Toronto - Ten Months In

Fast forward 10 months. I’ve landed the job I needed to feed the family. It’s a night shift but that’s fine with me. The way I look at it is this. On the days shift you are one of maybe ten shooters. You may be at City Hall or at a Fundraiser and when the big crime story breaks, you might get assigned if you’re close to the scene. The night is mine. I get all the big stories as long as they happen at night. No traffic hassles and no line-up at the drive-thru. Finding a clean washroom can be a bigger challenge.

I think I’ve proven myself to my new employer. I’ve showed up in the morning with the story that matters. The Queen St. fire was huge. I think it made them realize that it was worth having someone out overnight. When the ETF rounded up the gang members from MS-13 I was there. When the Superior Propane factory exploded I was there. When the truck veered off the 401 and into the bridge I was there. If you look up and see me looking at you through my camera, you might be having a bad night.

I often think about how much the city has changed since I last worked here in 1994. The boonies are now the city. The roads are even more congested. The house prices are ridiculous. A cop told me that Brampton is the new Jane and Finch. I’ve been to Brampton too many times since my return. They are having a record year in Peel for murders, but Toronto seems to be doing a pretty good job of keeping up. Too many guns on the street these days. I covered a teenager who was shot in the chest for his bicycle in Scarborough the other night. It didn’t make the news. Too many more serious things happening and there’s an election don’t you know.

I hear the calls every night. Another robbery just occurred. Three young men with guns just robbed the convenience store clerk. Night cashier must be one of the most dangerous jobs in Toronto. Alaskan crab fishermen have nothing on these guys. If you want to experience crime first hand just get a job in a corner store after dark. These stories don’t even make the news anymore. Nobody cares.

The last few nights have been crazy. Monday I started early and went straight to the scene on a murder at Weston Rd. and Finch. A young woman found stabbed to death in her apartment. We had another one of these last week. That one was a Chinese student who was found tied to a chair in her Talara Dr. apartment. She had placed an ad on-line for a roommate. Where they related? Probably not, just strangely similar from this side of the crime tape.

The weeks not over but I’ve been to a few fires, two shootings and two fatal accidents. The day shift guys have been busy too. First they get a bus stop shooting near Keele and Eglinton and the next day a guy gets tossed from a car on the 401 near Keele. They both lived in the same neighbourhood, now they are both gone. Two more young black men dead at the end of a gun.

Back In The Saddle Again!

I roll back into town worried about the future and looking for a job. It’s November of 2007. I’ve been laid off from my hometown gig and I hope I can make a living back up in Toronto. I’ve been here before. I left back in 1994. Now I am full circle some 13 years later. I’m the new kid on the block again.

I make a visit out to Lakeshore Electronics. Some old familiar faces are still at the counter. A few supplies to get my police radios up and running, and I’m back on the street and back on the beat. The first weekend was exciting. I’m cruising up the Don Valley when the radio crackles, “Shots fired. Rush us an ambulance dispatcher, I’ve just shot the suspect.” My heart races as I plug the address into the GPS. It’s go time for me. I get to the scene and get some video. My old employer already has a camera on scene, but a few phone calls and the tape is sold. I’m back in the saddle again.

A few weeks and a few tapes later I stand at the rear of a Scarborough shopping mall. The dead body of a young black man lies on the pavement just steps away. The police are putting the tape up around me. I’m in the perimeter but I know they will not leave me alone for long. Fire up the camera; shoot all you can before they tell you to move. A few hours pass. No need to rush the tape in to the station. It’s after midnight and the newscasts are all put to bed. I stay to see what else I can shoot and what else I can learn about the young man under the orange sheet.

“He was everything to me … No … Please … He was everything to me.” The tears of a young woman can be heard clearly in the quiet of the night. She has just arrived at the scene. I don’t know if she knew before she got there but it’s obvious now that she knows the victim, and as she’s consoled by friends and family I wonder how she fits into the gruesome picture.

I would learn later she was the victim’s sweetheart. They had been together eight years and he was coming to get her from work in the mall. Life has changes for her and the other family members that have arrived on scene. I try to talk to one of them but the reaction is an angry one. Who can blame them? They say that nobody cares about another dead black man. I wish I could tell them that I care. The sounds of the young girl’s tears stick with me all weekend as I make the trek back to my own family three hours away down the 401.

It’s a strange way to make a living but somebody has to do it. Thank God it’s the weekend. I need time to adjust back to life in Toronto.