Probe into Mountie’s conduct raises questions

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 02/12/2017 (2879 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

You didn’t have to be a cop to sense the cop involved had done something terribly wrong.

Something possibly criminal, even.

Just over two years ago, in late October 2015, Sgt. Chris McCuen’s service handgun was stolen from his RCMP truck and used the same night in the random, near-fatal shooting of 16-year-old Calli Vanderaa.

The case involving McCuen’s storage of the weapon started with a surprise.

The Winnipeg Police Service would investigate it instead of the just-up-and-running Independent Investigations Unit of Manitoba, which chose for the first time in its then-brief history to merely “monitor” the case.

As a result of his gun being stolen, McCuen, an accident investigation specialist, was disciplined by the RCMP.

He wasn’t charged criminally for his loss of the gun, which profoundly affected a young woman’s life.

Judging by what the veteran Mountie acknowledged last week in court, though, he deserved to be charged.

McCuen was testifying under subpoena at the attempted murder trial of the alleged shooter, Matthew Wilfred McKay. It was the first time he had publicly told his version of the truth about his handling of 9-mm Smith & Wesson that he left loaded in the truck parked beside his home garage in the suburban Sage Creek neighbourhood.

Previously, in a statement of defence to the Vanderaa family’s civil suit, McCuen had stated that “the SUV was locked, with its security alarm activated…”

In court, McCuen couldn’t say for certain if the truck was locked when the gun disappeared on the night of a party his son had held in the garage. When Winnipeg police interviewed McCuen the next day, he didn’t volunteer that or anything about his handling of the gun.

“When you spoke with police, did you tell them that your firearm had been left in the holster that night?” McCuen was asked.

“I don’t recall I was that specific… or I’m not sure.”

“Were there questions you wouldn’t answer?”

“Yes, your honour. My lawyer explained to me that I may be facing some jeopardy for how the firearm was left in the vehicle.”

“Jeopardy,” of course, being a euphemism for a criminal charge.

McCuen was more forthcoming because he was giving evidence under the protection from prosecution offered by the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

So, as long as he didn’t commit perjury, he was able to acknowledge in court what he didn’t to police; that the gun and utility belt were improperly stored without the mandatory trigger guard in place in an unauthorized bin located between the two front seats. And that he could have legally and properly placed it in an authorized lock-box specifically made for storing the gun that was situated behind his driver’s seat.

Normally, McCuen claimed, he would take his utility belt and gun into his home for storage.

Instead, on that fateful Friday, Oct. 23, 2015, — when he arrived home after a long day that included an early morning accident investigation near Gimli — McCuen said he decided to take the holstered gun off and place it in the front bin beside him.

“Are you able to tell us why you didn’t take it into the residence” the Crown attorney asked.

“No, your honour,” McCuen said, addressing Court of Queen’s Bench Justice Sheldon Lanchbery.

“To this day I have no defence. I have no idea why I did what I did that day.”

It was also inexplicable to defence counsel Todd Bourcier, who went on to question McCuen’s credibility and extract what sounded to him and me both like a confession.

“Why do you make of that decision?” Bourcier asked in reference to taking the belt off when he got home and leaving it in his vehicle.

“I don’t know,” McCuen said.

“I think it was an easy out,” McCuen went on to say. “It was an easy out or a simpler way to do it.”

“So,” Bourcier probed, “negligent then?”

“Careless for sure, your honour,” McCuen said.

Bourcier wanted to underscore what McCuen had just said about acting carelessly when he left the weapon improperly stored in the vehicle.

“You could have been charged criminally, but you weren’t.”

“I don’t know about that,” McCuen responded.

Yet the word “careless” is a defining part of a section 86 (1) of the Criminal Code, particularly because of what happened to Calli as a result of the gun being stolen. The offence refers to storage of a firearm “in a careless manner or without reasonable precautions for the safety of other persons.”

As it turned out, the Winnipeg police investigation didn’t provide enough evidence for the Crown to lay a charge against McCuen.

At the time, as one would expect, a Winnipeg police spokesman maintained the investigation was impartial and thorough.

But McCuen’s testimony does raise questions about how diligently the WPS investigated a fellow peace officer. And not just with me.

Lawyer Robert Tapper acted for the Vanderaas in their civil suit that was resolved to his client’s satisfaction after McCuen was interviewed under oath during the discovery process.

Tapper can’t discuss what was revealed in that process. But during his own investigation, Tapper said he interviewed both McKay and his co-accused Matthew Miles — one at Headingley jail, the other at the Winnipeg Remand Centre — with their lawyers present. Tapper said they were open to discussing the events of that night. They both said the truck was unlocked, and the gun was in open view.

Holstered, in the backseat.

Tapper went on to say that when he told police he talked to McKay and Miles and suggested that they interview the pair, too, an officer told him they couldn’t because they were charged criminally and had lawyers.

“My concern,” Tapper recalled thinking at the time, “was they weren’t doing a through investigation.”

I have a further concern.

Last summer, the Independent Investigation Unit chose to investigate another case of another improperly stored service handgun by another Manitoba Mountie that didn’t result in any known injuries.

Why then did the unit choose to simply monitor instead of investigate the McCuen case; one that, given the serious injuries inflicted on a teenage girl, should have been at the heart of its mandate to investigate “all serious incidents involving police officers in Manitoba.”

I asked the unit those questions; they declined to comment at this time.

But it all leads to an even broader concern; public trust in the justice system that the unit is supposed to be such vital part of.

Oh yes, I have one other concern. McCuen has never apologized to Calli for the harm his carelessness caused. But Matthew McKay’s co-accused, Matthew Miles has.

gordon.sinclair@freepress.mb.ca