Reverse Onus

By Glen David Easson

Glen David Easson was a constable with the Peterborough Police Force in the 1970s and '80s. He worked at Trent University in the Skilled Trades, earned alumni status and served two terms on the University's Board of Governors. He retired from Trent in 2014 after more than 25 years. Glen continues as a singer/songwriter and musician and has performed with many local Peterborough bands.

He now spends his summers fishing in his backyard on the Indian River east of Peterborough and his winters f

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781634179843

Book preview

— CHAPTER ONE — 

It was cold, snowy and remarkably quiet for a Sunday 4-12 shift. It was, however, only four days until Christmas and in 1980 there was no Sunday shopping. The only places open in Peterborough at 10:50 pm were a few fast food joints, convenience stores and restaurants. Mother’s Pizza was the hang-out of choice for the cops. They decided to have a casual gathering for all platoons rather than individual shift parties this year. No wives or girlfriends, just the guys.

The manager was happy to give them the back banquet room so they could be on their own. The day shift would show up at 9:00 pm but most of them would leave shortly after midnight. Not only because of the early start in the morning, but sleeping at night was cherished when you work this crazy rotational shift work. The midnight platoon guys were to show up at the same time but would have to leave by eleven, so they couldn’t have any more than a beer or two. Only three guys showed up. The platoon that had the weekend off was invited but as expected, no one showed. When you only get one weekend a month you need to cram in as much family and social time as possible outside of police work. Finally, the 4-12 shift were going after work. They planned to arrive shortly after midnight and drink until the bar closed at 1:00 am. That’s the law. But since they had Monday off, they planned on bending the law. Managers certainly didn’t mind having cops around late at night, so they’d let them go until closing time. The 4-12 platoon had the advantage tonight.

The guys from the midnight shift were starting to drift into the station at 10:50 pm. They were weary from their four days of interrupted sleep, a very busy weekend of non-stop calls for service behind them and three more nights of their seven in a row to look forward to. The 4-12 shift were winding down, finishing their few reports for the night and looking forward to beer and pizza.

The intrusion alarm call came in at 10:50 pm. It was the drug store in the Brookdale plaza. The north end car was dispatched, they were three minutes away. The downtown car was sent as back-up which is standard procedure. Training Officer Wally Orsen had just made Constable 1st Class this year. The rookie, Shawn Lucie, had been on the road with him for four months after returning from his first stint at Police College. This was Orsen’s first trainee.

You think it’s the cold causing another false alarm? said the Rookie. Probably, but we’ll take the back door cause we’ll be there first replied Orsen, We should have just enough time to get the owner down here to reset the alarm and still make it.

As they drove down the back alley of the plaza, Orsen picked up the mic and said Unit 5, 10-7 at Brookdale, we’ve got broken glass at the back door. Unit 1, Take the front. Officer Nick Bedlington was Unit 1. Hed been on the job for 26 years and hated the sound of anything unusual. He thought, Could be kids that broke a window. No big deal. Still his adrenalin was pumping.

The parking lot and sidewalk were well lit, even more than normal with the reflection off of the snow. The store front lights were also on. Nothing unusual, that’s good he said to himself. Then he saw the unsynchronized movement of flashlight beams inside the store. Of course, Lucie is riding with Orsen. But what are they doing in there? What is he teaching the rookie, they should be following proper police procedure - just seal the perimeter? At least wait till the owner shows up to tell you where the light switches are.

Orsen started down the centre aisle towards the front of the store and the cash register counter and pulled his gun. The rookie had never been in a situation like this and didn’t know what to do. He saw Orsen pull out his gun, so he pulled his out too. Rather than follow his teacher down an aisle, he went down another. It was really dark and they only had their cheap department issue flashlights. As they approached the cross aisle Lucie’s flashlight batteries went dim and suddenly snuffed out. He was shaking. He came to the cross aisle and looked to his left. There he was, a tall man facing him with arms pointing in his direction. He fired his weapon. One shot wildly toward the threat. The return fire was immediate and the slug caught him in the neck. As he lay on the floor he was surprised that his life didn’t flash before his eyes, but he did think of his Mom and his girlfriend. Time stood still. He didn’t hear anything else.

Bedlington could not believe what he had just seen. It took a few seconds to register. He was standing at the front window of the store and had a perfect view inside. He ran back to his patrol car. It was 11:08 pm when he picked up the mic and without identifying himself he yelled, Shots fired inside the store. I need help here!

Nick Belington was a career constable. There’s nothing wrong with that, not everyone has higher aspirations, or the right stuff to be in management. He was a 30 and out guy and this suited his wife just fine. They had retirement plans. But he was a good cop, actually a great cop with two commendations in his file and the street skills that the younger ones admired, and you could never accuse him of being lazy.

