My 5 Days in Jail as Political
Prisoner for Criticizing Israel
Yves Engler’s website
(March 4, 2025) — I recently spent five days in jail for social media posts critical of Israel and police charges brought against me. It was an unpleasant, though interesting, experience that culminated in a small victory for free speech and Palestine campaigning.
On Thursday February 20 at 9:30 a.m. 30 rallied at the detention centre where I turned myself in for charges related to ‘harassing’ a Zionist influencer and the Montreal police. I told the crowd the charges and conditions brought against me were police and judicial harassment.
More than a dozen police were on hand to monitor those accompanying me at the detention centre. As I crossed over into the police precinct, we chanted “Free Palestine”.
Two inspectors were waiting for me near the door. I was searched twice and only allowed one shirt and pant. They also made me remove my glasses, which was disorienting.
The police inspectors sought to question me, but I refused to talk. I have no problem ‘incriminating’ myself by speaking publicly about state/Zionist abuses, but it should serve a political aim.
Another officer asked the two inspectors if I was to be released, which is common when you present yourself to be arrested. Instead, I was sent to the detention area because the police were seeking stifling conditions for my release and wanted to punish me. There was a lot of yelling from those locked up in adjacent cells. There was nothing except for two benches and a toilet (no seat) with water fountain in the cell.
I slept using my boots as a pillow. Five hours and a bad oatmeal cookie later I appeared before a judge by video. The Crown objected to my release, so I was sent back to my cell where I exercised and played imaginary football with a cup. They gave me another oatmeal cookie and bad cheese sandwich.
Around 7 p.m. a bunch of us were given our jackets, handcuffed and sent to the Bordeaux prison. Initially, the paddy wagon induced a sense of claustrophobia and it was cold. A man next to me and someone in the wagon ahead repeatedly yelled for heat, which made for a bizarre experience. It was nice to have my first conversation in 10 hours with a Newfoundlander related to former NHL player Michael Ryder, who I played with briefly when I tried out for the Hull Olympiques in the Quebec Junior Hockey League.
Bordeaux prison
After 40 minutes we arrived at the prison. There was lots of waiting to be sent to our prison wing, but I got my glasses back, which was a relief. The strip search was a novel experience.
I was sent to a minimum security, transitional wing of the prison with about 15 bunkbeds. There was no clock and the phones were broken, but there was a TV in an adjacent eating area that we had access to during most of the day.
Immediately I found a small pencil, which allowed me to write. I had to guard it closely though and spent lots of time trying to sharpen it. Paper was difficult to find.
Friday morning a handful of us from the wing I was in were taken to an area of the prison to appear before court by video. A belligerent unhoused 67-year-old I was chatting with was slapped hard by a young tough guy from another area of the prison. I sought to diffuse the situation, but the testosterone filled young man got mad at me, setting the stage for the slap and the removal of the older individual by the guards.
Returning to my wing after a second video court appearance knowing that I would be there for at least 72 hours more without any guarantee of winning my fight over a bail condition infringing on my right to discuss the charges against me was difficult. Some of what transpired in court confused me and I regretted not having done more to prepare the political response to my incarceration.
Some writing and conversation with other inmates cheered me up. On Friday night I slept relatively well, considering the circumstances and Saturday morning the sun blazed through the window, so I spent an hour stretching with my shirt off and pants rolled up. It was quite pleasant.
A seventy something man in the wing defecated in his bed that night. At one point the individual, who had serious physical and mental needs, put his diaper on top of his pants. I don’t know why he was there, but it was a flagrant failure of the system not to provide him with physical and mental care.
Over Friday and Saturday there were two other low-level fights that led to two individuals being expelled from the wing. Some of the guys with me were individuals who’d been abused growing up and were abusing their partners.
On Thursday at the detention centre, I was told I would be able to talk to my lawyer when I arrived at the jail. Not true. During the video hearing Friday morning my lawyer had to step out of court so we could discuss the case together.
In response to a request from my lawyer, the judge mandated the prison to ensure I could talk to my lawyer to prepare for the bail hearing Monday. I asked repeatedly over the weekend about speaking to my lawyer and finally at noon on Sunday a guard said I needed to fill out a form, which I immediately did. As they locked us in the bed area at 5 p.m. on Sunday I challenged the guards on access to my lawyer and a guard told me he hadn’t even passed my form on to his superior.
On day five of my incarceration, I was supposed to appear before a judge. At 7:30 that morning I asked the guards when I would be sent to the Palais du Justice but was told my court appearance was the next day. I protested but what can you do. Three or four hours later I was hurried out of the wing to be taken to the court downtown. Apparently, with the court room filled with my supporters the judge called the prison to ask why I wasn’t there for my case (it was apparently a bureaucratic error).
From Thursday at 9:30 a.m. until Monday at 7 p.m. I got 20 seconds of fresh air (two short walks to and from the prison wing where I was incarcerated). Prison is dehumanizing. It’s confusing not knowing the (often arbitrary) rules and order of things. While there’s some comradery and solidarity among prisoners, the guards are generally hostile.
At the end of April, the court will begin hearing the charges against me (unless the Crown does what’s right and drops the charges). I strongly doubt that a judge will find me guilty of either harassing Zionist influencer Dahlia Kurtz or a police inspector. Even if they do, would I get more than five days in jail as a sentence? I doubt it. But if for some reason I was jailed for a month or two for social media posts criticizing Israel and exposing police abuse, so be it. It would be a small price to pay for opposing Canada’s complicity in genocide. And very little compared to what Palestinians have endured for decades.
Yves Engler is the author of Stand on Guard for Whom? A People’s History of the Canadian Military and twelve other books
