RCMP – Ryerson Review of Journalism :: The Ryerson School of Journalism http://rrj.ca Canada's Watchdog on the watchdogs Sat, 30 Apr 2016 14:26:17 +0000 en-US hourly 1 Canadian journalists must support Vice’s fight against the RCMP http://rrj.ca/canadian-journalists-must-support-vices-fight-against-the-rcmp/ http://rrj.ca/canadian-journalists-must-support-vices-fight-against-the-rcmp/#respond Mon, 02 Nov 2015 13:00:26 +0000 http://rrj.ca/?p=6629 Vice logo Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) officers entered Vice Canada’s offices in Toronto and Montreal in February. The officers served Vice with a production order–similar to a search warrant–demanding “any notes and all records of communication” between Vice reporter Ben Makuch and an ISIL militant. Makuch interviewed the Canadian ISIL militant, Farah Mohamed Shirdon, through Kik Messenger [...]]]> Vice logo

Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) officers entered Vice Canada’s offices in Toronto and Montreal in February. The officers served Vice with a production order–similar to a search warrant–demanding “any notes and all records of communication” between Vice reporter Ben Makuch and an ISIL militant.

Makuch interviewed the Canadian ISIL militant, Farah Mohamed Shirdon, through Kik Messenger to get a better sense of ISIL’s inner workings. Shane Smith, a Vice co-founder, also had an exclusive Skype interview with Shirdon.

After the interview was published, the RCMP charged Shirdon with the “commission of an indictable offence for a terrorist group,” as well as five other charges. The raid on Vice offices was part of the “process to collect evidence in support of this criminal investigation,” according to RCMP Const. Annie Delisle.

Vice was unable to report on the incident until this week due to a sealing order from court, where the media organization is fighting for their right to avoid turning over documents to the RCMP. An article from Vice head of content Patrick McGuire states that “Vice is contesting the production and sealing orders in court, on the principles of protecting any and all sources, protecting freedom of the press and to avoid the situation wherein the Canadian news media becomes a veritable investigative arm of the law.”

The executive director of Canadian Journalists for Free Expression, Tom Henheffer, defended Vice’s decision to fight the RCMP’s production order. “Journalists are not lackies for the police,” Henheffer said, “and to use us that way is a totally unjustifiable violation of free expression and privacy rights.” He added that “this sets a dangerous precedent for the free press in Canada that must not be repeated.”

McGuire and Henheffer are right: this is a blatant example of police forces unjustifiably throwing around their weight, damaging Canada’s autonomous journalism in the process. Despite this threat to Canadian journalism, which is now heightened since Bill C-51 was passed in June, there has been little response from traditional Canadian media outlets. No statements of support, editorials or even any opinion columns. The most that has come out of the event so far are articles rehashing the original Vice article announcing the ordeal.

This is a shame. An attack on Vice’s right to freedom of the press is an attack on the right to freedom of the press for all, and journalists must unite to oppose this governmental encroachment. Journalists can’t do journalism if they can’t protect their sources. Vice will be going to court on January 11 next year to fight the RCMP orders. In the meantime, journalists must raise their voice to defend Vice and, by extension, defend Canadian journalism.

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Balancing Act http://rrj.ca/balancing-act/ http://rrj.ca/balancing-act/#respond Fri, 10 Apr 2015 13:00:56 +0000 http://rrj.ca/?p=6192 Ryerson Review of Journalism graphic The second I step into the newsroom, my boss bolts up and out of his seat—I need to book an interview with the mayor of Moncton immediately. On June 4, 2014, three RCMP officers died in a mass shoot- ing. The next day, the search for the lone gunman is still on. I try to [...]]]> Ryerson Review of Journalism graphic

The second I step into the newsroom, my boss bolts up and out of his seat—I need to book an interview with the mayor of Moncton immediately. On June 4, 2014, three RCMP officers died in a mass shoot- ing. The next day, the search for the lone gunman is still on. I try to look up the numbers for sources online, but my lagging computer takes too long to load. My boss instead shouts out a number, and I swiftly pound the digits into my phone. The chase desk at CTV News is preparing for the 24-hour news channel’s continuous coverage of the manhunt.

As an intern, I am one of the chase producers assigned to booking witnesses. An unexpected energy takes over my body, making my heart race and my limbs go stiff. The feeling is not fear or panic; no, that would be appropriate considering the amount of pressure on an intern’s every move. Instead, it’s an adrenaline rush—and I like it.

The three people I book have the daunting task of describing shooter Justin Bourque’s demeanour during the attack. When I ask one witness if she can set up a FaceTime interview, she apologizes that she can’t: her computer is upstairs near a window and police told her to stay in her basement for safety. Suddenly, I snap back to reality. This guest is on lockdown. Three officers are dead; I’m safe and she is not. For the first time, I question the purpose of my call: how do journalists focus on delivering facts without letting emotion overwhelm them?

