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CBC
8 hours ago
- CBC
Confessions of a gun smuggler: How I brought weapons into Canada
Social Sharing Everyone knows guns used by Canadian criminals are often smuggled from the U.S. Not everyone knows how — not like Naomi Haynes does. That's because she did the smuggling. A native Montrealer who's been living in the U.S. for decades, she helped traffic dozens of weapons into Canada, some linked directly to drug gangs. "I wasn't thinking about the havoc I was causing in my birth land," she told CBC News last week. "I've got my kids, I've got bills. The only thing I [was] thinking about is monetary gains. I wasn't thinking about the people who are going to be affected." CBC News established contact with Haynes while she was in prison — at first communicating by email, then with a glitchy prison video app and then in a lengthy interview following her release last year. Her story helps shed light on the thousands of guns a year in Canada that police trace to the U.S. She described, in detail, tricks of the smuggling trade. And how she managed to move drugs, cash and, eventually, guns, for many years, depending on the product — either into the U.S., between U.S. states or into Canada. Rule No. 1: Only one person per car. If the vehicle gets stopped at the border, you don't want two partners tripping over each other's story during secondary questioning. "There's only one story this way," said Haynes, 45. "If you have two drivers, there's conflicting stories and that's when you have problems. … 'Oh, you're coming from Virginia, but your friend says [she's] coming from Baltimore.'" "So just one driver, so they can stick with their one lie." I wasn't thinking about the people who are going to be affected. - Naomi Haynes Rule No. 2: Find a good hiding spot. She would stash items in hidden compartments under seats; in door panels; in the trunk. She'd also move drugs in a gas tank — in triple-sealed, vacuumed bags. Rule No. 3: Get drivers who won't arouse suspicion. Haynes didn't transport guns herself; she got pulled over too often. She'd ride in a separate vehicle. "I started paying white girls and guys to move stuff for me," she said. Especially white women. They never got pulled over, she said. Until one did. Haynes was arrested in 2019, charged with smuggling, and with conspiracy to make false statements; she pleaded guilty, was sentenced, and served just under five years in prison. Hers is an unusual story. She's a vegan, millennial, Jamaican Canadian political science grad in South Florida who supports Donald Trump, became a grandma and wound up in an international conspiracy. Then again, her life story was atypical from the start. Escaping Montreal "At the end of the day, you become what you know," Haynes said. She grew up around drug dealers. Her late father dealt crack, then smoked it. In a book she's writing about her life story, Haynes describes a period when he became meaner, zoned out and indifferent, his eyes bloodshot. Her book describes one sister jailed for selling ecstasy. Another sibling, her brother, led a local street gang, according to the Montreal Gazette. She grew up in the area just south of the old Montreal Forum; her grandmother worked in the hallowed hockey shrine. From childhood, Haynes earned money in unconventional ways. Her half-complete memoir, entitled The Runner: Tripped by the Feds, begins with the words: "For as long as I can remember I have had a hustle." She ran store errands for adults and got to keep the change; collected beer bottles from their parties and returned them for cash; and, later, resold contraband cigarettes. "I made my first $1,000 in the seventh grade," she writes. She was desperate to escape the scene, to flee the bad influences. Haynes harboured a childhood dream of living in the States, and in 1997, she made it happen. She enrolled in college. She got a bachelor's degree from Florida Atlantic University, according to court documents, and also studied criminal science. She started smuggling to pay for school. And she made poor choices, she says, about whom she surrounded herself with. The man who became her husband made a $5,000 down payment on a Jeep Cherokee for her; she used that vehicle and received thousands of dollars more to move hashish, hash oil and marijuana into Canada. Over the years, she shipped contraband countless times: ecstasy, cocaine, marijuana, hash and cash, occasionally driving on her own, but usually hiring someone. She'd move products from buyer to seller, often across international lines, but also domestically, say, from Florida to Chicago. It was only many years later that she started selling guns. Around 2016, Haynes was desperately low on cash — she was divorced, with a baby, not working and with an older boy playing intercity baseball. "Everybody that I always did business with always said, 'No guns, no guns, no guns,' because there's a trail," she told CBC News. But it was great