William Kunimoto and How to Dismiss Income Loss Claims

Before going through this article we need to familiarize ourselves with some terms here. We define fraud, and bullying below, and then we examine a how they can play a role in a court proceeding against an unrepresented litigant.

Fraud is an intentional act of deception involving misrepresentation, concealment, or abuse of trust, carried out to obtain an unjust or unlawful advantage or to cause loss or harm to another party. In academic literature, fraud is generally defined as deliberate deception practiced to secure unfair or unlawful gain (Albrecht et al., 2019). At law, fraud (or deceit) requires: A false representation of a material fact, reliance by the victim, and damages resulting from the reliance.

Bullying involves repeated negative actions by one or more individuals toward another individual who has difficulty defending themselves, where the behaviour is deliberate and occurs within an unequal power relationship (Olweus, 1993). Bullying can include Forcing someone to release their private information, and in many contexts it may also qualify as harassment, coercion, or abuse when consent is not freely given, the request is backed by pressure, and refusal is penalized or punished. The repetition criterion in bullying encompasses both repeated acts and behaviours that are likely to continue over time.

Although common law authorities have consistently attached excessive and often determinative weight to intent in cases of fraud—fixating on what was purportedly occurring in the mind of the alleged fraudster—this approach reflects a persistent and consequential failure to acknowledge the realities of how fraudulent conduct operates in practice. In particular, it overlooks the foreseeable and well-established possibility that false statements may be relied upon by third parties, whose reliance can ultimately inflict harm on others, including individuals who may have had no awareness that a fraud was being committed at all, let alone that their actions would culminate in loss to another person.

This preoccupation with subjective mental states, elevated to the status of a decisive legal test, produces an artificial and formalistic framework that is detached from real-world consequences. It privileges doctrinal abstraction over substantive justice and obscures the causal chain through which fraud frequently causes harm. The present analysis therefore rejects such contrived tests in favor of an approach grounded in natural justice—one that confronts what actually occurs in the world as it is lived, rather than what is conveniently reconstructed on paper.

Consider a scenario in which a data custodian is approached with a request to release private information relating to an individual who is entirely unaware that such a request has been made. The custodian, relying on the false statements and the deliberately deceptive presentation of the requester, proceeds to disclose the data. At first glance, it is tempting—indeed, orthodox—to conclude that the custodian acted recklessly and ought not to have relied on the fraudster’s representations, and that, by reason of such negligence or recklessness, the custodian bears responsibility for the resulting breach of privacy. On this conventional account, fault is readily assigned to the custodian.

Yet this line of reasoning conspicuously avoids the more troubling question: what of the actual fraudster, who caused harm to an individual without ever communicating with them directly? Under the prevailing doctrinal logic, the fraudster retreats behind the claim that no wrong was committed at all—asserting that they merely made a request, exercised no compulsion, and engaged in no direct interaction with the injured party. This reasoning exposes a structural defect in the English legal approach, one that has been exploited for centuries under the veneer of professionalism and doctrinal respectability.

These are not accidental gaps, nor innocent oversights, but entrenched flaws that permit intentional deception to escape meaningful accountability so long as it is laundered through an intermediary. Once the abusive scheme is properly deconstructed and its mechanics traced through the procedural pipeline, the underlying engine becomes visible: a system that privileges formal separation over substantive causation, and in doing so allows calculated dishonesty to operate in the background with impunity.

Section 241 of the Income Tax Act clearly prohibits requiring any government official, in connection with legal proceedings, to give or produce evidence relating to taxpayer information:

241(2) Notwithstanding any other Act of Parliament or other law, no official or other representative of a government entity shall be required, in connection with any legal proceedings, to give or produce evidence relating to any taxpayer information.

Put simply, it forbids anyone from even asking an agent of the Canada Revenue Agency to disclose or produce such information. Yet, in flagrant disregard of this statutory prohibition, some continue to demand it—and do so knowingly. This is nothing short of a sleazebag maneuver: an intentional, calculated violation of the law executed with full awareness that the act is forbidden. The impropriety becomes even more egregious when such demands are disguised under the formality of a court heading, appended to what is, in substance, a worthless or frivolous document intended solely to intimidate or mislead the recipient.

