Coppermine (41 page)

Sinnisiak could not keep it together on the stand, even with Angituk’s encouragement as she translated. In tears, he told Justice Harvey that Uluksuk was dying and asked to be allowed to take him home. “We will never kill anybody again.”

Harvey told Wallbridge to get his witness under control. Gently, Wallbridge calmed him and with Angituk’s help walked the young hunter through the essential details of the story: meeting up with the priests, pulling their sled, the priests becoming impatient and angry with the reluctant helpers; Ilogoak forcing them at rifle point to continue pulling the sled; how they had indeed feared for their lives.

In the cross-examination, McCaul’s questions were all about the rifles.

“The priests left the camp after the conflict with Kormik.”

“Yes.”

“They were weak and defenceless and they had rifles.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Beautiful, powerful rifles.”

“They were nice.”

“Rifles would make you important if you had one.”

“Everyone would like a rifle.”

“And no one at the camp liked the white priests. They had insulted Kormik. No one would protect them or avenge them if they disappeared.”

Angituk had to translate quickly to keep up.

“I don’t understand.”

“So you and Uluksuk followed them to steal the rifles.”

“No! We were going fishing at Bloody Falls.”

“You followed them and killed them so you could have the rifles.”

“No!”

After these rhetorical questions Sinnisiak began to cry again and McCaul could get no more out of him. But McCaul had a new bit of evidence to present, and for this he needed Uluksuk. The old man replaced the whimpering Sinnisiak on the stand and was sworn in by the clerk: “Whatever you speak now, you speak straight; do not speak with two tongues.”

Uluksuk promised what was asked and turned and looked out at the crowded courtroom, dreaming of a place far away, beyond the white men and the trees, a place where he could breathe, play with his children and grandchildren, and eat a freshly caught seal.

Creed watched the old shaman and remembered that first night when his magical illusion and stories of shamanistic wonders had so impressed him despite himself. As shaman, Uluksuk had performed a valuable service for his people: to seemingly control the uncontrollable, to keep despair at bay and give hope for the future, to enrich their simple lives with drama and colour, not unlike a Catholic priest. Now Uluksuk looked small, powerless, his once-strong frame emaciated, his formerly expressive eyes dull. Sunken, he sat there staring at the floor, deprived of magic and dignity. Creed would order the doctor to examine him again that night, but he was pessimistic anything could be done.

McCaul went through the sequence of events. Uluksuk gave slow, simplistic answers consistent with Sinnisiak’s testimony.

“Now, Mr. Uluksuk, did you know that Ilogoak and Kuleavik were priests—shamans?”

He answered slowly. “No. I thought they were trappers or traders.”

“But eventually you realized they were shamans?”

“Yes. They showed us rituals with eating and drinking, and chanted songs and spoke to the spirits as we do.”

“So, there was a professional recognition there? A professional courtesy.”

This caused a humorous stirring in the courtroom.

“Yes. The last night we finally understood they were white shamans.”

“And you have been a shaman for many years near the mouth of the Coppermine. You have served the people there.”

“Yes.”

“It would not be good if new shamans came to the Coppermine, would it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“They were your competition. Your rivals. They could ruin your business. You had every reason to eliminate them!”

Wallbridge stood up. “Your Lordship, there is no evidence to support this. My learned colleague has pulled this idea out of his hat!”

“Nevertheless, Mr. Uluksuk, you will answer the question.”

Uluksuk looked out the tall windows to the deep blue sky beyond and the cirrus clouds that were blowing north. “Yes. I did not want the white shamans in the Coppermine, so I killed them.”

Shocked, Angituk heard his response but did not translate it. She asked him in an urgent whisper, “What are you saying, Uluksuk? That’s not true.”

The old man looked at her, defeated. “The white men are going to get their way. I will make it easy for them. Tell them it was my choice, not Sinnisiak’s. I decided to kill the priests.”

“No! It is a lie.”

Justice Harvey was losing patience. “What is he saying, Mr. McAndrew?”

“Don’t give up,” Angituk urged Uluksuk.

“You know they will never let us go.”

