News (Media Awareness Project) - CN BC: Column: Proposed Changes Will Make It Harder To Deport |
Title: | CN BC: Column: Proposed Changes Will Make It Harder To Deport |
Published On: | 2001-06-29 |
Source: | Province, The (CN BC) |
Fetched On: | 2008-09-01 03:33:09 |
PROPOSED CHANGES WILL MAKE IT HARDER TO DEPORT DRUG DEALERS
I'm trying to decide whether I'm a patriot or a racist. Recent
changes to Canadian refugee policies prompted a mix of feelings I'm
struggling to sort out. Work with me, if you're inclined, and choose
a label as you see fit. I'll open with a series of unpalatable truths:
Canada has opened its doors to refugee claimants from every corner of
the Earth. The last few years, we've dealt with an influx of
claimants from the Honduras. While many are friendly folk,
legitimately fleeing persecution, an inordinate number end up
involved in the drug trade.
This I know by meeting them as individuals, in Vancouver's skid row
or Downtown Eastside area. For a patrol officer, the meetings are
either routine street checks or one of an endless series of drug
arrests.
Another unsavoury insight is that an arrest doesn't necessarily
result in a deportation. Even a conviction won't ensure it.
Nevertheless, a drug conviction coupled with a criminal background
occasionally earns the designation of "Danger to the Public."
Immigration officers work hard to put such files together, seeking
"danger" status whenever they think it's deserved.
It is worth the effort. When a judge grants the application, the
subject's right to access the refugee system is cancelled. Which
means that once they're deported they can't come back.
That seems insignificant, until you're made aware of the current
rules of engagement. A refugee claimant whose application is revoked
or denied may be deported, as one would hope and expect. The twist is
that they can re-enter the country after a mere 90 days!
The reasoning, apparently, is that something in a person's
circumstance at home might change in that kind of time, making them a
freshly legitimate refugee. Regardless of perspective, the time
period is a peculiar choice, as working one's way back to Canada from
the Honduras seems to take more or less 90 days.
That achieved, they'll cross the border, typically over fields in
Abbotsford or Aldergrove, and head for an immigration office to begin
the process anew. A refugee claim is made, which will take another
year and a half to conclude.
Designation as a danger to the public served to interrupt what could
become lengthy cycles of deportation and return. Once a subject was
convicted of an offence which brings the possibility of 10 years or
more in jail, a danger designation could be sought. He didn't have to
receive that kind of time; the offence simply had to be serious
enough to enter that realm of sentencing.
Upcoming legislative changes are set to rearrange all this. For a
public danger designation to be made, a subject will have to be
sentenced to two years in jail or more.
That's right: sentenced. Which means that the drug charges these
characters face, which previously could generate a danger
designation, no longer will.
Some drug charges do offer possible 10-year jail terms, but sentences
handed down are better measured by wristwatch than calendar. Even
repeated convictions rarely result in more than a few days.
Deportation of a person dangerous to the Canadian public is for life,
but our imported drug dealers will be largely safe from that. It's
hard to see this any other way, except to predict that street
enforcement will be effectively negated.
I'm told that, in the U.S., if you're caught returning after
deportation, with a criminal background, you face up to 10 or 12
years in jail. I'll admit the sound of that starts me whistling,
though I'm experienced enough with my liberal opposition to hear the
counter tune.
It's argued that American criminal justice ideals would have much of
the world in jail, but that doesn't make it a Canadian responsibility
to offer the entire planet protection from them.
My worry at the start was that my response was based in racist urges,
but I've come to see the concern as misplaced. Refugee dope dealers
aren't the only dope dealers I'd like to see gone from Canadian
streets.
I'd like to see them all disappear, regardless of race, nationality,
culture or spoken language. Drug legalisation proponents are quick to
label such sentiment as prejudice based on economic status, or hunger
for power, but their accusations more accurately describe them than
their chosen adversaries.
