No Easy Ride: Reflections on My Life in the RCMP (26 page)

UPON RETURNING TO
St. John’s from one of my many work excursions, I learned that Joan Dooley had been diagnosed with breast cancer. It was the beginning of a terrible trial for her. She immediately received the necessary surgery, followed by the ordeal of radiation and chemotherapy. Over several harrowing months, she demonstrated unequalled courage and optimism. I remained at her side through it all, and when it appeared that she was in remission, I made the decision to transfer to Manitoba. My father was in failing health in Victoria, and I wanted to be closer in the event he took a turn for the worse. Shortly after my transfer, I learned that Joan was again ill. I returned to St. John’s to be with her. I remained as long as I could but eventually had to return to my duties. Not long after I left St. John’s, Joan lost her battle. Being part of her struggle and witnessing her courage through it all affected me as no other experience had ever done. After sharing her agonizing journey, I emerged a deeper and more thoughtful human being.

My next position was destined to be a welcome challenge in the field of operations. A new subdivision was being established in southwestern Manitoba, headquartered in the small rural community of Carman. I looked forward to returning to prairie policing. I arrived in the summer of 1986, finding nothing but an empty room in the post office building that would be my headquarters. I would be building the infrastructure from scratch and needed to acquire furniture, initiate filing systems and, most importantly, find a clerk/stenographer.

The reorganization addressed the large and unwieldy structure that existed in the province at the time. Winnipeg subdivision, one of the largest in Canada, was being divided into four small, independent subdivisions that would consist of several detachments totalling about 100 personnel. It was an advantage to have arrived in the province with my former commanding officer in Newfoundland, Dale Henry. Our shared work history had given him confidence in me, and I was left largely to my own devices.

Problems quickly became evident at two of the larger detachments. The former subdivision had become so massive that detachments were not being monitored adequately. One of the detachment commanders had developed mental health problems, creating a mutinous environment. It was another sad example of detachment personnel being intimidated by seniority and rank and continuing to function under the most bizarre of work settings. After probing the operation, I learned of strange incidents of paranoia on the part of the NCO in charge. On one occasion, he accused members of stealing a pen from his desk. He interviewed all personnel and demanded the return of his stolen item. It was eventually located in his pocket. From time to time, he mumbled to himself, and he flew into unpredictable rages. When I arrived on the scene, he was extremely resentful of what he termed interference. After my first managerial review of his operation, he responded defensively to my findings, refusing to accept any responsibility for his actions and submitting a 22-page grievance alleging harassment and unfair treatment. The document was the
coup de grace
for this unfortunate individual, as it proved his unhinged state. Even though he initially resisted my findings, he eventually expressed his gratitude for the assistance he was given in his decision to retire and seek professional assistance. A competent commander replaced him and worked quickly to restore order and confidence at the detachment.

My second challenge involved a supervisor with ample interpersonal skills. The fundamental problem was his inexperience in managing a multifaceted operation. Because of the lack of monitoring, he had received little or no feedback from supervisors from the larger subdivision. RCMP detachments function under a complex diary system that requires members to update their progress on all investigations by a specified date. An examination of this detachment revealed an inordinate number of overdue investigations. Although efforts were made to bring the detachment commander up to speed, he had attained sufficient service to retire to pension and decided to exercise that option. It took almost a year and two successive commanders to rectify all the outstanding issues at this detachment. The neglect of these two units clearly pointed to the necessity of reducing the size and complexity of the former subdivision.

One of Assistant Commissioner Henry’s many skills was adopting effective strategies used elsewhere. Upon returning to an operational setting, I decided to wear a sidearm when on duty. Although this option was exercised in large detachments in British Columbia, officers in the Prairies did not wear sidearms. As I travelled constantly on district roads alone and in uniform, I felt it prudent to be prepared to assist and engage if necessary. While visiting Division Headquarters, Henry questioned my rationale for wearing a sidearm. I explained why and told him that members in the field appeared to appreciate the gesture. I also told him I had participated in night patrol with detachment members when I was conducting my annual reviews. This idea had come to me after recalling my early days as a constable and the many personal discussions between members on night patrol. I observed that while my presence on these patrols was occasionally greeted with surprise and even uneasiness, the information I gleaned while riding shotgun in a patrol vehicle made it worthwhile. Most members quickly forgot they were riding with their officer commanding; as a result, they often expressed their true feelings. Not long after my conversation with Henry, he retired from the RCMP and assumed command of the Winnipeg City Police. Shortly after assuming his new position, the new chief was captured on local television in the company of a city police constable, wearing sidearms while conducting a bar check. The impact on both the citizenry and the city police was extremely positive, as a chief had never before been observed under such operational circumstances.

After establishing the subdivision office and bringing the two largest operations up to standard, I turned my attention to other administrative duties. As I would not have an assistant NCO, I knew I had to secure the services of a capable secretary. Lorna Lawson, a local woman with previous RCMP experience, won the competition. She became clerk, secretary, personnel officer, section NCO, chaplain, social convener and receptionist, in addition to being girl Friday. She also found time to introduce me to the woman who would become my wife. Lynne was a nursing instructor in Winnipeg who fulfilled all my hopes and dreams of a life mate. We were married in our backyard in Carman, with Lorna proudly looking on.

