He arrived in B.C. on a rickety ship packed with refugees, then spent years trying to clear his name
Tamil migrant who landed with MV Sun Sea says he was a humanitarian, not a smuggler
VICTORIA— For someone who was accused of being part of a network that smuggled hundreds of Sri Lankan asylum seekers to Canada, spent more than six years in immigration detention and went through two trials, Kunarobinson Christhurajah is remarkably chill.
If he’s seething underneath, he’s doing a good job of hiding it.
He is on a B.C. ferry bound for the capital, Victoria, with his wife, Patrishiya, and their daughters, Bynthavy, 9, and Migalavy, nine months.
They’re headed for a reunion with a few dozen other passengers of the MV
Sun Sea, the rickety cargo ship that brought 492 Tamil migrants to B.C.’s shores in August 2010, a high-profile “mass arrival” event that sparked security concerns from the Conservative government of the day and debates about Canada’s generosity.
Christhurajah, 40, was among a handful of Tamils singled out by authorities — accused of being not just a passenger, but one of the masterminds behind a profit-driven, people-smuggling enterprise and owner of the vessel. His defence lawyer argued he was acting on humanitarian grounds, something Christhurajah maintains to this day.
During an hour-long conversation with the Star in the ferry’s cafeteria, the first time he has spoken publicly about the case, it is difficult to get a read on how he really feels. With a baby carrier still strapped around his shoulders and chest, he appears relaxed and answers questions in a forthright manner. He repeatedly flashes a smile, and says more than once that “Canada is the best country.”
At the same time, he recalls moments of anger and frustration with a system that put him behind bars for years, prevented him from seeing the birth of his first child, and has kept his immigration status in limbo.
A hint of emotion wells up in his eyes when he recalls being in detention and asking himself: Why did I come here? Why was I born?
Resilience is something he had to build up at an early age. “I was born in war.”
There simply isn’t enough time during the ferry ride to go into detail about what he had to endure growing up in the midst of a violent civil war between the Sri Lankan government and the insurgent Tamil Tigers who wanted to create an independent Tamil state.
But it is clear his allegiances lie with the Tigers.
“Tamil people need the rights. That’s the rights they fight for,” he says.
In 2008, he and his wife fled to Thailand and registered with the UNHCR, the United Nations refugee agency.
During this time, he says, a friend approached him with an offer.
“If you want to go to Canada … we have a plan to go by ship,” he says the friend told him.
“What are you going to say? I say, ‘OK.’ ”
The story of the perilous Pacific Ocean voyage has been well-documented. It was severely overcrowded, lacked safety equipment and washrooms. The passengers — 380 men, 63 women and 49 children — subsisted on meagre portions of rice, noodles and dried fish.
“The conditions on the freighter were appalling,” B.C. Supreme Court records state. “Most of the migrants were crammed into the hold of a single-hulled ship, living on simple sleeping pallets. There were also migrants living under tarps on the decks above the hold.”
One passenger died. Four women, including Christhurajah’s wife, were pregnant. “There was not enough water and also I got sea sick,” she says. But they persevered. “We were happy, because we coming to Canada,” Christhurajah says.
When the Sun Sea landed in B.C. waters on Aug. 13, 2010, all the passengers were immediately detained, some for months.
The response from Canadian authorities came as a surprise.
“I (was) scared after they caught me … What’s happening?” says Christhurajah, who was separated from his wife. “I thought they (were) going to take us and going to put (us) in a refugee camp. I don’t know they’re going to put me in prison.”
As his case slowly grinded its way through multiple immigration and court hearings, a fierce debate raged across Canada. An Angus Reid poll at the time suggested that almost half of Canadians — 48 per cent — favoured sending the migrants home. Thirty-five per cent said they should be allowed to stay.
Controversial legislation was introduced aimed at curbing future largescale smuggling operations.
Vic Toews, then public safety minister, said the passengers included “suspected human smugglers and terrorists,” and warned it was “imperative that we prevent supporters and members of a criminal or terrorist organization from abusing Canada’s refugee system.”
Crown prosecutors, meanwhile, accused Christhurajah and a handful of other men of violating a section of the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act, which says: “No person shall knowingly organize, induce, aid or abet the coming into Canada of one or more persons who are not in possession of a visa, passport or other document required by this Act.”
Among the allegations: Christhurajah was connected to a company that owned the ship and that he helped arrange the movement of supplies and provided accommodations and transport for some of the migrants.
