Me in my new uniform
In 1957 the Scarborough Police Department was integrated into the new Metropolitan Toronto Police Department. After four years on the job I considered myself to be a crime fighting, gun toting veteran. I had even discharged my weapon in the line of duty.
I was on my third solo patrol late one cold fall night in an industrial area of Scarborough. While cruising by an auto repair shop I noticed a window in the garage door wasn’t reflecting the beam back from the spotlight of my squad car. I stopped to investigate and as I approached the building I could hear someone rummaging around inside the garage. I was moving quietly towards the door when suddenly a black clad figure burst out of the darkness and started running for the empty field behind the shop. I was startled but took up the chase yelling for the suspect to stop.
I was fast but the suspect was faster and as the distance between us increased so did my anger, when a cop tells you to stop, you stop. So I stopped, I drew my gun, pointed it at the suspect’s back and yelled, “Stop or I’ll shoot!” He kept running so I pulled the trigger. He tumbled forward, fell ass over tea kettle and lay still. arms spread, face down on the cold ground.
For a moment, my heart stopped and all of the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
As I ran up to the figure on the ground I was hugely relieved to see that he was still breathing. He was just a boy, 17 and so terrified he had pissed himself.
“You shot at me, I felt the bullet pass right by my head!” he shouted accusingly.
“You should have stopped when I told you to.” I answered as I tightened the handcuffs around his wrists and pulled him to his feet.
It was the first and last time that I fired my gun at a person.