The Bay Bulls Standoff

by Chris Ryan

  “Yes. Exactly. I can’t get it off my mind. I’m actually a bag of nerves since I saw it. I can only imagine what kind of shape Leo is in. He has got to be in hard shape, the poor bastard. I can’t imagine living through what he went through last night. Ann Marie, it was like war, plain and simple. What went on there last night should not be allowed to go on in a civilized society.”

  “When I called Joe in the pit he said you were gone home. I couldn’t believe it. You’ve been our on-the-spot man.”

  “Well, Joe is doing a pretty good job also. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Anyway, Dutch, relax. Think positive that everything will work out with Leo and he’ll be okay.”

  “Ann Marie, I can only pray for this to end safely. And soon. Thanks for calling. Bye.”

  “Bye, Dutch.”

  I decided to give my brother one last call before I went to bed.

  “Joe, anything happening?”

  “No, other than the robot going in and out. The harbour is still silent.”

  “I’m heading to bed. You staying there much longer?”

  “No, soon heading home.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, around noon. Listen, if that rumour is true about flooding the house, we could be in for a very long night tomorrow night, so I’m not going to rush over in the morning. I may try and sleep in. That way I won’t be as tired if we have to stay late tomorrow night.”

  “All right, good night. See you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  I went to bed. I was nearly asleep when the cell on the nightstand started ringing.

  “Hello?”

  “Dutch, you in bed?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “Brenda, b’y. What the fuck is on the go with you, home in bed this early? Ann Marie told me you went home early tonight.”

  “I needed to get away from it all. I’m starting to get burnt out. My eyes are hanging out of my head from looking at that green house. My back is killing me. I still can’t fathom what I saw last night. I said Leo would probably end up with PTSD after last night. I feel like I’m starting to be overcome with something. Brenda, I hardly slept last night. My heart is breaking for Leo. When I get anything negative going on in my life, it depresses me. Them tormenting Leo so much is playing on my mind. I can’t believe what civilized people do to arrest someone. That, last night, was like something you’d see in Detroit or Chicago, not rural Newfoundland. A little rock in the middle of the North Atlantic. They should have left those cops that they brought in from the other provinces where they were. I can’t wait for this to be over to talk to the media. The media will know me when this is over. First thing I’m going to say to the media is we need an inquiry immediately—no ifs, ands, or buts—to investigate what mistakes were made and what went wrong with this whole fiasco.”

  “I agree with you, Dutch, because there are definitely mistakes being made daily. Why is this not over? Why has this gone on for six full days?”

  “Good questions. Anyway, good night. See you tomorrow afternoon in the pit.”

  “You not coming over in the morning?”

  “No. Something big is going down with Leo tomorrow night, come dark.”

  “What?”

  “Brenda, I’m too tired to get into it now. Will fill you in early tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Jesus, Dutch. Curiosity will kill me.”

  “Bye, Brenda. Thanks for calling.”

  “See you in the morning, Dutch.”

  I was just falling asleep for the second time when the phone rang again.

  “Hi, Chris.”

  “Hey, babe. How’s New Hampshire going?”

  “Why are you home already?”

  “My back is killing me. And I’m starting to get depressed with everything that’s going on with Leo. The attempt to enter the house last night, it was wild. Anyway, that’s enough about me. How’s it going?”

  “Going great. We can’t get over how cheap everything is compared to home. I’ll have to buy extra suitcases. The two I brought with me won’t be able to carry everything that I’ve bought already. Stacie and Hollie will be shocked with all the clothes I have for them.”

  “How’s the driving going? Any problems with the GPS?”

  “Going great. How’s everything with Leo?”

  “Same as when you left. Nothing has changed. They had a big attack on the back door last night. That didn’t go as the cops had planned.”

  “Chris, hard to believe that this is still on the go since last Saturday. Six full days. Poor Leo. He has to be in some hard shape by now. Every man has his breaking point. I wonder what Leo’s is?”

  “You’re probably right. Leo is as tough as nails. He has to be. If not, he would have walked out of that house before now. Lesser men would have, but not Leo. He hasn’t reached his breaking point yet. And his breaking point could be days away. I don’t know if I said this to you, but I have said since day one that Leo will end this when he wants. No one else.”

  “How are Bella and Lady doing?”

  “They’re great, as always.”

  “Missing their mommy?”

  “No, they have me with them.”

  “Anyway, babe, I have to go. We’re going to bed early. We’re driving down to Kittery in the morning.”

  “Tina, you be careful on the highway. Don’t take your hands off the wheel. And don’t speed.”

  “I will, promise. Tell Stacie and Hollie I said hi and I love them. And tell them about all the clothes I’ve bought for them.”

  “Hate to say this, but I actually miss you.”

  “Don’t worry, babe, we’ll be cuddling tomorrow night, please God.”

  “Good night. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Chapter 7

  _____________________________________

  Friday, December 10

  At twelve noon there wasn’t a soul to be seen at the pit. People were getting tired of the situation. My phone rang.

  “Hello, Dutch, you over yet?”

  “Yes, just got here, Joe.”

  “I’ll be late coming up. I have someone dead. They’re not waking until tomorrow afternoon, so I’m just doing the embalming. I’ll finish up tomorrow before lunch, before the reposing. So I’ll be up sometime this afternoon. Did you hear anything else on the flooding issue?”

  “No. You’re the first one I spoke to today.”

  “Okay, have to go.”

  “See you when you get here.”

