Pretty quiet Highway 17 leaving Manitoba today: still partially snow covered, plenty of black ice around the edges. I'm taking it very slow. I've come all this way, and I plan on getting to my destination without sliding off the road or worse! I've got a short hop today, so I'm going to get to my motel early and rest up before the show. I am pretty tired of these driving conditions. It's been a real dog right from Prince Rupert. Not more than a couple of hours of good road the whole way.
Well, here's Ontario. The speed limit drops to 90 km as you cross this line. There's no risk today. While the road has slowly been improving, I'm doing 40km on the icy hills, maybe 80 on the straight flats. There's no hurry, and very little traffic. No salt yet. Just muddy sand here and there, and a little blowing snow.
I pass a 4x4 sitting on the shoulder. I give it a pretty wide berth, as I always do roadside vehicles. In my rear view mirror I watch as it bursts into a mass of red and blue lights. It's an unmarked, or stealth police cruiser. I glance down. Eighty km, maybe a bit less. He doesn't want me. As I slow for him to pass, he pulls up tight on my tail and flags his siren. He does want me. Why? I pull over as far as I dare on the icy road shoulder and wait.
"I couldn't read your plate," says the officer. "May I see your driver's licence?" He's young and bearded, fresh from plainclothes or drug squad, I'd guess. I give him the card, but he doesn't look at my ownership or insurance, or my VIN. Instead he asks "have you ever been in trouble with the police?"
I say, "no." He says, "Are you sure?" I ask "What's this about?" He asks "Do you have anything dangerous in this vehicle?" I say, "No, I don't carry weapons, officer." He persists, "Do you have anything in this vehicle that I might be interested in?" He's looking in the window, and I now know that this is not a routine or warranted stop in any way. "I can't imagine that I have anything that would be of interest to you," I reply.
"What have you got in your trunk?" This is getting pretty intense. I glance at my cell phone, but I'm over the Ontario border, and I have no service in this spot. "Guitars and sound gear," I reply. "I'm a musician."
"How long have you been travelling? Where are you coming from?" I'm answering the questions– and politely– but they don't show any signs of stopping. This guy has stopped me for no reason. He does not have a warrant or any grounds to search my vehicle. We're on a lonely road with no witnesses and no cell service. He's armed. What the fuck is this guy up to?
"I'd like to look in you trunk, sir." Here's the moment of truth. This guy has already stopped me without cause, he has no interest in my vehicle registration, he does not have any grounds to detain me, and now he'd like to conduct an illegal search of my vehicle. Yeah, yeah– I don't have to play along, but I'm afraid of what might happen if I don't. Does he plant something in my car? Does he charge me with some offence under the Motor Vehicle Act? Do I spend the rest of the day in a Dryden police station? My cell phone has no service, but I'm not sure what I'd gain by placing a call to my lawyer anyway. Hell, I've got nothing to hide. But I know my rights are being trampled all over. This guy is fishing, and profiling, and throwing his power around. Two guys on the side of a road. The one with the gun is a criminal. His badge is a dangerous weapon.
I open my trunk and the cop rifles through my bags. "What's in here?" "What's in that bag?" "What's in that box?" My duffle bags are full of clothing, not drugs, and he seems quite disappointed. "OK, you're free to go," he says. I don't bother pointing out that legally I've probably been "free to go" from the start. But I do feel deeply violated by the experience. I should of told him that he'd probably be able to smell good British Columbia dope without opening the trunk, or the bags inside it...
As the cruiser speeds away I notice that it's plates are entirely obscured by snow. What have I done? Traded my rights– which I surrendered in fear– for my freedom to get to my gig on time. Is it just that I'm more pragmatic as I get older? Or did I whimp out? I don't think my Dad would of rolled over without a fight. But experience has been a great teacher, too. Strange, bad things can happen in isolated places, without witnesses to see them. Cops take big risks with criminals everyday, but when cops step over the line, the risks to a civil society are even greater.
Here's the gig. I'm still pissed about the cop, but I'm not going to let it bother me. Nice to see my name out by the street. Better than a poster. This is going to be a fun show!
John, the owner/promoter, jack of all things Green Achers, and flying paramedic, is inside to meet me. My tour banner is up over the stage, and the place looks great. I played here once before, a couple of years ago– it was a ball, so I'm pleased to be back. I've also played a couple of festival gigs nearby. I know I've got a few fans in these parts, so I'm betting that the night will be a good one. We sound check the little PA, and I'm off to the motel to hang until dinner.
Oops, I spoke too soon. The room is OK, but the owner switches on the heat as he lets me in! "It'll warm up pretty quick," he says. Not quick enough for me. I am NOT going to sit in the cold and wait. Back to Green Achers! I'll hang out and use the WiFi. Not so bad. This room ought to be warm when I get back after the show.
It's a good little room, and it has plenty of people in it soon enough.
Jacket winner! A whole bunch of people have come down from Sioux Lookout for the show, and other groups have driven in from Dryden. I'm touched that folks would drive so far on these icy roads, at night, to see me. I play really well tonight. Thanks for coming, everybody!!
After the show a lot of people hang around and talk. Doesn't that satin jacket look good? Genuine satin, white stripe Tour jacket. Yeah! I'm off to the motel. I'm watching for cops, but I don't see another soul for the twenty minutes it takes to get there. The heat is on, and I'm one tired blues guy for the wrapper.
Hi, The same thing happened to me and it worked out very badly for me. My personal E mail is dawgtoursinc@shaw.ca maybe we could chat? Name is Randy.
ReplyDeleteThe Michigan State Police or the Ohio State Highway Patrol in the USA would never do a traffic stop like that. He never had any grounds to do the stop in the first place. I would not be surprised if this OPP officer is a rookie just out of the academy.
ReplyDeleteI've recently had several private emails about this post. Funny that all these months would go by, and then the comments start to come in. I examine the subject more completely in the closing, or final, Darker Ways entry. In short, I agree with anonymous above. Of course the Michigan State and Ohio State Highway Patrol would be professional- as would be the police who serve across the rest of the United States and Canada. I too, had initially thought that the officer in question was a rookie looking to make his mark. Subsequent emails to me indicate that while this may be the case, rogue behaviour is ongoing in the district, and may involve more than one officer. I don't mean this to reflect badly on the many, many dedicated officers across Ontario and Canada. The event was noteworthy because it was unusual. But apparently in that district not as unusual as one would hope.
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