Last week, Jeremy Mackenzie—the de facto leader of a mythical nation-state and President of Second Sons Canada—sent us a major new cache of leaked RCMP documents. At first glance, the materials didn’t seem especially significant. But when examined from a broader perspective and with a historical understanding of Canada’s communist psyop, the thousands of pages from Federal Policing National Security and the Ideologically Motivated Criminal Intelligence Team (IMCIT) revealed how Ottawa manufactured a “national security threat” out of a Canadian veteran’s online meme community—and then used that fiction as the perfect scapegoat to ram through laws designed to ensure nothing like the Freedom Convoy could ever happen again.
The Royal Canadian Mounted Police is supposed to protect Canada and uphold the rule of law without fear or favour, but these documents prove the opposite. They expose a deliberate, policy-driven operation that began with one deeply flawed 2015 report by Barbara Perry, funded by Public Safety Canada and never subjected to independent ethics-board review or third-party verification when it was delivered, which became the intellectual foundation for the RCMP’s entire IMVE (Ideologically Motivated Violent Extremism) framework. Perry explicitly recommended “aligning activism with police” and a “whole-of-society” approach that turned partisan NGOs into the RCMP’s de facto intelligence partners. The result was a self-reinforcing loop that weaponized Canada’s security apparatus against its own citizens.
Jeremy Mackenzie and Diagolon were the ideal scapegoats. The files repeatedly admit Diagolon was nothing more than “a concept,” “a joke,” a “loose network” with “no formal structure.” Yet the RCMP branded it an “accelerationist extremist group” and “militia-like,” tied it to the Convoy and Coutts, and kept the file alive long after every criminal charge against Mackenzie was stayed or dropped across three provinces. This was never about stopping violence. It was about stopping dissent — and using one patriotic Canadian veteran to do it.
Barbara Perry’s 2015 Report: The Unvetted Foundation of the Threat Machine
Everything traces back to Perry’s Public Safety Canada-funded report, “Right Wing Extremism in Canada: An Environmental Scan.” The RCMP cited it repeatedly in IMVE intelligence decks to justify claims of a growing far-right online movement. Yet the report itself was never properly qualified. It bypassed independent ethics-board review and third-party verification, relied heavily on unverified open-source social media data, and failed to confirm that the accounts or posts were even Canadian. In Coutts pretrial proceedings, Perry admitted under cross-examination that much of her sourcing came from American websites and online spaces, and she could not establish Canadian provenance. Defence counsel challenged her qualifications on these grounds, prompting the Crown to withdraw her as an expert witness before the process was complete—a move the judge called “a wise decision.”
“This is profoundly unethical. Public Safety Canada accepted and funded a policy-influencing document that lacked the very safeguards designed to prevent misuse of research in sensitive areas like counter-extremism.”
Some of the underlying data used to support broader IMVE ideology — including references to sites like Stormfront — has been criticized as based on fraudulent or unverified information. A report of this magnitude, commissioned to shape national security policy, law enforcement priorities, and potentially criminal investigations, should have met the highest standards— that included independent peer review, rigorous ethics approval from a recognized research ethics board, transparent and verifiable methodology, clear geographic sourcing with documented Canadian provenance, and explicit safeguards against confirmation bias and political influence. But none of those basic protections were taken.
This is profoundly unethical. Public Safety Canada accepted and funded a policy-influencing document that lacked the very safeguards designed to prevent misuse of research in sensitive areas like counter-extremism. Ethics bodies exist precisely to ensure accuracy, protect against political bias, prevent harm from flawed or unverified data being turned into operational intelligence, and maintain public confidence that government decisions are based on sound evidence rather than activist-driven narratives. By skipping these steps, Perry’s report opened the door for the partisan pipeline we see throughout the ATIPs.
Perry’s broader recommendations — explicitly calling for closer “alignment between activism and police” and a “whole-of-society” approach — were enthusiastically adopted. Public Safety funded the scan. The RCMP operationalized it. Groups like the Canadian Anti-Hate Network (CAHN) and Anti-Racism Canada (ARC) became the daily intelligence feed. This created the perfect partisan pipeline — and Diagolon/Mackenzie became the test case.
The Manufactured Threat: From Meme to “Militia” – The RCMP’s Relentless Witch Hunt and Narrative Warfare
Internal RCMP bulletins and IMVE decks from 2022–2023 framed the Freedom Convoy as a hotbed of Anti-Authority Violence (AAV). Diagolon was singled out as a “new group/network” exposed by the protests, and Diagolon patches on tactical vests were held up as proof of “militia-like” ties, with four men “believed to be Diagolon members” charged in a conspiracy to murder RCMP officers.
But the same documents repeatedly admitted the truth that Diagolon “may have started as a joke,” had “no formal structure,” and was a “loose network.” The Alberta public safety report noted sharp declines in organized patriot and militia activity. The RCMP’s own POEC notes acknowledged the Commission found “no current evidence of significant implications by extremist groups.” But none of it mattered because the narrative was locked in.
