“Things can change, and they are changing—slowly. Your powerful voice is getting stronger… Thank you to the families for never giving up and for always reminding us that we need to keep fighting.”
— Sheila North
Her words, spoken to families fighting for justice for their loved ones, resonate powerfully today. More than a decade after the original court proceedings against Shawn Lamb, Manitoba finds itself revisiting the same troubling questions about whether the province’s justice system genuinely protects Indigenous women.
Women
From the beginning, prosecutors acknowledged that their case relied almost entirely on Lamb’s statements to police—evidence vulnerable to exclusion if challenged. The Crown had little forensic evidence to work with, and a second-degree murder conviction was unlikely to hold.
Justice Rick Saull accepted the plea agreement in a single, tense hearing, sentencing Lamb to 20 years. He stressed that if the case had gone to a jury, there was a serious risk Lamb might be acquitted entirely. Yet for families, the plea felt like a crushing blow—a compromise that diminished the gravity of the women’s lives and deaths.
One member of Tanya Nepinak’s family later said, “It felt like a stab in the heart. We wanted justice. We got a deal.”
The courtroom itself reflected that heartbreak. When Lamb suddenly attempted to withdraw his plea mid-hearing—an attempt to derail the process—chaos followed. A grieving family member shouted at Lamb in anguish and was escorted out by sheriffs. The outburst symbolized a deeper frustration: families were forced to watch a process they had no power to influence.
Outside the Winnipeg Law Courts, emotions erupted into days of protest. Relatives of Sinclair, Blacksmith, and Nepinak voiced their pain and anger as community members joined them. The sister of Lorna Blacksmith said, “Our women can’t get justice.” Another family advocate added, “This isn’t just about Indigenous women—no family should have to fight this hard to be heard.”
Their criticism was not directed only at Lamb, but at a justice system they felt had failed them. At the time, Indigenous youth advocate Michael Champagne said Lamb’s case “turned up the heat” on a system already under fire for ignoring the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women.
Perhaps the most painful part for families was the lack of communication. When news broke years later that Lamb had been granted statutory release, some found out the same way they learned of the plea deal: through the media. As one of Nepinak’s aunts said, “We weren’t told. No one contacted us. We found out through the media.”
That pattern of silence feels like a betrayal to many who have spent over a decade grieving, advocating, and pressing the system to take their loved ones’ cases seriously. As a relative of Carolyn Sinclair put it: “We’ve been grieving and advocating for more than ten years. Nothing has changed.”
“How does this help the general public’s sense of safety? How does this help victims’ family members heal and feel secure in the community? How does this help foster a feeling that our justice system delivers justice? I personally don’t see this news is helping that process,” said Kinew.
Yet families have not stopped pushing. They have held vigils, demanded landfill searches, marched, spoken to officials, and given testimony to national inquiries. Their persistence helped bring about the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls—a milestone Sheila North acknowledges as a victory born from community determination.
I watched this protest at Broadway Avenue and Main Street, and I expected a radical outburst of rage and angry cries, but this protest was different. This was not just another Indigenous protest. These speeches stemmed from years of struggle—mothers, daughters, aunties, and Indigenous leaders voicing their plight with a heartfelt desire to seek change in the justice system. They brought their signs, they brought their drums, and there were songs and a round dance done in the traditional Indigenous ceremonial way. As a sign of compassion, I participated in the round dance and listened to the heartbeat of the drums and the women singing. Experiencing this event has truly transformed my perspective.
Today, with Lamb’s statutory release, the same families—supported by MKO, SCO, AMC, and grassroots justice groups—are back in protest, making their voices heard once again. As demonstrations intensify, one question hangs in the air with renewed weight: When families are left with grief, unanswered questions, early releases, and decades of advocacy, can we truly say that justice has been served? For many, the answer is still uncertain. But one thing is undeniable—the voices demanding justice are louder than ever, and they show no signs of being silenced.