No Easy Ride: Reflections on My Life in the RCMP (29 page)

Environmental protests were a regular occurrence on Vancouver Island, an area heavily dependent on the forest industry. My first encounter with protesters was on the Tsitika River basin near Telegraph Cove on northern Vancouver Island. A group of people had chained themselves to large pieces of logging equipment in an attempt to obstruct logging operations. The logging company filed injunctions that permitted the RCMP to intervene and make arrests if necessary. Arrest teams were assembled, pulling detachment and highway patrol members away from their demanding daily routines. During these protests, we boarded a chartered bus every morning at 4:00 a.m. for the three-hour trip to the protest site. On almost every occasion, Corporal Grant Wyton and his emergency response team accompanied the contingent.

Corporal Wyton never received the recognition he deserved. A tough, resourceful, resolute man, he kept himself in peak physical condition. On one occasion on the Tsitika River, a protester scaled a 200-foot Douglas fir, making it hazardous to commence logging operations nearby. When ERT members tried to scale the tree, the protester dropped containers of urine on them. Ever the innovator, Corporal Wyton enlisted the services of a tree faller. He explained to the protester in the tree that he would be given 10 minutes to descend from his perch. If there was no response, the tree would be cut down. The 10 minutes expired with no reaction from the protester, so Corporal Wyton instructed the faller to start his chainsaw and cut into an adjacent tree. The climber, of course, assumed it was his tree and scampered down to be arrested.

During the ’90s, the protests reached their pinnacle on the west coast of Vancouver Island at Clayoquot Sound, cherished by environmentalists for its old-growth forests. Tensions between protesters and the logging industry had gradually escalated to a fever pitch, and protesters had chained themselves to logging equipment. RCMP members were detailed as arrest teams to preserve the peace and intervene between the two sides. It was the duty of the RCMP to first advise protesters of a court order demanding they cease and desist interfering with forestry workers. Once the order was read, the protesters were vulnerable to arrest. As the confrontation gathered momentum, worldwide media were on hand with cameras to record every move. The tension between police, loggers and protesters was palpable. It was an extremely delicate balance; the police needed to ensure the appearance of impartiality, yet clear the area of protesters. Every move was recorded by countless video cameras. During these confrontations, some protesters went to great lengths to goad police into overstepping the bounds of reasonable force.

Proactivity is one of the most valuable assets in law enforcement. Anticipating cause and effect can often assist in preventing tense situations from spiralling out of control. The team leaders coordinating the arrests were senior operational NCOs from regular law-enforcement duties. The manner in which these members accepted and discharged their particular duties under extreme pressure spoke volumes about their training, experience and professionalism. Several of these senior NCOs had accumulated many hours on protest lines up and down the BC coast, so they were well qualified to deal with such situations. One of them, Staff Sergeant Len Doyle, made a point of visiting the protest camp during his off-duty hours. He approached in civilian clothing as the protesters gathered around an evening bonfire. People from all walks of life huddled about, shrouded in clouds of marijuana smoke. Doyle assured the group he was not there in an official capacity and informed them he wished to discuss protest procedure for the following day. The protesters greeted him with skepticism, and many considered him the enemy, but his easy, confident manner lowered tensions. Doyle offered assurances of restraint by members if there were arrests. He explained the protesters would be granted their moment of fame in front of the cameras; following this they would be gently touched, arrested and moved off the line. This kind of dialogue greatly alleviated tensions between police and protesters, and as a result, arrests proceeded in an orderly, almost carnival-like manner.

During the Clayoquot Sound protests, almost 900 persons were arrested without a single injury to police or protesters. Interestingly, many of the arrestees took to wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the phrase “Foiled by Doyle.” It was the largest environmental protest in the history of Canada. In many countries, a similar event would have culminated in injuries and even death. Sole credit for the complete safety of citizens is attributable to the calmness and professionalism of all RCMP members. Staff Sergeant Doyle and his counterpart, Staff Sergeant Bernie Johnston, were recommended for Commissioner’s Commendations for their outstanding performance under duress. Both of these capable NCOs had been instrumental in resolving almost all of the environmental protests up and down the BC coast. Although entirely deserving of the Commissioner’s award, division management reduced the recommendation to the lesser Commanding Officer’s Commendation.

During the Clayoquot protest, the Australian rock group Midnight Oil gave an impromptu concert to demonstrate support for the protesters and their cause. The show was attended by upwards of 3,000 people. Participants included members of the logging community, many of whom were angry and resentful that their livelihood was threatened by outsiders. With a complement of less than 20 officers, the RCMP preserved order and prevented the event from deteriorating into chaos and riot. This again was attributable to their calm demeanour and clear position of neutrality. One of the RCMP members almost went too far in exhibiting a spirit of cooperation, sneaking backstage to obtain autographs from the band. Although there were moments of confrontation in the crowd, RCMP members defused them instantly, preventing further escalation.

My long-held dream of living and working on the West Coast had been achieved. I had saved my favourite place for last and was ready to ease into retirement on beautiful Vancouver Island. But despite my love of the West Coast scenery, my most rewarding policing experiences came from my prairie postings. Prairie law enforcement involves many personal connections, primarily due to the rural nature of the area, and the RCMP has been a part of the social fibre of prairie communities for as long as the organization has existed.