“Mr. McAndrew! Please translate.”

Angituk hesitated.

“Tell them,” Uluksuk commanded. “I want it to be finished. Please.”

Angituk looked around at all the faces intent on her. She avoided Creed. “He said … it’s true. Sinnisiak was not involved in the decision. He, Uluksuk, wanted to get rid of the shamans, so he killed them.”

It took several applications of Harvey’s gavel to quell the noisy courtroom after the remarkable confession. Wallbridge sagged in his chair. McCaul could not keep the smile from his face.

“No further questions.”

WALLBRIDGE HAD NOTHING LEFT.
Runners had been sent and had confirmed that Koeha had returned north. Uluksuk’s admission had sunk the defence. He would not withdraw his statement. Wallbridge in his summation tried to put it all in perspective.

“These men gather their food with the tools and weapons of the Stone Age, and think their primitive Stone Age thoughts and live their tense, insecure lives day to day. Men and women, very human, entirely friendly, who would welcome into their homes the very few white men who get that far north. First the priests and then Inspector Creed. They were treated with hospitality, fed, given a place to sleep, even though they were feared. And because the Eskimos fear them, those white visitors had to be very, very careful not to do anything that would trigger that fear.

“The accused, Sinnisiak, told the court he believed he was about eight years old, and that is a fair example of his knowledge. He doesn’t know his age. He has no need to. He doesn’t know what time it is. He gets up when it’s light. Sleeps when it’s dark. Age and time are ‘white’ conventions. I submit to you these men should be treated like children, like young children or imbeciles, and I say that because a young child or imbecile is incapable of committing a crime and these men are equally incapable of appreciating a crime.” Angituk did not translate this last part for the defendants.

“These priests went to the mouth of the river to create a mission and look after the Eskimos, a very laudable purpose, but they got into trouble. When there developed a dispute over the rifle, instead of sitting down and reasoning with the Eskimos, Father Le Roux settled the matter by loading his other rifle and demanding the first rifle back at gunpoint. And this is how he later settled the business of pulling the sled south. When an Eskimo sees a gun pointed at him, as Inspector Creed has testified, he believes he’s going to be shot. And I say any man, whether he is civilized or uncivilized, whether he is black or white or brown, if he truly believes he is about to be killed, is justified in killing another in his own defence.

“I submit that the Crown would have no case at all except for the naive and innocent confessions of these men. The Crown may tell you that whether these men are guilty or not, they must be made an example of to prevent other incidents of this kind occurring in the wilds. That is not in accordance with our ideas of justice and fair play. That is persecution and not justice.

“Now I think it is my duty to mention to the jury the reason they are here. There was a previous trial you should know about, and I want to explain what—”

Justice Harvey interrupted. “I think you had better confine yourself, Mr. Wallbridge, to the evidence.”

“I think it is important for the jury to understand—”

“It is not necessary at all,” Harvey said with a note of irritation. “In fact it is quite improper.”

“I ought to be at liberty to tell them—”

“It is quite improper!” The Justice cut him off angrily. “It is out of the evidence.”

The courtroom fell silent as Wallbridge considered defiance. Should he tell the jury of the first trial and risk professional penalties or even a mistrial? He took a deep breath and turned back to the jury.

“Then I bow to his Lordship’s ruling. But let me just say it is your privilege as jurors to find these prisoners not guilty. It is the liberty gained by the people of England in the great Magna Carta that no one should dictate or influence you in your verdict. Not the agenda of my colleagues or the press or the heavy hand of Ottawa.” Wallbridge glanced at both McCaul and Harvey. “I leave it to you with confidence that you will find in your wisdom they are not guilty.”

C.C. MCCAUL BEGAN HIS SUMMATION
standing very close to the railing, looking from one jury member to the next.

“My learned friend, while most eloquent and forcible, is asking you not to judge this case by the law of the land but by the law of the Eskimo. The law of the Stone Age! Their standards of vengeance and their value of human life. When white men go into that northern country, would such a ruling render it safe for them? Stone Age law says a man may kill if he is afraid of being killed. British law does not recognize this law. British law—Canadian law—says a man may kill only at the actual moment he is about to be killed and only as a last resort.

