Justice: Thursday in Virtual Bail Court

Originally published in The Local. Reprinted in The Walrus.

Overnight, almost every aspect of the justice system has transformed in the name of public health. So why are we still sending people to crowded jails?

It’s Thursday morning in Toronto, and bail court is in session. Instead of the usual location—a stately downtown building, say, or a dreary suburban low-rise—the proceedings now happen over the phone. The only people at the courthouse are a court reporter and a clerk who manages the teleconferencing system. Everybody else—the lawyer, the Crown prosecutor, the accused, and the justice of the peace (JP) who makes the decisions—has called in to a dedicated line.

It’s a strange set-up. People accidentally speak at the same time or provide lengthy answers to questions only to realize they’ve put themselves on mute. The proceedings are interrupted by dogs barking or babies crying. In the last four weeks, new “courtroom” rituals have emerged. Whenever anybody speaks, they must first restate their name (when you can’t see faces, it’s hard to know who’s talking), and JPs are now in the habit of giving frequent, exasperated lectures on phone etiquette. “Someone’s interfering with their microphone,” the JP says at one point in a tone that conveys annoyance. “Can I have a word with the accused?” a lawyer asks during a later hearing. “Please do,” says the JP. “But keep in mind that everyone can hear you.”

Court proceedings are meant to happen in person, and many courthouses aren’t equipped for multiparty video conferencing (hence the reliance on phones). Today, criminal trials are no longer moving forward at all, but bail court is still on since people have a right to a hearing within twenty-four hours of being arrested.

The very notion of rights is especially fraught in the time of COVID-19, when a stint in jail can result in infection and potentially death. Two prisons in Quebec and one in Ontario have already seen serious outbreaks. At the medium-security wing of the Mission Institution, in British Columbia, more than a hundred inmates have tested positive for the virus, and one has died. Such figures aren’t as dire as those in Chicago’s Cook County Jail or New York’s Rikers Island, but outbreaks have a way of growing. This grim reality raises an obvious question: Why are so many people still incarcerated at all? If a courtroom is a dangerous breeding ground for infection and must therefore be closed, surely a jail is exponentially worse. Why shutter one and keep the other packed?

This is an excerpt. Read the full text here.