Severed Secrecy: Revealing a Culture of Sexual Misconduct at CSIS

Spycraft leaves little to chance. Journalism, by contrast, thrives on it. For Darryl Greer, one fateful introduction set off a career-defining investigation—one that cracked open a culture of sexual abuse and exploitation that allowed senior officers to abuse power inside one of Canada’s most guarded agencies.

After a night out with friends, Greer was contacted by a woman he had met only hours earlier. What seemed like a casual overture was anything but: she worked for CSIS and revealed that her friend and colleague had filed a civil lawsuit over alleged sexual abuse by a senior officer—and that the two of them were contemplating taking their stories public.

Secrecy laws barred Greer from naming names, but through fact-checking that verified the women’s employment, meticulous reviews of court documents, and exclusive interviews with both plaintiffs and other employees, he pieced together how hierarchy, fear and a lack of internal accountability created a toxic workplace. 

It was an environment that allowed senior officers to exploit new female agents during their probationary period, when they were left working long, unsupervised hours with male superiors and feared that a negative review could derail their careers.

When Greer’s story was published, it quickly gained national exposure and sparked public outrage—leading to the dismissal of a senior agent and pledges to reform  CSIS’s workplace culture. Most importantly, the reporting gave a voice to the survivors, acknowledging their claims and demanding accountability.

Sitting down with Chris Arsenault, Josette LaFleur, and Angie Gissoni, Daryl Greer recounts the strategies, setbacks, and risks behind his award-winning investigation—offering a rare look at how journalism can hold even the most iron-clad organizations accountable.

Chris Arsenault: You're reporting on harassment from deep inside a spy agency — an organization that, by definition,  obscures its tradecraft. How did you get an inkling something was going on?

Darryl Greer: I’d been invited to a show one night by a friend of a friend. I made routine small talk, mentioned I was a journalist, and the next day someone from that group tracked me down on social media. When we met, she told me she used to work for CSIS and was on long-term disability because of the toxic workplace — which, she said, wasn’t even as bad as what some of her colleagues endured. Then she disclosed that a close friend and colleague had been sexually assaulted by a superior.

They were considering going public. There were lawsuits pending, and they wanted to tell their story. I assured her I’d take it to my editors. That kicked off months of steady contact, gathering court records, and piecing together filings.

Chris Arsenault: You've got unvetted claims from somebody you met in a bar. How did you get these documents?

Darryl Greer: Civil actions in B.C. aren’t easy to access, but if you know what to look for, they’re straightforward. My contact pointed me to two interconnected lawsuits. The plaintiffs were anonymized — Jane Doe and A.B. — which made them harder to find. With her help I retrieved both, which gave me confidence she was telling the truth.

She and others also provided materials confirming they were CSIS employees. The challenge was finding a way to report their stories without revealing their identities.

Chris Arsenault: How did you get around those provisions and not burn your sources?

Darryl Greer: I reached out to their lawyers, who advised both women not to talk to me. They went against that legal advice and chose to keep cooperating.

They shared correspondence and documents confirming their employment, without crossing into classified material. They showed me long-term disability forms and insurance coverage for conditions developed on the job.

Chris Arsenault: What about dealing with the alleged predator himself?

Darryl Greer: The bigger challenge was the CSIS Act, which prevents covert agents’ identities from being revealed. That meant I couldn’t confront the alleged abuser directly. Instead, I relied on court filings, which detailed allegations that CSIS mishandled or ignored repeated sexual assault complaints.

Jane Doe [one lawsuit plaintiff] alleged a senior officer groomed her and used coercive control to pressure her into degrading acts — something she felt powerless to refuse given that new employees are on probation for two years and dependent on senior officers for their careers.

Chris Arsenault: Walk me through the rest of your reporting process?

Darryl Greer: I took a slow, careful approach. But in September 2023, a court ruled Jane Doe’s lawsuit was barred under federal law, which requires employees to take workplace complaints to the Public Sector Labour Relations Board. That ruling made her allegations public and forced our hand.

I told both plaintiffs we had to move quickly. I arranged on-the-record interviews with Jane Doe and her friend — the one through whom I first made contact, then with A.B, who also alleged she’d been targeted by the same senior officer.

They explained how CSIS’s hierarchy allowed problems to persist — mid-level managers treated their roles as steppingstones to promotion, so complaints could be “punted down the road.” That structure gave senior officials cover to abuse power without fear of consequences.

Once I had those interviews, I was close to publication. I also had unwavering support from my editors at Canadian Press, which was invaluable on a story this sensitive.

Chris Arsenault: The day your story ran, even the Prime Minister responded. Did anything change structurally at CSIS?

Darryl Greer: The Prime Minister called the allegations devastating. CSIS responded saying there were “inaccuracies” but refused to specify. Their line was that the story didn’t conform to agency records — which missed the point, since the women said those records were wrong.

My sources told me there was a town hall and a letter from Director David Vigneault acknowledging the seriousness of the claims. CSIS confirmed the officer in question had been fired, though they said the decision was made before publication.

They pledged reforms: hiring an ombudsperson for harassment complaints and publishing a report on workplace violence.

Chris Arsenault: How did the Access to Information Act factor in?

Darryl Greer: Through targeted Access to Information requests, I obtained a workplace climate assessment and correspondence, including a letter from Vigneault warning of more harassment complaints. Those documents, combined with court filings and hours of interviews, gave me the evidence I needed to back up sources’ accounts.

Josette LaFleur: When it comes to the legal complexities, did you have to consult with a legal team at any point?

Darryl Greer: One of the big issues was the CSIS Act. The women felt they couldn’t go to police because it prohibited them from revealing their identities. CSIS later claimed there was an exemption, but our lawyers couldn’t find it. Revealing an agent’s identity could mean five years in prison.

In the end, though, our lawyers didn’t change much because we carefully framed everything as allegations not yet proven in court.

Josette LaFleur: What advice would you give future journalists tackling a story of this magnitude?

Darryl Greer: Be patient. Don’t rush sources. Give them space to talk off the record. The key was remembering these were real people, not just subjects of a story.

Angie Gisonni: When official systems fail, what role does journalism play in helping survivors be heard?

Darryl Greer: These women felt every institution failed them — CSIS, the courts, leadership. But by coming forward, their story resonated with the public, the intelligence community, and even the Prime Minister. That shows the power of journalism: filling the gap when institutions fail and giving survivors a voice no one else will.

This interview was edited for length and clarity. 

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