Staff Sergeant Lorne Parker had seen it all. He started in police work in 1956 when you survived with street smarts and the law had little to do with anything. At 6’4 and 275 lbs, he commanded respect and he got it. He had a memory like an encyclopedia with full and effortless recall of everything from places he’d travelled to sports stats. When he said something, you couldn’t help but believe him. Now as Station Commander for the shift, these were his guys out there. The Station Commander taking over for the midnight shift was Staff Sergeant Alister MacLeod, a benevolent Scotsman whose name means Protector." MacLeod had been promoted from Detective Sergeant to Staff Sergeant and given his own shift earlier this year. He was the youngest Station Commander at age 40.

They were both in the office going over arrest reports for the day and the other necessary information that needed to be conveyed at shift change, when they heard the commotion over the radio. The dispatchers were rallying every available patrol car to respond knowing they were all heading toward the downtown station anyway. At the same time, their calls to Unit 5 were unanswered.

The Communications Officer yelled at MacLeod, I need all your men on the street as fast as possible. He was one step behind MacLeod as he’d already dialed the locker room and ordered the men upstairs immediately for an Officer Needs Assistance.

Three additional backup cars arrived at the store in about six minutes. Two went to the back and one to the front to meet Bedlington but he wasn’t there. They found him in his car at the rear of the store with his head in his hands. He told them that he did a couple of laps around the building to make sure no one got out. He was a mess. His breathing was as heavy as if he’d just run a mile, but that hadn’t happened in a long time. He spoke in part sentences, but it made sense to the cops around him because they were trained to recognize this behaviour. They tried to get as much information as possible. They reported to the station that there was no further movement from inside store.

Parker reached for his coat and told the Communications’ Officer to get him a driver. He also grabbed the only bullet proof vest the station owned and a weapon from the locked glass case in his office. Al, take over now. Those are my guys out there and I’m going to find out what the fuck happened. Parker knew it was going to be a long Monday. 

— CHAPTER TWO — 

Parker hitched a ride with one of the Detectives in an unmarked car. they were at the scene in four minutes. By now it was 11:36 pm. He met his officers in the back alley. Two ambulances were standing by in the front parking lot. the off-duty Forensic I-Dent Officer had been called and was on his way. The store owner was also there, totally overwhelmed and mostly ignored except for the ambulance attendants who didn’t have anyone else to talk to the banquet room at Mother’s Pizza was empty. MacLeod had set up a makeshift Command Centre in the Criminal Investigation Branch (CIB) area of the station, away from the noise and bustle of his own office. He assigned a senior constable to take over the Commander’s Desk and oversee the regular business of the night so he could concentrate on the play-by-play of the incident at hand.

MacLeod had summoned the help of two of his most trusted investigators and one from Parker’s shift to complete the circle. They had a police radio so they could monitor everything reported from the field. His officers were told to keep all transmissions to an absolute minimum since everyone was on the same channel. His team discussed changing the incident team to another channel but MacLeod insisted that everyone out there needed to know what was happening in real time and he didn’t want to miss anything. The last thing he needed was some asshole listening to his police scanner at home to take this opportunity to start a spree of smash and grabs in the south or west ends of the city. Patrol cars were to canvas the area looking for any suspect who could have slipped out of the store and made his escape. the cold weather and some luck ensured the streets were empty.

There were so many phone calls to make, but since the incident was only one hour old and unfolding by the minute, they would have to wait for now. One of MacLeod’s men was assigned as official note keeper. Everything that happened from now on was to be recorded, down to the finest detail. Another was given the task of phoning the store to try to make contact with anyone inside. This could easily turn into a hostage negotiation but no one had ever received any training. As it turned out, repeated calls went unanswered. 

— CHAPTER THREE — 

Parker had heard enough and the clock was ticking in spite of itself. He’d spoken to Bedlington, briefly; just enough so he could later say that he confirmed what he already knew. He also knew what he had to do, what he came to do. He knew that he had to go now. There was no second guessing. There was no one else. He had heard the phone ringing inside go unanswered. He knew where the light switches were from his brief interaction with the owner. He knew he couldn’t live with himself if he waited any longer. He threw off his coat and wrestled the vest over his shoulders. Don’t they make these God Damned things any bigger? He struggled like he was pulling on pantyhose. He grabbed the weapon and radio and put his winter coat over the vest to conceal it. It had been a long time since he was fully equipped and it felt uncomfortable, somehow embarrassing. He thought to himself, Maybe someday they’ll invent a portable telephone. He keyed the mic and reported on air that he was ready and was going in and released his finger from the switch, If there’s more shooting, you have my blessing to come in after me, was the only thing he said.

He had no trouble finding the lights. The store came to life with a buzz. He called out announcing his presence as he carefully entered the store. He couldn’t hide himself, how could he? He trekked as gently as, well, a saddled bull in a china shop. It wasn’t long before he came upon the two officers lying motionless in the aisles. His mind raced back 10 years, he’d been here before.

