I want everyone to close their eyes.
While your eyes are closed, I want you to think back to the last time you had sex. I want you to remember everything about the last time—sights, sounds, tastes and everything.
Think about your partner. Was it someone you knew? Was it someone new?
Who started it? Who undressed whom first? What colour of underwear was your partner wearing? Do any of them have any scars, tattoos or anything unusual? Do you? Do you know how long you were there, when it started and when it stopped? I want you to remember it in minute detail.
When you're ready, open your eyes.
Now, imagine if we made you go around the room and share your last sexual experience. It should be easy, right? It's something you participated in and hopefully enjoyed. It's not a violation. You weren't traumatized by it, and yet we do that with no understanding of how to support a survivor when they do come forward.
My name is Donna Van Leusden. I'm a Canadian Armed Forces veteran and the co-founder of a national program that teaches leaders, peers and communities how to support survivors of sexual violence, regardless of whether there is an investigation, regardless of whether charges are laid and regardless of judicial outcome. We teach that a “not guilty” verdict does not mean it did not happen and that survivor support must never hinge on the outcome of a legal process. That context informs everything I'm about to say.
I want to discuss this from the perspective of someone who's lived inside the system as a survivor, as an officer, and as someone who spent years supporting others who carry similar scars.
This bill removes choice from survivors and reduces flexibility. For many years, survivors in the Canadian Forces had limited or flawed options, but they still had options. Under this bill, for Criminal Code sexual offences committed in Canada, survivors are given none. Everything has to go directly to civilian police and civilian courts, regardless of what the survivor needs, prefers or feels safe with. That is not trauma-informed, and that is not survivor-centred. It may offer less flexibility than the military system ever did.
Civilian courts are already overwhelmed, and Jordan applications are rising at an alarming rate. In 2017, about 15% of adult sexual assault cases exceeded Jordan timelines. By 2023, that number doubled to 30%. Nearly half of those were stayed or the files were withdrawn. Two cases involving CAF members, including one incredibly high-profile case, already collapsed under Jordan delays.
Charge-laying is decreasing even as reporting increases. Between 2015 and 2019, the proportion of police-reported sexual assault cases that resulted in charges dropped from 42% to 36%. That means fewer survivors received their day in court, despite increased willingness to report.
Conviction rates in civilian courts appear higher, but the comparison is misleading. Civilian conviction rates for sexual assaults hover around 55%, while military convictions may be closer to 28%. However, the civilian system filters cases heavily before they reach trial, creating a selective rather than effective system.
Civilian courts are not consistently trauma-informed. The London Hockey Canada trial is a powerful example. In the 91-page ruling, the judge framed normal trauma responses, fragmented memories, disassociation and delayed reporting as credibility failures. This reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of trauma science. Survivors' memories are not linear. They're sensory, fragmented and often disordered. Yet the ruling treated these reactions as evidence against the complainant.
Another example is the Jacob Hoggard case. It took nearly 10 years from the initial complaint to the final conclusion. For one survivor, that decade represented 10 years of emotional paralysis, reliving the assault and existing in a judicial limbo with no certainty and no closure. That is not justice. It's slow, grinding institutional harm and a stark reminder that the civilian system is already overburdened.
If all military sexual assault cases move to civilian court, these systemic issues will not disappear; they will multiply.
I am a survivor of a summary trial. I was questioned by my offender. I relived the assault under this questioning. The day I was assaulted, I stood there alone, still carrying his semen on my body, and I remember thinking that the institution I served, the country I served, has abandoned me. However, at least he was convicted in a case that would never have been prosecuted in the civilian system.
Number two, we had a colonel with multiple victims. This was another offender shared by two of us, a year apart, at two different basic training serials. He eventually became a senior officer. When we came forward, he simply declined to speak with the police, and charges were never laid. We know there are other victims out there, but there's no way to reach them.
In terms of my right to choose, I had a case that went to civilian court. I was asked if I wanted to proceed, and I said yes. The case was ultimately dismissed before the official plea. People asked me if everything involved in reporting him was worth it. It was. For 25 years, I thought of my rapist every day. I was not the woman, mother, officer, daughter or sister I should have been. He stole that from me, and I bet none of that crossed his mind, not even once. I bet I never crossed his mind, not even once. However, when he was arrested, when he had to hire a lawyer and when he had to explain himself to his friends and family, I bet he thought about me then. That gave me closure, and it mattered because I had the choice.
Being assaulted removes any sense of agency. We have to help give some of that back.
Any reform that removes survivor choice is not a reform. Any reform that transfers cases into an under-resourced system is not a solution. Any reform that ignores trauma justice is not justice.
Survivors deserve options. Survivors deserve resources. Survivors deserve trauma-informed systems. We deserve to be heard and, above all, we deserve choice.
Thank you.
