My choice of T.V. watching doesn’t include cop shows, but on September 13, 2013 a live show was foisted upon me.
That Saturday began calm as normal. At 1 p.m. all hell broke loose.
Two screaming sirens died in the street beyond my cherry trees. A man yelled, “Get back in your house!” I looked out to see a neighbour scurrying back into his mobile home.
An RCMP patrol car and a pickup had stopped in the street out front. Four uniformed RCMP in flak jackets poured out, guns aimed at K’s garage opposite.
One officer rested his long gun over the truck’s hood. Three gripped pistols at arm’s length, one dropping to one knee to steady his gun.
From the dark interior of the garage came a woman’s muffled voice. I couldn’t make out her words. She was crying.
One cop hollered, “Police! Is anybody else in the house?”
No answer. Was K home? I couldn’t tell. He parks his car behind the house out of sight.
So my dogs wouldn’t accidentally be shot, or their barking endanger police, I brought them into the house, pulled a stool up to the screen door, and prepared to watch the unfolding incident. (I was still watching three hours later at 4 p.m.)
I phoned The Terrace Standard. Did they know what was ‘going down’ on my street? The reporter said someone had been killed, another person shot, cops were looking for the shooter, didn’t know where he might be. I told her what I was seeing as we both listened to the cops’ conversation on the newspaper’s scanner.
Soon an ambulance arrived. A red canister-shaped object was carried toward the garage before the ambulance backed into K’s yard blocking my view. Fifteen minutes later the vehicle drove off. A second ambulance arrived, waited 40 minutes before leaving without a patient.
Cop cars converged from both ends of Dobbie Street. By mid-afternoon Inspector Dana Hart, the commanding officer of the Terrace RCMP detachment, arrived to access the scene. He, too, donned a flak jacket.
Police had begun searching three doors north where the shooting had occurred. Eventually one member in full camouflage masked in a balaclava came into view. A female officer approached along the street trailing a handful of yellow tape, to tape along K’s front fence and across his driveway.
One cop car blocked Dobbie at Kirkaldy Street, another at Clore; when I set out to walk my dogs as usual at 6:15 p.m. we passed by an officer sitting in his air conditioned car. Returning home an hour later I talked with a neighbour. His wife had been in a Terrace coffee shop when the incident began, and had to wait in town until police allowed her to drive home on Dobbie.
Early evening, three cars boxed K’s lot.
During the hours as I sat watching, I twice spoke with a reporter at The Terrace Standard. Toward 5 p.m. the editor told me police had brought in a relief shift from another detachment and were searching Kleanza Creek park where a yellow pickup had been found. (A yellow pickup had sped off from Dobbie at the time of the shooting.)
At 10:30 pm., three RCMP cars still boxed K’s yard, stopping traffic for I.D., turning cars around in my gate. Sunday, forensics officers set up tripods before the house with bullet holes in its front door and took measurements.
Dobbie Street remained under police watch for days.
Real police incidents lack background music, ideal lighting, enhanced sound, and a court decision inside of 60 minutes. A jury deliberated this murder trial only two weeks ago.
(See this website’s news section this coming week for the full story coming out of court)