Bearing Witness: On the Birth of the Freedom Convoy and the Character of Those Who Carried It

Truth waits for the brave

My close affiliation with Chris Barber and Tamara Lich has cost me business relationships and professional affiliations. I wouldn’t change that for anything. These are two genuinely good, caring, and selfless people. If everyone around me turned on me tomorrow for standing with them, I would still do it without hesitation.

The rumors that circulate online about them getting rich, “taking over” the convoy, or chasing fame are lies. I was there for almost the entire ordeal. I watched events unfold in real time. What I actually saw was envy grow in some people as accidental attention followed Chris and Tamara. I never once saw either of them seek fame or popularity. What I saw instead was quiet conviction and a strength of character that is increasingly rare.

They did not become known because they tried to. They became known because everyday Canadians saw ordinary people standing firmly in their beliefs and recognized something honest in that. Respect followed naturally.

Tamara, in particular, is a gentle soul with nails. She didn’t earn national respect by chasing clicks, likes, or followers. She earned it by carrying herself with dignity and grace, even when situations were deeply uncomfortable and personally costly. Watching her experience both small and significant successes since Ottawa has been a genuine bright spot. She now works with Rebel Media, traveling, observing, learning, and contributing to freedom-minded journalism while bringing encouragement to people who feel unheard.

Her book is exactly what it claims to be: an open account of her time in Ottawa. She deserves to prosper from telling her story honestly. She doesn’t pull punches. She says what she believes and does not apologize for it. That, more than anything else, is why she is respected. Not because she is perfect, but because she is real.

Chris Barber, by contrast, spent most of his time in Ottawa worrying about other people.

Nearly every time I encountered him, he was preoccupied with practical questions: How do we get supplies and money to the truckers? How are these guys supposed to pay their bills if the fundraiser is locked up? The convoy raised roughly ten million dollars twice. One of the biggest problems I witnessed was not a lack of generosity, but how incredibly difficult it was to move funds quickly and lawfully to the people who actually needed them.

That bottleneck is where many of the rumors about “convoy leadership taking money” were born. It’s deeply unfortunate, because I watched the stress on Chris’s face as he struggled to make things happen for truckers who were suddenly frozen out of banking, insurance, and basic financial access. There was nothing glamorous about it. It was exhausting, thankless work.

If you pay attention to Chris’s actions since Ottawa, a consistent pattern emerges. He has been a tireless advocate for people who needed help. He has attended fundraisers, raised money himself for legal fees, and encouraged organizations like the Justice Centre for Constitutional Freedoms and the Democracy Fund to support fellow truckers. He cannot, of course, help everyone. And it was painful to watch as some of those he could not help chose to turn on him instead.

Over time, it became clear that Chris’s instincts about who to advocate for were largely correct. The character of certain individuals revealed itself through libel, slander, and outright lies directed not just at him, but at his family. Still, he was not deterred. He kept showing up, kept helping where he could, and kept carrying a weight most people never saw.

As I watch some people now attempt to tear down Chris and Tamara in order to elevate their own social media standing, I’m reminded of exactly what those same people looked like during my time in Ottawa.

I travelled across the country in a bulky picker truck with bricks for suspension. Along the way, I watched the so-called “fame seekers” do everything they could to be first. First to arrive. First to post. First to position themselves where cameras were most likely to land. I saw small groups peel off hours before planned departures so they could secure better spots and more attention. I listened as some barked orders over the radio, sucked the oxygen out of the room, and made themselves the center of every conversation.

That behavior didn’t stop once we reached Ottawa. It continued day after day. Too many people were chasing attention instead of pursuing a common cause.

What many people don’t know is that I was in all the rooms. Being “The Whistle Stop Guy,” was like a backstage pass, and that turned out to be a major blessing.

When we arrived, we booked into the Swiss Hotel, which quickly became ground zero for planning and logistical coordination. We were present for discussions about finances, supplies, security, and countless operational details. I didn’t hear about these things second-hand. I was there.

When people stumbled into the control room intoxicated, demanding control of finances, I witnessed it firsthand. When certain individuals became destabilizing and the group had to shift into damage-control mode, I was there too. I saw who showed up to serve and who showed up to be seen or serve their interests.

At the other primary hub, the Arc Hotel, meetings took place daily. I routinely attended the 6 a.m. meetings at the Swiss, then walked across Ottawa so I could be at the Arc meetings by 8 a.m. I still don’t know why I didn’t rent a car, but I showed up.

When there were press conferences, I was there recording and listening. When there were closed-door meetings where upcoming events were discussed and decisions were made, I was there as well. Being present for the conversations that produced the public messaging gives you a very different perspective than simply reacting to it after the fact.

From that vantage point, I can say this plainly: many of the loudest voices now slandering Chris Barber and Tamara Lich were not there.

They were not in the planning meetings. They were not involved in logistics. They were not contributing to decision-making. From what I could see, some were busy playing dress-up for cameras, while others were attempting to rally people around absurd pseudo-legal theories about forcing a change in government through procedural fantasy.

History has a way of being rewritten by those who showed up late or not at all.

My time in Ottawa ended two days before the horse trampling began. I was fully prepared to be arrested in two provinces for the crime of protesting, but there were other plans for me. The intention was to get Kerry and Jessica back to work, then turn around and head back east after a short stay in Coutts. By the time we arrived home, both Coutts and Ottawa had been dismantled.

What followed the end of the convoy was deeply troubling.

As the cameras left and the hard work was no longer glamorous, attention seekers began repositioning themselves. Some attempted to use genuinely good people, including Chris and Tamara, to elevate their own relevance and interests. Chris and Tamara both ended up in jail. Tamara significantly longer than Chris. At the same time, I watched others spiral into legal trouble while claiming they were “unable” to retain counsel.

This was framed publicly as discrimination. That framing was dishonest.

The reality is that some individuals outright rejected the rule of law and actively encouraged others to do the same. They promoted fantasies about secret legal statuses, jurisdictional loopholes, and magic words that would free them from consequences. They told people lawyers were compromised. They mocked the courts. They encouraged contempt for the legal system.

That fantasy ended exactly how reality always does.

After years of publicly insulting lawyers and dismissing the law itself, they found themselves unable to secure legal representation and paid the price for it. Rather than accept responsibility, they redirected blame. Chris and Tamara became convenient targets. Their arrests were twisted into “proof” that they were compromised, controlled, or paid operatives.

That accusation collapses the moment you understand who actually showed up to do the work, who carried responsibility, and who chased myths instead of outcomes.

On the eve of the birth of the convoy, it felt appropriate to finally break my silence.

With so many rumors circulating about Chris Barber and Tamara Lich, it became clear to me that the truths I know needed to be shared. Not to tear anyone down. Not to elevate anyone either. Simply to put what is true on the record.

The truth does not care about your public standing or your online following. It does not care who your audience is, or whether they want to hear it at all. The truth is indifferent to perception. It simply is.

It stands unchanged, waiting patiently for its time to be known.

What happens next is not up to me. It belongs to those who receive this information. They can choose to continue chasing convenient falsehoods, or they can accept the truth, learn from it, and move forward with clearer eyes toward a better tomorrow.

That choice has always existed.

Choose wisely.

Christopher