CBSA investigation leads to 5 year prison sentence for Nanaimo resident
VANCOUVER, BC, May 26, 2025 /CNW/ - On May 21, 2025, Cody Edward Ranger, a resident of Nanaimo, B.C., was sentenced to five years imprisonment (less time served) along with a lifetime firearm prohibition and ordered to provide a DNA sample.
Ranger pleaded guilty in Nanaimo Provincial Court to the following charges:
One count of Possession for the purpose of trafficking contrary to Section 5(2) of the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act;
Two counts of unauthorized possession of a loaded prohibited firearm contrary to Section 95(1) of the Criminal Code
In 2022, the CBSA launched an investigation after three firearm suppressors were intercepted by border services officers at Vancouver International Airport Air Cargo Operations between August and October 2022.
In May 2023, CBSA criminal investigators, with assistance from the Vancouver Island District RCMP Emergency Response Team, executed search warrants on a residence and two vehicles in Nanaimo. A number of illegal firearms and various quantities of illegal drugs were seized, including:
two loaded, prohibited 9mm ghost guns;
a loaded, prohibited shotgun;
a 9mm restricted rifle with readily accessible ammunition and suppressor;
two non-restricted rifles;
nine over-capacity magazines;
119 g of methamphetamine;
335 g of cocaine;
15 g of MDMA;
10 g of psilocybin; and
22 electronic devices.
On May 15, 2024, the CBSA charged Ranger with multiple firearm and drug possession charges under the Criminal Code and Controlled Drugs and Substances Act.
Quote
"The Canada Border Services Agency is committed to keeping illegal drugs and prohibited firearms out of our country and away from our communities. Our officers and criminal investigators work diligently to secure the border and ensure that those who break the law are held accountable."
- Nina Patel, Regional Director General, Pacific Region, Canada Border Services Agency
Associated Links
CBSA Pacific Region investigation leads to firearm and drug charges for Nanaimo resident - Canada.ca
Quick Facts
Smuggling and other Customs Act and Criminal Code contraventions may lead to arrest, criminal charges and prosecution in a court of law.
The CBSA screens goods, including international mail and courier items, coming into Canada and examines more closely those that may pose a threat to the safety of Canadians.
For the latest enforcement statistics, visit Canada Border Services Agency seizures.
Canada is investing $1.3 billion to bolster security at the border and strengthen the immigration system, all while keeping Canadians safe. Information available on the Border Plan is available here: The Government of Canada's Border Plan: significant investments to strengthen border security and our immigration system - Canada.ca
If you have information about suspicious cross-border activity, please contact the CBSA Border Watch Line toll-free at 1-888-502-9060.
Anyone with information regarding criminal activity is encouraged to contact their local police, the RCMP at 1-800-387-0020 or Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-TIPS
X @CanBorderPAC or (@CanBorder)
SOURCE Canada Border Services Agency
View original content: http://www.newswire.ca/en/releases/archive/May2025/26/c2248.html
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Hamilton Spectator
16 hours ago
- Hamilton Spectator
‘Pretendian' or ‘victim': Inside this would-be Ontario lawyer's attempt to remake a life built on fraud
Before the headlines, Nadya Gill's life was filled with promise. Originally from the GTA, she played on Canada's youth national soccer team . At 16, she entered university in the U.S. on athletic scholarships, where she excelled on the pitch and in the classroom and earned the first of five post-secondary degrees. A coach told a Connecticut TV station her competitive drive could easily lead her to becoming a lawyer, a doctor, or 'a UN ambassador.' She graduated from law school, where she won awards and worked summers at the Crown law office in Toronto. After passing the bar exam, she landed a dream articling position at a sports law firm. It allowed her to work remotely and play professional soccer in Norway . Then came the rumblings online; her life fell apart — and she had to pick a new name. Two years ago, Nadya Gill and her twin, Amira, now 26, were outed as 'pretendians,' first by online sleuths and then a reporter in Nunavut , for