A seasoned judge, known for her composure, found herself utterly stunned – first by a witness’s startling admission, and then by the actions, or inaction, of the prosecutor. Justice Anne Molloy, presiding over the high-profile Frank Stronach sex assault trial, delivered a pointed rebuke to Crown attorney Jelena Vlacic, a moment thick with courtroom tension.
The issue stemmed from a seemingly minor question regarding familiarity with other alleged victims. The fourth complainant testified about a 1983 assault, recounting a disturbing encounter after a summer internship at Stronach’s company. When asked if she knew of other women involved in the proceedings, she initially claimed limited knowledge.
However, the truth began to unravel under skillful cross-examination. Defence lawyer Leora Shemesh pressed the witness, pointing out inconsistencies and suggesting she *had* read an article detailing the experiences of another accuser, Jane Boon. The witness, visibly uncomfortable, eventually conceded she had, indeed, read Boon’s account.
The following morning brought a dramatic turn. The witness requested to address the court, offering a sincere apology for her earlier dishonesty. She explained she had no motive to lie, and crucially, revealed the Crown had been fully aware she’d read the article, and they had discussed it at length.
Justice Molloy’s reaction was immediate and forceful. Turning directly to Vlacic, she expressed her disbelief. “You knew she was not telling the truth and you did nothing,” she stated, her voice betraying controlled anger. “I think you need to reflect on that. It’s not what I expect of the Crown when a witness is obviously lying and you take no steps to correct the record.”
Vlacic, visibly shaken, admitted she had “agonized” over her decision not to directly question the witness about the article. Her reasoning? A fear the witness would continue to lie, and a hope that cross-examination would reveal the truth. This explanation, however, did little to appease the judge.
Molloy outlined the ethical obligations of a prosecutor, emphasizing the duty to correct the record. She suggested multiple avenues Vlacic could have taken – excusing the witness, alerting the defence, or privately addressing the issue with the judge. Instead, a full day passed with the misleading testimony unchallenged.
“If she said, ‘No I never read it,’ then you have a different ethical responsibility,” Molloy explained. But the silence, the deliberate omission, was unacceptable. The judge confessed she was “gobsmacked” when the witness volunteered her apology, revealing the Crown’s prior knowledge. Defence counsel Shemesh echoed the sentiment: “So were we.”
This incident isn’t occurring in a vacuum. The defence has previously accused the Crown of improperly influencing witnesses during preparation, raising concerns about the integrity of the evidence presented. They have signaled their intention to file a motion arguing abuse of process, potentially leading to a stay of the charges against Stronach.
The courtroom atmosphere was palpable, a sense of disappointment directed at the prosecutor. Justice Molloy, while acknowledging Vlacic’s distress, delivered a firm reminder of the standards expected of an officer of the court. “You have to be above the fray,” she insisted. “I need to be able to rely on you to do that going forward.”
The trial continues next week, with the fifth complainant scheduled to testify. The weight of Justice Molloy’s words, and the questions raised about the Crown’s conduct, will undoubtedly hang heavy in the courtroom.
