Frank Pitts - Confessions of a Mountie: my life behind the red serge

Confessions of a Mountie

___________________________________________

My Life Behind the Red Serge

Frank Pitts

Flanker Press Limited

St. Johns

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Pitts, Frank, 1958-, author

Confessions of a Mountie : my life behind the red serge

/ Frank Pitts.

Issued in print and electronic formats.

ISBN 978-1-77117-542-5 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-77117-543-2

(html).--ISBN 978-1-77117-544-9 (html).--ISBN 978-1-77117-545-6

(pdf)

1. Pitts, Frank, 1958-. 2. Royal Canadian Mounted Police--

Biography. 3. Police--Newfoundland and Labrador--Biography.

I. Title.

HV7911.P58A3 2016 363.2092 C2016-902506-3

C2016-902507-1

2016 by Frank Pitts

All Rights Reserved. No part of the work covered by the copyright hereon may be reproduced or used in any form or by any meansgraphic, electronic or mechanicalwithout the written permission of the publisher. Any request for photocopying, recording, taping, or information storage and retrieval systems of any part of this book shall be directed to Access Copyright, The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency, 1 Yonge Street, Suite 800, Toronto, ON M5E 1E5. This applies to classroom use as well. For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll-free to 1-800-893-5777.

Printed in Canada

Edited by Robin McGrath

Cover Design by Graham Blair

Cover photo by Scott Ross

Flanker Press Ltd.

PO Box 2522, Station C

St. Johns, NL

Canada

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9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

We acknowledge the [financial] support of the Government of Canada. Nous reconnaissons lappui [financier] du gouvernement du Canada. We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, which last year invested $153 million to bring the arts to Canadians throughout the country. Nous remercions le Conseil des arts du Canada de son soutien. Lan dernier, le Conseil a investi 153 millions de dollars pour mettre de lart dans la vie des Canadiennes et des Canadiens de tout le pays. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Newfoundland and Labrador, Department of Tourism, Culture and Recreation for our publishing activities.

This book is dedicated to the most important person in my life. She has been there in good times and bad, and always had a positive smile. She has been strong when I have been weak. She has been solid when I have been broken, and she has moved forward with strength when I have fallen down. She has found strength to forgive when I have wronged. Only a fortunate few have been lucky enough to bond so closely with another such that you act as one, my soulmate. Others who know her always introduce her as the Mounties wife. I call her Diane.

Contents

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Prologue

Cautiously and, yes, a little scared, I opened the car door and stepped outside. Behind the cover of the drivers door, I stood quietly, in full working RCMP patrol uniform, minus the hat. I was alone. The adrenalin rush on the way here had left me with a mild shiver and a burning in my gut. I was not feeling cold, but I felt a shiver nonetheless.

Then, suddenly, without warning, there was a crash as the basement door burst open, and a man came stampeding out. He had a huge machete raised high above his head. He charged at me, screaming with rage as if he were part of the soundtrack of a bloody horror show. Despite his roaring voice muffling the words somewhat, his message to me was very clear.

Shoot me, you fucking pig, shoot me!

With no memory of doing so, I had ripped my semi-automatic RCMP-issued pistol from its holster and locked it onto his centre mass. With no rehearsal, I yelled, Police! Stop! Drop that damn knife!

He froze. He was standing twenty feet away, and he began a series of screams. Shoot me, asshole, shoot me! Go ahead, you fucking pig, shoot me! Come on, whattaya waitin for? Shoot me, or Ill cut your guts out! Shoot me, you stupid pig, shoot me!

I yelled back, Put down the damn knife! Dont be stupid!

This was surreal. I wondered, Can this be happening? What the hell is going on?

Just seconds before this, with no lights or siren, my police car had rounded the corner onto his street. There sat his house, an older two-storey with a ground-level entry. The gravel driveway which bordered the right side of the house was about forty feet long and ended at the right bottom side-entry door. I had hurriedly rolled into his driveway and had then radioed my arrival at the scene.

Dispatch, Five Alpha One.

Dispatch here. Go ahead, Five Alpha One.

I am ten-twenty-three. You can mark me ten-seven scene.

Ten-four. Copy that, replied Dispatch.

The ten-code is a list of numeric assignments given to concise phrases used in radio communication by law enforcement and other emergency responders. Ten-twenty-three indicates that police have arrived at the location of the complaint. Ten-seven relayed that the officer was now busy with a complaint and unavailable for any other calls for service. I was definitely unavailable to address anything else at that moment. I was unequivocally ten-seven scene.

I slammed the cars transmission into park. I could hear the gravel crunch under the weight of the sudden stop. I pocketed the keys.

My heart was pounding. It felt like it was coming out of my chest. He yelled again, Come on. Shoot me!

I yelled back with equal thrust, Put down the damned knife! No one is getting hurt.

He screamed again, You asshole pig, Im going to cut you up!

I pleaded again, Settle down, okay? No one gets hurt.

My directions were met with more profanity, more pleading to shoot, more screaming outbursts. He wanted to die. He wanted to die right at that instant. I wondered where the hell my backup was. Three police units had responded to this complaint, and somehow I stood alone. I did not hear another vehicle. Where the hell did my backup go? My heart was now racing. I needed to settle down. Many questions flashed through my mind. Was he going to charge me? If he did, could I shoot him? Was he intent on killing me? Why was he doing this? How the hell did I get into this mess? How did this happen?

It had been a great day until now.

Chapter 1

Day Start

Every single event that has ever happened to you in your life is preparing you for an event that has yet to occur.

The day had started out normally, if there is such a thing in police work. For me, it was a regular day shift, 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. After this shift there were three more night shifts, then, finally, a much-needed day off. There is no other job that provides the unknowns, surprises, and varieties presented in police work. An entire shift can be spent doing nothing but routine patrols and paperwork. Conversely, an officer may be called to a car crash, a variety of accidents, deaths, traffic complaints, barking dogs, domestic disputes, break-ins, thefts, assaults, murders, or missing people. The list is endless and ever changing. No two shifts are ever the same; the variety is vast. Then, just when it appears that you have seen and done it all, youre given a new assignment where the only appropriate thought is, You have got to be kidding me .