falsely claiming to be Inuit to receive scholarships and grants. In September 2023, the RCMP charged the sisters and their mother, Karima Manji, with fraud. Last year, it was Manji alone who pleaded guilty, admitting she sent enrolment forms to Nunavut Tunngavik Incorporated (NTI) with the false information that she'd adopted her own daughters from an Iqaluit woman. The forms were approved and she was provided enrolment cards that entitled the twins access to benefits earmarked for Inuit students. Manji had in fact given birth to her daughters in Mississauga in 1998. In court, it was revealed that the girls had received more than $158,000 for their education from September 2020 to March 2023. To many, Nadya's successes were a slap in the face and a reminder of the harm caused by more famous Canadians who've been exposed for falsely claiming to be Indigenous. In March 2024, Toronto Life magazine published an exposé on the family under the headline, 'The Great Pretenders: How two faux-Inuit sisters cashed in on a life of deception.' It went to press before a judge in Iqaluit sentenced Manji to three years in prison and called the twins 'victims.' On a warm sunny morning this past week in an Etobicoke park not far from where she grew up, the Star spoke with Nadya Gill under her new name, Jordan Archer, about her involvement in Canada's first criminal case of Indigenous identity fraud. It's the first time she has spoken publicly about the scandal that she says has destroyed her life. In the basic facts, Archer's story is this: She's a first-generation Canadian, born to a mother who immigrated from Tanzania and lived for only a brief period in Nunavut. Her father, Gurmail Gill, is British. No member of the family is Inuit, nor of Indigenous background. Still, Archer says, the story the public thinks they know is wrong — not that her version will convince everyone who sees her as a villain. For the first time since the scandal broke in 2023, Jordan Archer speaks about being at the centre of Canada's first criminal case of Indigenous identity fraud. 'How would you have expected me to know,' Archer says, referring to her teenage self while sitting on a park bench in athletic wear after jumping off an old hybrid bike. 'Put yourself in my shoes. If your mom came up to you, gave you the story, with proof.' 'Proof,' Archer says, was the Inuit enrolment card her mother applied for — by outright fraud — in February 2016, when Archer was 17 and already going to school in the U.S. Like many teens, Archer says she was only too happy to let her mother handle all her applications, finances and logistics. Manji was controlling, the kind of 'soccer mom' who would scold her daughter after a match if she hadn't performed up to her standards. She was also someone a judge would call a 'habitual and persistent fraudster.' At the time she filed the false applications, Manji was already facing serious fraud charges. In August 2017, she was sentenced to defrauding the charity March of Dimes, her longtime employer, of $850,000, for which she received a non-custodial sentence after reimbursing $650,000. Karima Manji, seen after her arrest in the March of Dimes fraud case. As unlikely as it may sound — the case was publicized — Archer says she wasn't aware of those charges until much later. At the time, she was living in the U.S. and had distanced herself from her mom, who still controlled many of her life decisions. She returned home from school in the U.S. at 20, which is when Manji told her: 'You're going to Saskatchewan … to a program where you'll do property law in the summer. It's for Indigenous students.' That's when, she says, Manji presented her with 'officially issued proof' — the Inuit enrolment card — and told her 'the story.' Manji had lived in Iqaluit in the '90s and had grown close to an Inuit family. That much was true. As her mother explained, when the father became ill with cancer, Manji took care of a daughter. That connection, Manji lied, had made her eligible for Inuit enrolment and, by extension, so were her daughters. Should Archer have questioned things? Maybe. But she says she believed her mother. In the interview, she likened the logic of her mom's explanation to a marriage — it wasn't a blood tie but 'a connection.' (In retrospect, this explanation is nonsense. To qualify, an applicant must both be Inuk according to Inuit customs and identify as an Inuk .) Still, Archer emphasizes that she accepted and embraced the connection she now thought she had — believing in some way that 'I belonged to the Iqaluit community.' She says she immersed herself in learning about Indigenous culture and participated in ceremonies, activities and educational sessions. She volunteered for the Akwesasne Community Justice Program and facilitated Kairos blanket exercises where participants step into roles of Indigenous groups throughout Canadian history. If she knew about the fraud, why would she do that, she asks. 