Dan MacRury, the prosecutor, does not think the record is relevant to Dwayne Samson’s bail hearing—and if it is, only the actual convictions should be admitted. Tall, heavy, dark-haired, arrayed in billowing black robes, MacRury might be described as a mountain of a man, or at the least a very substantial hill. He is an equally substantial figure in the legal system. A prosecutor for nineteen years, he is currently the chief Crown attorney for Cape Breton. He is also a vice-president of the Canadian Bar Association and a member of various working groups—federal, provincial, even international—on cyber crime. Within a few months he will be named a judge of Nova Scotia’s provincial and family courts.
With respect to Phillip Boudreau’s criminal record, MacRury takes the view that the person on trial here is Dwayne Samson, not Phillip Boudreau, and the charge is not a trivial one; it is murder.
Brogan counters by arguing vigorously that the law tilts towards allowing bail to any accused, even one charged with an offence as grave as murder. He cites Section 515(10) of the Criminal Code, which says that bail should only be refused on one of three grounds: if the accused is likely not to show up for trial, if the accused would be a danger to the public, or if detention is necessary to preserve public confidence in the administration of justice.
None of these three grounds applies, says Brogan. Whatever the outcome of his trial, Dwayne is eager to get through the legal process, deal with the consequences, and resume his life. He is a responsible citizen, husband, and father who has had to deal with relentless pressure from a lifelong criminal. Craig Landry’s affidavit describes how Phillip was constantly threatening, robbing, and harassing Dwayne and his family. Nor was Dwayne alone in this. Phillip’s last actual conviction was in 2010, Brogan concedes, but just two days before his death he was threatening a fisherman named Clarence David, warning him that if he didn’t stop keeping company with a particular woman his employer’s traps would be cut. Phillip, says Brogan, had been “instilling fear into the community, and he had a record that indicates that he was quite capable of fulfilling any threats that he made.”
Justice MacDonald still has his doubts about admitting Phillip’s record—but this is a bail hearing, so he allows the first eleven pages, the list of actual convictions.
Brogan calls Dwayne Samson to the stand. Dwayne confirms that he has driven trucks and done other jobs for several local companies. He has letters of reference and offers of employment from Premium Seafoods, AFL Tank Manufacturing, Boudreau’s Fuels, and Superior Contracting. This is almost a roll call of the larger businesses on Isle Madame, and they all portray Dwayne as honest and trustworthy, an excellent employee, someone that any of them would be happy to hire. He also has an offer of employment from Chet Boudreau, an Isle Madame man who runs a home construction company in Halifax, and a dozen letters of reference about his voluntary work in community organizations. He’d like to be released into employment in Isle Madame so that he can see his children regularly. Failing that, he’d like to be released into the custody of his sister Ramona Boudreau in Halifax, who is prepared to sign a bond for him.
In cross-examination, Dan MacRury walks Dwayne through each of the options that have been presented. What hours would he work? Who would monitor his activities? Do the employers have any weapons on their premises? Dwayne is forbidden to talk to his wife—but if he were released into his sister Ramona’s custody, does he think Ramona would really enforce that prohibition?
Yes, he does—and Ramona Boudreau thinks so too. She is thirty-one, a grade one teacher in Halifax. She has agreed that her brother can stay with her. Ramona has a statement from TD Canada Trust showing that she will have no difficulty putting up a bond of $50,000 to guarantee that Dwayne will follow whatever conditions the court imposes. Her husband has also agreed. She confirms that Chet Boudreau, who is her brother-in-law, would be happy to hire Dwayne to work building houses with him. No, she tells MacRury, there are no firearms in her home.
Ronnie LeBlanc takes the stand. His parents run Shamrock Store, a convenience store in D’Escousse, on the north side of Isle Madame, which is also where Carla and Dwayne live. Ronnie grew up in the store and now lives across the road from it. He’s worked for the Nova Scotia Liquor Commission since 1987, and currently manages the liquor store in nearby St. Peter’s.
