Dayton Daily News

When Mounties pose as mobsters, some cry entrapment

- Vjosa Isai

The police were hot on his trail for two murders and when pressured by the leader of his new gang to explain what he’d done, Trestan Brown confided in her. He figured he could trust her. She was, after all, a fellow criminal.

“Be up front with me and I’ll take care of you,” the gang leader, Steph, told Brown in a hotel room along the lakefront of Kingston, Ontario, according to court records.

So Brown, who is now 30, confessed, describing his role in the 2016 shooting deaths of two men in the Toronto area — and soon found himself under arrest.

Steph, it turned out, wasn’t a crime boss and her group wasn’t a gang. They were undercover officers conducting a “Mr. Big” operation, an elaborate Canadian policing tactic that is being challenged in court and that some opponents want banned.

An invention of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or RCMP, the technique involves officers creating a fake criminal enterprise, then enticing a target to join and ultimately confess to previous crimes.

It has been used in hundreds of cold cases across Canada, with a 95% success rate in securing conviction­s, according to the Mounties. Law enforcemen­t agencies in a handful of other countries have copied the method.

But critics argue that the confession­s obtained in Mr. Big operations are unreliable because they are often coerced.

In 2014, the Supreme Court of Canada establishe­d safeguards aimed at reducing the risk of wrongful conviction­s. But pitfalls persist, said Alison Craig, a criminal defense lawyer in Toronto who has represente­d several people ensnared by the technique, including Brown.

Police still use threats, inducement­s — such as financial incentives — promises and psychologi­cal control to elicit confession­s, critics said.

“It’s just a recipe for wrongful conviction­s,” Craig said.

Defending the practice are the police themselves and the families of some victims. Cpl. Kim Chamberlan­d, a spokespers­on for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, said the tactic had also been used to exonerate suspects.

“The focus is on uncovering the truth, verifying facts and determinin­g if someone is involved,” in major crimes, Chamberlan­d wrote in an email.

In the United States, federal law enforcemen­t agencies have used undercover informants to lure people who have expressed vague support for terrorism or terrorist groups into committing crimes by making it seem that the informants can, for example, provide arms or money.

The practice, which became more common after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, has been criticized by civil liberties groups and defense lawyers as a form of entrapment that can sweep up people who never had the resources or the actual intent to carry out violence.

Mr. Big operations in Canada are typically broader than relying on outside informants and involve groups of law enforcemen­t officers working undercover and concocting an elaborate ruse to target people believed to have committed crimes.

In popular culture, “Mr. Big” refers to someone who heads a criminal organizati­on. Since the 1980s, when the RCMP started using it, Mr. Big operations have been conducted more than 350 times in Canada and tend to follow the same playbook.

First, undercover officers contrive a situation to cross paths with the target of an investigat­ion. In Brown’s case, the officers played the role of strangers buying his broken down car for parts.

The officers play up the illusion of a shared criminal history and befriend the target, who is steadily given greater criminal responsibi­lities by the fake gang and compensate­d for work.

Orchestrat­ed violence, including simulated beatings, can help add legitimacy to the ruse, and stoke fear of Mr. Big. Some are especially graphic.

Al Potter, who was convicted of first-degree murder in 2019 following a Mr. Big operation in Newfoundla­nd, helped undercover officers bury, in a remote cornfield, what he thought was the body of a man who owed a debt to the gang. It turned out to be a dead pig stuffed in a hockey bag.

Finally, the sting shifts toward eliciting a confession. The officer playing Mr. Big threatens to cut ties unless the target explains why the police are targeting him, reassured that Mr. Big is powerful enough to make his problem disappear.

Since the 2014 ruling by the Supreme Court of Canada, prosecutor­s seeking to use secretly recorded confession­s obtained through Mr. Big operations must first convince a judge that they comply with certain standards.

But judges don’t seem to agree about how to apply the standards, according to a review of 61 cases published by the Manitoba Law Journal. The 2014 ruling “does not appear to have had a significan­t impact” on whether confession­s are allowed in court, the authors concluded.

Some inmates who confessed under Mr. Big operations have appealed their conviction­s and sued law enforcemen­t officials, accusing them of misconduct.

One of the most publicized exoneratio­ns was that of Kyle Unger, who was vindicated by DNA evidence after spending 14 years in jail for a 1990 murder and sexual assault. In 2019, he reached an out-ofcourt settlement after claiming 14.5 million Canadian dollars (about $10.7 million) in damages against police and various justice authoritie­s.

 ?? IAN WILLMS/THE NEW YORK TIMES ?? Alison Craig, a criminal defense lawyer, has represente­d several people ensnared by the Mr. Big operation, an elaborate Canadian policing tactic that is being challenged in court.
IAN WILLMS/THE NEW YORK TIMES Alison Craig, a criminal defense lawyer, has represente­d several people ensnared by the Mr. Big operation, an elaborate Canadian policing tactic that is being challenged in court.
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