cash, about $4,000 Cdn per gun. On a nine-millimetre handgun that costs a couple of hundred bucks in South Florida, it's an astronomical profit. She'd ship about 20 at a time, and there were multiple shipments. She admits to two of them, which she figures generated about $160,000. Subtracting the cost of the purchase, the driver and her partner's share, she estimates she kept about $30,000, which helped her live comfortably for a few months. And then it cost her everything. WATCH | Major Toronto gang busts connected to Hayes's network: Law enforcement closes in Police started closing in on Haynes from different angles — arresting associates, seizing phones, recording conversations and catching her in lies. It started after she purchased 20 weapons from different Florida gun stores in February 2018. On March 1, a day after her last purchase, she crossed into Canada through New York. She was stopped re-entering the U.S. two weeks later at Champlain, N.Y., carrying $4,300 in cash, and multiple cell phones. Border officers seized her phones and downloaded the contents. According to court filings, they found fraudulent or counterfeit IDs for several associates and shared that with the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. On the morning of April 27, two ATF agents arrived at her home in Boca Raton, Fla. She lied to them, insisting she'd been buying and selling guns to friends with legal permits. She insisted she had a storage unit. She took them to a CubeSmart facility and professed to be shocked when she found her unit empty. "You remember Martha Stewart?" ATF agent Tim Trenschel asked her, according to court documents. "The lady on TV that does fancy crafts. Do you remember that she spent some time in prison? Do you remember why?" Haynes replied: "Because she lied." The agent said: "Exactly." Haynes added: "About insider trading." The agent said: "You're way ahead of most people I talk to." Majority of firearms coming into Canada are from the U.S., data shows 4 months ago Duration 3:22 Donald Trump is targeting Canada with punishing tariffs over concerns about border security. But as CBC's Talia Ricci reports, data from GTA police shows Canada has to worry about what's coming in from the U.S, too. Haynes insisted upon her truthfulness. "Listen, I get it, and I respect the law… I am being a thousand per cent honest." She was not, in fact, being 1,000 per cent honest. Far from it. The agent's observation about the risks of lying to a federal officer proved prescient. A couple of weeks later, guns she'd bought started turning up in police investigations in the Toronto area, identified despite attempts to deface the serial number. 'I knew I was cooked' One loaded Taurus 9mm was found hidden in the panel of a car, alongside approximately $300,000 worth of cocaine. Days later, a Ruger .380 was found in another drug bust. The suspect tossed it aside while attempting to flee police. In September of that year, a friend she'd hired was stopped while crossing into Canada from New York state, carrying 20 hidden guns. Haynes was recorded following right behind her — crossing the border 62 minutes later. A number of the seized guns traced back to her circle. By this point, police had gained an informant. They were secretly recording conversations within her circle, even one involving Haynes's daughter. On Feb. 27, 2019, her daughter's boyfriend, Mackenzie Delmas, was caught. The informant delivered guns to him and Delmas was arrested immediately. Agents searched his home — and Haynes's. That's when Haynes knew she was done for. She was visiting her parents' home in the Montreal area. Her daughter called from Florida in the middle of the night with the news, and Haynes collapsed on the family couch. "I've never experienced a panic attack before in my life, but at that point, I started shaking. I couldn't talk, I couldn't breathe," Haynes said. "I was trying to gasp for air." Her mother tried calming her down, rubbing her back. She recalled her mother asking: "What's going on?" Haynes confessed what she'd been up to. The whole story. "My mother was so disappointed." At that point, Haynes made a decision: To give herself up. "I knew I was cooked," she said. "[I thought], I'm not gonna live on the run. I've got to face it. My time has come." Court documents confirm what happened next: She called the ATF in the wee hours of Feb. 28, and promised to return to the U.S. and speak with investigators. In subsequent recorded interviews on March 13 and April 3, she confessed everything: the fake identities, the illegal gun purchases, the shipments to Canada, the sales to known Canadian gangsters, her own trips north to collect cash and, crucially, her lies to police. She was arrested, and spent four years, nine months in prison, serving time in a low-security prison in Alabama. It was predictably miserable. She recalled guards treating inmates cruelly and arbitrarily — being decent to some of the meanest inmates, and mean to