Even after Mackenzie’s charges were stayed or dropped in Saskatchewan, Nova Scotia, and Quebec, the machine kept running. IMCIT media scans continued headlining the developments under “IMVE/Hate.” Absence of evidence became a reason for more scrutiny. Presumed innocence never appeared once in over 1,000 pages.
The most damning evidence of institutional malice is what happened after the courts walked away. Acting/Deputy Commissioner-level officials personally demanded an internal “rationale” for why the Saskatchewan charges against Mackenzie were stayed. Why would senior leadership task analysts with second-guessing prosecutors who had already dropped the case? It was not standard procedure. It was an unethical attempt to keep the file alive at all costs.
Surveillance on Mackenzie began as early as summer 2021. Arrests, bail battles, debanking, and pension interference followed. The RCMP simply refused to let the scapegoat go, and Diagolon was the perfect vehicle.
The files repeatedly weaponized unproven claims. Coutts patches were presented as organizational proof despite Mackenzie’s denials and no evidence of group direction. One scan even claimed Diagolon was “gearing up to attack the trans and gay community” because Rob Primo organized counter-protests against adults exposing their genitals to children in public. This legitimate stand for decency was twisted into anti-LGBTQ+ extremism — despite no plans of violence. It was pure narrative warfare.
From Scapegoat to Policy: How One Manufactured Threat Killed Canadian Dissent
The Convoy assessment became pure policy fuel. POEC Volume 1 excerpts quoted heavily from the RCMP’s own IMVE analysis: hate symbols in Ottawa, the Coutts weapons cache, CSIS threat assessments warning of radicalization, and social media repeatedly labelled as an “accelerant” for misinformation and extremism. These were not neutral observations. They were the narrative scaffolding used to justify the invocation of the Emergencies Act and to shape the Commission’s final recommendations.
From there, the recommendations flowed straight into legislation. Expanded social media monitoring, better inter-agency coordination, and “online harms” studies became the cornerstone of bills like C-63 (the Online Harms Act) and C-70 (security and foreign interference amendments). The IMVE National Working Group didn’t sit idle — it coordinated roadshows, speaker series, and ongoing “evaluation” meetings explicitly designed to embed the new threat framework across every RCMP division. Even routine national events were swept into the net. The Canada Day 2023 Special Threat Advisory flagged “violent and hateful rhetoric opposing the Prime Minister” as a potential risk within anti-authority networks, treating criticism of the government as a public-order concern.
The Diagolon/Mackenzie file sat at the centre of this machinery. A meme community and a veteran’s livestreams were elevated into an “accelerationist extremist group” despite the RCMP’s own repeated admissions that it had “no formal structure.” And the patches found in Coutts became the supposed smoking gun. Counter-protests against public genital exposure to children were reframed as attacks on the LGBTQ+ community. Every stayed charge, every dropped prosecution, every court acquittal was ignored or spun as further evidence that the threat was simply evolving.
This was never about public safety. It was about ensuring that no future Freedom Convoy — no future mass expression of Canadian refusal to comply — would ever be allowed to happen again. The manufactured threat gave Ottawa the intellectual and bureaucratic cover to institutionalize surveillance of dissent, expand online censorship powers, and normalize treating patriotic Canadians as potential extremists.
The RCMP didn’t just monitor a threat. It helped create the justification for laws that would silence the next one before it even began.
The Cost to Canada: Eroded Trust and a Weaponized RCMP
Public faith in Canada’s once-honourable national police force has been shattered, perhaps beyond repair. What was founded to protect the Canadian people has been transformed into a political enforcement weapon aimed directly at patriotic Canadians — veterans who risked their lives for this country, truckers who keep it fed, parents defending their children, and citizens who refuse to surrender their rights and freedoms.
The deepest irony is that the RCMP’s actions manufactured the very distrust they later categorized as a threat. By chasing ghosts from activist sources, treating a veteran’s criticism and meme community as pre-crime, and refusing to close a file after total legal exoneration, the force demonstrated exactly the institutional bias and overreach that fuels anti-authority sentiment.
Barbara Perry’s 2015 report provided the pseudo-intellectual foundation. Her call to align activism with police positioned groups like CAHN as the de facto intelligence pipeline, and the RCMP became the operational arm.
These documents do not show rogue actors. They show a system working as designed — a system that prioritized narrative maintenance over evidence, policy justification over public safety, and institutional face-saving over truth. The result is a non-partisan police force that no longer appears non-partisan to large segments of the population it is sworn to serve.
Canadians have every right to demand better. When the national police force turns open-source activist material and unvetted academic scans into national-security files, and keeps those files alive long after the courts have spoken, the damage goes far beyond one meme community or one veteran. It strikes at the foundation of trust in the rule of law itself.