Truth and Reconciliation commissioners Murray Sinclair and Marie Wilson are recognized in the visitors' gallery in the House of Commons in Ottawa on Tuesday, June 2, 2015.Sean Kilpatrick/The Canadian Press
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As a sacred fire drew mourners to honour Murray Sinclair outside the Manitoba Legislature on Monday, dignitaries across Canada remembered the late judge and senator as a tireless advocate who called on the country to confront the horrors of residential schools.
Mr. Sinclair, also known by his spirit name, Mazina Giizhik (The One Who Speaks of Pictures in the Sky), died Monday at a Winnipeg hospital. He was 73.
His family confirmed the death in a statement and asked people to pay their respects at the sacred fire on the legislative grounds in Winnipeg.
“Mazina Giizhik committed his life in service to the people: creating change, revealing truth, and leading with fairness throughout his career,” the family said.
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On the lawn outside the Manitoba Legislature, a quiet procession of people lined up to enter a canvas-woven, off-white tipi erected around a small burning pit.
The fire will burn until Mr. Sinclair’s funeral later this week. His relatives have asked that no others be lit out of respect for his journey to the spirit world.
Manitoba Premier Wab Kinew, who has known Mr. Sinclair all of his life, said it will be a long time before the country produces another person of the calibre of Mr. Sinclair.
“He showed us there is no reconciliation without truth,” Mr. Kinew said.
“We should hold dear in our hearts his words that our nation is on the cusp of a great new era and we must all ‘dare to live greatly together.’”
Politicians across the country and Indigenous leaders released statements on Monday to recognize Mr. Sinclair, who advanced the national conversation on reconciliation in Canada as chair of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
“The Honourable Murray Sinclair dedicated his life to repairing Canada’s relationship with Indigenous peoples,” Prime Minister Justin Trudeau said in a statement.
“As the Chief Commissioner of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, he challenged us to confront the darkest parts of our history – because he believed we could learn from them, and be better for it.”
Murray Sinclair was one of the country's foremost advocates for reconciliation and chaired the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The commission spent six years documenting abuses that occurred at residential schools.Shannon VanRaes /The Globe and Mail
In a statement, Governor-General Mary Simon described Mr. Sinclair as a “prominent leader in Canada who championed human rights, justice and truth.”
“As a nation, let us honour his memory and sacrifice by forging ahead on the path of reconciliation,” she said.
The House of Commons held a moment of silence to mark his death.
Born in Selkirk, Man., in 1951, Mr. Sinclair lost his mother to a stroke while he was still an infant. His paternal grandparents raised him in a log home with no running water or electricity.
His kookum, Catherine Simard, was very influential in his life. The former novitiate at Fort Alexander Residential School wanted him to become a priest. She later agreed he could pursue a university education with a promise that Mr. Sinclair always had to “take care of the people.” And so he did.
Mr. Sinclair would go on to become a prominent lawyer, Manitoba’s first Indigenous judge and a senator.
He was also, briefly, a regional vice-president of the Manitoba Métis Federation, whose president said on Monday that he’s been picturing Mr. Sinclair sitting with Louis Riel in the afterlife.
“They’re both talking about justice,” David Chartrand told The Globe and Mail. “And it brings happy tears to my eyes. I would pay anything to see that discussion, but I know that his name will linger in this world through the leaders he left behind for years to come.”
It was Mr. Sinclair’s work presiding over the Truth and Reconciliation Commission from 2009 until 2015 that would thrust him into national prominence. The commission documented abuses that occurred at residential schools. Indigenous children were taken from their communities and cultures and were forcibly placed in the institutions, where physical and sexual abuse was rampant.
He and his two co-commissioners heard from thousands of residential-school survivors and routinely battled with Ottawa and churches over access to records.
“He was fearless going up against the government or the churches,” said Marie Wilson, one of the commissioners.
He balanced that doggedness with empathy, she said. At the first meeting of the commissioners, Mr. Sinclair said they would each need a spiritual adviser to help them deal with the emotional and exhausting work.
“That was something that wasn’t prescribed in our mandate,” Ms. Wilson said. “It was just something he knew we would need, and it was a critical support for each of us to carry on.”
Manitoba Keewatinowi Okimakanak Grand Chief Garrison Settee said that Mr. Sinclair’s humility reverberated through his soft-spoken demeanour.
“There is no doubt that the kind of work he did takes its toll on one’s psyche and physical being as well as spiritual well-being,” Mr. Settee said, speaking on behalf of 26 First Nations in Northern Manitoba.
“But he continued to move forward with that thankless job because he knew it needed to be done. He didn’t let the weight of that responsibility slow him down. Now, he has left us all empowered to be a guiding light for our peoples. We are indebted to him for opening that gate.”
Over the years, Mr. Sinclair gave countless speeches and seminars to the legal community, where he had a reputation for combining a gentle manner with a firm message.
“When he walked into the room, everyone just sort of acknowledged him as someone who was above the fray, above the hurly-burly of accusations,” said former Supreme Court chief justice Beverley McLachlin. “He just knew what was right and expressed what was right.”
While Mr. Sinclair carried many dark stories, he was defined by his quirky humour. Take, for example, when he received a large brown package carrying bannock and jokingly told a staff member at the front desk of his assisted-living home that it was a big bag of marijuana.
At the home, he also befriended two zebra finches, known as Bonnie and Clyde, and he would head down from his unit to visit the small songbirds in the afternoon, along with their four babies. He had an affection for toasted tomato sandwiches and iced tea, and he had a motorcycle that he hoped to ride more before his health deteriorated.
In an interview earlier this year, Mr. Sinclair said he was dealing with congestive heart failure and lymphedema, the buildup of lymphatic fluid in the body.
He started writing his memoirs, published earlier this year, as a letter to his granddaughter, whose English name is Sarah, after he suffered a minor stroke. He feared then that he would not be around as she grew up.
As he slowed down physically in his later years, he vowed to spend more time with family. In a 2022 Facebook post, he wrote that there was nothing more important to him than being a “loving Mooshim,” in reference to being a grandfather.
His family loved him fiercely and recognized that many others who crossed his path felt the same.
“The impact of our dad’s work reached far across the country and the world,” the family said in its statement.
“From residential-school survivors, to law students, to those who sat across from him in a courtroom, he was always known as an exceptional listener who treated everyone with dignity and respect. We know that stories of his kindness, generosity, and fairness will circulate for generations to come.”