decent ones, people who got mixed up, in some cases accidentally, in bad situations. The worst was during COVID-19. After testing positive, she was sent to solitary confinement. "I was in the shoe for 13 days," she said. "I felt like a dog in a kennel. … The room was filthy. It was disgusting. The sinks — the water was brown. The toilet, it was disgusting." Her main diet in prison consisted of peanut butter. She gave up meat and dairy years ago, grossed out by it. Given the choice between baloney and peanut butter, she'd take the latter. She recalls paying $7 for a cauliflower once and air-frying it with a blow-dryer. Is there a sense of guilt? But the absolute worst thing about prison? Her parents dying, and being unable to see them or attend their funeral. Her beloved mom slowly died of cancer while Haynes was in jail. By the time her father died, she was out, but she had to attend the funeral on Zoom. Haynes can't leave and re-enter the U.S. because she's fighting deportation. A Canadian citizen, she's a green-card holder in the U.S., and of her three kids, they're either living there or hoping to live there with her. She now works an office job at a landscaping company. "My mom was sick with cancer and I failed," Haynes said. "My choices and the things I was doing caused me to not be there for the person that was always there for me." What about potential gun victims: does her sense of guilt extend to them? As a vegan who avoids hurting animals, does she ever wonder whether any humans were harmed by those chunks of steel she trafficked? Initially, no, she said. As she got into the business, the only thing on her mind was money — paying the bills. Then she had four years, nine months in prison to think. And she started thinking about other people's pain, about other families and whether her guns killed any young kids in a drive-by. She now prays that those guns are confiscated.
16 hours ago
- Business
Roadless Rule repeal will help economically struggling Alaskan communities: senators
The Roadless Rule has never fit Alaska, so I welcome this effort to rescind it, Murkowski (R-Alaska) said in a statement on Tuesday. The Roadless Rule was set up in 2001 during the administration of then-President Bill Clinton. The initiative put strict limits on road construction and logging in designated wilderness areas across the U.S., including the Tongass National Forest, which covers nearly 17 million acres in southeast Alaska. The rule's restrictions have long been a point of tension for Alaskans with some arguing that the majority of the Tongass is already protected under other conservation laws, and that further restrictions hinder economic growth for the small rural communities in the forest. Even without the rule in place, nearly 80 percent of the Tongass National Forest will still be explicitly restricted from development, Murkowski said. Repeal will not lead to environmental harm, but it will help open needed opportunities for renewable energy, forestry, mining, tourism, and more in areas that are almost completely under federal control. This is particularly critical for our continued efforts to build a sustainable year-round economy in Southeast Alaska. 'Aligning with Trump Administration's deregulation agenda' The announcement came after U.S. Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins confirmed the USDA's plan to put aside the nationwide rule. The action is in line with a series of initiatives introduced by the Trump administration aimed at reducing bureaucracy they argue is hindering business and innovation in the country. The first Trump administration granted Alaska an exemption from the rule in 2020, but the Biden administration reversed that in 2023. Once again, President Trump is removing absurd obstacles to common sense management of our natural resources by rescinding the overly restrictive Roadless Rule, U.S. Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins said on Monday. This move opens a new era of consistency and sustainability for our nation's forests. Will be a boost business: senator Alaska's leaders say the repeal will be a big win for the state's small communities and economy as a whole. Since 2001, this rule has hindered Alaskans' ability to responsibly harvest timber, develop minerals, connect communities, or build energy projects at lower costs—including renewable energy projects like hydropower, which are especially critical to economic opportunities in Southeast Alaska surrounded by the Tongass National Forest, Sen. Sullivan (R-Alaska) said. I am grateful that the Trump administration is once again rescinding this rule to put Alaskans back in the driver's seat to make a living, support our families, and connect our communities while protecting our lands and growing our economy. Comments, tips or story ideas? Contact Eilís at Related stories from around the North: Canada: N.W.T. forests absorb more carbon than territory emits — most of the time (new window) , CBC News Finland: Finnish government buys naturally diverse historical island from forestry giant, (new window) Yle News Norway: World's northernmost coal power plant shuts down (new window) , The Independent Barents Observer Russia: Arctic national park expands, becomes Russia's biggest (new window) , The Independent Barents Observer Sweden: Ancient Swedish forests cut down at fast pac (new window) e, Radio Sweden Eye on the Arctic (new window)
