A job not everyone will do

“I couldn’t do what you did,” people would say.

And what we did, as police officers do every day, was take another routine call (as much as any call is “routine”).

Essentially, we were to remove an unwanted visitor who broke into his sister’s home and refused to leave.

Computer checks provided some information about him. Even after talking to her, there were no red flags, which isn’t unusual.

Ultimately, it’s impossible to know and anticipate everything in real time. People’s behaviour can suddenly and unexpectedly flip, defying what was known or expected.

Or, maybe this call will be as simple as it sounds.

Nothing suggested that this call required backup, otherwise you would have backup on every call. Experience nonetheless taught readiness, to react as best as you can to something which may or may not happen.

You can go in with a plan, but plans often go awry. Because policing has its peculiarities. Every door you open can hide something, and only then do you actually see whom/what you’re confronting.

So upon discovering there was no light in her basement, we were extra vigilant.

Our flashlights found our subject, seemingly passed out facedown on a mattress on the floor, whereupon my junior partner took the lead. I had no concerns about his ability. He was a big guy, with extensive handcuffing experience from his previous occupation. But there it happened procedurally, in a controlled setting. And sometimes in policing, it’s best to quickly handcuff a subject first, then tell them why after. People who say that’s wrong clearly haven’t been there.

Ironically, I thought to mention that to him as he went to rouse our subject — tell them why we were there, and then handcuff him.

Because in the blink of an eye our quarry had sprung up, knocking my partner’s hands away. Instinctively I tried grabbing the male, but the fight was already on. My flashlight lost focus as we grappled, plunging us into darkness — all was chaos.

He fought wildly. My partner was still holding handcuffs, and the lone flashlight I held was now a liability.

We needed the light, but I needed the free hand. Our subject threw blows indiscriminately, having only targets while we pulled our punches, unable to distinguish friend from foe. I could feel tugs on my holstered pistol — was he also trying to get my gun?

Was this a mental health situation? Was he high on drugs? There wasn’t time to think of that, just stifle any feelings of dread and react.

Our radios were inaccessible in the dark, and we might have been fighting for our lives as we tried to overcome exhaustion and force the advantage. But he was finally subdued, everyone relatively unscathed, although nothing is guaranteed.

Even on a routine call.

He wasn’t high, nor was there mental-health issues. Some people are just difficult.

But such is frontline policing. Where, essentially, every working day you routinely go into the dark (literally) where people could hurt you and too often will because of who you are.

It inevitably takes its toll, and the aches and pains catch up. However, not for all police officers.

So, when a hard-working acquaintance told me they couldn’t do what I did (and what many officers routinely do), it’s understandable. How can you routinely go into harm’s way knowing there are colleagues who are paid the same, to do the same, yet do as little as possible, leaving the heavy work to others? And then only selectively “work” to get promoted into successively higher-paying positions with little or no risk?

How can you work in a profession where you genuinely depend on your partner to watch your back, yet have colleagues who would stab you in the back to further their own agendas? Where you see how certain people act, who you expect better from, blurring the lines that should be definitive, thus leaving you wondering who truly is bad?

Like that door you open on a call, you discover what or who’s really behind it.

Thankfully, there are genuine, conscientious people, many willing to do the hard work that life demands. Like working with the elderly, the disadvantaged and the challenging.

And there are those willing to go into the dark.

Kevin Birkett retired from the Winnipeg Police Service in 2020.