For myself, I'll watch for developments on the refugee scene with a
clear conscience. And while this patriot may not be able to change
things outright, I will aim to keep you informed.
Const. Mark Tonner is a Vancouver police officer. His opinions are
not necessarily those of the city's police department or police board.
I'm trying to decide whether I'm a patriot or a racist. Recent
changes to Canadian refugee policies prompted a mix of feelings I'm
struggling to sort out. Work with me, if you're inclined, and choose
a label as you see fit. I'll open with a series of unpalatable truths:
Canada has opened its doors to refugee claimants from every corner of
the Earth. The last few years, we've dealt with an influx of
claimants from the Honduras. While many are friendly folk,
legitimately fleeing persecution, an inordinate number end up
involved in the drug trade.
This I know by meeting them as individuals, in Vancouver's skid row
or Downtown Eastside area. For a patrol officer, the meetings are
either routine street checks or one of an endless series of drug
arrests.
Another unsavoury insight is that an arrest doesn't necessarily
result in a deportation. Even a conviction won't ensure it.
Nevertheless, a drug conviction coupled with a criminal background
occasionally earns the designation of "Danger to the Public."
Immigration officers work hard to put such files together, seeking
"danger" status whenever they think it's deserved.
It is worth the effort. When a judge grants the application, the
subject's right to access the refugee system is cancelled. Which
means that once they're deported they can't come back.
That seems insignificant, until you're made aware of the current
rules of engagement. A refugee claimant whose application is revoked
or denied may be deported, as one would hope and expect. The twist is
that they can re-enter the country after a mere 90 days!
The reasoning, apparently, is that something in a person's
circumstance at home might change in that kind of time, making them a
freshly legitimate refugee. Regardless of perspective, the time
period is a peculiar choice, as working one's way back to Canada from
the Honduras seems to take more or less 90 days.
That achieved, they'll cross the border, typically over fields in
Abbotsford or Aldergrove, and head for an immigration office to begin
the process anew. A refugee claim is made, which will take another
year and a half to conclude.
Designation as a danger to the public served to interrupt what could
become lengthy cycles of deportation and return. Once a subject was
convicted of an offence which brings the possibility of 10 years or
more in jail, a danger designation could be sought. He didn't have to
receive that kind of time; the offence simply had to be serious
enough to enter that realm of sentencing.
Upcoming legislative changes are set to rearrange all this. For a
public danger designation to be made, a subject will have to be
sentenced to two years in jail or more.
That's right: sentenced. Which means that the drug charges these
characters face, which previously could generate a danger
designation, no longer will.
Some drug charges do offer possible 10-year jail terms, but sentences
handed down are better measured by wristwatch than calendar. Even
repeated convictions rarely result in more than a few days.
Deportation of a person dangerous to the Canadian public is for life,
but our imported drug dealers will be largely safe from that. It's
hard to see this any other way, except to predict that street
enforcement will be effectively negated.
I'm told that, in the U.S., if you're caught returning after
deportation, with a criminal background, you face up to 10 or 12
years in jail. I'll admit the sound of that starts me whistling,
though I'm experienced enough with my liberal opposition to hear the
counter tune.
It's argued that American criminal justice ideals would have much of
the world in jail, but that doesn't make it a Canadian responsibility
to offer the entire planet protection from them.
My worry at the start was that my response was based in racist urges,
but I've come to see the concern as misplaced. Refugee dope dealers
aren't the only dope dealers I'd like to see gone from Canadian
streets.
I'd like to see them all disappear, regardless of race, nationality,
culture or spoken language. Drug legalisation proponents are quick to
label such sentiment as prejudice based on economic status, or hunger
for power, but their accusations more accurately describe them than
their chosen adversaries.
For myself, I'll watch for developments on the refugee scene with a
clear conscience. And while this patriot may not be able to change
things outright, I will aim to keep you informed.
Const. Mark Tonner is a Vancouver police officer. His opinions are
not necessarily those of the city's police department or police board.
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