Ronnie’s wife is Dwayne’s sister Janet, and he knew that, contrary to some rumours, Dwayne had a great deal of support in the community. So, after Dwayne’s arrest, he got up a petition and made it available in several locations in Isle Madame. At Brogan’s request, he reads the text aloud.
“Whereas Dwayne Samson has been charged with the murder of Phillip Boudreau,” says Ronnie, “and whereas the Crown is opposing Dwayne Samson’s release from jail prior to trial, we the undersigned residents of Isle Madame hereby support the interim release of Dwayne Samson.”
What did the people of the island know about the allegations against Dwayne?
“Well,” says Ronnie, “there was a lot in the paper, from press stories that James Landry had shot Phillip Boudreau, there was talk about the boat being rammed, there were rumours that he was missing and tied to the motor of the boat. Between Facebook, the local media, and general conversation, people were certainly aware of the circumstances.”
Brogan introduces Exhibit 2, a CBC news story. MacRury objects, saying that Brogan should rely on the evidence, not on news stories. He questions the relevance of the CBC report.
Brogan is visibly pleased by this challenge. The story is, he says, “very germane to the issue at hand.” Dated June 24, it was written by CBC reporter Phonse Jessome, and “it outlines in detail the police allegations.” (Joel Pink has told me that he didn’t know who leaked the information to Jessome, but that the reporting was absolutely accurate.) The fact that the story had been broadcast, says Brogan, strongly suggests that the people who signed the petition knew Phillip had been killed and that Dwayne was accused of murdering him. It follows that people in the community knew what had happened and understood what they were signing. The judge agrees.
Brogan returns to Ronnie LeBlanc, and establishes that the population of Isle Madame is around 4300 and that more than 700 voters have signed the petition, giving their addresses and phone numbers. Ronnie testifies that Isle Madame has roughly 2800 qualified electors, and that about 1800 voted in the last provincial election. And where did he get that information?
“The returning officer of Richmond County,” says Ronnie.
Who is—?
“My father. Raymond LeBlanc.” And did Ronnie have conversations with those who signed the petition?
“Certainly. They were very sad to hear what happened, and they wanted to support Dwayne in any way.”
And what would Ronnie himself say about the general character of Dwayne Samson?
“Well, I’ve been married to his sister for twenty-six years now. I’ve known him since he was very small. I’ve never known him to have an angry bone in his body, actually.”
In cross-examination, MacRury establishes that the petition includes a few names from off Isle Madame, and that Ronnie doesn’t know whether any of the signatories have a criminal record. Ronnie also agrees that he hasn’t read Craig Landry’s statement, and that he didn’t share Craig’s statement with those who signed the petition.
Next up is Venard Samson, Dwayne’s father, also from D’Escousse, who is more than willing to have Dwayne stay at his home. He and his wife, Susan, have no mortgage, and they would put up $50,000 bail.
Venard is followed by Pearl LeBlanc, Ronnie’s mother, proprietor of Shamrock Store. She has lived in D’Escousse since 1940. She and her husband, Raymond, own two corporations, with assets well in excess of $100,000. Pearl has known Dwayne since he was born, and is confident that he won’t breach any bail conditions. She and her husband are willing to post $50,000 bail for him. Yes, she knows what Dwayne is charged with, and she understands her responsibi
lities. Dan MacRury wants to be clear about her role.
“Are you suggesting that he will come and live with you?” he asks.
Pearl looks puzzled, but she is not fazed.
“Well, he can if he likes,” she says.
The Crown has a witness to call, but it’s noon. The court adjourns till 1:15.
* * *
—
Reeves Street in Port Hawkesbury is that part of any Canadian town where golden arches jostle with buckets of chicken while Tim Horton scores big time, boasting two coffee shops in three blocks. Mayor Billy Joe MacLean owns the largest tavern here, The Carriage House. On the opposite side of the street, in a fading strip mall called the Causeway Shopping Centre, is the town’s best restaurant, a homey little place specializing in Acadian food. The Fleur-de-Lis Tea Room is owned by Brenda Chisholm Beaton, a charming and savvy woman who will eventually replace MacLean as mayor. Every day that the Phillip Boudreau hearings, trials, and appearances continue, her restaurant will fill up with lawyers, reporters, and observers and she’ll do a brisk business in Acadian fish cakes, seafood chowder, and the Petit de Grat Sampler (fish cake, haddock, home fries, and coleslaw).
