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Longevity

Fighting the good fight: Sara Saved!

The big moment finally arrived when Fabienne’s plane landed at the Halifax Airport. Spriggs and I were escorted from the suite to meet the aircraft, which had taxied to the jet bridge. They had just attached the covered ramp to the airplane’s front side door as the airport manager escorted us down the covered hallway towards the plane entrance. I could feel my anticipation rising. Just outside the door of the plane, a rather distinguished-looking gentleman joined us. The airport manager introduced him as France’s representative: The Honourary French Vice-Consulate, Dominique Henry. This event was a huge deal. An international search had been underway for three years, and it had finally culminated in the best possible resolution. This is rare in police work and to be part of something so tremendously uplifting was overwhelmingly rewarding. We cordially exchanged handshakes, and he thanked us for having recovered Sara. He spoke to

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Longevity

Fighting the good fight: Sara Part 4

With Sara at a safe house, I was finally able to leave work. It was late at night by the time I got home. My wife was waiting for me, and I told her the whole story. I mentioned that I would be reuniting Sara with her mother late tomorrow afternoon at the Halifax airport. As I talked to Marianne, I realized that there would probably be quite a bit of time before Sara’s mother arrived from Montreal. I then had a flash of brilliance and thought that perhaps bringing my daughter Abbie, who was four years old at the time, might be a good idea.  She could keep Sara company, and Sara would have a little friend her sister’s age to play with. I asked Marianne what she thought, and she immediately said she felt that this would be a splendid idea. Marianne gathered up some toys, colouring books

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Longevity

Fighting the good fight: Sara Part 3

Sara and her father had been living in Toronto under assumed names; Yones and Sara Kohan. Her father worked as a carpenter, and she was enrolled in grade one at a local school. Her father had filed a refugee claim with Canadian immigration, but they were not flagged because of the assumed names. They had managed to escape detection for three years. When we left the interview room, I locked the door behind me. I took Sara to a large meeting room and asked Marge, my secretary, to take her to the bathroom. I was extremely relieved that I had been able to separate Sara without a scene. I have been in many situations where children were wailing as their parents clung to them and refused to let go. It’s a situation you never want to happen, and it only occurs when the child’s safety is in imminent danger or

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Longevity

Fighting the good fight: Sara Part 2

“We’ve got something,” I said to Spriggs. I pulled back and filed in behind the vehicle. I grabbed the police radio, got a hold of the telecoms operator and requested a check on his Ontario licence plate. Within fifteen to twenty seconds, our telecommunications operator Eric Simms was on the other end. “Cst. Roy, are you 10-12?”  he asked. He was asking if there were any unauthorized listeners. “Negative,” I responded. Are you alone?” Simms asked. “No, Spriggs is with me,” I responded. Then telecoms operator Eric Simms advised me of a hit on the vehicle that we were following. He said the car was registered to a Marc Habib Eghbal and that there was an international fugitive arrest warrant out on Eghbal for kidnapping. He advised us to be on the lookout for a six-year-old child by the name of Sara Brin. Then I hear Simms giving me the

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Longevity

Fighting the good fight: Finding Sara (part 1)

One of the most challenging aspects of being an RCMP officer is children. Having to bear witness to the trauma, abuse, violence, neglect, and harm that happens upon children is the stuff of nightmares. I don’t know if it is ever possible to completely exorcise those images from my mind or heart. They sometimes kept me up at night; they sometimes distance me from others, and they sometimes have me clinging to others, particularly my children. So, when a situation came my way that tipped the scale in a completely different direction, and I saved a child, really and truly saved a child, the hardships of my job at that moment were absolved. I woke up early on February 6th, 2002, to a cold and bright sunny morning. I had a quick shower and got dressed before I sat down to read my newspaper and sip a hot cup of

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Longevity

Fighting the Good Fight: Second Shooting

I woke up for work on December 18th, about three months after being at the Roode’s house, with the start of what seemed to be the flu. Not being the type to take a day off for minor ails, I started getting ready for work. I was sweating, so I decided not to wear my bulletproof vest. I had a couple of slices of toast and a quick coffee before saying goodbye to Marianne. We had plans later that evening to attend my wife’s staff Christmas party over at Jeannie Riordan’s, her intern’s house. We were looking forward to the party, and I was hoping this bit of a bug I’d picked up would be out of my system by the end of my shift. It was a beautiful sunny day, the kind of December day that is bright but frigid. It was near minus eighteen degrees Celsius outside. It’s the

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Longevity

Fighting the good fight: the first shooting

When I first sat down with my editor to write this memoir, the Darren Roode shootings were the first stories I needed to write. It was as if they were the cap on top of the well, and unless I exorcised them, I felt nothing else would come forward.  There are always a limited number of cases that mark one’s career as an RCMP officer. The Darren Roode shootings are part of those cases. I was on afternoon patrol in Colchester County, Nova Scotia. Truro, where I’d first been stationed, is the shire town of Colchester County. We had an area of just over four hundred kilometres to patrol with a population of roughly thirty thousand. I had entered the small village of Bible Hill where my current detachment was situated. Bible Hill is a small community on the north side of the Salmon River. It had a population of

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Longevity

Fighting the good fight: Wildlife

This is the third in a series of stories about retired RCMP officer Patrick Guy Roy who is slowly slipping into Alzheimer’s. While stationed in Windsor, I got to know the Department of Lands and Forest officer. He was a gentleman named Ivan Myers. Ivan was a real bloodhound when it came to pursuing the bad guys that hunted out of season. These poachers would go out at night using powerful lights to scope out deer or moose with no regard for hunting season whatsoever. We have hunting seasons because when animals are most vulnerable, mainly when breeding, we want to protect their safety. It’s a travesty to wildlife protection and animal welfare to disrespect the laws put in place to protect these animals. As a result of cutbacks, Ivan Myers was the sole Lands and Forest officer in our area. He was also a friend of mine, and he

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Longevity

Fighting the good fight: Trial by fire

This is the second in a series of stories about retired RCMP officer Patrick Guy Roy who is slowly slipping into Alzheimer’s. I’d been with the detachment for approximately five months when I got a complaint from telecoms (police radio) about a possible death at what appeared to be a house fire. I was alone that morning when I headed out. When I arrived at the house, the firemen were already there. They led me inside and showed me the body of a dead man. This was my first time witnessing a dead body. He was lying on what was left of his burnt bed. All of his clothes had ignited, and the only things left on him were a melted belt buckle and a pair of melted boots. The smell was unbearable. It was a mix of burnt flesh, blood, organs, a kind of copper metallic, musky, fecal odour

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