'I think if you're trying to hide something, you stay under the radar.' As for what the card meant, Archer says she was kept in the dark as her mom secured tens of thousands of dollars for her education. 'I know the card gets you benefits, you have some kind of status with it, but I had no idea what (Manji) was doing with it.' Who questions their parents about things that happened before they were born, she asks? 'I know my dad's from England … I didn't say, 'Show me your birth certificate.'' The Iqaluit RCMP charged both Manji and the twins with defrauding the NTI — the organization tasked with enrolling Inuit children under the Nunavut Land Claims Agreement — in September 2023. As is often the case with fraud, the big lie ended up being trivially easy to disprove. Manji had written on the application forms that Nadya and Amira were the birth daughters of a real Inuk woman named Kitty Noah, and then the application was approved without a shred of proof. (While there's no question her mother 'dug this hole,' Archer asks how the bogus application forms could have been accepted without a birth certificate.) Manji then used the girls' status cards to apply for benefits from Kakivak Association, an organization that, among other things, provides sponsorship funding to help Inuit students from Baffin Island pay for education. By early 2023, while Archer was articling and had already played in Norway, social media users began questioning the story of the successful 'Inuit' sisters from Toronto with the South Asian names. 'Our communities are small, we know each other. We know of each other and our families. There are only around 70,000 of us in Canada,' famed Inuk throat singer Tanya Tagaq wrote in a tweet asking how the twins could get scholarships meant for Inuit students. 'The resources and supports are limited.' In late March 2023, a reporter with Nunatsiaq News asked Amira to respond to the social media allegations. In a statement, Amira passed on Manji's story, that the twins' 'Inuit family ties' were through a family her mother had lived with. (Amira Gill declined to be interviewed for this story. 'My sister has chosen to keep her life personal, away from the public eye,' Archer said when asked about her twin.) But that's not what Manji put on the form; NTI soon released a statement that Noah was not the twins' birth mother and asked the RCMP to investigate. Kitty Noah has since died. When she found out she'd been listed on the application, she was 'flabbergasted,' her son later told CBC . Today, Archer says she struggles to make ends meet. She's working part-time at a hockey rink as a community service representative, 'directing people to the lost and found.' A Zamboni driver recently asked about her background. 'How much time do you have?' Archer told him, recalling the exchange. 'No matter what career I try to explore, I don't want this to come back.' She lost friends along with her articling job. In the wake of the case, the Law Society of Ontario initiated an investigation into her status as a lawyer. To practise law in Ontario, applicants for a licence must be of 'good character'; Archer feels she has no choice but to abandon a law career, at least at this point. She says she used to be puzzled when people described being debilitated by stress, but 'now, I really, really do understand. There were months when I wouldn't move or go anywhere.' Last fall, Archer thought she'd found a lifeline and signed a contract to play pro soccer. She felt she had been forthright about her past before signing but, ultimately, the league decided to rescind its approval of the contract. She was devastated. But it was also a 'turning point' — the realization she had to do something to try to clear the air and provide a 'fulsome' picture of the story. 