On the night that RCMP Constable Kelly Daniels called home to tell his wife that one of their friends had been shot and killed by a man hunting police in the north end of Moncton, Jill Daniels hung up the phone, walked into the bathroom and threw up.
Mixed with her grief was the terror that her husband, who was "right in the middle of things" might not be able to protect himself.
Constable Daniels himself had the same worry. When he arrived on scene, one officer was dead and at least one more was in life threatening condition; the veteran Mountie knew he was outgunned against Justin Bourque, the shooter armed with knives, an ammunition belt, a semi-automatic rifle and a 12-gauge shotgun.
"After I had some of the details … I definitely felt like the pistol I was carrying, the sidearm that was issued, probably wasn't going to be of much use," Constable Daniels recalled recently. "Unless I was very close, which obviously wasn't going to be very easy if [Mr. Bourque] was looking for police officers."
Jill Daniels, whose husband is an RCMP officer who lost three colleagues in the rampage, believes the force didn’t make officer safety a priority.
Constable Daniels went on to lose one more close friend and a third colleague on June 4, 2014. Mr. Bourque critically injured two more police and terrorized a neighbourhood for 30 hours while he waged a standoff with a legion of Mounties, several of whom have since publicly testified that they were under equipped – in both weapons and tactics – against him. Many of those officers and their families will have eyes on a Moncton courtroom this Friday, where New Brunswick provincial court Justice Leslie Jackson is scheduled to deliver his verdict in a rare case that tests whether the federal police force failed its officers.
Four Canada Labour Code charges were levelled at the RCMP in the wake of Mr. Bourque's deadly spree by Employment and Social Development Canada, the federal department responsible for investigating deaths of government employees. The RCMP is accused of failing to provide its officers and their supervisors with the appropriate equipment and training to combat an active shooter; failing to provide supervisors with the right training to ensure members' safety and more broadly, failing to ensure the health and safety of every officer in its employ. Each charge carries a maximum fine of $1-million.
The outcome of the trial matters in different ways for the community and for members of the force. Because Mr. Bourque pleaded guilty to his charges (three counts of first-degree murder and two counts of attempted murder that will see him serve a life sentence with no chance of parole for 75 years), this has been the only public airing of what happened on the ground during the night of June 4, 2014. For residents of Moncton, Justice Jackson's verdict, whatever it may be, will bring finality to the tragedy that hangs over the city.
Amongst Mounties and their families, there are widespread hopes for a guilty verdict, although not because they want to see their perpetually cash-strapped force dealt a financial blow. They want vindication and, ultimately, safer working conditions. There is a growing imbalance that threatens to tip Canada's national police force: rank and file members across the country have the sense that the force they risk their lives for each day has let its members down. The events in Moncton, including testimony given throughout the summer, boldly underscored this. With his verdict, they argue, Justice Jackson has a powerful opportunity to hold the federal police force to account.
Through the narrowest of lenses, the labour code trial boils down to a debate about money and guns. Mr. Bourque brought a cache of weaponry to the battle he instigated with the RCMP. The shooting power it gave the gunman made him a deadly threat from long ranges, including the forested areas that he used for cover, which borders the manicured lawns of Rosemont Park. Against this, the standard-issue, 9-mm duty pistols carried by front-line RCMP officers rendered them vastly underpowered.
The range of those duty pistols, officers testified at trial, is only about 25 metres – the length of a community centre swimming pool. The guns also have an unreliable spread pattern, meaning shooting at Mr. Bourque from a distance risked civilian casualties, particularly during those buzzy, dinner time hours when children were still out on the streets with their bikes and parents were running between houses trying figure out what was going on. Officers are loath to fire if they can't guarantee a strike to their target, testified Constable Eric Dubois, who Mr. Bourque shot in both legs and his left arm. "When you shoot, you shoot because you're sure," he told Justice Jackson.
But during much of the Mounties' 30-hour standoff with Mr. Bourque, no one could be. A better fit for the job would have been a high-powered C-8 carbine rifle, which would have allowed officers to hide from the gunman and shoot from safe distances. "It's night and day compared to the handgun," Constable Dubois testified.
An RCMP officer surrounds a house in Moncton, June 5, 2014 as police search for a gunman a day after the rampage.
Marc Grandmaison/Canadian Press
"If I had a carbine, there's absolutely no doubt in my mind [Mr. Bourque] would have gone down."
