smith,” they both said at the same time, forgetting their advance plan of who was going to do the talking.

“Call me Joy. You’ve met Joel, my chief of staff?” They could not recall Joel at first but did a good job of indicating they had. So many faces. So many names on the Hill. How could anyone keep it all straight? They all shook hands. The men in suits introduced themselves as Brennan and Ferris.

They sat down. Joy took her seat behind her desk, just to make sure there was no doubt in the two men in dark suits’ minds about who was in charge here.

“Congratulations on your placement in the private member’s bill lottery,” Ferris said.

“Thank you,” Joy said with a smile. And you’re so excited that your first order of business was to come all the way down here in person to congratulate me.

They continued with pleasantries with each side knowing it was only a short matter of time before the fake air of niceties would have to be dispelled with some measure of truth. Joy offered them coffee, tea, water. They declined.

“Any thoughts about what your bill might be about?” Brennan finally asked.

Tough one. Such a direct question. How to respond without lying?

“Well, there are so many important items facing Canada today.”

“And which ones in particular are you interested in?” Ferris asked as more of a statement than a question. Joy was convinced he had been in conversations with the justice minister. Why else would he be there?

Joy wanted to respond to him by name, so she waited the split second for her mind to recall it. Yeah, hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of introductions. It was a unique name. Her mind saw that famous wheel in an amusement park.

“Ferris, I’m going to have to give this some serious thought.”

“I want to be clear, just so that there is no misunderstanding here,” Brennan said. If they looked similar on the outside, they were different on the inside. Ferris was the good cop. Brennan clearly the bad one. “As a member of Parliament for the Conservative Party you have been instructed not to introduce any justice-related bills. I’m here—” He caught himself. “We’re here to remind you of that.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s important that we have rules and that we work together.”

“Your recent conversation with the minister of justice about human trafficking might indicate otherwise.”

“I think the minister gave good insight into the issue.”

“The plan is to keep this government on track. To complete the items we have set forward. We’re under a lot of pressure,” Ferris said.

Like the girls who are being trafficked? That kind of pressure?

“We just want to make sure we are all on the same page,” Brennan added, readjusting himself in his chair. She expected Ferris to do the same, but he didn’t.

That factory sure had tight quality control.

“Thank you, Brennan. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“We’re not asking you to keep it in mind. We’re asking you, reminding you, to comply.”

First off, nobody tells me what to do. Least of all not in my own office. And second of all, don’t go up against me. I’m not going away. And I’m not backing down. Not to you. Not to the justice minister. And not to—

She caught herself. Be disciplined. Be rational. This is a long race. No point in getting them upset. At least not now. Now to change the subject.

“I’d be curious to know, what kinds of private members’ bills are important to the Conservative Party?”

I have to switch your train off the track you’re on. That factory where they came from had the two men so focused on their agenda that Joy realized there was no point in arguing. Not now. Her suggestion changed the temperature of the conversation. The men seemed to think they had won. Brennan and Ferris looked to each other to see who was going to respond. For the first time they seemed ill-prepared.

“That would be a matter for you to resolve with the House leader.”

Good move. Fall back on protocol. Joy expected them to do nothing less.

“Thank you. After all, we don’t want to put a bill forward that won’t get passed, right?” she said with a smile and a laugh. The men nodded. In unison.

She saw them to the door.

“Thanks for stopping by,” she said with a smile. They said goodbye. When the door closed, her smiled faded. Joy and Joel returned to her office.

“We have to keep this thing totally quiet,” Joy said.

“Understood. It stays with us and with those drafting the bill until it gets tabled in the House of Commons. And then it’s all going to break loose. There’s going to be a lot of angry people. Including the guys who just walked out the door.”

Joy turned and looked out her window at the Centennial Flame. She often took inspiration from it as a reminder of the sacrifices that had been made throughout the years to preserve Canada’s democracy. And it reminded her of the need to press forward to combat human trafficking. Even as the flame burned under the golden sun, Joy felt herself fueled by a strong conviction that people should not be bought and sold. Third name drawn on the list, Joy thought. If that isn’t confirmation, what else would be?

“Get ready, Joel,” Joy said. “This is going to be a very bumpy ride.”