As I excitedly call the mayor, Global News reporter Natasha Pace does stand-ups from the scene of the shooting. Around her, police officers storm houses in search of the suspect. With the entire city on lockdown, she knows people are anxiously waiting for updates.

Pace makes sure to check and double-check her scripts for any sign of sensationalism. In an uncertain situation, she believes, it’s essential to remember what she’s reporting could still affect the outcome of the events unfolding.

A combination of focus and adrenaline carry Pace through the 36-hour shift. It’s not until a week later, back in Moncton for the funerals, that her rush subsides and she comes to terms with the gravity of what happened. “I started to realize how big a story it was,” Pace says, “and how it just touched people from one end of the country to the other.”

In the wake of such tragedies, every Canadian news outlet delivers updates. But not all can afford to send journalists across the country to report from the ground. That means news anchors have to accurately cover a story with missing pieces.

When a lone gunman stormed Parliament Hill and fatally shot a Canadian soldier on ceremonial duty on October 22, 2014, rumours spread of another terrorist attack nearby. CBC News was one network that had journalists at the scene. As a result, anchor Peter Mansbridge announced the situation was “tense and unclear.” He promised to sift through the confusion and report only the facts as the situation continued to unfold.

David Studer, CBC’s director of journalistic standards and practices, says this sense of calm and focus resonated throughout the newsroom. The alert desk created a breaking news email thread that included reporters in Ottawa, and producers and anchors in Toronto. When rumours swirled, the network waited until a journalist could confirm the facts with official sources before reporting it. Studer insists the emphasis was on being right, not first.

In a room full of focused journalists, it’s common to push aside the reality of the tragedy you’re covering. But it’s also important to not become desensitized; reporters must somehow strike a balance between the two.

Even after 15 years as a national reporter, this balance doesn’t come easily for CBC’s Stephen Puddicombe. He was in Indonesia after the 2004 tsunami, Haïti after the 2010 earthquake and has reported from war zones in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. In places of turmoil, he thinks the most effective way of telling stories is through the perspective of the people affected, “but it just robs you of everything,” he says.

Puddicombe was on the ground reporting for the duration of the Moncton manhunt. He remained focused on his role as journalist until the day of the viewing—when all it took was a dog’s whimper to unravel him. He heard the heart-wrenching sound across the street from the funeral home and thought it was the dog of slain officer Dave Ross. By the time he arrived at the church, the dog was already gone. Puddicombe then approached an RCMP officer standing guard who had tears streaming down his face. The officer confirmed the reporter’s suspicions: it was Ross’s dog. Puddicombe stood there, staring at the man for a moment. This is it, he thought, this is what has just happened over the last few days. “They’re not Mounties,” he realized, “they’re people.”

By the time I leave the tense newsroom that day, my energy and concentration have subsided. I take a few minutes and allow the emotions I suppressed throughout the day to grab hold. I am both a journalist and a concerned citizen. But one identity can sometimes overpower the other because, after all, I’m also human.

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Cop Out http://rrj.ca/cop-out/ http://rrj.ca/cop-out/#respond Tue, 16 Jun 1992 21:32:58 +0000 http://rrj.journalism.ryerson.ca/?p=1730 Ryerson Review of Journalism graphic In June 1987, CBC reporter Claude Gervais and a cameraman rushed into a post office in Pointe-Claire, Quebec to film angry strikers as they trashed the interior. The item that later appeared on the news did not show the faces of the strikers a stipulation of the union leader who let Gervais in-but some of [...]]]> Ryerson Review of Journalism graphic

In June 1987, CBC reporter Claude Gervais and a cameraman rushed into a post office in Pointe-Claire, Quebec to film angry strikers as they trashed the interior. The item that later appeared on the news did not show the faces of the strikers a stipulation of the union leader who let Gervais in-but some of the unused tape did. Sooner or later, Gervais knew, the cops would come calling. “At first I thought if they came that afternoon I would hide the tapes. I’d use what I needed then hide the tapes, or say to them, ‘I don’t remember where they are.’ But one of my bosses said I couldn’t do that.”

Instead, when the police arrived with a search warrant the day after the story aired, CBC management instructed Gervais to place the tapes in a sealed envelope and hand them over. The envelope remained in a safe at police headquarters for the next four-and-a-half years while the validity of the warrant was challenged in court.

Last November, the CBC was finally forced to surrender Gervais’s tapes to the Montreal Urban Community Police. After a series of lower court decisions and appeals, the Supreme Court of Canada held that the police had the right to search the CBC’s Montreal newsroom, seize the tapes and use them in their criminal investigation.

At the same time, the Supreme Court also ruled in favour of the police in a similar case involving CBC television reporter Rosaire L’Italien of New Brunswick. The Moncton RCMP wanted the tapes from an item produced by L’Italien in September 1988, after demonstrators protesting the land policies of a remote pulp-and-paper company threw Molotov cocktails and set fire to a guardhouse on the company’s property. Like Gervais, L’Italien had to surrender the tapes.
All in all, it wasn’t a great day for journalistic freedom in Canada.