'No matter what career I try to explore, I don't want this to come back.' She's since written a memoir, titling it 'When Life Conspired Against Me.' A summary provided to the Star described the book as an examination of the toll of the public backlash that destroyed her professional reputation. She's 'a victim of online bullying and was crucified in the media, despite not being involved in the fraud,' the summary reads. (The book does not have a publisher.) 'I'm serving a life sentence for a crime I didn't commit,' Archer says in a prepared blurb. 'I was the victim, but that means nothing when the court of public opinion plays both judge and executioner. In their story, I'm the villain, and that's all that matters.' Looking back, Archer says she now knows her mom would have pursued any chance at an advantage. 'She saw, you know, a bureaucratic loophole and she just went for it,' she says. 'Whether it was an Indigenous community or any other community, she would have just gone for it.' Confronting her mom was 'one of the hardest things I've ever had to do,' she told the Star in the days after the interview. Their relationship is messy, she adds. 'She didn't just hurt me, she detonated my life … and yet she's my mom.' She feels a 'heavy, inescapable obligation' to still be there for her mother, but 'supporting her didn't mean forgetting the harm. It didn't mean pretending everything was OK.' Soon after Manji pleaded guilty last year, the Crown withdrew the charges against Nadya and Amira. In response, the then-president of NTI called the withdrawal of charges against the twins 'unacceptable.' The twins 'benefitted from their mother's fraud scheme, and yet their role in the scheme will go unanswered,' Aluki Kotierk told Toronto Life. There's little chance Archer's story will convince anyone who believes she should have known. 'How can they say they didn't know they were not Inuit,' one First Nations advocate wrote on X. To those skeptics, Archer says she never claimed to be Inuk by blood; that was her mom's lie. Still, she hopes the doubters read the judge's words. Karima Manji, who is not Indigenous, pleaded guilty to one count of fraud over $5,000, after her twin daughters used fake Inuit status to receive Karima Manji, who is not Indigenous, pleaded guilty to one count of fraud over $5,000, after her twin daughters used fake Inuit status to receive 'The true victims of Ms. Manji's crime are the Inuit of Nunavut,' Iqaluit judge Mia Manocchio wrote . Manji 'defrauded the Inuit of Nunavut by stealing their identity. She has further victimized the Noah family and the memory of Kitty Noah. This is an egregious example of the exploitation of Indigenous Peoples.' 'Finally,' Manocchio continued, 'Ms. Manji has victimized her own children, her two daughters, whose lives and careers have been severely compromised by her fraud.' Manji is now serving a three-year sentence — a term that, the judge wrote, serves as 'a signal to any future Indigenous pretender that the false appropriation of Indigenous identity in a criminal context will draw a significant penalty.' Manji was also ordered to pay back $28,254 — what remained after she had already reimbursed $130,000. (Not that the 'proven fraudster' deserved any credit for paying back the fruits of her crimes, Manocchio wrote — 'if such were the case, then a fraudster with means could essentially buy their way into a reduced prison term, whereas an impecunious fraudster would serve the longer term.') Reached by phone at a halfway house, where she was in the middle of drywalling, Manji, 60, insisted to the Star that Nadya — she doesn't call her Jordan — was unaware of the scheme. 'I never, ever said a word to Nadya,' she said. 'She trusted me 120 per cent, if you can imagine, when this all started, she was in the States … her whole focus was on soccer.' Manji said she is appalled by the hurt she caused not only to Inuit communities, but to her own children, 'especially Nadya.' (The girls have an older brother.) While serving some of her sentence at Grand Valley Institution for Women in Kitchener, Manji said it would take weeks to read her daughter's letters, because 'I just feel so awful.' Unprompted, Manji offers up an explanation for her actions: She was brought up in a strict, conservative family and believed that if you were a doctor, lawyer or engineer, 'you would do fine in life.' She had an unhappy upbringing and marriage and wanted to make sure her kids didn't go through that. 'If I made sure they were successful in terms of their education and career, that they wouldn't have to have gone through what I've gone through,' she says.