“Let’s take an extreme case: suppose that one of you gentlemen and myself have been cast adrift from a sinking ship in a dinghy. Starvation threatens and you pull out your watch and put your revolver down in front of you and say to me, ‘It is now a quarter to four. At four o’clock, unless we sight a vessel, I am going to kill you.’ I would not be justified in killing you by virtue of that threat. I could not simply kill you even at four o’clock, without being guilty of murder. And if I did kill you, unless you were actually at that moment attempting to kill me, I would be guilty of murder. If a ship were to appear on the horizon a few minutes later and I was then rescued and afterwards charged with murder, my statement of your threat, if believed, would not avail as a defence in any British or Canadian court.

“Now, my learned friend submits that without their confessions the Crown would have no case in these murders. I disagree. I ask you to look at the circumstantial evidence before us. It is apparent that the time of the murders was a time of scarce food. Father Rouvière tells us himself in his diary, found on the spot where they were killed: ‘We are menaced by starvation and we don’t know what to do.’ Menaced by starvation themselves, the Eskimos had evidently turned ugly. They were no longer the hospitable hosts putting the best of food before their guests and giving them open access to their houses. Again the good Father tells us, ‘We have become disillusioned by the Eskimos.’ The Eskimos did not want two extra mouths to feed. They wanted the priests to go. There was the argument over the priests’ rifle. The priests’ hasty departure. An escape, in effect. A return to the trees. And the two defendants followed.

“Why did the defendants go south on the Coppermine? They said to meet and help friends coming north. And they travelled light and with only two dogs. But there are no telephones or telegraphs at the mouth of the Coppermine. How did they know their friends were coming? And if they were, they could have been away one day or twenty days. Yet they took no food and only two dogs. Three days later they return to camp, and what do they have in their possession? The disputed rifle. But why didn’t they wait for their friends? Unless … there weren’t any. I submit that on this evidence alone I would be completely justified in asking any reasonable jury to decide to find these men guilty of murder.

“For me, the most poignant and telling moment is after they have killed Father Le Roux. Father Rouvière is running away unarmed and Sinnisiak says to Uluksuk: ‘Give me the rifle.’ Was Father Rouvière at that moment threatening their lives? Was he in a position to kill them? He was running away! Why didn’t they let the poor devil run?”

“Objection, your Lordship.” Wallbridge’s voice was strong, but McCaul pushed on.

“Why didn’t they let him go off and starve to death in the wilds? Why didn’t they let him have a sporting chance even of getting back to the village and receiving assistance?”

“Your Lordship, I object.”

“No, my friend Mr. Wallbridge tells you they had to kill him too, ‘in self-defence.’”

“This trial does not pertain to the murder of Father Rouvière.” Wallbridge finally stated his objection.

“They killed this poor, unfortunate priest. They shot him down and then knifed him and then finished him off with the axe.”

“The charges against my clients are for the murder of Father Le Roux, not Father Rouvière!”

“Sustained. Members of the jury, please disregard the comments concerning the murder of Father Rouvière.”

McCaul, hardly missing a beat, continued. “My friend must admit, everyone must admit, that if it were a white man on trial under these circumstances, the jury could not possibly take five minutes to bring in a guilty verdict.

“And finally you heard the additional motive that the shaman, Uluksuk, admitted. He did not want the priests in his land. They were competition. Rivals to his business of negotiating with spirits and casting out demons. And so he eliminated that competition and gained a rifle in the bargain.

“The priests came to the Coppermine as innocents bringing the enlightenment of the teachings of our Saviour to the heathen. And what happened? They were murdered, mutilated, and their meagre possessions stolen. It is your responsibility to convict these men and thereby re-establish law and order in the Far North. Thank you.”

Creed watched the dejected prisoners stare at the floor, wondering what would become of them. Justice Harvey told the jury they could now retire to consider their verdict. As the members moved slowly toward the exit, Creed noticed that Angituk’s seat was empty. Where had she gone?