I find myself thinking about lawyers, and about something I learned from my friend Antonio Oposa, Jr., a brilliantly inventive environmental lawyer in the Philippines. For Tony Oposa, legal cases are stories, and lawyers are storytellers. People learn from stories; that’s how Jesus taught. The courtroom is a grave, dignified theatre; or, if you like, it’s a fierce battleground for warring stories. Tony himself specializes in highly original lawsuits—stories about the rights of future generations, about the rights of nature, about equity and fairness in environmental matters.
What stories are jousting in Courtroom 3, just down the hill? Nash Brogan is shaping a story about a fine, industrious couple, good parents and citizens, who find themselves enmeshed in intolerable circumstances that impel them into actions completely contrary to their basic character. Brogan is arguing for Dwayne’s release, but he is also carefully placing artillery for the assault he will launch in Dwayne’s subsequent murder trial, many months in the future. Meanwhile Dan MacRury—who’s eating his lunch over there by the wall—is forging a true crime drama about stone-faced unrepentant killers who need to remain behind bars, a story he will advance vigorously at trial. And Joel Pink is a stage manager coaching Craig Landry, who portrays himself as an innocent bystander swept up in an emotional hurricane, improvising as necessary until the storm blew through.
The stories here reflect the central paradox of this saga. As one visiting journalist has noted, in murder cases the public tends to “canonize” the victims. The deceased was—always—a wonderful young husband and father who died far too early, or a long-suffering abused woman in middle age, or a noble priest who forgave his attackers even as his life ebbed away.
In this case, however, the public is remarkably sympathetic to the killers, as Nash Brogan’s story has skilfully demonstrated. Who ever heard of a murder trial where hundreds of people petition the court to release the accused murderer on bail? Where respectable business people line up to offer him employment? Where neighbours are willing to mortgage their homes and businesses to bail him out? Admittedly, not everyone sees Dwayne Samson that way. For some people on Isle Madame, those who commit monstrous acts are by definition monsters, and nobody thinks murder is an acceptable problem-solving technique. But clearly a lot of well-informed people believe that Dwayne Samson is a good man in a bad spot.
I am also musing over the fact that all the legal talent in this case is from far away. Brogan and MacRury are from Sydney, nearly two hours to the east, while Pink is from Halifax, more than three hours to the west. I have just learned that James Landry will be represented by Luke Craggs, who is also from Halifax. Port Hawkesbury has no shortage of lawyers, so why are no local barristers involved? The answer, says Kevin Patriquin, who runs the legal aid service in Port Hawkesbury, lies in Phillip Boudreau’s long criminal record. Every lawyer practising in this part of Nova Scotia has had a previous relationship with Phillip. Every single one.
* * *
—
The lawyers and reporters pay for their lunches. Back in Courtroom 3, the hearing resumes.
Dan MacRury, for the prosecution, calls Corporal Denzil George Fraser Firth. Corporal Firth is with the Northeast Nova Major Crime Unit of the RCMP. He’s based in Bible Hill, two and a half hours’ drive away. Firth is the lead investigator into the death of Phillip Boudreau, and his testimony is mainly contained in the affidavit he has already filed with the court. That affidavit, in turn, rests on statements the police have gathered from three major sources: James Landry, Craig Landry, and Gerard Boudreau, the victim’s diabetic brother. Firth’s role is to corroborate and amplify Craig Landry’s testimony, to drive home the truth of Her Majesty’s Story.
Nash Brogan’s mission, as defence counsel, is to sap the strength of Firth’s testimony, which has included a good many additional details, notably the crew’s disposal of the rifle (they concealed it in a blanket, then took it to Dwayne and Carla’s home and cleaned it) and the conference they held later that day at the Samson house. At that meeting they concocted what we might call the Cockamamie Story: Phillip had come roaring out of the fog a day earlier and run into them, leaving marks on the hull of the Twin Maggies. That would account for the paint scrapings and scuff marks from Midnight Slider, which Dwayne had vainly attempted to scrub off.
