*Certain details of this story, including names, have been withheld or changed to protect the confidentiality and safety of our clients and staff.*
The morning light fell golden through the courthouse windows, painting warm stripes across the marble floor. Raye inhaled deeply; the scent of sage still lingered on her. Her mother’s hand found theirs, fingers intertwining like roots finding good soil.
Outside, the world moved hurriedly, oblivious to the gravity of human proceedings. For Raye, she felt fear of the uncertainty over her future, but so was the knowing of something stronger, the certainty that comes when generations stand with you.
Raye was just 17 years-old when the system first marked her. Charged with robbery, she carried the weight of accusations she knew weren’t the full story. When she turned 18, another charge loomed, breach, tangled in the same cycle. The stakes were high, a guilty verdict could stain her future, tying her youth record to her adult life forever.
Her first lawyer, accessed through Legal Aid BC, urged Raye to plead guilty. But Raye and her mother, Sarah, hesitated. Their intuition said no. They did not want to engage in legal strategies, instead they wanted the opportunity to hold up Raye’s truth. Raye needed to be heard.
A Turning Point
That’s when they came to the Indigenous Justice Centre.
Tessa, IJC Staff Lawyer, didn’t just see a case file, she saw a story waiting to be told properly.
In her practice Tessa, holds space for the truth. She saw the fire in Raye’s voice when she spoke her lived story. Together, they chose to go to trial. They did not want to gamble on Raye’s future; however, Raye knew she needed to carry the story forward as an act of refusal to let the system silence her.
The courtroom was a cold place, but Tessa and the IJC Resource and Support Worker, Shea, brought warmth. Before Raye testified, she offered sage. Outside of the courthouse, smoke curled upward, carrying prayers for clarity, courage, and her Spirit Helpers guidance. Raye’s hands steadied.
Rewriting the Script
On the stand, Raye’s voice didn’t shake. She spoke plainly, fiercely, and as a storyteller reclaiming her narrative. Tessa didn’t rely on cracks. She instead built bridges of understanding.
Late nights, Tessa poured over trial recordings. And she let the law speak for itself, and turned the story into a blanket of protection, threading arguments about assault, theft, and the right to be seen as whole. When Tessa stood before the judge again, her words became an invitation, to see this young person as a whole.
Truth as Liberation
Weeks later, the judge spoke. “Not guilty.”
Raye’s truth was spoken so powerfully, that she did not worry if she were “believed,” or not, but knew her truth must be shared and her team held it up to be honoured.
The adult charges were dissolved. No shadow on her record. No stolen future.
That day Raye walked out knowing her voice could shake the system.
Why This Matters
- Cultural Backbone: Smudging wasn’t offered as just a “support”, it was an act of sovereignty. The courthouse didn’t bend Raye; Raye bent the space.
- The Power of “No”: Pleading guilty might’ve been faster. But surrender isn’t justice.
- Law as Ceremony: Tessa didn’t just “cross-examine.” She restored balance.
When we create space for Indigenous Ways of Knowing in justice processes, we do not merely “accommodate” culture, we correct systemic blindness. The presumption of guilt that haunts Indigenous Youth cannot be undone by procedure alone. It requires the active reclamation of dignity as the restoration of natural order.
This is not symbolism. It is jurisprudence.
Where colonial systems see “disruption,” we see the system realigning with its original instructions, that accountability grows from belonging, not isolation; that a person’s worth is not suspended at the courthouse door.
Raye walked free not because the system worked as designed, but because their community rewrote the script within it, proving that the most powerful legal arguments often smell like sage and the sound like laughter around a kitchen table.
The question now is not whether Indigenous teachings belong in courtrooms. The evidence shows they always have. The question is who will have the courage to stop calling them “alternative” and start recognizing them as law.
For Our Indigenous Readers
This story not only belongs to Raye, it belongs to many of our people. It’s a map. To every Indigenous Youth facing the system, your truth is sacred. Your voice is power. And sometimes, with the right Helpers beside you, the law can learn to listen.
Client Service Summary
Stakes: One count of robbery (while considered a Youth). After turning 18, a subsequent charge of breaching conditions meant that both charges could appear on client’s adult criminal record.
IJC Approach: After a Legal Aid BC lawyer told the client to plead guilty, the client chose to pursue IJC representation. The IJC lawyer listened and instead recommended that they plead not guilty and tell their story in court.
Legal Approach: Diligent legal work was required to defend the client. Meticulous review of video footage and careful analysis of witness statements was needed to prove the client was not guilty.
Cultural Support: The IJC Resource and Support Worker brought medicines and arranged for the client to partake in ceremonial smudging in the courthouse before the testimony.
Preparation: The IJC Staff Lawyer spent many hours mentoring and coaching the client to speak their truth confidently; to overcome their fear and testify with a strong voice.
Outcome: The judge found the client Not Guilty. The client’s Youth record was protected, and no charges will appear on the client’s adult record.
Success: Client will be employable, not be held down with a record, and have a chance to thrive.