In the spring of 1970 the new Sears store was about to open. He was a patrol officer who was dispatched to yet another alarm at the store. Since it was technically still under construction, the alarms went off nearly every day. The other responding officer was a childhood friend, both hired at the same time. While checking the building they found an insecure door so they both went inside to check the place. Out of nowhere three shots were fired from a .22 rifle. The first shot went wild but the next two found his friend. Parker managed to evade another shot and made it back to the patrol car and radioed for help. That was the first officer in Peterborough, killed in the line of duty.

Parker did a quick evaluation of the trajectory of the shots that brought down these two officers. The thing that made the most sense was from the front counter where the cash register was located. As he rounded the counter he saw a man seated on the floor with a hand gun between his knees.

The man did not move but said, I’m in trouble, right?

Parker was shaken and stirred. He replied, We’ve got a problem here that I’d like to work through with you. Can I have the gun first?

Ya, it’s empty anyways.

Parker continued to engage him as he moved the gun away and placed it in his pocket. Can you tell me your name?

The man said, Jarrod, Jarrod Boudreau.

The encyclopedia whirled like a computer searching from A to Z in less than three seconds, no hits. He’d never seen this man before, but he knew this was going to be most important arrest in his career. 

— CHAPTER FOUR — 

Parker put his hand on Boudreau’s shoulder as a sign he used regularly to keep the suspect calm and show him that there he was no threat. They weren’t going to be friends, but this was always an effective gesture that helped ensure his own safety. Parker spoke calmly, You know we have to leave now. We’ve got a lot to talk about and it’s best we do it someplace we can be more comfortable. Are you ready? As Parker stood up, Boudreau followed but his legs were asleep so it took a couple of seconds for him to stand. Once he had his balance, Parker put his hand back on Boudreau’s shoulder and said, Before we go, I have some important procedural things I have to say to you. They are your rights under the law and I want you to listen to them carefully. Boudreau nodded. Parker looked at his watch and made note of the exact time, 11:58 pm. Parker told him that he was under arrest for break and enter and there would probably be other charges to follow. He cautioned him that he did not have to say anything in relation to these charges and he had the right to contact a lawyer. Do you understand your rights as I have explained them? Boudreau nodded again. Parker quickly searched him for weapons and only found an empty prescription bottle in his pocket made out to Boudreau with an address on it, issued from this pharmacy. No wallet, keys or other weapons. Parker put the bottle into his pocket with the gun, picked up his mic, We’re coming out. With the instincts of years as a street cop, he reached for his handcuffs. None. Oh well, probably best anyway, but I would recommend it. Parker decided to lead the prisoner out of the front door, away from view of the fallen officers, mostly to preserve the scene but also because he thought it was the right thing to do. They came to the locked door and he motioned for it to be opened. A constable approached with the keys, obtained from the owner and unlocked the door. The prisoner was placed in the back of a patrol car and Parker took the other rear position behind the driver. officer pulled away and radioed 10-8, 10-92 (prisoner en route). It was a four minute drive to the station and no one spoke a word.

At the scene the I-dent officer went in alone. He’d seen enough murder and suicides that he could write a book. He knew what death looked like, smelled like, sounded like, felt like and tasted like in the back of his throat. He didn’t need to be a coroner to pronounce death, which is exactly what he did, as the garage door to the station opened and the prisoner was finally in secure custody.

He soberly reported on the radio, for all to hear, that Constable Wally Orsen and Constable Shawn Lucie were dead. It was ten minutes past midnight when everyone’s heart dropped, but none faster or harder than Al MacLeod’s.

MacLeod found an unused desk in the CIB office, easy to do at this hour, and picked up the phone. He had to go through his personal black book to find the number because he’d never used it before. Chief, this is Al MacLeod with the most terrible news to report. Two officers on Parker’s shift were killed while reporting to an intrusion alarm just over an hour ago. (pause) Orsen and Lucie. (pause) Parker has one person in custody and they’ve just arrived at the station. The prisoner is secure. (pause) I don’t know yet, Parker probably thought it was best to not give his name over the radio. (pause) The scene is secure and I-dent is inside and the Coroner is on the way. (long pause) Ok Chief, and I’m terribly sorry. He then spoke to his task force group, The Chief’s on his way in. He’s going to call the Deputy and Staff Inspector first, oh ya, and the Mayor. He told me to only let the Coroner in and make it official, so let Communications know it’s ok for him to meet our guy inside. He wants me to call the OPP and request assistance from their Forensic Identification Team and that newly formed Major Investigative,… whatever they call themselves. He wants this handled independently. He also said, ‘No screw-ups.’ Fuck, I knew that was coming. Next he’ll want the fucking Mounties involved.

MacLeod went downstairs to the booking room and