Hamilton Spectator
a day ago
- Hamilton Spectator
‘Uphill battle': Criminal Code must include definition for femicide, advocates say
TORONTO - As police in Ontario increasingly investigate killings of women and girls as femicides, advocates say a firm definition of the term must be embedded in the Criminal Code. It's a change they hope could be on the table soon after Prime Minister Mark Carney proposed cracking down on intimate partner violence in this year's federal election campaign. Ottawa police, who have been using the term since August 2024, said last week they were investigating the death of a 54-year-old woman as a femicide. They arrested a 57-year-old man and charged him with second-degree murder. Last month, Kingston Police logged its first use of the label in a news release. Police said they determined the death of a 25-year-old woman to be a femicide because it occurred 'in the context of intimate partner violence,' and they arrested a 26-year-old man for first-degree murder. They confirmed it was their first time describing a homicide in this way. Police use the word so rarely that the Kingston example was a 'very significant' move, said Myrna Dawson, founder and director of the Canadian Femicide Observatory for Justice and Accountability. 'That's not something that's really in their vocabulary right now. It's not something that is in many people's vocabulary as much as it should be,' she said. Dawson, who is also a sociology professor at the University of Guelph, said the lack of Criminal Code definition is part of the reason why. The observatory defines femicide as the killing of women and girls because of their gender. The group also uses a framework from the United Nations Office of Drugs and Crime that lists 10 specific indicators that a crime could be considered femicide. They include a woman or girl being killed by her intimate partner or family member, a victim having had a history of being harassed and sexual violence playing a role in the crime. In some cases, more than one factor can be at play. 'They're killed in distinct ways from men and boys, and they're killed in many ways because of men and boys being entitled to relationships with them and expecting that women don't get to decide when they don't want a relationship any longer,' Dawson said. Using the UN framework, her group has counted 1,014 femicides across Canada since it began tracking the killing of women and girls in 2018. That included 187 femicides last year. A current or former intimate partner was accused in nearly half of those cases, the observatory found. Family members were accused in another 28 per cent of cases. Only six per cent of alleged perpetrators were strangers to the victims. Though Kingston police have now called one case a femicide, the group's data suggests at least four killings since 2018 could meet the definition. Other groups are attempting the same work. The Ontario Association of Interval Houses, which tracks cases in the province, has identified five femicides in Kingston since late 2019. Its executive director, Marlene Ham, said that without a universally recognized definition for femicide, different groups will end up with different numbers. Adding a definition of femicide to the Criminal Code would allow better data on violence against women to be captured by police and national agencies such as Statistics Canada, both advocates said. Kingston Police spokesperson Const. Anthony Colangeli declined to answer questions about what motivated the force to use the term femicide and whether it plans to use similar terminology in the future. An Ottawa police spokesperson said the force started using the word femicide to 'highlight the realities of gender-based violence faced by women in our community.' 'By using appropriate language to refer to these murders, we are continuing conversations about this subject that is often considered 'private.' We are raising awareness about an epidemic that is occurring and labelling these deaths appropriately,' the spokesperson said in an email. In the absence of an agreed-upon definition, Ottawa police have come up with a list of 14 forms of violence that fall into the category of femicide, including intimate partner violence killings, the torture and misogynistic slaying of women, the killing of Indigenous women and girls, killing related to sexual violence and the 'non-intimate killings of women and girls.' The force confirmed it does not use femicide to describe women killed in murder-suicides — something Dawson said should change as it is 'a very common scenario in femicide cases.' Other police forces, such as the Toronto Police Service, don't use the term femicide because it currently has no bearing on which charges police lay in homicides. The force does, however, lay terrorism charges in homicides where misogyny is a motivating factor. Dawson says police are 'fighting an uphill battle' when it comes to using femicide terminology more consistently. 'Police really need leaders to take the initiative, and by that I mean the federal government who decides what is a criminal offence and what should be labelled and legislated officially,' she said. Carney promised in the campaign to make killings motivated by hate — including femicide — a 'constructive first-degree offence,' which means a first-degree murder charge would be laid even if the slaying was not planned and deliberate. Chantalle Aubertin, a spokesperson for Justice Minister Sean Fraser, said in a statement the government is 'determined to bring forward legislation to advance this commitment as soon as possible.' Should the federal government enshrine a definition of femicide, Statistics Canada could record better data, Dawson said. The agency already tracks homicides reported by police each year, and the genders of the accused perpetrators and victims. While a 2023 report on gender-related homicides of women and girls broke down some indicators of femicide, it only addressed some of the UN's indicators. 'The more we know about these killings and the more we can contextualize them within that understanding of femicide, the more awareness that we can ultimately build and continue to have these discussions about prevention,' Ham said, noting a history of threats, violence and coercive control is present in many cases. It's important to keep the conversation about violence toward women going, Dawson added, with an emphasis on how these killings differ from those targeting boys and men. 'That's what we're trying to emphasize because if we don't recognize that, then our prevention efforts also don't recognize that, and we don't recognize the urgency of this.' This report by The Canadian Press was first published June 8, 2025. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Yahoo
Christine Van Geyn: Do police have the right to peer at you in your car with a drone?
