Nadia Jia Guo is the Canadian-born daughter of Chinese parents and aspires to
be a criminal defense lawye
As, indeed, the bang-for-bucks wasn’t even addressed by the three-headed Law
Society tribunal hearing, although the raunchy details are flat-out boasted
on Guo’s social media platforms.
The good character hearing was focused on
Guo’s behaviour, whilst she was working as an articling student from July to
December 2015, and complaints filed with the Law Society by a handful of its
members.
Among Guo’s code of conduct infractions: That she leaked confidential
disclosure information about a case from a private lawyer-to-lawyer Criminal
Lawyers’ Association website onto her widely read Twitter account and
responded “uncivilly” to a pair of lawyers who’d urged her to knock it off,
according to the agreed statement of facts; that she’d once been arrested
(but not charged) for giving the finger to staff at a civil court clerk’s
office, ticked off after waiting some four hours to be served; that she’d
“scooped” another lawyer’s client from a courthouse, which is not allowed;
that she’d tweeted about her “girl crush” on a female judge, her former
professor at Osgoode Hall Law School; that she’d made stroppy remarks on
social media about a Crown counsel (identifying that person by name) and
suggesting “the entire administration of justice is corrupt,” and that she’d
been fired from a law firm where she’d worked as a student five years ago,
for wearing “totally inappropriate, ultra-revealing clothing, which made
staff uncomfortable.”
Now those are allegations — well, agreed facts — that a law tribunal
could sink its teeth into. They are not remotely concerned — it ain’t their
lookout — about the sexual moonlighting. That is, presumably, part of Guo’s
alternate reality. Robes by day, peel by night.
The petite 28-year-old fidgeted restlessly as defense lawyer Kris
Borg-Olivier dove into the ASF, appearing to quiver like a tuning fork from
the tip of her tiny ponytail to the bottom of her red-soled pumps (Louboutins),
furiously jiggling one foot. Had difficulty walking on those heels, though,
galumphing to the witness chair. That ballyhooed dexterity seems to quit at
the ankles.
“I started my Twitter just as a way to document things I was going
through,” Guo began. This was an entry point to the CLA website issue, in
which she shot back at the complainant: “Dude, don’t compare me to yourself.
It’s so f- insulting.” Also called him a “psychotic f-.”
Definitely a sling wide of the civil and respectful deportment allegedly
expected among the lawyerly class.
“I overstepped my bounds a bit and made some catty comments,” Guo
conceded.
Everyone on the CLA list saw the exchange. “A lot of people said I was
out of line.” But she added: “As a young female in the profession, you’re
often told what to do by older men.”
More specifically, as per the riposte, privileged white men.
“I wanted to retain my voice,” Guo explained of her hostile attitude.
“But I guess in doing so, I said some things that I shouldn’t have.”
If she had a curl on her forehead, she’d be twirling it.
Guo was full of regrets, appropriately couched, yesterday. Like that
thing about girl-crushing on a judge, using the jurist’s first name in a
tweet. “I understand now that I shouldn’t be trying to establish a
familiarity with a member of the bench.”
As for the Crown she dissed by name, Guo, sounding very much like the
social justice warriors she claims (on social media) to dislike, said she
was angry that a significant detail about the accused allegedly being beaten
by a cop had been withheld from the public. “I shouldn’t put my personal
duty out there. It doesn’t get me anywhere. All I succeeded in doing was
ticking people off …. Showing respect to senior members of the bar is also
important.”
And about that almost-arrest? She’d been trying to file a statement of
defense for the lawyer under whom she’d been articling. The set -up involved
taking a number to be served and the clerks were just lazing around. Guo
confronted a couple of them. “They told me to sit back down. I gave one of
them the finger.”
A security guard was summoned to remove her. Guo demanded to know on what
authority he was acting. “I didn’t think I was that disorderly. I wasn’t
screaming. I did make a disrespectful gesture.”
That got her ejected, and, she says, knocked to the ground outside when
she tried to take a photo of the security guard’s badge number. Meanwhile,
her car was being towed.
Again and again, Guo acknowledged, her unwillingness to go meekly has
landed her in trouble. But since 2015, she’s been taking sessions with a
certified executive coach, found a lawyer-mentor and has been seeing a
therapist to address attitude issues. She took a break from the law but has
since completed her articling with another lawyer.
“Obviously, I understand better now how the justice system works. I’ve
come to expect that things will take time. I’m working on become a more
patient person … less antagonism doing things.”
On the younger version of herself: “If I thought I was in the right, then
it was okay for me to say anything. Obviously that approach has failed me. I
now go about things with a more reserved approach.”
The “coach,” in particular, has imparted valuable advice: “You can’t take
on the world alone. You can’t alienate everybody. It backfired on me.”
See, she was just so frustrated with the sluggish and autocratic judicial
system. “Taking things personally, over-compensating for my lack of power in
the system. It made me feel insignificant, even though I know I had a lot to
offer. I wanted to show the profession that I deserved the respect I
wanted.”
That was why, as well, she launched a website onto which she downloaded
stories about miscarriages of justice, naming names. “I wanted to bring
transparency to the legal system, which I think it needs more of.”
The website still exists, although the look-at-this-stuff links have been
removed.
Guo’s character predicament pretty much boils down to this: “I didn’t get
the whole civility thing at all.”
More than ever, said Guo, this experience has doubled-down her desire to
be a lawyer. “I’ve been tested. I’ve had my chance to look back and reflect
on it. I definitely would love the chance to practice criminal law, if I get
it. It’s my love and my passion.”
Passion to spare, it seems, on that other thing.
From her webpage: “I guess I was destined to be a professional seductress
…. It wasn’t long before I realized I could be charging men for the pleasure
of pleasuring me. Seduction was my first tongue.”
From her Tumblr account: The following is a non-inclusive list of the
different encounters you can experience with me, either in place of a more
traditional encounter or in addition to it: Edging, Domination, Roleplay,
420/cannabis-enhanced sessions, Photography, Hot tub dates, Duos, Groups,
couples, gangbangs, MMFs/MFMs etc.….”
The tribunal has reserved its decision.
Rosie DiManno is a columnist based in
Toronto covering sports and current affairs. Follow her on Twitter:
@rdimanno
She is however "not yet a lawyer. The Law Society told her to go away and
come back another day.
Dawn Lee and LSUC will keep us guessing as to when she will be going into law
instead of
being a professional hooker.
