Time to make a choice

CURRENT MMIW INQUIRY IS A TERRIBLE MASH-UP OF TWO MODELS

On the morning of February 25, 2005, an offduty Winnipeg police officer named Derek HarveyZenk killed a mother of three when he plowed his truck into her car as she waited at a red light. Harvey-Zenk had spent the night partying with fellow cops. EMS workers said his breath smelled of liquor.

When Harvey-Zenk got off with a slap on the wrist, members of the public were outraged, suspecting local police had conspired to shield a colleague. In response, Manitoba ordered an inquiry, whose name was chosen to honour HarveyZenk’s victim, 40-year-old dental assistant Crystal Taman. Its 2008 report concluded the case betrayed “an incestuous process” of police-on-police investigation, “which is incapable of uncovering the truth.”

When we ask ourselves why the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls appears to be floundering, it’s important to ask why public inquiries are useful in the first place. The example of the Taman Inquiry helps answer that question. The dysfunctionality that led to Harvey-Zenk getting off lightly pervaded the very agencies we rely on to investigate crimes. In such cases, the only way for the government to restore trust — and create a path to reform — is to step outside the day-to-day system by launching a oneoff, purpose-built entity.

In the end, the inquiry produced more than a dozen recommendations, most of which were implemented. The local police force was disbanded and replaced by the RCMP. An Independent Investigation Unit, staffed by non-cops, was created.

The MMIWG Inquiry is mandated to report on “systemic causes of all forms of violence — including sexual violence — against Indigenous women and girls in Canada, including underlying social, economic, cultural, Derek Harvey-Zenk with lawyer Jay Prober makes his way into the Taman Inquiry in Winnipeg, Man., in August 2008. institutional and historical causes.” This is an enormous, open-ended project. To properly investigate events surrounding the death of a single woman, the Taman Inquiry had a staff of 18. With a staff level of just 48, the MMIWG Inquiry is expected to investigate systemic factors behind more than a thousand Indigenous deaths.

Since the MMIWG Inquiry doesn’t have the time, resources or expertise to go deep into any particular case, its activities largely consist of listening to family members tell their stories of love and loss. This has produced a valuable archive of video testimonials. But it isn’t clear how these stories will help formulate a policy response, since the crimes being described have already been criminally investigated, and the factors contributing to high MMIWG death rates have already been exhaustively studied.

Inquiries are typically designed to go deep into a particular crime or scandal systematically — such as with Wally Oppal’s investigation of Robert Pickton’s reign of terror, or John Major’s investigation of the Air India bombing. The MMIWG Inquiry isn’t like that: It’s largely a series of disconnected, live-action victim-impact statements. Or as the inquiry staff put it, the process will be for “families and survivors … to share their stories and recommendations with Statement Takers or Commissioners.”

This helps explain why the inquiry’s operations have been such a mess. In a normal inquiry, the goal of truth-seeking provides a natural discipline and purpose. Staff are chosen on the basis of competencies and professional rigour, not demographic characteristics. Witnesses are invited to appear much of the text is a manifesto of reverence for those of a particular gender and ethnic description. As in: “Indigenous women and girls bring many gifts to the conversation on resilience, resurgence, and reconciliation. Some women are Grandmothers and Elders who carry sacred stories, laws, and ceremonies for future generations. Others are warriors who continue to speak — indeed, almost as high as that for Indigenous men.

The case for restarting the MMIWG Inquiry was put most eloquently by Sheila North Wilson, Grand Chief of Manitoba Keewatinowi Okimakanak, who wrote that “the turmoil being caused by a lack of communication from the commissioners to the families, friends and survivors is resulting in waning trust by our community. Every step of the process should be led by the families, friends, and survivors.”

But the problems North Wilson describes would afflict any MMIWG process structured as an “inquiry.” The bureaucratic proceduralism and staff hierarchies informing any governmentmandated body will inevitably appear dehumanizing to those expecting a victimled process that emphasizes public catharsis.

If the Trudeau government goes back to the drawing board, it should pick one model or the other. Either turn the MMIWG project into a truly professional inquiry, staffed by experts in such fields as criminology, policing, Indigenous issues, education, health, and sex trafficking. Or formalize its status as a series of performative public-awareness projects that are funded by the government, but operated autonomously by Indigenous leaders — in which case, the professionals required would include media producers, directors, publicists and event organizers. The current MMIWG is a brutal mash-up of these two models, which is why no one likes it.

One lesson I have learned as a journalist is that telling the story of one person is usually more effective than telling the story of one thousand. I believe the same principle applies to inquiries. And so I will end this column by reference to a single Indigenous victim whose life was recently cut tragically short.

Cody Severight, a 23-yearold member of Waywayseecappo First Nation, was killed last month in a Winnipeg hit-and-run. His history was a microcosm of many of the issues that any true MMIWG inquiry would have to tackle. He entered foster care at age nine. Three of Severight’s siblings are in jail. Five years ago, he lost his biological mother, whose lifeless body was found in an outdoor stairwell, four days shy of her 41st birthday. Her tragedy was also her son’s tragedy: There is no isolating the problems of MMI women and MMI men.

One detail from Severight’s story is worth emphasizing here: The driver who killed him is alleged to be Const. Justin Holz, an investigator with the Winnipeg police. He’s been charged with impaired driving causing death.

Not so long ago, we’d have had reason to worry that local cops might try to cover up for Holz — as they allegedly did with Harvey-Zenk. But according to University of Manitoba criminologist Frank Cormier, that kind of cover up is now “virtually impossible,” thanks to the Independent Investigation Unit created in 2015, following on the Taman Inquiry recommendations. Severight’s family will at least get the thin consolation that comes from justice being served.

When inquiries are successful, they can lead to this sort of meaningful policy change. But doing so requires a mandate that prioritizes fact finding, a neutral orientation, and a realistic scope of investigation. The current iteration of the MMIWG possesses none of these characteristics. Perhaps the next one will.