Unlike in the Prairies, in British Columbia the Force was deployed in cities from the outset. Urban law enforcement is intense, complex and harrowing. A rookie constable may experience more in one year in the Lower Mainland of British Columbia than many prairie members encounter in a decade. Accordingly, there are more stress-related problems in BC, more mistakes and wrongdoing and less fond regard for the police.

Because of these difficult circumstances, RCMP detachments in BC have relied heavily on volunteers. Almost from its inception, the Force has distinguished between “regular” members and all others, which include detachment spouses, civilian members, clerical staff, auxiliary police, citizens on patrol (COPs) and Victim Services personnel. Although all of these people have contributed significantly in other provinces, they have been fundamental to the very survival of the RCMP in British Columbia. This is especially true of auxiliary police personnel, COPs and Victim Services.

In large British Columbia detachments, auxiliary constables almost always augment work shifts. These stalwarts are civilians who volunteer countless hours of service. They come from all walks of life and are motivated by civic pride and a wish to contribute to a healthier and more secure community. Auxiliary constables have always had to fight for their place in the RCMP, often only receiving appreciation and recognition from the detachment in which they serve. The bureaucracy in Ottawa has perennially discounted their value, more often than not perceiving them as an irritation, not an asset. Only recently have auxiliary constables been given dress uniforms and small tokens of appreciation for their service. Without the thousands of hours spent by auxiliary constables accompanying regular members and doing traffic and crowd control at major public functions, the RCMP could not meet its staffing requirements. There are numerous examples of senior auxiliary constables taking junior and newly arrived members under their wing, introducing them to the community and advising them of potential problems.

The other supporting players are equally valuable. COP is another volunteer group that donates services and vehicles to monitor the community and advise of potential or developing problem areas. Victim Services are a cadre of caregivers who stand by to offer counselling to victims of crime. And for more than a hundred years, RCMP members’ spouses, traditionally wives, particularly in rural areas, have been invaluable in responding to incoming phone calls, acting as matrons during police escorts and performing daily tasks that could easily occupy the time of additional members. They can never be adequately reimbursed. Civilian members and special constables function as RCMP pilots, crime-detection specialists, analysts and resource persons, yet administrators have always thought of them as having only one foot in the canoe. Some organizations deal with employee inequity more effectively than others and strive to improve the working conditions of support people. The RCMP has not always done so.

FEW INCIDENTS ARE
more traumatic than the disappearance of a child. Even the families of law-enforcement personnel are vulnerable to such a tragedy, and just months prior to my retirement the loss of a child was visited upon a recently arrived couple to our Courtenay operation. Their 14-year-old daughter had been a runaway from the family home in the Vancouver area. The couple had hoped the relocation to Courtenay would facilitate their reconciliation with the girl. Continuing problems with the child had resulted in her being placed in a foster residence near the new family home. In August of 1993, the daughter disappeared from this residence. In light of her history, there was no immediate panic, but the usual protocols for missing children were deployed. As the days turned to months, investigations became more intense, and anxiety over her welfare was very evident, not just on the part of investigators, but among the entire police community. In spite of all the efforts of heavily deployed police and community resources, the girl was never found. There were a number of members who felt a personal responsibility for their failure to discern the whereabouts of this RCMP dependant, and it clearly affected morale. Almost 20 years have passed, and no progress has been made in the case. The girl’s mother, Judy Peterson, has become a tireless advocate for the formulation of a missing-persons and found-remains data bank for Canada.

AFTER FIVE YEARS’
travelling and savouring the flavours of Vancouver Island, I decided to conclude my long and satisfying career. The Force had presented me with several tempting offers of promotion and relocation, but after reaching Vancouver Island at the most appropriate stage of my career, I had no intention of further uprooting Lynne, who had just completed her master’s degree in nursing and was on the faculty of a local college, or Lynne’s son, Adam, who was just completing high school. There was nothing more I wished to accomplish as a member of the Force. I had loved the ride and was ready to savour whatever was left. There were fond adieus but no sad farewells as I stepped out of harness into the next stage of my life.

When I was a young constable, I heard an accomplished veteran remark that it was far more stimulating to experience different regions and duties than to limit oneself to a single place or position. He went on to observe that too many police personnel have one year’s service 35 times, rather than 35 years of interesting and varied challenges. I was fortunate that my career followed the latter course. While I had some say in directing my career, it was also steered by circumstance and good luck. It is said that when your organization begins to seem a stranger, it is time to leave. The Force I left only slightly resembled the iconic organization I had joined some 33 years before. Canada had changed in amazing ways, and the RCMP had been dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century.

LIKE MOST VETERANS
of the Force, I view the new RCMP with trepidation. It is clear that the stresses and pressures currently put to bear upon our federal police force are unlike any other in its history. For the first time, the RCMP is being viewed as an organization whose best days are perhaps behind it. Since the NWMP marched west in 1874, Canada’s famous Force has epitomized much of what is admirable about the country. Robert Stead’s collection of childhood memories, which vividly convey a sense of wonder, closes with a sense of foreboding.

THE SQUAD OF ONE

Robert J.C. Stead (Reprinted from the October 1942
RCMP Quarterly
)

One of the highlights of my boyhood on the prairie was the summer evening when Corporal Snow, N.W.M.P., reversing the tradition of Lochinvar, rode out of the East to my father’s homestead in Southern Manitoba. We saw the scarlet speck a mile or more away; gradually it took shape, and when the supple rider swung from his horse in our door-yard I thought I never had seen anything so magnificent.