Well, that was weird. Apparently, someone told the security at Wellington that this was an in camera meeting, and reporters weren’t allowed to even wait outside in the hallway—which would be weird even if it was in camera, which it wasn’t. Thankfully, I was able to wander up here anyway, and I made sure to tell someone that this was going on, so they could correct that bit of misinformation. I can’t imagine where the guards would have gotten that idea. Can you? Why, if that was the case, we wouldn’t be able to cover the flight of the Hanger!
No quorum. Or, wait, there is quorum, actually, although the Conservatives are arguing amongst themselves—but loudly enough across the table so I can hear—whether it counts or not. If they don’t have quorum, the chair can adjourn; I know there are opposition MPs here.
And here they are—as well as a small throng of reporters who had been temporarily detained by the security guards. The MPs look grimly determined; Hanger looks—inscrutable. But he always looks inscrutable.
The chair just kicked off the meeting, and the opposition is already itching for a fight: Brian Murphy brought up the misunderstanding over media access, and the chair assured him that the meeting was open—not in camera—despite what security might have thought. Now he’s reading the 106(4) letter—which is why we’re gathered here today—and, I think, is once again about to rule the motion out of order. Which means no meeting, I guess.
He has reasons—the chair, that is—for his decision, but really … Well, that’s it. This situation is fundamentally at odds with reason, reality and common sense. I don’t know what they’re going to do if they actually want to pass a Justice bill.
Real Menard is furious. “It’s going to be the same in September, in October—forever,” he tells the chair. Now the members are fighting amongst themselves—not with fists, at least not yet. And with that, it’s off to watch David Cronenberg, and a functional committee.