Yahoo
21 hours ago
- Politics
- Yahoo
N.L. government, St. John's offering paid leave to employees to volunteer at Canada Games
Both the Newfoundland and Labrador government and the City of St. John's are encouraging their public service employees to volunteer at the Canada Games this August, and offering them paid time off to do it. St. John's Mayor Danny Breen told CBC News time off would need to be approved by their managers, but the city is offering 16 hours of paid leave for volunteering — eight hours per week for each week of the event. "It's a way that we can support the Canada Games, a way that we can support the volunteer capacity and allow our staff to volunteer," Breen said. "Many city employees will be volunteering far more than that, so it's seen as kind of just a small part of their total commitment." In an email sent on behalf of the provincial Treasury Board Secretariat, communications director Diana Quinton said they're "offering public service employees up to six paid days of leave to volunteer directly with the Canada Summer Games, where operationally feasible." "Employees who have already booked leave during the games may switch to special leave with pay under this exemption, provided they meet the criteria," the email said. Quinton's email said they didn't know yet how many employees would be included in the paid leave. On Wednesday, the Canada Games said they had officially exceeded their 5,000 volunteer recruiting goal. Speaking with reporters on June 18, host society co-chair Karl Smith said around 500 people came forward when the paid leave was introduced. In a recent interview, Premier John Hogan said he welcomed the plan. Public sector employees want to volunteer, he said, but can't control that some events happen during the workday. "It's a big production, and it needs lots of volunteers. And I think it's a great thing that people throughout the community be given that time if necessary [and] they want to volunteer," Hogan said. "This doesn't come along very often. It's an honour to host the Canada Games here and have all Canadians from across the country coast-to-coast-to-coast come to St. John's." Download our to sign up for push alerts for CBC Newfoundland and Labrador. Sign up for our . Click .
Yahoo
a day ago
- Business
- Yahoo
Matcha is having a moment — and it's putting pressure on Japan's tea industry
It's the latest beverage du jour — and for people needing their morning pick-me-up, matcha tea increasingly beats espresso as their caffeine fix of choice. "I worked on the bar a few weeks ago and I think past a certain point, you don't just steam milk, you don't pull shots. Everything you do is matcha," said Nadiia Semenichenko, regional manager at 10 Dean, a café and bar in Toronto. Demand for the finely powdered tea — usually sourced from Japan and unmistakable for its vivid green colour and earthy taste — has gone supernova since the fall, mostly thanks to the legions of influencers swearing by it on social media and viral videos that are racking up millions of views, say experts who spoke to CBC News. But that fervour has shaken up matcha's delicate supply chain, ultimately leading to a global shortage that is putting pressure on Japan's tea industry to ramp up production of the scarce commodity. Semenichenko's cafe has sought out new suppliers to keep up with the demand, noting that one of them has put a cap on how much matcha the café could buy each month. "By the end of this year, we'll feel substantial price increases in matcha, for sure," she said, referring to the café's costs. And those who follow the Japanese tea industry say it's only a matter of time before customers who love the foamy, verdant drink get hit by a serious price hike.A sudden shortage Matcha is made from ground tencha, a type of green tea leaf that is shade-grown — giving it a more intense flavour and a deeper colour — before being steamed, dried, destemmed and passed through a milling machine to produce a powder. The highest-grade version of matcha, used for Japanese tea ceremonies, is harvested in spring. It's passed through a stone mill, making it a time and resource-consuming process that produces only a small quantity of the final product. Semenichenko says using ceremonial matcha as a baking ingredient or in lattes is like "if you buy really expensive whiskey and put it in whisky and Coke." But when demand for matcha ticked sharply upward last fall, people were suddenly rushing to buy the high-grade version of the product. "Even tea ceremony schools in Japan