The Bay Bulls Standoff

by Chris Ryan

  “Maybe all Leo needs is time to cool down and get a hold on the situation.”

  “Yes, I agree. But how long will the cops wait . . . that’s the million-dollar question.

  “All this situation needs to explode is some gung-ho cop trying to make a name for himself. I don’t blame Leo for taking his time coming out. Knowing Leo, those two mentally ill men, the one in Little Catalina and the one in Corner Brook the cops shot back in 2000, are on his mind. One trigger-happy idiot cop could make Leo number three. Yes, this is entertainment for us, but what we have here is a very dangerous situation. Joe, do you know if they tried to get other people to try and talk to Leo on the PA system?”

  “Well, when I was leaving Foodland this morning after talking to Leo, Gerard Harvey and his wife, Georgina, were pulling in.”

  “What were they doing there?”

  “Dutch, Marg Crockwell is Georgina’s aunt.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “Marg Crockwell was a Hartery from Cape Broyle and Georgina’s mother was a Hartery.”

  “Well, you learn something new every day.”

  “Leo’s brother, Billy, was there also. I don’t know if he went before me or after. For that matter, I don’t know if they used him at all.”

  “Joe, who do you think they could get to try and talk to him?”

  “Dutch, I’ve been racking my head all day trying to come up with someone, anyone. There has to be someone that we are not thinking of. Maybe an old girlfriend. And we know he had many of them over the years. They said they may try me again. I told them to call me anytime, day or night. I’ll do whatever it takes to get Leo out safely. And I know ninety-nine per cent of the harbour would do the same.”

  “Sure, it could be one of our brothers, an uncle or a nephew or next-door neighbour. Your best friend. You don’t know what you’re going to face when you crawl out of bed in the morning.

  “Anyway, Joe, I’m calling it a night. Been here since seven o’clock this morning, my back is killing me. And the time here is so long. I know Leo is not finding time some long. I’d say his seconds are like minutes and his minutes are like hours.”

  “Dutch, that about sums it up. Leave your binoculars, will you?”

  “Joe, I’m not leaving those binoculars. They cost close to $1,000 when I bought them. They’re probably more now.”

  “Please, Dutch. I need them for a closer look. I may as well go home without any optics.”

  “Joe, I’ll leave them. But if you put one scratch, one, on them—I mean a one-millimetre scratch—you’re paying for them.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  “Yes, just like the waders I lent you to go salmon fishing with. Brought them back with a hole in them and never replaced them.”

  “Dutch, I’ll call the second there’s any movement. Call your cell or Tina’s house.”

  “Call all numbers until someone answers. I’ll give you Tina’s cell, also. And I’m going to give you Stacie’s as well. Anyway, good night, boys. Poor Leo, he’s in between.”

  “What do you mean, Dutch?” Jeff looked puzzled.

  “Well, he’s in between where he’s at now and where he’ll be when this is all over.”

  “That’s one way of putting it. Anyway, Dutch, I’m leaving, too. Will you text me at school tomorrow if anything happens?”

  “Jeff, I hardly know how to text. Stacie is after showing me a dozen times, I just can’t remember how to do it. I tell you what, you call me on your coffee breaks and at lunchtime.”

  “Okay, Dutch, I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  “Might see you tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, Dutch, you could.”

  Chapter 3

  _____________________________________

  Monday, December 6

  I arrived at the pit around 6:00 a.m. There wasn’t a soul to be seen. I decided to phone Joe, get him on the go, but, knowing Joe, I figured he’d already be up.

  “Janet, where’s Joe?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, I’m in the pit and there’s no sign of him here.”

  “He left here an hour or so ago.”

  “Damn . . . I need my binoculars. What’s his cell number? Forget it, I have it. Bye.”

  I dialled Joe’s cell. “Joe, where are you?”

  “I’m over at Kenny Glynn’s—Bouchard’s—filling him in on the situation.”

  “Tell him I said to come up with you for a look.”

  “I’ll mention it to him.”

  I took the scope and trained it on Bouchard’s house, which is on the north side of the harbour, on the east side of Irish Town Road behind the Catholic church and across from C&W Industrial. Joe got in his SUV and headed up Irish Town Road, hanging a left on the top road. It wasn’t long before he parked next to me in the pit and jumped in my car. He had my binoculars with him.

  “Hey.”

  “Why didn’t Bouchard come up with you?”

  “He was just up, getting a bit of breakfast. Said to give him a call in a few hours. He said he might come up for a look. He’s pissed with the pub being closed. He had to call Bernard Maloney—the Rabbit—last night to bring him to Paddy’s for a box of beer.”

  “Sure, what’s wrong with that? I wouldn’t say the Rabbit was at anything. Not like he’s working. Home enjoying his pogey. He can live with the pub closed. Paddy won’t run out of beer, not while Molson is still brewing in St. John’s. So what’s he saying about the goings-on?”

  “He’s like us, worried the fuck to death about Leo. He said the same as me. And what most people are saying. This could go on for a long time. He said they don’t know how determined Leo is. Anyway, remind me later to give him a call, will you?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Dutch, you’ll never guess who called me this morning.”

  “Who?”

