(This column was published in the North Shore News on Feb. 4, 1998)
Shots Fired book hits police story mark
By Leo Knight
"SHOTS fired! Officer down! Suspect down!"
In the parlance of the police world, these words crackling over the radio are guaranteed to crank the adrenaline to peak levels.
Hearing them is tough enough. Speaking them is the worst nightmare of all. Especially if you are the officer down and it is your bullets in the suspect.
On Oct. 22, 1984, Vancouver Police Const. Gary Cameron went through one minute and 20 seconds of sheer terror facing a crazed man with a knife, in a hand-to-hand struggle which resulted in Cameron being stabbed under his left armpit, terrifyingly close to his heart cavity.
The assailant was lying dead, hit with all six bullets from Cameron's revolver at point blank range, plus a seventh fired by an off-duty, plainclothes officer who, as Cameron's luck would have it on that fateful day, was passing by when he saw and heard the life and death struggle.
Life in the mean streets can be, and frequently is, a heart beat between life and death. In Cameron's case, he walked into what he thought was a simple disturbance in a bread line only to discover a stabbing victim and a nearby suspect. Cameron went after the armed man who immediately turned on the officer. What followed changed Cameron's life forever.
Gary Cameron was always "one of the boys." Carrying a few more pounds over his Sam Browne belt than would be considered healthy, he was a jovial figure who lived for his job and the city he protected. In a "work hard, play hard" world, Gary could be counted on for both.
Sitting in the pub after another shift in the sordid underbelly of a Vancouver most never even dream of, Cameron would hold court swapping "war stories" over a cool and consoling beer. He occasionally would say he should write a book about life in the mean streets. It is a frequent musing when cops get together telling of their adventures that "people just wouldn't believe."
Life went on for Cameron in as reasonably ordered a fashion as could be expected, given the hell hole he worked in. Until he drove by that bread line.
They buried the knife-wielding assailant before Cameron recovered from his wounds. When he went back to work, he was unsure how he would handle another knife call, virtually a daily event in his world. But he did.
On his first shift back, he attended a strikingly similar call. He had his gun drawn, pointed at a man with a knife who was threatening to kill a cop. That incident worked out all right, but Cameron double-clutched and questioned himself and his handling of the situation.
While he waited for the investigation results and the judgment of the coroner's inquest, he became much more introspective, re-living the incident over and over again, trying to sort out his emotions. He felt alienated from a police department striving to ensure its collective ass was covered. He found himself in the centre of a media maelstrom in the latest of a string of "shoot, don't shoot" debates.
At the inquest he told his story. He did his level best to explain he did everything he could and nothing would have prevented the ultimate course of events. Essentially, he said "there is no guaranteed safe way of disarming someone who is threatening to stab you. Anyone who claims otherwise is just plain wrong."
He was ultimately exonerated for his use of lethal force. The jury came out with some half-baked ideas about seeking other alternative non-lethal ways of dealing with knife-wielding people. Obviously, nobody actually listened to the words of the man who had been there.
Over the next couple of years, he noticed there were differences in the way he handled violent situations. He felt something was seriously wrong but couldn't put his finger on it. He found his hand shaking one night in taking down suspects in a gun call, something he'd never experienced before. He began to second guess his decisions.
His situation deteriorated until he booked off work and sought the help of a psychologist. He was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. WCB, in its usual unsympathetic manner, called it "burnout" and offered no relief. His sick time used up, he was faced with going back to a job he no longer felt confident he could do. He was terrified of making the wrong decision.
Due back to work on Tuesday, and dreading it, his luck changed. On Saturday night, he won the 6/49 jackpot. Not huge money, but enough that, with prudent investments, he could live comfortably without ever having to return to the mean streets.
I had lunch with Gary last week. He is a contented man now. He still has the demons of those days visiting him in the night. But he can cope with them. He still has those extra pounds, but instead of hanging over a Sam Browne, they rest comfortably on a pair of Dockers.
He is learning a different business now. He has published his first book called Shots Fired. It is a gritty, disturbing and humorous look at the life of a street cop in Canada. His life.
For anyone who wants to know what it's really like, get this book. You'll feel the exhilaration of a chase, smell the stench of a murder, feel the frustration of fighting an archaic justice system and maybe, just maybe, you'll thank God for the men and women who protect our streets, forever grateful you don't have to do it yourself.
-30-
Gary's new book has been released
Jan. 2008
By Gary Cameron