In its six to one decision, the Supreme Court tried to give the news media some protection against unreasonable search and seizure by the police. However, the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, with its guarantee of “freedom of the press and other media of communications” seems to have been at the bottom of the pile of documents the court consulted. Instead, it came up with a set of guidelines for justices of the peace and lower court judges to consider when asked to issue search warrants for newsrooms. One of the guidelines says that a balance must be struck between the interests of the state in fighting crime and the right of the media to gather and disseminate news. But how they’re supposed to walk that fine line is left to the JPs and judges. The other guidelines include determining that the warrant application is sufficiently documented, that the police have exhausted any other sources and that some or all of the information has been broadcast.

Both Gervais and L’Italien are skeptical about the protection the new guidelines actually give journalists. Although the court stated in both decisions that the media are entitled to special consideration because of “the importance of their role in a democratic society,” the fact remains that the police still ultimately have the means to seize journalists’ tapes, photographs and notes. “Those guidelines are very dangerous,” says L’Italien. “I can see a judge deciding in favour of the police 90 percent of the time because they are from the same system.”

It’s a fear shared by many journalists, and it has serious ramifications. The possibility of police interference may inhibit reporters from telling the whole story, leading them to compromise their own standards and shortchange the public. “If a policeman gets in the way every time we do a special story and uses journalists as some sort of tool, then there’s no way for us to do our work,” says Gervais. “There’d be no confidence between journalists and the people we interview. Why should people give me an interview when it’s just going to the police station afterwards ?”

Indeed, the court’s ruling did not recognize the principle of confidentiality- crucial for journalists-between Gervais and the striking workers. It also appears to be less sensitive to television reporters than to those in print. Though videotape is the equivalent of a notebook, often containing material never intended to fall into a police officer’s lap, it is considered more accessible to the police, especially if part of it has been broadcast.

“We would be impeded not only because of the actual execution of the search, but also the fear or apprehension that it was about to happen,” says Michael Hughes, the CBC lawyer in the L’Italien case. “And if the reporter had to go back to the same location because the story is ongoing, the fear of retaliation would have an inhibiting effect on the coverage. You’re inevitably going to hold back.”

Cristin Schmitz, a reporter with Lawyer’s Weekly, is among those concerned that television reporters can no longer grant confidentiality to sources who appear in unedited tape. “Certainly the fact that a majority of the court upheld the seizure of the CBC videotapes suggests that it will be relatively easy for the police to seize videotapes of public events which have been at least partially televised,” she argues. “It will make it harder for TV reporters to protect the unbroadcast portions of their tapes and protect their sources.” Schmitz sees another serious problem with the decision. Though the constitutional right of the media tobe secure against unreasonable search and seizure is recognized, “what bothers me is that the onus here seems to be on the media to prove that it was an unreasonable search,” she says. “The court didn’t analyze under freedom of the press, it analyzed under the search and seizure provisions of the Charter.”

In both the New Brunswick and Quebec cases, the court ruled that the seizure was not unreasonable, but necessary to aid in the police investigations. The police in both instances contended that they needed the tapes because they had exhausted all their resources even though in Pointe-Claire, the warrant was issued only one day after the post office demonstrations, and in New Brunswick, RCMP identification officers were present during at least part of the demonstration.

Short of destroying tapes, documents, photos and notes, the bottom line is that a reporter can eventually be forced to turn information over to the police. And if the police don’t find what they’re looking for in the newsroom, they can search other places, such as the reporter’s home. Another option is to subpoena reporters, forcing them to reveal tapes or notes. If the reporters refuse any of these attempts, they can be thrown in jail for contempt of court.

Both Gervais and L’Italien remain angry about a ruling they feel betrayed their rights as independent reporters. More than anything else, the pair feel squeamish about how easily their work could be scooped up and used for the purposes of criminal investigations. It means that reporters, especially those in the broadcast media, may find themselves straddling, uncomfortably and unwillingly, the roles of journalist and criminal investigator.

“I’m a reporter. My job is to inform the public,” says L’Italien. “If I were working for the police, I’d ask for a paycheque and I’d change my job. I can’t be a reporter and work for the police at the same time.”

Gervais says his experience has given him less faith in the legal process. “I can’t fight the Supreme Court,” he reflects, “but I would have expected that if they were going in this direction then they could have given me more protection.”

Clearly, the state has the upper hand and that makes a lot of journalists, both broadcast and print, more than a little uneasy.
“If the cops had exhausted every other means and it was a serious matter,” says journalist turned-novelist Carsten Stroud, who has worked alongside various police forces during his writing career, “then I think the best thing would be to go to the journalist and say, ‘Have you got any information you can help us with?’ Now the journalist would have to decide yes or no. But at that point, if the journalist refuses, I’m uncomfortable about enshrining this principle in law that the cops can kick in the door and take it.”

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