WINNIPEG — There’s a Tim Hortons and a bank on the ground floor of the Federal Court building here, but honest to Pete, what the place really needs now are public showers.
During a full day in the witness stand, Jack King was grilled about his bedroom tastes and practices, the sexual fantasy that led to his own disgrace and his wife’s humiliation (not to mention putting her career as a judge in serious jeopardy) and many times volunteered his stupidity, admitted his legal mistakes and fell on his sword.
WINNIPEG — In the ought-to-be immortal words borrowed from Ethan and Joel Coen and their screenplay for the film Raising Arizona, “There ain’t no pancake so thin it ain’t got two sides.”
Curiously, on a day that could have been Alex Chapman’s worst, this was the lesson out of the strangest and most compelling proceeding going on in the country, the judicial inquiry into the conduct of Manitoba Associate Chief Justice Lori Douglas.
WINNIPEG — The lawyer for Manitoba Queen’s Bench Associate Chief Justice Lori Douglas has suggested that her accuser was pimping himself out to a neighbour for money.
The blockbuster accusation came Wednesday as Sheila Block, who represents Judge Douglas at a judicial inquiry underway here, was cross-examining Alex Chapman, the man whose complaint of sexual harassment sparked the hearing.
WINNIPEG — At the request of the inquiry chair, independent counsel Kirsten Crain, one of two prosecutorial equivalents in the curious proceeding unfolding at the Federal Court building here, very delicately fetched a blank sheet of white paper and handed it to the man in the witness box.
Alex Chapman was to use it, please, as a cover sheet as he flipped through 35 pages of sexually explicit photographs of a Manitoba Queen’s Bench judge.
KINGSTON — One of Canada’s most bizarre and bizarrely compelling murder cases will be in jurors’ hands next week.
The trial ended not with a bang — or even an air kiss, tears or the waggle of an accusatory Afghan finger — but with the proverbial whimper.
TORONTO --About a week ago, one of the smartest women I know sent me a note. She had just read a newspaper life section, and was understandably in a state of serious despair.
"Such easy-peasy stories," she said. "The 'how-to' as if we are all retarded or so deeply unsophisticated that we are felled by the task of opening a bottle of bubbly."
When I got back from New York and caught up on the news of the email kerfuffle involving Tory MP Bob Dechert, I confess my thoughts turned to TTBI.
It's unlikely you know what that means, but a few of my friends do: It is a new acronym -- the long form is Touch, Taste and Be Inside -- I've adopted to de-disgust the story. Last month, a good friend told me that an acquaintance of his had a bit of a crush on me. Since the last time this happened was perhaps in Grade 6, I was unaccountably chuffed.