In 1998, my parents began the long road to Canada, filing papers with the Canadian embassy under what was then the Skilled Worker category. They were comfortable in English and were studying French.
Eight years later, one July afternoon in 2006, I was heating lunch when the phone rang. By then we had supplied every document the embassy requested; my parents had even flown to Abu Dhabi for an interview where—my father recalls—“the officer was so respectful that your mother and I looked at each other and nodded, certain Canada was the place our family would soon call home.”
On that July call I picked up to a cascade of greetings—“hello, bonjour, salam.” For no particular reason I answered “hello,” and the conversation shifted to English: our visas were ready. We would be landing as permanent residents. Six months later, we walked into Toronto Pearson with ten duffel bags—literally, ten.
Seventeen years on, we are all proud Canadians. Both my sisters went through rigorous years of medical school, dedicating themselves to helping others through care and compassion. I, too, was drawn to a profession of service—though mine took shape in the courtroom rather than the hospital.
After earning my undergraduate and master’s degrees in engineering at the University of Waterloo (and yes, I’m proud of that!), I decided to take a different path. I went to law school with one purpose in mind: to serve those in need. And so I did!
But much has changed since then. I could write pages about why, but here’s what it feels like: seventeen years ago, I would leave my bicycle—my first real purchase, paid for with Quiznos shifts—unlocked outside our rent-controlled building and trust it would still be there in the morning. Today I carry a wheel lock in my car and double-lock the car I care less about than I once cared about that bike.
As I said earlier, the “why” isn’t my focus. We could point to the globalization, the pandemic, the post-pandemic downturn and inflation, etc.—but that’s not why I’m writing this piece.
This isn’t about the causes; it’s about what we—yes, you and I—can do now.
The 12 Commandments by Sidney Zarabi
Let’s get one thing straight:
I’m not here to preach. I’m not your therapist, your priest, or your probation officer.
But I am your criminal defence lawyer. And if you’ve ever sat across from me after a night in holding, you know I’ll fight like hell for you—but I won’t sugarcoat anything.
What follows isn’t legal advice (fine, it kind of is), and it’s not a moral code (unless you want it to be).
It’s what I’ve learned from a hundred court appearances, client calls, and more bail hearings than I can count.
Think of it as vigilantism—with love and care. Because in a system designed to wear you down, being informed is an act of rebellion.
Let’s begin:
1. Love thy neighbour—or grow old trying.
If you need to call 911 for someone in an apparent mental-health crisis (psychosis, disorientation, not acting like themselves), tell the dispatcher exactly what you’re seeing and say it’s a mental-health emergency. If available, ask for a mobile crisis team or officers trained in mental-health response. Share useful details—any known triggers. If there are any weapons, make sure you tell the dispatcher. Our police and other first responders put themselves in harm’s way; with better information, they can de-escalate. We don’t need a repeat of tragedies; like this one:
De-escalation reduces the need to lay criminal charges and eases the strain on already overburdened courts. When matters are resolved on scene, people can be directed to treatment rather than detention.
Most cases I handle have a mental-health dimension, and a fair share could be addressed outside the courtroom. When that happens, I can devote more time and resources to other matters and—more importantly—work with community partners to build rigorous, humane release plans, not just argue for release. As a senior Justice of the Peace once told me, “Mr. Zarabi, I can see that your proposed plan of release is now perfected.”
Perfected means the person isn’t back in custody the next day: they have weather-appropriate clothing, a safe bed, counselling and medical appointments (if they’re willing), and a way to get there—bus tickets or cab fare—and more.
2. Honor thy First Responders— While Knowing Your Rights
The more closely a community is woven with its police and emergency services, the easier it is for those who serve to resolve matters safely. (To be continued in next week’s edition of our blog.) …
Sidney Zarabi
Criminal Defence Lawyer
