from Hired Gun to Healer

A former criminal lawyer makes "forgiveness" a new legal term

by Larissa Buijs

Talking to lawyer Derek LaCroix brings to mind the story of DJ Frankie Wilde, subject of the movie It’s All Gone Pete Tong. Having become deaf from years of partying and pandering, Wilde’s life went sideways as he descended into a drug-induced haze no human should, theoretically, be able to survive. LaCroix’s case, however, involved alcohol and a life-changing upswing into sobriety through what he calls “a moment of grace.”

Today, LaCroix, who was called to the bar in 1975, directs the Lawyers Assistance Program (LAP) of B.C., a support network for members of the legal industry who are dealing with addictions, stress, depression, and other personal difficulties. It was a big step after a long recovery process with its own ups and downs. But LaCroix has come all this way and then some, helping countless others to identify and treat their problems (although he says, “there are challenges, not problems”).

In his cozy Yaletown office, LaCroix, patient and present, exudes an inviting air. He’s clearly busy, with a tight 45-minute spot to chat, before his next appointment. But as he talks about a past he doesn’t frequently expose—aside from its relevance in talks and workshops—LaCroix reveals a hint of sadness, mixed, perhaps, with self-forgiveness, a full 20 years after he had looked himself in the mirror and decided he’d had enough.

In 1986, LaCroix reached the height of his alcohol addiction and went into detox, then treatment. In 1987, he relapsed. Soon after, he says, he got “beat up,” which turned out to be the catalyst for something much bigger.

“I had this moment,” he says, “when I was looking in the mirror and saw the black eyes. My first thought was, ‘well, I’ll just tell people I fell down.’ And then I thought, I couldn’t lie. So that was it. I decided I would tell the truth.”

LaCroix’s turning point yielded a profound understanding of the nature of addictions and propelled him, once and for all, on a journey toward healing.

“From April 19, 1987, to today,” he says, referring to the day he stopped drinking, “I’m not sure there’s a day in which my personal and spiritual growth haven’t been my No. 1 priority.”

With a diploma in counselling from The Haven, where he leads workshops outside of his work with LAP, LaCroix helps individuals develop a treatment program that provides them with support, education, referrals, and a means by which to be accountable for their progress. Compassion, kindness, and understanding are top on his list of values.

“I try to look at people as stuck—they just need to grow in certain ways—as opposed to broken,” he says.

Citing a study from Johns Hopkins University, LaCroix explains that lawyers, who generally are stereotyped as being dishonest (“that’s not actually how it is!”), are the most likely group to be subject to major clinical depression.

“Most of the people I see are incredibly beat up,” he says. “But lawyers are a remarkable group. What they have in common is that they are incredibly smart, they’re ambitious, they’re hard-working, and they have a lot of drive. Consequently, they keep going way beyond when most people would quit. So, what people consider signs of weakness—which I don’t—such as depression and addictions, are well guarded.”

LaCroix, once a practising criminal defence lawyer, finds that people tend to confide in him easily.

“Everything in my life is useful to this. I had a dysfunctional household in my upbringing and I developed tremendous anxiety problems, alcoholism, and drug addiction. That’s really how I got the credibility for this and became known as somebody who could work with other lawyers.

“I’ve been bankrupt, divorced twice, hospitalized for physical and emotional problems, been to a treatment centre—I’ve done everything,” he laughs.

LaCroix has developed a simple philosophy. “Call it pragmatic spirituality or practical faith. The point is, does it work? Do you have the life you want? Are you fulfilled and happy?

“In the bigger picture,” he continues, “I see it as incredibly important to the world that we have a healthy legal system and healthy practitioners. Without it—really, what law and justice is about—how are we going to sustain our community? How are we going to sustain our culture?”

Clearly energized and not wanting to stop talking, LaCroix makes a high-spirited confession about his work.

“It’s actually a calling,” he says. “I would do this for nothing.”

He pauses for a minute.

“Actually, no, don’t tell anyone that!”

Larissa Buijs is a freelance writer based in Squamish. She doesn’t have much experience with the legal system, but has met some nice lawyers. For more information on the Lawyers Assistance Program, see lapbc.com.

| | | | | | | | |
printer friendly version