THE HAUNTED HOUSE OF CANADA’S FAKE JUSTICE SYSTEM

You called 911. That was the beginning of the haunting.

ADMISSION: YOUR ENTIRE LIFE
EXIT: NOT FOUND

SCENE ONE: THE EMERGENCY EXIT

You are being attacked in your own home.

You call 911.

You expect help. You expect protection. You expect that when someone threatens your safety, the people who arrive will help make you safe.

Welcome to the Haunted House of Canada’s Fake Justice System.

The criminal is protected. You are the problem.

The first door locks behind you.

SCENE TWO: THE RCMP PROPERTY ROOM

The police have your belongings.

You must travel to the station and beg to get them back.

You are escorted into an interrogation room. An officer looks at you with an expression of absolute terror, leans forward, and whispers:

“There’s no justice system.”

Then the officer looks around to make sure nobody heard.

The lights flicker.

A door opens into a corridor lined with confiscated property, unanswered questions, and people who suddenly cannot remember what they told you.

SCENE THREE: THE COURTROOM CLOWN

A judge sits elevated above the room, snickering.

“Do you have any questions?” the judge asks.

You are confused. You have spent months trying to understand what is happening to your life.

The judge grins.

“You will when you leave.”

Laughter erupts from the gallery.

You turn around.

Everyone is laughing except you.

When you look back, the judge has disappeared. In his place is a papier-mâché clown head with a judicial wig.

The courtroom door opens.

It leads to another courtroom.

SCENE FOUR: LEGAL AID — THE ETERNAL WAITING ROOM

Your lawyer is a crusty, exhausted alcoholic caricature who cannot remember your name.

You explain your case.

She shuffles papers. She sighs. She tells you she has been working on it.

Thirty-six hours of billable time have somehow produced absolutely nothing.

The calendar spins.

One year passes.

Then another.

The same documents remain on the desk.

The same questions remain unanswered.

Your lawyer looks up.

“People lie,” she says.

“I can’t trust you.”

Behind her, a filing cabinet opens its mouth and swallows your entire case.

SCENE FIVE: THE TWO-HEADED PROSECUTOR

You enter a room containing a two-headed monster.

One head wears the face of the Crown prosecutor. The other represents the criminal’s defence.

They argue with each other while sharing the same body.

One head whines about the criminal’s rights.

The other complains about privacy.

A Facebook meme floats above them, shedding pixelated tears for the abuser.

Nobody asks whether you are safe.

Nobody asks what it cost you to escape.

The monster turns toward you.

“Have you considered how difficult this must be for him?”

Both heads begin to cry.

The floor opens beneath your feet.

SCENE SIX: THE MIRROR MAZE

Welcome to the administrative labyrinth.

Every wall is a mirror.

Every reflection is a clown robot with dead eyes and a permanent customer-service smile.

They repeat the same eight telephone numbers.

You call them.

They refer you elsewhere.

You call again.

You are referred back.

For two years, the robots repeat their questions:

“Have you spoken to your abuser?”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Have you tried calling this number?”

The mirrors multiply.

One hundred reflections become one thousand.

Every robot insists it is helping.

Every robot directs you back to the beginning.

You finally find an RCMP officer.

You explain what happened.

The officer looks at you suspiciously.

“Accuser,” the officer says.

The word appears on every mirror.

ACCUSER. ACCUSER. ACCUSER.

You try to correct it.

The robots begin laughing.

SCENE SEVEN: THE MINISTRY OF ABSOLUTELY NOTHING

You find the people who allegedly run the maze.

The MLA.

The Attorney General.

The Minister of Justice.

You pound on the doors of their offices.

“What is happening? Why am I trapped in here? Who is responsible for this?”

They look at one another.

“We don’t know anything about that.”

“Can you help me?”

“Have you tried calling these numbers?”

They hand you the same eight telephone numbers.

You look down.

Your hands are covered in ink.

The numbers have been tattooed onto your palms.

The officials return to their offices. Through the glass, you can see them smiling for photographs beneath a sign that reads:

JUSTICE FOR ALL.

Behind them, a second sign reads:

ALL SALES FINAL. NO REFUNDS.

SCENE EIGHT: THE CHAPEL OF THE LAST RESORT

You stumble into a dark chapel.

There is a wooden cross.

A candle.

An empty pew.

You sit down.

For the first time in years, nobody asks you to call anyone.

Nobody asks you to explain what happened.

Nobody asks whether you have considered the criminal’s rights.

You whisper the name of Jesus.

Maybe he is imaginary.

Maybe he is the only friend you have left in this particular nightmare.

You look up at the cross.

For a moment, the mirrors stop moving.

Then you hear laughter from somewhere beneath the floor.

THE FINAL ROOM: SATAN HOLDS THE KEYS

You discover a door you have never seen before.

It opens onto the street outside your own home.

There stands the criminal.

Free.

Laughing.

Holding an enormous ring of keys.

Every door in the maze. Every locked room. Every corridor. Every exit.

He holds them all.

You stare at him.

He grins.

Then his face begins to change.

The smile stretches impossibly wide. The skin peels away into red and black scales. His eyes burn like holes in the universe.

He is no longer merely a man.

He is Satan.

And the keys are attached to a chain around his neck.

Behind him, the entire Haunted House of Canada’s Fake Justice System rises into view: the courtroom, the police station, the legal aid office, the ministry buildings, the endless mirrors.

They are all connected.

The clown robots bow.

The two-headed prosecutor kneels.

The judge removes his wig and reveals two tiny horns.

The eight telephone numbers begin ringing simultaneously.

Satan looks directly at you.

“You wanted justice,” he says.

“You should have read the terms and conditions.”

The lights go out.

A voice whispers from the darkness:

“Have you tried calling this number?”

THANK YOU FOR VISITING.

There is no exit.

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Your complaint has been forwarded to the department responsible for receiving complaints about the department responsible for receiving complaints.

Estimated response time: indefinitely.

EXIT 369 — THE HAUNTED HOUSE OF CANADA’S FAKE JUSTICE SYSTEM.

The horror isn’t that the monsters are hiding in the maze.

The horror is that the maze insists it is the way out.