suddenly couldn't find the matcha they would usually buy," said Anna Poian, a co-founder of the Global Japanese Tea Association. Some of the most popular matcha brands in Japan — including Ippodo Tea, Yamasan and Marukyu Koyamaen — published apology notes to their customers and announced they would have to put limits on how much and what kind of matcha products they would sell to their buyers. At that time, matcha producers "were not really facing a real shortage, but they didn't expect so much demand," explained Poian. But the onslaught of matcha-related viral videos combined with record-high tourism to Japan — induced by a weak yen — had people clamouring for the tea, ultimately leading to a run on existing supply and a production shortage. Now, the craze has spurred major coffee shops and restaurant chains to step up their matcha offerings so they can cash in, too. Most Starbucks locations have served matcha drinks for years, but the coffee giant added a whole suite of specialty matcha drinks last summer. Matcha is on the menu at Booster Juice, Tim Hortons and McDonalds, too, though the companies didn't respond when asked when they added it. Big retailers aren't immune to the shortage, either. Second Cup, which added another matcha latte to its menu in April, has recently dealt with delays in receiving its matcha supply, a spokesperson told CBC News. Changing tides in Japan's tea-farming industry The shortage is also a product of changes in Japan's domestic tea industry over the last two decades. Within the country, both the consumption and production of tea have declined, and its tea-farming population is aging with few successors to take over. "They don't see much of a future because the Japanese tea industry has been in decline for the past 15 to 20 years, due to the decrease in local consumption," explained Poian, whose organization publishes monthly reports on the industry. Conversely, exports of Japanese tea to other countries are on the rise. In April 2025, total exports of Japanese tea were up 85.7 per cent from the same month the previous year, according to data from an industry group. Canada's own intake of green tea from Japan has increased by 118 per cent since 2015, a spokesperson for Global Affairs told CBC News. Compounding the problem is the fact that matcha makes up just six per cent of Japan's total tea production, according to Poian. "More farmers are shifting and focusing their production to matcha, but this unfortunately is not an easy switch," she said. Countries like China and Vietnam produce matcha, too, but the Japanese version is considered premium. The Japanese government's farming ministry, in an effort to ramp up matcha production for the export market, is reportedly recommending that farmers replace their sencha — another type of green tea leaf — with tencha. That shift isn't easy, even for the industry's experienced workforce, says Jason Eng, head of business development and partnerships at Kametani Tea, a tea production company based in Nara, Japan. "Many of these farmers don't have the resources to do that — to upgrade all the machines or just change the machines altogether. So the investment costs a lot," he said. Kametani Tea, which exports about 25 to 30 per cent of its product to international beverage companies, suppliers and wholesalers, will have to raise prices once the next harvest is ready. And those price shocks will eventually trickle down to matcha-loving consumers at cafés. "It's gonna be really hard to digest, I think, for the consumers at the end with this huge surge of demand," he said. 'It just gets sold out' After developing a taste for matcha, Cheena Lerum started posting recipe videos on her TikTok account. But the Toronto content creator noticed earlier this year that she got more views when she offered recommendations for where to buy and source matcha. "You know when bubble tea became really famous a few years ago?" she said, referring to the Taiwanese tea drink that exploded in popularity during the mid-2010s. "Matcha's becoming that now." Lerum, who has almost 30,000 followers on the platform, said she thinks "all the time" about whether she's contributing to the matcha shortage. She posts about the tea less frequently on social media now, partly because she hasn't been able to find her favourite products. "They say don't gate-keep, but sometimes there are brands that you like and then it becomes too popular and it just gets sold out," Lerum explained. She's also noticed prices creeping up: a 30-gram tin of matcha powder that she used to buy online for $35 now costs almost $50, she said. Back at the café, a few customers are sipping on matcha lattes. "I just find that it's a much better alternative to coffee," said Danielle Pineda, who says matcha energizes her without giving her coffee-like jitters. She has her own matcha whisk and often makes the drink at home. Tommy Tanga, another customer at the cafe, said he finds the current price of matcha reasonable — a café order usually costs about $5 to $7, depending on the type of drink. It's been his go-to order ever since he tried it during a trip to Japan. "I'm worried that it's going to get more expensive," he said. Sign in to access your portfolio
