Parliament House, Victoria, British Columbia.

We aren’t building rockets here.  But we are building a canoe of sorts, and a leaky canoe means you won’t make it upriver to see the big hockey game, eh?  Serving U.S. process in Canada is subject to the strictures of the Hague Service Convention, and that means different things depending on where the defendant sits.  Much like the United Kingdom, Canada has varying methods for service depending on jurisdiction.

Most of Canada is decidedly English—in language and in legality (common law).  Québec, though, is a former French colony, and though it was taken over by the British only recently (the 1760s), they’re still militantly French up there. Both in language and in legality (civil law).*

Regardless of where you serve in Canada, this Dominion is without parallel for simplicity—whether serving in Québec or elsewhere, it really is straightforward stuff.  Serving in Manitoba is freakishly similar to serving in Minnesota, and it stands to reason (they’re right next door and they have roughly the same accent, eh?).  Here in the States, we’re bookended by the most and the least effective countries in the Hague Service community (Canada & Mexico, respectively).

You’ve got three ways to go:

  1. Tap us on the shoulder for bespoke attention—and probably some amusing commentary to boot (see the upper right if you’re on a desktop, or way down below if you’re on a phone/tablet),
  2. Cruise over to the Hague Envoy platform at USM94.com to automate the completion of your forms in perhaps twenty minutes or so, or
  3. If you’re feeling froggy & would like to handle the whole thing yourself, keep reading.  This lays out the framework you’ll need.

Some background is in order, if you’re so inclined, before we cut to the chase.

  • The roadmap to the overall process—the recipe to our Secret Sauce.
  • The structure of the Convention itself is discussed in this four-part series.
  • And an absolutely critical note: the Hague Service Convention does not pertain to subpoenas.  Repeat after me—you can’t just SERVE a subpoena abroad.  In Canada, you have to file a Letter Rogatory, roughly similar to a Hague Evidence Request (although Canada is not a party to the Hague Evidence Convention).  The same Cardinal Rules apply—this is dramatically different from serving a summons or notice.   [Update:  for more on Canadian evidence, see here.]

Here’s how service is effected in Canada:

Article 5 Service in Québec

  • Translate the documents. Canada’s declaration to Article 5(3) requires that initiating documents served in Québec must be translated into French.  Although the defendant may speak flawless English, omitting translated documents will prompt the Central Authority to reject your request if you haven’t sought leave to omit them in advance.  (NB: this refers to initiating documents—the summons & complaint, rather than notices of hearing, etc.  Subsequent documents might get through untranslated.)
  • Fill out a USM-94. Be very careful about ensuring that it is complete and concise, and make sure that it is signed by a court official or an attorney.  If it is not, make sure that the person signing is commissioned by the court.
  • Send to the Québec  Central Authority.  Canada decentralizes its Central Authority (yes, I know that’s counterintuitive).  Each province has one.
  • Sit tight. It may take three or four months from submission to return of proof.

Article 10 alternative methods in Québec

  • Mail service is available, depending on where you are, but it’s a bad idea anyway.
  • Canada allows direct access to a huissier de justice,** the judicial officer who serves process in Québec actions and Article 5 requests. This method avoids having to wait for processing by the Central Authority, often cutting wait time by a month or two.  Handy stuff.

Article 5 Service in Anglophone Canada (everywhere other than Québec)

  • Translate the documents? Logically, if service is effected in Anglophone provinces, documents must be in English.  So, game over, right?  [Yay!  Pack up and go home!]  Not so fast, counsel… make sure your defendant speaks English, because his U.S. Due Process rights follow him north of the border.  Anybody sued in a U.S. court must be served in a language they understand, so if they don’t speak English, translation is still necessary.
  • Fill out a USM-94. Be very careful about ensuring that it is complete and concise, and make sure that it is signed by a court official or an attorney.  If it is not, make sure that the person signing is commissioned by the court.
  • Send to the appropriate Central Authority.  Again, Canada decentralizes its Central Authority.  Again, I know that’s counterintuitive.  Again, each province has one.
  • Sit tight. It may take several months from submission to return of proof, depending on which province is handling things for you.

Article 10 alternative methods in Anglophone Canada

  • Mail service is available.  But it’s a bad idea.
  • Service via private agent (process server) is available to U.S. litigants under Article 10(b). Canada’s 10(b) declaration tells you to go to the Yellow Pages to find one (seriously… the Yellow Pages***).  Just be sure you write up the proper proof.  That’s where it gets complicated.

Canada’s declarations and Central Authority information—as well as those of all the other countries in the treaty—can be found here.

Bonus practice tip… if you’re defense counsel, always question the validity of service effected on your overseas client.  The plaintiff may not have done it correctly.


* Very important to remember—it’s not Quebec.  It’s Québec, with an accent aigu, merci beaucoup.  Pronounce it KAY-beck, not Kwuh-BECK, or you’re apt to get a hockey puck jammed into your mouth.  That’s also not to be confused with KBEK, which is a radio station in Braham, Minnesota.  Not far from Canada, in terms of either geography or accent.

**The huissier is a specialized professional in French-speaking civil law jurisdictions, with a statutory monopoly on service of process functions.  A rough analog in common law systems:  a combination between a bailiff and a sheriff.

***  This declaration came about before the Googles.  For you young folks, we had these things that told us how to contact businesses—>YP

 

Photo of Aaron Lukken Aaron Lukken

I’m Aaron Lukken, and I wasn’t always a lawyer. My kid sister and I spent a few years abroad as Army brats, and I worked in politics for a while after college. After meandering from job to job in my late twenties, I…

I’m Aaron Lukken, and I wasn’t always a lawyer. My kid sister and I spent a few years abroad as Army brats, and I worked in politics for a while after college. After meandering from job to job in my late twenties, I finally found a home at the phone company, of all places. With a decade of telecom sales experience under my belt, I decided at 37 to finally go back and do what I had always intended… study law.

But even at the start of law school, the idea of a generalized practice never really made sense to me. I wanted something specific, and something that could draw on all the travels of my youth; the only area of the law that was really appealing to me was at the international level. Of course, I also heard the siren call of the courtroom as a 2L, and discovered that litigation was as exciting as geopolitics and international law.

With a whole bunch of luck—and an amazingly supportive wife—I managed to launch a little niche firm smack in the middle of the map… Viking Advocates, LLC in Kansas City (that’s in Missouri, thankyouverymuch). My practice combines treaty analysis with litigation strategy; I truly have the best of both worlds.

When I’m not pondering the intricacies of cross-border legal doctrines, I’m either singing 2nd Tenor with the Kansas City Symphony Chorus or trying to get down to my fighting weight at the local YMCA with my wife, Peggy (an expert in conflict management and dispute resolution). Together we have a small civil & domestic mediation firm serving clients in the KC region. Our overbearing and demanding boss is a tabby cat named Minnie, named after Professor Minerva McGonagall.

Feel free to connect with me on LinkedIn (be sure to tell me you saw this!).