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COLUMN: The weight of words and how we wield them

On Friday, after returning to work from the Yellowknife courthouse – where I spend most of my days as crime reporter – I received a message from a friend.

“Just want you to be aware,” it read, accompanied by a Facebook link.

I clicked. I was horrified.

A flurry of red-faced Facebook reactions dotted the screen. An unending avalanche of angry comments left by a cavalry of commentators piled on in real-time. And they were all directed at a news brief that bore my name – a brief I didn't recognize.

But I recognized the copy, entombed in a screen-grab posted to the Yellowknife Women's Society Facebook page, as an extremely abbreviated version of a web story – “Man sentenced to 2 years less a day for alleyway sex assault” – I published the previous day.

The man is 25-year-old Wade Kapakatoak. He was convicted in August of sexually assaulting a woman in an alley behind the Capitol Theater in May 2017.

The already shocking crime was compounded by the revelation the victim was arrested by RCMP under the Liquor Act and placed in detachment cells overnight, instead of being taken to hospital for a medical examination.

Judge Garth Malakoe labeled the arrest “egregious” and called for an explanation from police, who opened a review into the handing of the sexual assault.

After receiving his sentence, I immediately sought a response from the RCMP, which they provided: none of the responding officers were disciplined as a result of the review.

RCMP's decision not to reprimand the arresting officers, along with the details of Kapakatoak's sentencing, were published in two separate online stories Thursday afternoon.

I did not file the stories for Friday's paper because it was late in the day and much of the edition's margins were reserved for a special election edition.

But, unbeknownst to me, parts of the online Kapakatoak story were plucked from the web to fill empty space before press time.

On fluid production days where ad and article space often play musical chairs, this happens.

On Thursday – with this story – it should not have happened.

But it did.  And the product earned well-warranted criticism from the Yellowknife Women's Society, who argued the brief blamed the victim by focusing on “irrelevant” details about her, while overlooking crucial elements of the offence.

Online commentators pointed out another glaring omission: no mention of the victim's arrest or the RCMP's decision not to discipline the arresting officers. All of those points needed to be made, and they were made online, but not in the published brief.

In the Yellowknife Women's Society post, descriptors of the victim and what she was doing before the attack were highlighted. “Intoxicated” and “in her 50s” are circled, as is a line about the victim drinking with her attacker before the assault.

These words are mine.

“Details about the victim are not only irrelevant, but they encourage the perception the victim, due to their social status or behaviour, are somehow to blame for sexual assault,” the Facebook post read.

The author is right.

In its stunted 61-word form, these details serve little purpose. They become magnified, amplified and emboldened. Circle or no circle – they stand out. They stand in stark contrast with a brief bereft of important information about the offence and offender's sentence. The absence of this information puts the spotlight on the victim – not the crime.

But in an article that isn't bound to the five Ws, as this brief was, I believe there is room for details about a victim's circumstances. Countless commentators, including at least one media personality, argued the victim being highly intoxicated was irrelevant to the story.

I disagree.

On two recent occasions, I've intervened in hostile disputes between a man and a woman while walking downtown. My attempts to defuse the heated, near-physical confrontations were met by the same response by both men: “she's my wife.”

It's this kind of flippant justification for abuse – that I can mistreat what belongs to me – that forms the basis of a key pillar in Canadian law: the courts consider the circumstances of vulnerable victims when weighing the seriousness of a crime and the sentence it warrants.

If a man assaults his wife or common-law partner, that is viewed as aggravating by the courts – the same way hate crimes and attacks on children and the elderly are. Why? Because these are vulnerable people. The courts have identified these vulnerabilities, and Parliament has crafted laws to safeguard them.

“He took advantage of a woman who couldn't protect herself,” said Crown prosecutor Blair MacPherson Thursday. “She was in a vulnerable state,” he added.

She was intoxicated to the point of unconsciousness. But that didn't deter her attacker, who continued to sexually assault the victim. Sexual assaults on sleeping or passed out women and girls, Malakoe noted, is far too prevalent in NWT.

He pointed to recent remarks from Supreme Court Justice Louise Charbonneau, who described the pervasive type of  crime as an “epidemic” in the territory.

MacPherson also referred to the victim's older age as he recounted Kapakatoak's unwavering “opportunistic” and “predatory” attack.

In Malakoe's written decision in August, he specifically noted the victim's social status as a “street person,” as he struggled to understand how a street person – belonging to one of the most vulnerable segments of our society – could be arrested by police and not treated at hospital.

In a full story, these details offer context. They help to demonstrate the depravity of the crime, while informing readers how the judge reached his two-years less a day decision.

By calling homelessness, addiction and age by their names, I attempted to highlight the victim's vulnerabilities – which were exploited heinously by her attacker. The vulnerabilities that shaped sentencing.

I tried to shed light on the vulnerabilities often pounced on in dark alleyways across the city.

Make no mistake. Sexual assaults happen everywhere. At work. In the classroom. At a concert. In a back alleyway. They happen when the victim is drinking, and when the victim is sober. Victims are assaulted by close companions and complete strangers alike.

Homeless women in Canada face “constant risks” of sexual and physical assault on the street, according to YWCA Canada. To exclude the victim's vulnerability as a homeless person – a vulnerability that was taken advantage of – would, I believe, take away from gravity of the sexual assault and overall significance of the case.

Going forward, I am committed to listening and learning. Words matter – and the fallout of Friday's brief is yet another reminder of their immense power.