It is not unreasonable that so many officers have pictured what they would have done that night with a long-range rifle in hand. There is an ongoing debate in the RCMP about whether adding more foreceful weapons would negatively impact the force's image in the community. However, carbines were approved for use by the Mounties' senior executive in 2011. The decision came after a judge presiding over an inquiry into the 2005 Mayerthorpe, Alberta deaths of four Mounties recommended that the force give high priority to adopting carbines. By the time the guns were green lighted, the Mounties had a stockpile of internal reports recommending them on the front lines. Instead of a national rollout, though, the RCMP opted in 2014 to deploy the weapons by province at varying speeds according to threat levels and funding, the trial heard. No one in Moncton had been trained on the weapons at the time of Mr. Bourque's rampage.
Still, at least one officer who responded to the Mr. Bourque scene told Justice Jackson that he asked a supervisor for one of the new weapons before heading out. Constable Simon Grenier had not been trained on carbines by the RCMP but was familiar with the guns from his time in the military. That night he was told that none were available – all of the detachment's new rifles were in nearby Oromocto, where another detachment was training to use them.
At the trial, lawyers for the RCMP argued that the force was exercising "due diligence" in the manner of its carbine rollout. Justice Jackson also heard that the program was slowed by government bureaucracy and financial concerns.
Here, where notions of safety rub up against the government's bottom line, is where the implications of the labour code trial, and Justice Jackson's verdict, widen well beyond a debate about guns.
"The gun is symptomatic of a much greater issue. And that is that cost efficiencies are driving policing," said Linda Duxbury, who studies sustainable policing in her work at Carleton University's Sprott School of Business. "The RCMP is at a pretty critical juncture. They're asking [officers] to put their lives on the line for communities … but they're not really worried about community and officer safety. They're worried about cost."
This sentiment has galvanized rank and file officers from coast to coast, many of whom are organizing a union push. That act alone is an indication, Ms. Duxbury said, of deteriorating conditions inside the force. "The very fact that they're trying so hard to get unionized and mobilize is an indication of the depth of unhappiness that a lot of rank and file have," she said. "Delighted, happy people who feel respected and looked after by their employer don't do that."
At various detachments in recent months, officers have staged passive demonstrations, such as covering up the yellow stripes on their uniform pants, to protest working conditions, staffing levels and pay. Others have more brazenly decided they will simply speak out about the conditions affecting safety, morale and the increasing risks they perceive. This is in spite of a longstanding culture within the RCMP to resist airing "dirty laundry" in the media. Some say the events that have unfolded in Moncton, including the RCMP's refusal to admit guilt in the labour code trial, left them no other choice.
In the final leg of the trial, now-retired RCMP Commissioner Bob Paulson testified that he does not believe the officers were poorly equipped when they encountered Mr. Bourque or that carbines would have made any difference that night. He went on to tell the court that even now, after a report stemming from the Moncton deaths recommended the accelerated deployment of carbines, that he himself remains unsure about the extent to which the rifles need to be deployed. One of his concerns is police militarization; carrying larger guns and wearing more body armour could impact the force's image and relationships in the communities it serves, Mr. Paulson said.
After hearing Mr. Paulson's testimony, RCMP Corporal Patrick Bouchard, a friend of the fallen officers stationed in Sunny Corner, New Brunswick, sent the top Mountie a letter to voice his disgust. He later posted it on Facebook. Hearing his boss refuse to admit the officers were underequipped, he wrote, "I felt like I had been punched in the gut." He went on to say, "I hold you personally responsible for the deaths of my friends. I hold you responsible because you … have placed money and image ahead of the safety of the members you are sworn to protect."
Cpl. Bouchard said the commissioner never responded to his note. But hundreds of rank and file officers did, reaching out to Cpl. Bouchard, he said, to thank him for expressing outrage that mirrors their own.
"There is an inherent danger to becoming a policeman. We're aware of that when we join…But we trust that our employer and our managers, who have been policemen before … would remember that and put that ahead of a dollar sign. We are numbers on paper, that's what we feel like we are to upper management," he said. "It's a disgrace, that's what it is."
–– The deaths of Constables Fabrice Gevaudan, Douglas Larche and Dave Ross immediately cracked fissures into the Moncton-based Codiac detachment and many of the surviving officers themselves. "I know that a lot of people dealt with a lot of stuff for a long time and there are some that are still dealing with it," Constable Daniels said. "It's not over for many."
Some transferred to other detachments while others left policing altogether. A number of officers and dispatchers have been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Some officers who detailed their struggles for The Globe gave interviews and then, as their anxiety spiked afterward, called to ask that names and identifying details not be published. While some have found therapists, others have turned to alcohol to deal with their emotions.
Constable Daniels stayed in Moncton for about two and a half years before taking a posting that has him working across the Northwest Territories. He makes it back to the city, where his wife and grown kids still live, about every four months. But after carrying one friend's coffin and watching two more marched by him, he acknowledges himself a changed man.