a day ago
- Politics
Iranian officials are banned from Canada — but this former regime member landed in April
Mahdi Nasiri let the world know he was on his way to Canada in April. The former high-profile Iranian official posted a series of farewell photos — including a goodbye hug — on Instagram for his more than 250,000 followers and anyone else to see. He has been in Canada ever since. But now, according to a source, his name has been reported to the RCMP. And Canadian security authorities are facing calls from the public to investigate why he was allowed to enter in the first place — and if he should be kicked out. To see that he can easily come to Canada and in fact celebrate it, and post pictures from the airport saying 'I've arrived,' it sets off alarm bells among a lot of Iranians, said lawyer and human rights activist Kaveh Shahrooz. Nasiri has been described as an important hardliner in Iran during the 2000s. He didn't deny his past roles to CBC News, but also said he's been critical of Iran's regime for the past six years. The Trudeau government promised in 2022 to crack down on current and former senior Iranian regime officials living in Canada after mounting public pressure and safety concerns. Iranian Canadians had reported harassment (new window) , intimidation and surveillance they believed was tied to Tehran. Canada's spy agency verified death threats from Iran were real (new window) . And an explosive U.S. indictment revealed (new window) an Iranian plot to kidnap Canadians. WATCH | Fighting to keep the Iranian regime out: Début du widget Widget. Passer le widget ? Fin du widget Widget. Retourner au début du widget ? 'They're terrorists': Fighting to keep the Iran regime out of Canada Canadians of Iranian descent are worried members and affiliates of the Islamic Republic of Iran may continue to come to Canada as pressure mounts on the regime. They say Canadian officials aren't acting fast enough to stop it, and some are taking matters into their own hands. In response, the government designated the leadership of Iran's government, security and intelligence agencies as inadmissible to Canada in 2022 for allegedly engaging in terrorism and systemic and gross human rights violations. That designation expanded last year to ban anyone from Canada who served as a senior official with Iran's government anytime since June 2003. But Nasiri is the latest case raising questions about how effective Canada's crackdown is. So far, only one senior Iranian official has been removed from the country. Nasiri's role in the 2000s Nasiri is well known for his role as managing director of the most conservative Iranian newspaper, Kayhan, in the 1990s — funded by Iran's supreme leader. He was very prominent in state-owned media, which is often the platform that the regime itself used to go after dissidents, to create charges against people that are outspoken, said Shahrooz, who is critical of the regime. Nasiri was then appointed to a key role as political deputy of the policymaking council of Friday imams across the country from 2001 to 2005. The Friday prayers are the main platform that Iran delivers its talking points and propaganda to supporters, and is a job entrusted to people closely tied to the regime, Shahrooz said. The fact that he had that role indicates to me that he was part and parcel of this regime. Nasiri went on to be appointed a senior representative of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei's office in the United Arab Emirates until 2009, according to Iranian media reports. The Canada Border Services Agency (CBSA) says, broadly, senior Iranian officials who served from 2003 onward are inadmissible to Canada. But it won't say if it's looking into Nasiri's case. Nasiri defended himself when contacted by CBC News for comment. I have repeatedly explained my professional background in media interviews and have openly criticized that period, Nasiri said in a written statement. There is nothing hidden in my past. Moreover, I have never held any military, security or intelligence position. My role at Kayhan newspaper was journalistic and my position within the organization of Friday imams was religious and devotional. Nasiri wouldn't confirm if his last job with Iran's government was in the UAE when asked by CBC News. Visitor visa issued in 2023 Nasiri said it only took him a few days in 2023 — before the ban was expanded — to get a visitor's visa attached to his passport from the Canadian consulate in Istanbul. His son is a Canadian citizen who invited him and his mother to visit, he said. A visitor visa can be valid for up to 10 years. When asked if he disclosed his time with Iran's government to Canadian officials, Nasiri said he didn't