Man Picks Lock-Up Over Buckle-Up
By Kelly Egan

(From the Ottawa Citizen, D3, Tuesday, November 30, 2000)

An Embrun man would rather return to jail than wear his seat-belt.

Behind the razo-wired walls of the Regional Detention Centre, deep inside a medium-security dormitory, picture the 24 men in bright orange overalls - tatooed maybe, bored certainly - and hear the jailhouse chatter.

"What're you in for, man?"

"Armed rob. You?"

"Failing to wear my seat-belt."

This is the life of Jean-Serge Brisson, 46 who spent 20 days in jail this month after being convicted of three charges stemming from his persistent refusal to buckle up.

"If I have to make a choice betweenliving my life honestly or going to jail, then give me jail. At least, I'll be living in a truthful way," says Mr Brisson, a thin, eloquent man with a ready smile.

On November 3, 2000, Mr. Brisson was sentenced to 105 days in jail for twice driving while his driver's licence is under suspension and fined $90 for failing to wear his seat-belt.

He has accumulated about 13 highway traffic offences, out of sheer stubborness, during the last dozen years. No buckle-up? Try lockup.

Jail, he readily admits, was an education. He was transported to court in handcuffs and leg shackles, in a van that also carried an accused murderer.

He was put in solitary confinement for three days after he started a hunger strike. He was given a signle utensil, a spoon, to eat his meals. And no pepper. "Could be stored up and used as a weapon."

Since 1988, when he was first charged with a seat-belt violation, Mr Brisson has refused to pay a fine for an offence he believes is a trampling of his rights.

The unpaid fines, which now total close to $9000, resulted in the suspension of his licence.

"Can a government decide, for me, how best to protect myself?" he asks.

In the mid-1970's. he was involved in a serious crash during which his Chevy Vega flipped, end over end, crumbling the roof to the level of the steering wheel. he was tossed into the back seat.

The lack of a seat-belt, Mr. Brisson is convinced, saved his life. If you doubt it, he will show the wrecked car, which he kept.
"The only chance I had to survive that crash was by not wearing my seat-belt," he said.

Mr. Brisson was born and raised in Embrun, just east of Ottawa, where he runs a radiator shop in a rented metal building off the main street.

When a reporter visited yesterday, Mr. Brisson had black, dusty hands and was busy working on a prototype for a new type of hovercraft. There were no signs of seat-belts on board.

He is a contrarian, for sure and was chosen to head the Libertarian Party of Canada in May 2000.

He is moderately famous in the area for refusing to collect the federal goods and services tax and the provincial sales tax. When the government of Ontario objected, he burned his vendor's licence.

He has also run for office several times, garnering almost 1300 votes in the November 13th municipal elections, during which he was incarcerated.

After spending close to three weeks in jail, friends of Mr. Brisson's managed to contact a lawyer, Michael Swinwood, who sprang him from jail, pending an appeal.

The lawyer is preparing to argue on several grounds in the appeal, expected in April 2001. Among them are native Indian issues, such as whether the Crown has the authority to even prosecute this case, and whether the Highway Traffic Act violates the Charter right to mobility.

Mr. Brisson says the seat-belt provisions violate his right to make personal judgements about his own safety.

He has plenty of statistics, he says, that undermine the government's position about seat-belt safety.

As for the licence suspension, he says it is unfair that non-payment of a fine results in what amounts to a perpetual driving ban, affecting his livelihood.

They're trying to make an example of him because he refuses to go along with their rules and regulations," says Mr. Swinwood.
Mr. Brisson, meanwhile, says he's prepared to go back to jail to defend his principles.

"I will do the six months (in jail) rather than be free outside but living in my own kind of prison,"