Lorna very capably ran the subdivision office and coordinated my movements, allowing me to remain on the road. Like most detachment stenographers employed from coast to coast to coast, Lorna was the mortar that held the bricks of the organization together. She remained in her position long after I departed, performing wonderful work and providing continuity between subdivision commanders. I will be forever indebted to her loyalty and her dedication.

WHILE POSTED IN
Manitoba, I became involved in a conflict originating in a Hutterite colony. The Hutterite people have lived on the Prairies since the turn of the 20th century, when they settled on large tracts of land in the Canadian west. A communal religious sect, they exemplified how people could live in harmony and forgo many of the frivolous trappings of North American society. They are extremely law abiding and good citizens, though they lead a rather closed existence. Hard-working and successful farmers, they take advantage of bulk purchasing to buy tractors, trucks and farm implements at substantial discounts. Everything is owned by the colony. For many years the system has functioned effectively, allowing Hutterite colonies to expand and prosper; however, during my tenure in Carman subdivision, rifts were beginning to appear within some colonies.

I’d had contact with the Hutterites over the years, as the colonies were always great places to buy produce, but I had seldom dealt with them from a police perspective. One of the largest colonies fell under my purview, and I received a visit from the leader. He told me that he had attended the detachment responsible for his colony, demanding they take action against a thief. The detachment commander had deemed the incident civil in nature and said no police action could be taken. When I asked him to describe the details of the alleged theft, he explained that one of his sons had left the colony, taking a truck and two tractors worth over $1 million. I asked him who had title to the vehicles, and he said they were part of the colony and accordingly owned by all. His son was still considered part of the sect even though he had left the colony. When I outlined the problem of determining ownership of the vehicles, the colony’s leader refused to recognize that the matter was of a civil nature and not criminal. Unaccustomed to having his authority challenged, he became angry and assured me that he would carry his complaint beyond my level. Travelling immediately to Winnipeg, where Division Headquarters was located, he demanded action from the commanding officer. After receiving a response identical to mine, he voiced his displeasure to the commissioner of the RCMP and the attorney general of the province.

The dilemma culminated in one of the largest and lengthiest civil hearings in Manitoba history; however, the decisions of the court resolved little, as true ownership of communal property was almost impossible to identify. Many Hutterite colonies were experiencing similar fragmentation. Some young colony members, disillusioned with a conservative lifestyle based on religious beliefs, had begun to rebel. They were leaving the colonies and seeking their share of communal holdings. This dispute carried on for years with little or no resolution, and to my knowledge these intra-family conflicts have not been finally resolved.

The initial complaint from the Hutterite leader to the police exemplifies the dilemma faced by law-enforcement agencies. Many civil disputes cannot be solved by police intervention, yet police are still bound to keep the peace between dissenting parties. Police frequently find themselves intervening when physical confrontations result. Some Hutterite colony disputes have resulted in conflict exacerbated by the presence of firearms.

Working in small prairie communities, I rarely rubbed elbows with the criminal elite, but my rural routine was interrupted when senior management informed me that I would be the officer overseeing an operation involving a group of high-profile Hells Angels. The chapter presidents of this infamous outlaw biker gang were gathering in Winnipeg, and these crown princes of mayhem planned to take a ceremonial motorcycle ride along the Trans-Canada Highway. Their custom bikes, many valued in excess of $30,000, were flown into Winnipeg from Europe, Britain and the USA. As they gathered at the most expensive Winnipeg hotels, the RCMP and local police forces conducted surveillance. We intended to intercept the group just west of the city in order to fly the flag, establish control and generally show our authority. As the operations commander, I had at my disposal an arrest team, an investigational team and a heavily armed emergency response team. The Identification section would also be on hand to take photos and videos of the group.

In anticipation of the arrival of the motorcycles, we were positioned at a provincial weigh scale just east of Winnipeg, adjacent to Highway No. 1. As expected, the 40 Hells Angels presidents rode up astride their iron horses. They had been advised of our intent and obediently pulled onto the parking area, at which time I informed the lead rider of our purpose. The tension was palpable, but seeing the level of armament and personnel on site, the outlaws knew they were vulnerable. They had taken great care to avoid carrying any illicit items that would give grounds for a search. Their opulence and wealth was made evident by the display of Rolex watches, heavy gold chains, diamond jewellery and, of course, very expensive bikes. Video cameras were hard at work, operated by police, bikers and interested media. The emergency response team assumed strategic locations surrounding the group, automatic weapons at the ready. Some minor traffic tickets were issued, but little in the way of criminality was detected. After an hour of tense confrontation, the cavalcade was permitted to continue, minus two motorcycles that failed to meet the safety requirements of the Highway Traffic Act. As they moved down the highway, it was clear that they were among those in our world who profit from flaunting many of society’s laws with impunity.

LIFE AS THE
commander of the Carman subdivision was pretty close to idyllic. The communities were welcoming and supportive, crime was routinely minor, and after addressing initial concerns I had few personnel problems to deal with. But although I enjoyed my work there immensely, I was disillusioned with life in the upper echelon of my beloved Force. The prerequisites for upward mobility in the RCMP were readily apparent. One had to have a compliant demeanour, frequent the officer’s mess, become fluently bilingual and remain at the ready to serve anywhere the commissioner decreed. The casual camaraderie and closeness that was so valued amongst NCOs, and especially constables, was largely absent in the officer ranks. Even though the line between commissioned and non-commissioned members had become slightly blurred, I was uncomfortable with the elitist mindset that dominated the upper strata of the RCMP.