The Stateless Man

Deepan Budlakoti was born in Ottawa in 1989 after his parents arrived there in 1985 to work for the Indian High Commission.

Like others born here, he was issued a Canadian birth certificate, passport and enjoyed all of the rights of a citizen. Everything was fine. Or so it seemed.

He was convicted of trafficking drugs and weapons when he turned 19, and his life understandably took a sudden turn. We thought it would be best for Deepan to tell his story:

I have a Canadian passport and an Ontario birth certificate. I was born and raised in the capital city of Canada. As a child, I grew up in group homes under the care of the Children’s Aid Society, and I became a Crown Ward when I was 13 years old. I was having family problems at this time and ran away from home, which led to troubles at school.

Being a part of the system, dealing with a social workers, constantly moving to different group homes, schools, jobs, and always adjusting with new “families” was taxing.

I realized that I was just another number in the system and felt that no one cared about me, whether it was my family, co-workers, or staff at the group homes. I experienced loneliness ever since I became a part of the system. And since I couldn’t trust anybody I decided to hide my emotions, be independent, and stay strong to survive.

Of course, as a 14 year old kid, I had issues in the group homes with the other kids and family visits. But I wanted to move forward with my life, so I focussed on my schooling and worked at a mall in Orleans. It was a difficult commute from Cumberland (where I lived) because there was no public transportation in that area. The group home staff would pick me up every night and drop me off to go to school every morning. I felt locked up, since I had little control over what I could do, where I could live and my mobility.

I eventually left that group home and moved through three others until I finally got my own place in Ottawa when I was 16 years old. When I was 17, I purchased my first car when I earned my full license. I became independent, quickly learned how to do things on my own and kept moving forward. That is, until I turned 19. A mutual acquaintance was looking for a hunting rifle and I helped him find one. Little did I know that who I was helping was an undercover cop. I experienced entrapment and received my first federal sentence.

I was arrested in the parking lot of Lone Star Texas Grill in the west end of Ottawa. I was held at gunpoint, handcuffed and so violently abused that I sought medical attention. While I was searched, my face was smashed into the back of the police car, as the officers told me to stop looking at what was happening. Like I mentioned, I was handcuffed and was placed in that position by the officer. I couldn’t move if I wanted. I was just a small brown kid to these officers, and they acted like they had carte blanche to abuse their power.

Once I was taken to the Ottawa Carleton Detention Centre (OCDC), I was held in maximum security. My life became a downward spiral. My brother visited me while I was in prison and brought me a newspaper to read. Other inmates wanted it, so we got into a physical altercation. I was sent to solitary, or as we call it in prison, “the hole”, for 24 hours. While I was in “the hole” a guard asked me if I was a Canadian citizen. I told him that I was born in Canada and he said he would look into it.

Now, I want it to be clear that this guard was going out of his way to contact the Canadian Border Service Agency (CBSA). There is no policy in place that OCDC checks the citizenship status of its inmates; this was clearly racial profiling.

After 24 hours in “the hole”, the CBSA came to see me. And they had news: apparently, I am not a Canadian Citizen. I was shocked and confused to say the least. I gave them a copy of my Canadian birth certificate and a copy of my Canadian passport. Two weeks later they told me that my Canadian passport was given to me in error, and I am not a Canadian citizen even though I was born here.

I was not given my rightful due process, as I did not see any judge or tribunal. I thought I would have received some form of review as it is a right under Charter of Rights and Freedoms. But the CBSA just took it away, and I became a Permanent Resident. The process restarted as though I was never even born in Canada. Then, suddenly, I learned that I was facing deportation! I immediately contacted the Public Safety Minister, who stopped everything as they needed to determine how I received my Canadian passport. While this process was taking place, I was sentenced for my first federal offence and a deportation order was reissued.

My sentence was unconstitutional. The Supreme Court of Canada found that mandatory sentences are violations of the Charter. I received the mandatory sentence (3 years for my first federal offence). Because I was dealing with the CBSA I was not able to be released on early parole.

Once I served two out of my three years, the CBSA moved me from Ottawa to Toronto. I believe they made this decision out of spite and to separate me from my family, friends, and lawyer.

At the Toronto West Detention Centre, I was locked in a cell with three people, where I slept on the floor. The washroom was also located in this tiny cell, and I used the sheets I slept on to cover myself as I used the toilet. It was difficult enough sleeping in this place with a toilet and three others, but the guards always found ways to make it harder. At night, every 15 minutes, a guard walked by our range, while tapping three keys on the security sensor. The beeping of the sensor was loud and, frustrating, so it took a while to get used to sleeping with that noise.

I was finally released with very strict conditions. Paranoid about the CBSA coming to my home, I never adjusted well to the outside world. In fact, the CBSA sent five officers with firearms to my home to intimidate me. For my safety, I have installed 12 cameras around the house with jammer blocks on each line, and a direct feed to an online location where the footage is saved (and a copy sent to my lawyer’s office). This helps me feel a little safer, knowing that there will be video evidence of any future visits from the CBSA and how they treat me.

This experience has traumatized me. I had only been out on bail for two weeks and the CBSA was already haunting me. I didn’t want to be a victim anymore. I wanted my independence back. So I contacted Solidarity Across Borders, who put me in contact with a team in Ottawa. I met them and have since formed a support committee that helped me launch my national campaign to fight the state and get my citizenship restored.

I am facing three challenges: public, Charter, and health. Publicly, I need to gain the support of organizations and draw attention to this issue. With respect to the Charter, I am asking the Supreme Court of Canada to declare me a Canadian citizen. Of course, until I am a Canadian citizen, I have no health care (that I can afford).

I have a United Nations application filed through the Canadian Civil Liberties Association about violations by Canada in making me stateless.

I have been having ongoing detention reviews since my release to ameliorate or remove my conditions. I am indefinitely detained under these conditions with no end in sight.

I don’t sleep well and I have developed extreme anxiety. Since I am not a Canadian citizen, I have to apply for a work permit, a lengthy and cumbersome process. Once I have a work permit, I will have to renew it, which could take months and result in me losing whatever job I may have had. This means I currently have no income. I am living in limbo. I visit a counselor regularly, and take medications to help with my sleep, anxiety and panic attacks. But this is expensive without health care coverage. But I know these hard times must be faced so justice can be served.