Mike W. Bryant
Northern News Services
They both think it'll be a quiet night -- just the usually partyers and closing time displays of machismo they see every weekend on the 8 p.m. to 4 a.m. red-eye shift.
Besides, the ice road is out, limiting the chance for trouble to filter into the town. "You never know though," LeDuc. "It could start at eight o'clock, or it could be nothing tonight."
First stop is at detachment headquarters. Leduc leads a tour through the facilities: the jail (divided by sex and age), the file room, past the inmate telephone cubicle and then the office.
In the interview room a microphone is taped to the wall, and a video camera peers out from behind the door. On the table is a Bible.
"You'd be surprised," says LeDuc. "A lot of people have a hard time lying when a Bible's there."
9:19 p.m. After checking phone messages and going over some police reports, LeDuc is ready to hit the street. We drive in a standard RCMP issue Suburban pick-up truck.
It is that time of the evening, especially in the bright summer months when people are more likely to be outside longer, when the RCMP begin what they call "waving the flag."
"It's an expression the RCMP have," says LeDuc. "They wave, you wave back, you stop and talk to the kids."
We drive from one end of town to the other, to Wild Rose and back onto Main Street. Most often, whenever someone drives by, or appears by the side of the road, LeDuc waves.
In between, he talks about how he got into the force. At age 27 and married, LeDuc is on his first RCMP posting. He was accepted into the force 15 months ago after first working as a corrections officer in Brandon, Man., and a civilian OPP officer on the Poplar Hill reserve in Ontario. He has a military background, having lived the life of an army brat, travelling coast-to-coast along with his father's numerous postings. He joined the army himself after running out of money while attending university.
"I'm not afraid of death," he says when the question arises, and begins talking about an RCMP officer he knows. One who was wounded and shot while on duty earlier this year in Manitoba.
"I look at all the incidents where officers have died lately. Constable Mike Templeman, I knew him when he was with the Brandon City Police. That really hit close to home. I'm going to see him in Manitoba next week."
10:13 p.m. LeDuc has his first real incident of the evening.
We encounter a man being led by two others out of the Nahanni Inn bar. He is sporting a large shiner on his forehead, and appears extremely intoxicated.
"He really got smoked when he hit the pool table," says an apparent friend, holding him up by the shoulder. "I'm concerned he might have a concussion."
The beaten man doesn't want anything to do with the police. He insists LeDuc let the matter go and leave him be.
LeDuc decides to check around back of the inn, where he encounters several other individuals. He radios over to Gott, who arrives on scene shortly afterwards.
One of the other men tells LeDuc he hit the man with the shiner because he tried to stick his leg out as if to trip him, after which he offered to "drift him."
After separating witness, and conferring amongst themselves, Gott and LeDuc decide to sit on it for the time being.
"There's a lot of alcohol abuse problems," says Gott. "I think most of our calls, if not all of them, are because of alcohol abuse."
11:35 p.m. A relatively slow night so far. After picking up RCMP auxiliary Troy Hardisty, LeDuc returns to base.
We've now switched and are in Gott's truck. An earlier check on a white Ford Grand Am's licence plate parked off of Main Street reveals that it is unregistered.
It is now gone. Gott wonders if it is the same vehicle responsible for leaving donut tracks at the main intersection. We stage a stakeout and wait, lights on the truck dimmed.
Gott, 31, also married, has been on the force five years, two of them in Fort Simpson.
Becoming an RCMP officer was a life-long dream.
He said before coming, he was anxious to see the North, and happily accepted a posting here.
"A lot of people think we're being punished, that we did something bad down south when it's the exact opposite," says Gott. "I had to apply to come here."
The job is frustrating sometimes, because some people think the police are only out to make trouble for them, he says.
"When I pull someone over for not wearing a seat-belt, it's 'Why are you picking on me,'" says Gott. "Up here, it's almost as if they resent you, because they know you won't be here for long."
12:09 a.m. Leduc radios over to tell Gott he's going to check out a house party, where a reportedly large number of minors are consuming alcohol.
With no white Grand Am in sight, Gott follows LeDuc to the party.
Teenagers have piled out onto the streets in every direction. Gott spots an elderly man stumbling down the street intoxicated, and warns him it's best he go home straight away.
"We like to give them a warning first," says Gott.
A short while later we're at the party, and people are still leaving. It's time for the Deh Cho Drum to check out too.
"You're not going to stay," says Gott. "The fun's only beginning."