  “VOCM.”

  “What? Why did they call you?”

  “Apparently some gossip bag in the harbour is calling them every two hours or so with updates on what’s going on in the standoff.”

  “Joe, who do you think it is?”

  “Dutch, could be anyone. You know how many gossip bags are in Bay Bulls. And apparently they told VOCM that I was on the phone and got a signal out of Leo. But whoever is filling them in doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. They said it was two thirty in the morning that I was on the phone with him. Only out by three hours. And they said that Leo flashed the light three times. Wrong again. As I told you, he flashed once for a split second.”

  “Obviously they’re listening to someone that’s not on the ball like us. So what did you tell them?”

  “Not a thing. I’m hardly going on the radio or being quoted on the radio. You think Leo isn’t listening to the radio? I’m sure he is. And I’m willing to bet he’s online, keeping up on everything being posted about him. Dutch, you know as well as me Leo’s a news junkie. He’s over there having a big laugh at the cops. Saying to himself, ‘Payback is painful, boys.’ He’s disrupting their lives to no end. I bet there are cops on this standoff that haven’t slept since this started on Saturday. If they did sleep, it was only catnaps.”

  “Do you think there will be many here in the pit today?”

  “I don’t know, today being a workday.”

  “Joe, I bet there are people calling into work today saying they’re sick so they won’t miss anything.”

  “You’re probably right, Dutch. I would, if I was working for someone other than myself.”

  “Did you watch the national news on CBC last night?”

  “Dutch, I left here, like, two o’clock.”

  “Don’t you record the news?”

  “I have one of those . . . what do you call them? They
record shows without the TV being on.”

  “Joe, that’s called a PVR—personal video recorder. You don’t have it set to record the news?”

  “Don’t know how to use it.”

  “Joe, when in doubt . . . read the instructions. Why don’t you get Andrew to set it up for you?” Andrew is Joe’s son.

  “Said he will, but he doesn’t have time.”

  “I’m sure he’s not that busy.”

  “Well, he’s in school. And then jamming all weekend in that band he plays in.”

  “What’s the name of that band?”

  “I can never remember it. Wait, just thought of it: Kill the Shepherd, that’s it.”

  “Weird name.”

  “You know that young crowd on the go today.”

  “Anyway, getting back to your PVR. Doesn’t Shannon or Keith know how to set it up?”

  “They said they would do it.”

  “No good for me to try and set it up. I haven’t got a clue how to set it up. I’ll mention it to Tina and have her drop in and set it up some evening on the way home from work. She’s the cat when it comes to electronics. Anyway, getting back to the news. They had a thirty-second bleep on about Leo and the standoff.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Nothing, really. They told how it started, a domestic dispute with his sister. How he came out of the house with a gun. They showed a few pictures of the house. One looked like it was taken down by Uncle Tom’s house. They showed another one that looked like it was taken behind Peg Snow’s house, there across the road from Paddy’s. They also ran two pictures of the town hall. One from the front of the building, showing all the police vehicles, and another from behind. I think the purpose of the one behind the building was to show off the mobile command post. Other than that, no big story.”

  “I figure both newscasts this evening will be good, Dutch.”

  “CBC usually does a better job on stories outside the overpass. NTV, I find, covers St. John’s mostly. Actually, the Avalon. But I record NTV and watch it later. I know the crowd from around the harbour and on the Shore out west working in the oil patch and the crowd living in Toronto never had a good laugh when they saw the news. The most excitement in Bay Bulls in over twenty-five or thirty years, and they’re missing it.”

  “Dutch, this place will be crawling with media today. I’m expecting VOCM to hunt me down, but I’m not saying a word. I don’t want to say something stupid or have a slip of the tongue and piss Leo off. I don’t want fifteen seconds of fame and lose a lifelong friend over it.”

  “Joe, I think you’re right. I’m half thinking they will be looking for me as well. They most likely remember me from my time on council.”

  “Dutch, imagine if this was on the go in the middle of the summer, with all the tourists going to O’Brien’s and Gatherall’s boat tours.”

  “Joe, not only O’Brien’s and Gatherall’s, don’t forget about Mullowney’s Tours. And Wayne Maloney started his tour business last summer, Captain Wayne’s, operating below the Gatheralls, across from the Smith property.”

  “Sure, Bay Bulls would have another five or six hundred more people going through it daily. They would have to be detoured around St. John’s Road, because nearly all the tourists use that road to get to the tour operators, to get to the lower road and to the cliff on the north side of the harbour.”

  “Did you know the mail is going to Witless Bay?”

  “What?”

  “Yup, that’s what Sharon and Brenda told me when I jumped in with them last night.”

  “That’s foolish. You tell me that there is nowhere in Bay Bulls to distribute the mail?”

  “Joe, I guess there are rules and regulations concerning the handling and flow of mail. Remember, it falls under federal laws.”

  “Where in Witless Bay?”

  “Felix Howard’s Needs store.”

  “Tell me that won’t be a tangle. That little cubbyhole can hardly handle one person in it. Sure, Maureen Walsh and Barb Harrigan can hardly move in there when both of them are working on the same day. So I guess Cathy Saunders or June Hearn will be over there giving it out?”