Corporal Firth’s testimony has also touched on the remarkable substory of Gerard Boudreau’s observations. Gerard has said that he watched the whole episode from his deck, with binoculars. He heard the rifle shots, saw Twin Maggies circling and Midnight Slider disappearing, and watched the fishing boat tow something out to sea. But although he had seen this dramatic altercation and knew that it involved his brother, he had said nothing to the police when they visited him at 7:30 that morning and then didn’t call them until noon. By that time Venard “Pigou” Samson, who’d been fishing off Alderney Point, had found Midnight Slider floating awash, called Search and Rescue, and towed the speedboat to the fishermen’s wharf in Petit de Grat. The Fisheries officer had come to the wharf, then the Mounties. Isle Madame was crackling with rumours. The police were taking statements and seizing evidence.
Why had Gerard not called the Mounties right away? Because he didn’t have the phone number, he told the police later, and he didn’t have a phone book.
“Did you find that shocking?” Nash Brogan asks Corporal Firth. “Your brother’s being killed and you don’t even call the police?”
“It’s an odd statement, there’s no doubt about that,” Firth says, nodding. “And in fact we discussed that at our daily briefing.”
Gerard never appears in court. The official explanation is that he’s run off, gone into hiding, can’t be found. Sitting in a wheelchair in his crooked little house in Alderney Point, Gerard scoffs at this story. Lifting a fold of his vast belly off his lap and re-settling it, he says he was here at home the whole time. “Three hundred pounds and an artificial leg, how far can I run?” Instead, he claims, the police twice came down to get him, and the second time they were halfway to Port Hawkesbury when they told him his presence wouldn’t be required after all, and sent him home again.
In countering Her Majesty’s Story, Brogan’s basic strategy is to portray Craig as self-serving and Firth as a purveyor of secondhand information, particularly about the community. Firth’s affidavit mostly summarized the findings of others who did the interrogations; he himself has had very little hands-on engagement with the evidence, or with Isle Madame and its people. Since the bail hearing is all about releasing Dwayne back into the community without shaking the community’s confidence in the administration of justice, community opinion is crucial, and Firth can’t really speak to that. Brogan, however, has brought powerful evidence that the community sees the accused as “hardworking, decent
people whose emotions got out of control, and then the situation spun out of control.” James Landry has told the police, ruefully, that “it only takes five minutes to change your life.” Moreover, Brogan concludes, both the statutes and the case law strongly assert that bail should be granted unless there are powerful reasons to refuse it.
Firth’s appearance wraps up the presentation of evidence. Now Diane McGrath, Dan MacRury’s associate, delivers the Crown’s final arguments against releasing Dwayne on bail. A former legal aid lawyer with a special interest in domestic violence and sexual assault, McGrath is on her way to the bench along with MacRury; in 2017 she too will be appointed a judge of the provincial and family courts.
McGrath clinically dissects Brogan’s arguments. Brogan has portrayed Dwayne very sympathetically, but the accused is charged with a horrible crime, and he has already tried to interfere with the administration of justice by disposing of the body and the gun, trying to clean the boat, and conspiring to create a false story. She thinks Ronnie LeBlanc’s petition is irrelevant; this is not a trial by public opinion. She does not believe that Brogan’s plan offers adequate supervision. Indeed, she can’t see that there actually is a plan. What Brogan has offered is only a smorgasbord of possibilities: different residences, different employers, different jobs.
In truth, she says, Dwayne doesn’t know where he’d be working, or what hours, or even whether he’d be working entirely within Nova Scotia. And yes, Craig Landry has been released on bail, but Craig was a minor player; Dwayne, as the skipper, could have ended the whole thing. McGrath argues that a “reasonable person”—that hoary legal concept—“would be appalled” at Dwayne’s release. And that in itself is sufficient grounds to deny bail. She cites R. v. Hall (2002), a leading decision on the subject of bail from the Supreme Court of Canada.
Blood in the Water Page 3