Court also heard that Christhurajah occupied an upper section of the ship, suggesting a “privileged” role.
Christhurajah, who did not testify at either of his trials, told the Star the evidence presented was either wrong or exaggerated.
Others involved in the organization of the trip created a company that bought the ship, he says. He also denies he was involved in a profit-making venture.
“I don’t ask anybody (for) money,” he says. “Think about it. You coming from a conflict war. You see people dying, your friends die. You think you can collect your friends’ money? You know they’re struggling to eat, to live.”
He acknowledges helping out on the ship, but scoffs at the suggestion he was somehow a mastermind.
“C’mon. I helped because I wanted to come,” he says.
Frustration mounted as the first trial kept getting put off. There were times when Christhurajah says he wanted to give the judge a piece of his mind over the delays. But he stayed quiet.
“Just be patient,” he says he kept telling himself. “You don’t have any rights to talk, because it’s not your country.”
In early 2017, a jury couldn’t reach a verdict in Christhurajah’s case and a mistrial was declared. Three other defendants were acquitted.
While awaiting a second trial, Christhurajah was set free on bail. It was the first time he was able to see his daughter in person, who was then six.
In May 2017, a jury convicted Christhurajah at his retrial. Crown prosecutors asked for an 18-year prison sentence to deter future “preying on desperate people.”
A judge later sentenced him to four years imprisonment but waived further incarceration because of the time he had served in pretrial detention.
Christhurajah appealed his conviction. In June 2019, B.C.’s top court agreed to order a new trial after finding that the trial judge had incorrectly instructed the jury on the defence of mutual aid — that Christhurajah and the other asylum-seekers had the mutual purpose of seeking refuge.
Federal prosecutors ultimately decided late last year not to proceed with a third trial and asked for a stay of proceedings.
With the legal case behind him, Christhurajah is now busy working as a plumber. He previously worked as an auto mechanic. His wife is a couple of weeks shy of completing a college program for education assistants. She previously worked as a manager at KFC.
While her refugee claim was accepted, his is still being processed. “I don’t have any status,” he says.
They’re not alone, says Gary Anandasangaree, a Liberal MP who organized Thursday’s reunion event in Victoria and previously worked as legal counsel for the Canadian Tamil Congress.
The government last year cleared a huge backlog of refugee cases, but a few dozen MV Sun Sea passengers are still waiting for their claims to be sorted out, he said. He estimates that another 100 have had their refugee claims accepted and are waiting to be approved as permanent residents.
Many of the migrants, he said, are still dealing with serious mental health issues — lingering effects from the trauma of civil war, as well as prolonged separation from their families.
“They’ve also had to overcome the labelling — the initial onslaught of, ‘These are undesirables, criminals, terrorists.’ … It’s a permanent scar on who they are as individuals.”
Others, though, are thriving as entrepreneurs, truckers and tradespeople.
“Those who’ve been given normalized status are thriving,” he said. “Those in relative limbo or uncertainty still have a fair bit of baggage to overcome.”
Asked for his opinion about Christhurajah, Anandasangaree said he “saved many lives.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
Christhurajah, meanwhile, is trying to make up for lost time with his older daughter, Bynthavy, who he says treats him more like a friend than a father.
When he was still in detention, Bynthavy didn’t have a concept of jail — she assumed he worked for the court because that was the only time she could see him without glass between them.
She shared this anecdote and the story of her parents’ journey to the assembled crowd on the B.C. legislature lawn Thursday afternoon.
“This country is providing me with not only a good education, but a safe and peaceful life,” she said into a microphone. “Beyond all the hardships of the journey on the sea and my father’s imprisonment, we are now able to live happy lives thanks to this country and the community of fellow Tamil people.”
Now she understands what really happened, Christhurajah says.
“I want to be honest with her … We told her I was in prison, why they kept me was because I’m the owner and organizer — but we not. We just help each other come to Canada. Now she understands I’m not a criminal.”
Asked if he thinks attitudes among Canadians about asylum-seekers has changed over the past decade, he says there is still a lack of understanding.
He recalls having a conversation with a woman last year who, upon learning he was from Sri Lanka, said she was scared that some asylum-seekers were here to kill innocent Canadians.
“The way she told me, I’m not happy,” he says.
But he brushed it off. It is why he said his family wanted to participate in the anniversary event Thursday — to send a message to the rest of Canada.
“We are not terrorists come to destroy this country. We came for a better life.”