  “Ritie Williams might be one of the ones over there from Bay Bulls. She does the odd shift at the post office when it’s slow at the Bread and Cheese Inn. That’s mostly in the winter months, though. I’ll know when I go to Tina’s for a bite to eat lunchtime.”

  “Grab my mail, too, will you?”

  “I’ll try. But I doubt they’ll give it to me.”

  “Dutch, they both know you.”

  “Yes, Joe, but I’d say they will be going by the book giving out Bay Bulls mail in Witless Bay. So I doubt anyone can pick up mail other than their own.”

  “I noticed on the way from Bouchard’s that Kennedy’s drugstore was open.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently it isn’t within firing range for high-powered weapons.”

  “Bullshit. You tell me a high-powered rifle wouldn’t hit and kill a moose if the distance was from Leo’s house to Kennedy’s?”

  “Dutch, I saw Gerry Rock hit a caribou on the Biscay Bay barrens in the early 1980s and it was farther away than Leo’s house is from Kennedy’s.”

  “So, I’m wondering, will they let Novalee Colbert open A Cut Above? She’s about the same distance as Foodland is from Leo’s. Well, if they don’t let her open she’ll be pissed. She only bought that business from Rita Lynch less than a year ago. She can’t afford to be closed for one day. I know how hard it is to get a business off the ground the first year. Well, I can’t wait to sit in her chair. I go there for my haircut every six weeks. I know she won’t vent. Novalee will probably be so pissed she might even call the talk shows.

  “Joe, you talking to Ricky Walsh since this started?”

  “I called him this morning the second I got up. But I missed him. He’d already gone to the barn to milk.”

  “We should make a dart up there now and see what kind of view we can get. Ricky’s farm is higher up than where we are.”

  “I never thought of that, Dutch.”

  “Okay.”

  We left the pit and headed for the farm. The farm is only half a kilometre from the pit. The pit is actually on the farm road.

  “Dutch, stop here. This looks like a good spot.”

  “Okay. Give me a second to turn around.”

  “This is awesome.”

  “Yes, for viewing the house, but I can hardly make out the snipers in the grass below Billy Oates’s house. I can see two, but I can’t see the one by the fence post. Unless it’s coffee-break time, and he’s up by Billy Oates’s getting fuelled up. Here, have a look in the scope.”

  “You’re right, Dutch. I can just make out the military fatigues in the grass. I can just see the difference in the black face paint and the green hats they’re wearing. So much for this idea. Stop by the barn on the way down. I want to have a quick chat with the boys.”

  “Who’s milking with Ricky Walsh this morning, Kenny or Darryl?”

  “I have no idea. We’ll know in a minute.”

  “They still in the old barn or have they moved into the new one?”

  “Still in the old one. Ricky’s plan is to be in the new one by May.”

  “Joe, grab the wheel, I have to answer my cell. Hello. What? Okay, on the way.” I took the wheel back and headed for the pit.

  “What’s up?”

  “Brenda just called. Apparently there’s a lot of movement over by Foodland. Ten or so cop cars all left the town hall at once and drove directly to Foodland.”

  “Dutch, that means there’s something up.”

  “Joe, give Bouchard a call. You told me to remind you.”

  “I will when we get settled back in our spot.”

/>   When we got back to the pit, I let Joe off at his rig with the scope and went and parked in front of Sharon and Brenda, a couple of car lengths in front of Joe. On my way back to Joe, I stopped to have a chat with the girls.

  “Brenda, what’s on the go?”

  “I have no idea. But Dutch, with that many cars moving to Foodland at once, there’s something up.”

  “Okay, come back and jump in with myself and Joe.” The three of us walked back to Joe’s SUV and got in.

  “Hey, Joe. Get any sleep last night?”

  “Got around three hours. I can’t sleep, Sharon. My mind is on Leo. Every time I close my eyes, his face is all I can see.”

  “Have you thought about trying some sleeping pills?”

  “Can’t take them.”

  “Why?”

  “They go right through me. I don’t have them in me a half-hour and I’m on the toilet. They burn the arse out of me.”

  “So I guess they’re out of the question. Have a hot toddy before you crawl into the sack.”

  “Sharon, I hate the taste of liquor. I’m going to try something. My nerves are going to go if this lasts much longer.”

  “Joe, there are not many in Bay Bulls who say they hate the taste of liquor. You’re certainly in the minority. Well, put up with the taste and down it. Dutch, what are you seeing in that thing you’re looking through?”

  “That thing is called a spotting scope, Sharon. That’s what I was telling you about the other night, what I use birdwatching. You’re right, Sharon, there are twelve cars in a circle. All hands are huddled together in front of one of the vehicles in a semicircle. It looks like a debriefing. One person is some distance from the big group and it looks like he is doing all the talking. They’re all facing him. His hands are moving non-stop. Gesturing. Reminds me of Smallwood, the way his hands are moving. The way Smallwood was always using his hands to try and get a point across. I don’t know, but I wonder if this is the start of their assault on the house?”

  “What do you mean, Dutch?”

  “Sharon, they have to go in sometime. They can’t wait him out forever.”