Can police use a drone with a zoom lens to peer into the interior of vehicles stopped at red lights? Can police enter a home's private driveway and look in the windows of vehicles? Can the government track the cellphone location data of millions of Canadians to track their movements? And can a private foreign company scour the internet collecting photos of Canadians for use in facial recognition technology that is sold to police? These questions are not hypotheticals; they are real live issues in Canadian law. We are living in the mass surveillance era. But many Canadians do not have a thorough understanding of how far surveillance goes, or what the limits on it are, or whether our legal protections are adequate. The police in Kingston, Ont., are ticketing drivers at red lights for merely touching or holding their cellphones based on evidence collected by a drone. The Supreme Court recently heard a case about police entering a private driveway and not just looking in a truck window, but opening the door and collecting evidence — all without a warrant. The Alberta Court of Kings Bench just considered a case involving the facial recognition technology of Clearview AI. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the Canadian government was tracking the cellphone location data of 33 million Canadians. After the Trudeau government invoked the Emergencies Act, the government ordered the freezing of bank accounts of a police-compiled 'blacklist' of demonstrators, which was distributed by the government to a variety of financial institutions and even lobby groups. What these cases are demonstrating is that we have entered the era of mass surveillance, and Canada's legal protections are inadequate. First, Canada's privacy legislation is outdated. Privacy Commissioner Philippe Dufresne has said we are at a 'pivotal time' for privacy rights in Canada. Former Ontario Privacy Commissioner Dr. Ann Cavoukian has also called for updates to Canadian privacy laws, 'so they apply to all data, including anonymized data.' Much has changed since the current federal privacy legislation was drafted in the early 2000s, but efforts to modernize this law died when Parliament was prorogued. Second, when it comes to state intrusions, the concept of privacy may be inadequate. Section 8 of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms guarantees the right to be secure against unreasonable searches and seizures, and the Supreme Court has interpreted this right to mean the protection of a person's 'reasonable expectations of privacy' against state intrusions. The notion of 'reasonable expectations of privacy' has become a mantra in Section 8 jurisprudence. But some academics have said that in the era of mass surveillance, this guiding principle is an inadequate gatekeeper. In a lecture for the Canadian Constitution Foundation's new free course on privacy rights, Osgoode Hall Law professor François Tanguay-Renaud proposes a thought experiment that reveals the inadequacy of 'privacy' as an organizing principle. What if the police were recording people on the street, with drones following people and recording their movements as they went about their day, zooming in on their cellphones and recording their conversations? In such a scenario, where people are in plain view, privacy is an inadequate concept to limit what we all see intuitively as oppressive state conduct. At one time, this hypothetical might have been considered far-fetched. Today it is eerily similar to the Kingston police drone scenario. In Kingston, police are using a drone to take aerial images peering into cars and zooming in on cellphones. Those drivers do have reasonable expectations of privacy inside their cars, but what would limit this police conduct if they surveilled citizens on sidewalks or parks, where they were in plain view without those privacy expectations? A principled line must be drawn between things done in plain sight that police can view and constant surveillance using enhanced technology. It may not be possible to draw that line on the basis of the existence or not of 'reasonable expectations of privacy.' There are other values that could serve as guiding or informing principles for Section 8. There is nothing in the text of Section 8 that mandates the gatekeeper of the right be 'reasonable expectations of privacy' rather than another interest, like dignity, liberty, security, anonymity, public confidence in the administration of justice, and many more. Indeed, American jurisprudence has been moving away from the concept of 'reasonable expectations of privacy' as the sole guiding principle for their 4th Amendment. To meet the challenges of the surveillance era, it is well past time for Parliament and the provincial legislatures to update privacy laws. But as recent police conduct shows, it's time for our Section 8 jurisprudence to be revisited as well, to meet the emerging challenges of the surveillance state. National Post Christine Van Geyn is the litigation director for the Canadian Constitutional Foundation. Canadians who want to learn more about their privacy rights in Canada can sign up for the Canadian Constitution Foundation's free course at Opinion: In 2020 the world shut down, and Canadians lost their privacy rights Facial recognition tool used by RCMP deemed illegal mass surveillance of unwitting Canadians