have to. I was asked only about my activities over the past 10 years, during which I have held no government positions, Nasiri said. CBC News asked Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada why it allegedly didn't ask Nasiri about his earlier work experience. The department said it can't comment on specific cases, but said visa applicants are carefully assessed. Senior officials subject to the regime designation could have their visa cancelled, lose their temporary or permanent residence status and be removed from Canada, said IRCC spokesperson Jeffrey MacDonald. Kelly Sundberg, a criminology professor at Mount Royal University who specializes in border security, says it's not surprising Nasiri wasn't asked more questions. He says Canada's immigration screening and enforcement is at a point of crisis. Speaking broadly about the system, Sundberg said the CBSA and federal departments have been well aware of this neglect and have often intentionally turned a blind eye. Nasiri said he'd prefer not to answer if he's facing an immigration hearing, but confirmed he's not aware of any CBSA investigation into his visa. Calls to investigate Nasiri told CBC News he understands Iranian Canadians are concerned about current and former regime officials in Canada. He said they are justified in their concerns and called the Islamic Republic of Iran a dictatorial and repressive regime. However, I have been an active critic and, indeed, an opponent of the Islamic Republic for the past six years, Nasiri said in his statement to CBC News. He said he has a liberal stance now and supports Reza Pahlavi, a proponent of liberal democracy and member of the dynasty that ruled the country before the 1979 revolution. Nasiri has an active YouTube page where he frequently posts his interviews critical of the regime, including on the BBC. WATCH | H ow Iran threatens people in Canada : Début du widget Widget. Passer le widget ? Fin du widget Widget. Retourner au début du widget ? Exposing how Iran tracks and threatens people in Canada (new window) CSIS recently confirmed there are multiple 'credible' death threats from Iran aimed at people in Canada. CBC News's chief correspondent Adrienne Arsenault meets with several Iranians who describe their experiences of being monitored and intimidated on Canadian soil. Iranian analyst and journalist Babak Taghvaee says he wants Canadian security officials to look into Nasiri's case because of what he calls red flags. Taghvaee published an article with American think-tank the Middle East Forum about how Iran's regime officials allegedly rebrand themselves as opponents of the regime to stay in Canada — and named Nasiri as an example. He said Nasiri was once one of the most important hardliners in Iran. Taghvaee says his role as an editor at Kayhan suggests he could have had the highest levels of clearance from Iranian intelligence and was co-operating or even collaborating with them. He also said his role with Friday prayer imams was important because they are known to receive directives from the regime. They receive orders to speak about the specific topics during Friday prayers, he said. About politics, about military security and economies and anything related to what the regime wants for the purpose of psychological warfare and propaganda. Taghvaee says former Iranian regime members who are trying to settle in Western countries commonly criticize the regime and side with opposition parties to create evidence for a future refugee or asylum case. Sometimes these individuals are afraid to get deported or arrested. They go into survival mode, said Taghvaee, who has been critical of the regime. Nasiri says he has not applied for refugee status and hopes to return to Iran soon, but didn't say when. Regardless of his stance publicly, Vancouver lawyer Mojdeh Shahriari points out that existing Canadian law should prevent senior Iranian officials like Nasiri from ever entering the country. Whether or not he has genuinely changed is not for me to judge, and doesn't really concern the law, said Shahriari. 'It's almost laughable' CBSA says since 2022, more than 130 suspected Iranian regime officials' visas were cancelled, 20 people were reported inadmissible and three cases have made it through immigration hearings resulting in deportation letters. It's almost laughable, unfortunately, said Shahriari. Shahriari is a former member of the Immigration and Refugee Board of Canada and now runs a grassroots group she says is investigating more than 375 suspected Iranian regime members, their families and businesses on Canadian soil. She says the CBSA numbers are miniscule compared to the evidence Shahriari passed on to Canadian authorities about nearly 100 suspected Iranian officials already in Canada. She won't say if Nasiri is one of them, citing confidentiality. The question is: how on Earth did these people get a visa to come to Canada in the first place? she said. Ashley Burke (new window) · CBC News
