Cindy Ali was convicted of murdering her disabled daughter. Documentary Cynara re-examines the case
According to director Sherien Barsoum, racism, classism and ableism likely played a role in Ali’s conviction
This article was originally published on Oct. 24, 2023. On January 19, 2024, Cindy Ali was acquitted in a retrial.
After a break-in, a mother calls 911 seeking help for her 16-year-old disabled daughter, Cynara. Hours later, Cynara is dead and her mother Cindy Ali is the prime suspect.
With exclusive access to Cindy, her family, her lawyer, witnesses and court documents, the documentary Cynara pieces together a complex case that sent Cindy to life in prison.
In May 2021, the Ontario Court of Appeal agreed that the judge erred in his instructions to the jury in Cindy's first trial and ordered a new trial. It began in October 2023.
I spent a number of years as a community worker in Scarborough before I became a filmmaker. Scarborough is the part of Toronto where Cindy Ali and her family made their home.
As a community worker, I saw elements of my own upbringing reflected in the lives of the families I served. My parents settled in a densely populated immigrant community and found themselves supported by a church made up of parishioners who shared their culture. I grew up feeling secure knowing there were dozens of aunties and uncles I could call on.
When Cindy told me that she had several hands to reach out to while caring for her daughter Cynara, I knew what she meant.
Cynara was born with cerebral palsy. While she was dependent on her family's care around the clock, she was also the centre of their universe — their "sun," they called her. Her three sisters will tell you that she had a sweet sense of humour, loved their family field trips to Marineland and looked forward to Sunday church services. They each took turns caring for her in their own way.
The break-in
According to Cindy, two masked men broke into her home on Feb. 19, 2011. She was at home alone with Cynara. The men demanded a package, but Cindy had no idea what they were talking about. By the time the men left and she had called 911, Cindy was drifting in and out of consciousness on the living room floor. Cynara, who was on the living room couch, had stopped breathing.
Cynara died two days later in the hospital. Cindy was found guilty of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison.
'Cindy's story bears the clear markings of racial and socioeconomic bias'
A long list of people chose not to believe Cindy. The firefighter who first entered the house decided she was lying about the home invasion. From reviewing the evidence and trial documents, it's clear to me that the police put little resources into investigating alternatives other than Cindy and the Ali family. Not only did the Crown prosecutor call her testimony a "story," but she questioned Cindy's credibility and love as a mother. Ultimately a panel of 12 jurors decided that her story wasn't true.
How many other women of colour have been disbelieved?
According to the Elizabeth Fry Society of Manitoba, which advocates on behalf of women in the provincial and federal justice system, racialized young women from lower-income homes are among the fastest-growing populations in prisons worldwide.
I have often wondered: If the cards fell another way, could Cindy's story be mine?
I am a child of immigrants and a single mother of colour raising a daughter. If I was accused of a crime, would my financial status, ethnic background and faith practice be used to make me vulnerable, the way they were for Cindy?
A joint investigation by the Toronto Star and Ryerson School of Journalism, conducted between 2016 and 2018, revealed a list of flaws in the jury selection process that resulted in racial bias. Until 2019, jurors were selected based on property assessment rolls, excluding swaths of renters, Indigenous communities and those unable to afford ownership.
A reverse but glaring example of how this played out rattled Canadians in 2018 when a reportedly all-white jury acquitted Gerald Stanley of second-degree murder in the shooting death of Colten Boushie, a Cree man. The acquittal was in keeping with a long line of non-guilty verdicts involving white defendants who have harmed Indigenous people, Black people and people of colour.
Ontario has made some progress in the area of jury selection, but it remains to be seen if it will result in greater representation.
While Cindy's story bears the clear markings of racial and socioeconomic bias, I believe she also experienced something less often considered: disability bias.
'Disability bias found its way into almost every aspect of Cindy's case'
Cindy and her husband, Allan, faced discrimination because of Cynara's cerebral palsy long before her death. In 2010, they received their landed immigrant status, but not before they were forced to sign documents making them ineligible to apply for any kind of social assistance on Cynara's behalf.
Canada's tenuous position on immigrants with disabilities came under fire in 2016 after university professor Felipe Montoya was denied permanent residency because his son, who has Down syndrome, was deemed medically inadmissible.
Montoya fought the decision and said it was eventually overturned through "ministerial intervention" on compassionate grounds (after he and his family had moved back to their native Costa Rica). Montoya pushed for reforms to disability laws and because of his efforts, immigration policy on this changed in 2021, a decade after the Alis were given status.
Disability bias found its way into almost every aspect of Cindy's case. The Ali family told me that police questioned why Cindy would throw her daughter an elaborate 16th birthday celebration, suggesting the party was staged so Cindy could play the role of "loving mother" before killing her daughter.
The prosecution argued that Cindy viewed Cynara as a financial and emotional burden, which motivated her to plan and carry out her murder. Adding insult to injury, the Crown suggested that the Alis were further burdened by Cynara because they were not eligible for social assistance to help with her care. "I'm sure you'll agree with me, Ms. Ali," the prosecution said, "that no one has the right to end their own burden by killing another human being."
Many members of the media reinforced this narrative. One columnist, recounting the trial events, described Cynara as the daughter who had "survived far beyond the three years predicted by doctors when the condition was diagnosed, [and] had become such a burden to the accused that she placed a pillow over the girl's face."
How many members of the jury believed Cynara was a burden because of her disability before hearing any evidence at trial? We'll never know, but advocates identify this prejudice as one of the central challenges they face in an able-bodied-majority world.
In reality, Cynara was deeply loved. Her family admits life was challenging but also says that Cynara was celebrated, not only by them, but by a vibrant and attentive extended community.
Making this film was a crash course in Canadian criminal law and the system that upholds it. What I discovered were multiple failings in that system — failings that have created astounding craters for vulnerable people to fall into.
On the other hand — and despite compounding injustice — the Alis have shown me that they are a family of unwavering love and uncharacteristic faith. While the facts of the case are central to this film, I ultimately made it to honour this family's story. My hope is that it contributes to discourse on the urgent need for change in our justice system and the way we see caregivers and those living with disability.
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