"I don't feel like I'm a different person, necessarily, I just don't see everything the same as I used to," he said. "This is my new normal. There isn't a day that I don't think about my friends. And that's never going to change."
His wife, Jill, has made peace with that, as have many more partners of RCMP officers in and around Moncton. "It's not like somebody died of cancer and you miss them at the office. It was totally different," she said.
Mrs. Daniels has an intimate familiarity with the culture of the RCMP. Not only has her husband served on the force for 16 years, her brother is also a member; many of her closest friends are either married to members or are on the force themselves. Despite her husband's absence, Mrs. Daniels attended as much of the labour code trial as she could. Listening to testimony, she, like many others, grew convinced June 4th unfolded the way it did because RCMP brass did not give officer safety the priority it deserves. "Safety has to come first," she said. "There is no excuse for officers not being prepared against people like Justin Bourque."
Angela Gevaudan, the wife of late RCMP Constable Fabrice Gevaudan, is hoping a guilty verdict will lead to better working conditions for police.
Angela Gevaudan, the wife of Constable Gevaudan and a former 911 dispatcher herself, did not attend the trial. She worried that her presence would make it more painful for the officers, her friends and former colleagues, to testify. Her own effort to heal from the loss of her husband, whom she affectionately calls Fab, has been put on hold by the trial. She is waiting to participate in an aboriginal ceremony called the wiping of tears. "I can only partake in this ritual once the events based on Fabrice's death are complete and I am looking forward to it," she said.
Ms. Gevaudan said she remains "confused" about Mr. Paulson's decision to plead not guilty. "I simply don't understand why he would choose to put officers and families through this, when it is clear that there were a number of issues that could have been addressed years ago," she said.
She is hoping the verdict will translate into improved working conditions for police. "Officer safety standards should not be negotiable," she said. "Police officers should have the same level of training, same equipment, same standards across the board, and processes in place to hold managers accountable."
Jill Daniels is more pointed about her thoughts on the decision. "If there isn't a guilty verdict, it's just totally political and ridiculous," she said.
If they have hopes for a particular outcome, community members are far less willing to speak publicly about it. The city's mayor declined to speak about the issue with The Globe, as did many local officials.
Throughout Moncton, there are signs that everyone has tried mightily to move forward. The city's riverfront boasts a stunning, life-sized memorial to Constables Gevaudan, Larche and Ross. Backs to each other, the three men stand, larger than life, now and frozen in time, lit by three lamps as they watch over the city. Their magnetic presence draws gaping visitors throughout the day who linger, circling and examining small details: the picture of Constable Gevadan and his stepdaughter carved into the underside of his cap, tiny ballet shoes for the three Larche girls' love of dance, wedding rings and K-9 pawprints.
A child’s handwritten note is tacked to a telephone pole at the corner of Hildegard Drive and Mailhot Avenue, where the three RCMP officers were killed.
In the north end on Hildegard Drive, a main artery that was clogged with emergency vehicles during the standoff, locals have honoured the fallen officers more discreetly. Dozens of trees have been planted as part of a community beautification project. Studding the long row of Mountain Ashes are several trios of Red Maples. Over on Mailhot Avenue, where some of the worst parts of the tragedy unfolded, signs of it are deliberately scant. Three small Canadian flags remain planted in front of a brick monument that marks the entrance to the subdivision, Rosemont Park. The only other tribute that remains is a little girl's note to the fallen Mounties, written in loopy penmanship tacked to a telephone pole. Three cartoon angels are drawn below a promise that the officers "will stay in our hearts forever."
Local residents have no desire to publicly revisit the incident or hash out trial points. "We have already closed that chapter. We don't talk about it," said one homeowner. It wasn't long after the shootings that people who live on and around Mailhot made an informal pact not to speak to media. Their vow mostly endures. While some people did speak privately to a reporter, all refused to be named. They were careful to underscore that the intention of their silence is not to turn their backs on the fallen officers.
Three small Canadian flags remain in front of a brick monument marking the entrance to Rosemont park.
"We're grateful to their families that have sacrificed. Whether the officers were underequipped or undertrained, they gave their lives. They gave their lives for all of us," one resident said. Some have children who jump, now, at the sound of unexpected fireworks, mistaking them for the pop-pop-pop of bullets. Others battle daily with anxiety, worry and the horror of what they saw.
"Some of these people are deeply traumatized," said Reverend Martin Kreplin, minister of the nearby St. Andrew's Presbyertian Church, who has offered trauma counselling to anyone who needs it. "They witnessed first-hand the death of people in front of them – things that nobody should ever have to see."