Alright, so the Act of Parliament was of no assistance, and we are left clinging to the civil court rules—rules that are barely more than suggestions masquerading as law. And this is exactly where the bullying begins. How? By treating an adversarial system not as a mechanism for justice, but as a baton to wield, a tool for deception and intimidation. The government did not bend, so the effort descends one level lower—against an unrepresented abused person. But why target them? Because they dared to claim they lost income (“allegations” in the words of another sleazebag). And what is the sleazebag response to that? Ask for their Social Insurance Number, knowing full well that this is a brazen abuse of process—an act so transparently underhanded that trust is obliterated before it can form.

Then comes the next move: make an application to the court to compel someone to sign a disclosure of information they may never even have seen themselves. And what if they refuse? Well, the options are stark: either comply or face contempt of court. And if, by some miracle, the judge refuses to grant the order? Forget miracles—there are no judges in the system, only ex officio buddies passing the same sorted sordid down the line. At this point, one might legitimately wonder how one can descend from a total sleazebag to the epitome of human waste.

As we noted above, repetition is a defining criterion of bullying. In the context of court proceedings, however, this repetition becomes far more insidious. It manifests as successive appeals—one to the provincial court, another to Ottawa. Perfect opportunities for bullying, invisible under the guise of procedure. “We gave you two appeal opportunities instead of one,” they claim, as if that somehow neutralizes the harassment. But what happens in the real world—the natural world of human experience—is that the repetition element of bullying is fully realized: relentless pressure, exhaustion, and intimidation, not the mechanical ticking of appeal numbers on a docket.

Long story short, what is the solution to this muddy, endless wrestle? Abandon the “allegations” of lost income. But is the income truly not lost? Of course not. The loss exists, yet the court no longer resembles a court. Instead, it has morphed into a playground for bullying, a stage for those seeking to vent old grievances, and, not least, a convenient source of high-quality narcissistic supply (we will deal with this supply in another article).

To be fair, we must pause and take careful note of the issue of quantum—the calculation of damages. Claims for loss of past income and future earning capacity do not automatically warrant a straightforward mathematical computation of what the income was or could have been. The nonsense of attempting such precise calculations, especially in cases complicated by obstructionist defendants, is notorious. The default approach in determining lost income in personal injury cases is simple in theory: estimate how much the claimant could reasonably have earned had the injury not occurred, and measure the difference caused by the injury. Any attempt to rely solely on historical employment ignores the reality that past employment could have ended for any number of reasons entirely unrelated to the case at hand—layoffs, economic downturns, personal decisions, or other contingencies. All of them know this. Yet the machinery grinds on, feigning rigor, while in practice it becomes yet another arena for harassment and procedural gamesmanship.

The single-variable mindset underlying the income tax approach assumes that every individual must embark on a conventional pay-cheque career and remain in it for 30 or 40 years until retirement—a lifestyle strikingly similar to that of the judges themselves, who continue earning until age 75, and then continue to earn beyond 75! While this rigid, linear approach may have some utility when applied to the judicial class, it is profoundly inadequate for the rest of society. Ordinary people face a far more dynamic economic reality, where the possibility of upward mobility or alternative opportunities—for instance, receiving a call from Ottawa and becoming a judge—cannot simply be ignored. Treating income as a fixed, unchanging variable not only distorts the assessment of lost earning capacity but also betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of how real-world careers evolve. On top of that, any approach that seeks to undermine or miscalculate lost income is effectively undermining the injury itself, amounting to a total denial of both the harm suffered and the moral reprehensibility of actions that are, in essence, criminal in nature. Who cares?

William Kunimoto (credit: internet)

The court documents in P.C. v. Fraser Health Authority (BCSC File No. 255756, New Westminster Registry) reveal a scenario almost too absurd to believe: an admittedly unsuccessful attempt to compel the CRA—who in their right mind would even think to compel the CRA?—led instead to an application to force a pro se litigant to sign something titled “authorization for release of information”—again, who in their right mind would believe such a signature would be given voluntary. Meanwhile, the plaintiff reportedly abandoned his claims for lost income. And so one is left to ask: are we merely exchanging residual rights for banknotes? What kind of legal system is this, where procedural sleight-of-hand and intimidation against an unrepresented party are normalized, while the substantive claims—claims tied to actual injury and loss—are quietly abandoned or trivialized? What is it?!