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| Michael Crowley |
One such case was that of Patrick Critton — a name that very few Canadians would recognize. But his case made headlines at different times and in different jurisdictions over a 30-year period. He was responsible for the only hijacking of an Air Canada jet and diverting it to Cuba.
As background, Critton was a university graduate and a teacher in the public school system in Brooklyn. But he was also a member of a Black militant group called The Republic of New Africa. He and his friends robbed banks, using guns, in order to fund their activities. In July 1971, they attempted to rob a bank in Manhattan, but police were alerted and there was a fatal shootout with one of the robbers losing his life.
Critton fled and did not reappear anywhere until late December when he flew from Thunder Bay to Toronto. Shortly before landing, he showed the flight attendants his handgun and hand grenade and told them that he was hijacking the plane, demanding that it take him to Havana. The plane first landed in Toronto and all other passengers got off. But not Critton. He was flown to Havana where he expected a hero’s welcome. But that didn’t happen, and the Cuban government was very leery of the Americans who hijacked planes (about one a month), fearing that they were sent by the CIA.
So Critton was initially confined to a high-rise apartment with most of the other hijackers (known as the “Hijacker Hotel”) until he was allowed out to do physical labour, cutting sugar cane.
His unhappiness there led him to go to Tanzania, where he continued his education and taught in a private school, settled down, got married and had two sons.
But the pull of home was strong, and he decided to return to the United States, eventually flying to New York in 1994. Unexpectedly, he was not arrested upon his arrival, and no police agency attempted to make contact with him — so he returned to his life as a teacher, eventually winning various awards for his excellence and devotion to the community.
Then, in 2001, a Peel Region Police detective reviewing cold cases decided to enter Critton’s name in Google, a relatively new search engine, and found a match with this teacher in New York who was mentioned in newspaper articles for his teaching awards. In turn, that led to a joint police sting that obtained his fingerprints and matched them to the cold case and his arrest on Sep. 10, 2001 — the day before the Twin Towers were destroyed by planes that had been hijacked.
Critton was extradited to Canada and convicted of the hijacking and sentenced to serve five years.
I was then assigned to his parole hearing and would be the lead member, meaning I would ask the majority of the questions and write the decision.
The other member with me was Sheila Henriksen, the regional vice-chair of the board and a wise, battle-tested and experienced parole board member.
That was good news for me because we had been advised that Critton had agreed to have a documentary film crew follow him around the minimum security institution, film the hearing and then produce a documentary for television.
This was a very unusual occurrence for the board — in fact, it may have been the first time permission had been granted to film an entire hearing, and frankly, it made me nervous.
In reviewing file information, I learned that Critton had been a member of the Republic of New Africa, a group I had never heard of, and that their stated demands were to be given land across five southern U.S. states as reparation for slavery and its aftermath.
I grew up in New York State and was in university during this period. While the civil rights movement was very active and captured everyone’s attention, I was unaware of this group. And, frankly, I thought their demands were not even remotely possible to achieve.
Nonetheless, as the day of the hearing approached, my anxiety about being filmed increased; but I felt reassured because Sheila was at my side. That reassurance dissipated just before the doors opened to allow the film crew to enter the hearing room when she leaned over to me to whisper something. I had hoped it was words of encouragement — but, instead, it was, “Are you as nervous as I am?”
This did not fill me with confidence!
This is the first half of a two-part series.
Michael Crowley has a BA from Syracuse University. He spent more than 40 years in various positions within the criminal justice system in Canada. Before retiring, Crowley had been a member of the Parole Board of Canada for 21 years. Contact him via CrowleyMichael167@gmail.com.
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