Once behind the Hamlet office I got out to see if the truck had been hit. I just made it around to the passenger side near the hood when three more shots rang out. Obviously I hadn’t pulled completely behind the Hamlet office. I got in and backed up a few more feet, pulled out the rifle and went to a vantage point by the corner of the office. I could see nothing and after a couple more shots it again went quiet.
It was now up to Eric to make more phone calls, on the phone of the residence he was in. He called all the neighbours and made sure they would stay in; the radio station to reinforce that everyone should stay in also; both the Hamlet and Housing offices had people still inside and they were told to stay in and under cover; and he kept HQ updated regularly as they made preparations to get us help, and for a Inuktitut speaking negotiator to call the residence. One of our guards lived above the action and he was called to turn back anyone that might come in that direction, while I directed away the few people who wandered by at the bottom. Then we settled into to wait.
After six hours from the initial call, Eric received a call from the negotiator who had been finally speaking to the suspect. He was going to come out. He was instructed to turn on the outside light at the back of the house, and walk to the road with hands above his head, and not to bring any rifles with him. It was meant to bring him out on Eric’s side, as he was closer, and the suspect probably didn’t Eric was that close to him, certainly most of his attention had been turned to me. Unfortunately we didn’t really know what would have been considered the back of the house and suddenly the outside light turned on on my side. I moved the truck to near the Housing office, a better vantage point for me, that still offered some cover. Then I could see some movement on the street, Eric radioed that he had him and it was over.
As I pulled up the suspect was lying prostrate on the ground, Eric was standing behind him, his pistol trained on him. I got out of the truck, moved quickly out of his vision, and handcuffed him. Then we immediately started the process of the arrest, his rights, a search and as soon as we had moved our guard down to protect the scene, we took him back to the office, so he could speak to a lawyer and we could safely tuck him away in gaol. HQ was called to let them know it was over and to cancel the teams. The Containment Team from Iqaluit hadn’t made it yet, and the Emergency Response Team in Ottawa, wasn’t yet in the air. Such is policing in an isolated community.
When we went to the scene the one thing that was clear was that he had intended for us to die. It was well thought through of that it can be no doubt. The front door had been barricaded, a coffee table wedged between it and a wall. The doors from the bedrooms had all been tied shut, so no one could sneak in that way. Two rifles were laid out, both loaded, and over a hundred rounds of ammunition lay spread out in various spots, ready. The furnace had been turned off, presumably so the place would be quiet enough to hear any approach by us. Most disconcerting to me was the back entrance way. He had set up a shooting station in it, a kitchen chair to sit on, even with the back door opened a couple of inches he had a commanding view of our only approach, and to where I sat parked a mere 150 metres away.
Twenty spent cartridges were scattered about the house. Four windows had been shot out, including the front where he fired two rounds when the pickup had pulled in. Twelve of the cartridges, though, laid at the back door, where he had been shooting at me. One of those rounds had hit the Housing Office, behind where I would have been. It penetrated the wall and a shelf of binders before dropping on the desk below. Moments before that had happened one of the workers had been seated there, having gotten up to grab a coffee she was momentarily away when the round came through.
When I got back to the office I went to the cells and asked him why he had shot at me. He just smiled and said he didn’t want talk about it, heeding the advice of his lawyer. In custody later he lamented to someone that we never came up to the house. “Why did they stop?”
I’ve often said there is no point in speculating what might have happened, no amount of speculation would change the outcome. It is clear to me that we got lucky. Lucky that he told someone else who was concerned enough to warn us, and lucky that he was a poor shot. What was shockingly obvious to me, sitting on that chair in the back porch, looking down to where I was parked, was that even a moderately good shot could have easily hit me.
Comments
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Wow! That was a cliffhanger! I’m glad I read all four parts in one sitting. I don’t think I could have stood the suspense otherwise.
I see “Emergency Response Team” must have a special meaning to members in remote areas. Great story Clare, thanks!