  I saw Brenda turning into the pit. She parked in front of me, got out of the car, and came over to my side window.

  “Dutch, what are you at?”

  “The same thing that you and I have been at for the last six days.”

  “So, fill me in on what you said on the phone last night. Curiosity kept me awake most of the night.”

  “That old curiosity. Killer, ain’t it? Get in.”

  “Hang on, I have to grab me smokes.”

  “Brenda, you’re not smoking in my car.”

  “Duh, I know that, Dutch. I can stand by the side of your car and have a smoke while you fill me in on what it is that is supposed to be so interesting.”

  “You might need it after I tell you the rumour I heard. Apparently they’re bringing over the Witless Bay volunteer fire department to assist the cops in flooding Leo’s house.”

  “WHAT? Who’s bringing them over?”

  “The RCMP. That’s the rumour.”

  “Who the fuck told you that?”

  “I promised not to repeat their names. I’m like the CBC reporter that was up to Ann Marie’s the other night: I don’t reveal my sources. But I will tell you that the person is someone who vo
lunteers with the fire brigade.”

  “Holy Jesus, Dutch. Well, wait until that news gets out.”

  “Apparently they’re trying to keep it quiet.”

  “Well, they’re not doing a very good job of keeping it quiet.”

  “I think they have crucified Leo enough.”

  “And now bring in water to flood and destroy his mother’s house.”

  “Nothing has surprised me with this standoff.”

  “Dutch, they got to try something. We’re technically a full week watching this now. Who ever thought that Leo would still be in that house looking out at the cops? And beating them at every tactic they try.”

  “I agree with you.”

  “Can you believe it? We’ve spent a week in this gravel pit.”

  “Yes, and it’s not over yet.”

  “The only thing we’re missing is a camper or old bus.”

  “Then we’d actually be gravel pit campers.”

  “Never thought of that, Dutch.”

  “Had we known this was going to be on the go this long we could have set something up to hang out in. Somewhere to cook up a fish stew or moose stew. With a bit of Newfoundland and Irish music. Yes, and then the Conservative Government would want us out. As we know, they don’t like gravel pit campers.

  “There wasn’t much in yesterday’s newspaper on the big assault on the house Wednesday night. I can’t believe the media weren’t here. They missed some opportunity for pictures and video.”

  “Someone said yesterday that they brought in a second robot.”

  “So, Leo may have damaged the first one. Looks good on the cops. Can you imagine what kind of head Leo has on him, listening to that repeating itself all week? Sure, that would drive anyone nuts.”

  “I know that robot didn’t cost a pretty penny to build.”

  “Sure, it has everything on it. Lights, PA system, camera that the operator can see with, that arm that can hold stuff. And apparently that arm has something on the end of it that can cut rope and steel cable. So, I guess if someone gets a hold of it and ties it on, it can get itself free. But if it gets tipped over it’s fucked. It’s supposed to be very heavy. I’d say it would take a lot to tip it over. If I was a betting man, I’d put my money on Leo that he would tip it over if it gets close to him.”

  “Dutch, where’s Joe he’s not up here yet?”

  “I was just talking to him. He has a body to do. He said when he finishes the embalming he’ll be up.”

  “He’s been lucky. This has been a very quiet week at the funeral home.”

  “Yes, it has, thank God. If Joe couldn’t come up here and keep an eye on the situation he would crack up. He’s worried to death about Leo.”

  “Dutch, why didn’t you go into the funeral home business?”

  “I couldn’t get along with me old man that long.”

  “Know why, Dutch?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re too much like him.”

  “Now, Brenda, you trying to piss me off? Brenda, when I go home for a bite to eat lunchtime, I’m making a sandwich to bring back for my supper.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, who knows what time they’re planning on turning their hoses on the house? I don’t want to miss it.”

  “Never thought of that, Dutch. I might do the same thing.”

  “It would be the smart thing to do. They might only hose the house for a few seconds, to let Leo know they mean business. And to give him the opportunity to come out. To surrender. And if he doesn’t come out quickly, then they might blast the house non-stop for God knows how long. Probably hours. Apparently the average hose on a fire truck shoots 100 gallons of water per minute. And I don’t think they’ll have much problem reaching the top windows in that house. I learned that when I did the firefighting course, which was a part of the basic survival training course for the offshore. I did that course four different times. First time was in 1984, and then I did it again in 1998, 2001, and 2004. A very physically hard course, but something that’s a must. You do the firefighting, advanced first aid, CPR, and egress training, which shows you how to get out of a helicopter in an emergency situation. And lifeboat training, too. A very expensive course, but one that could save your life.

  “Brenda, you know as well as me that if they set those hoses on that house that will be the end of it.”

  “But Dutch, what exactly will they do with the water?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m guessing they’re going to blast one of the windows, most likely an upstairs window. That will flush him out if he’s on one of the lower floors, the basement or the first floor. And if they do that they’ll flood the whole house, even the top floor. The second they stop the water it will start to freeze. Everything in the house will bust up. It’s going down to minus five tonight. All the lumber will press apart, separate. That house was built over fifty years ago, so it won’t take a lot of water to destroy it. The basement will be flooded. Their well is in the basement, if my memory is correct. That will be ruined. The furnace in the basement will be ruined, also. I hope they have given this idea some serious thought. That house was built in the 1950s or 1960s. And they’ll destroy it in five minutes with water.”

  “Two minutes sounds more like it.”

  “What a sad thing to do to a house belonging to a woman in her mid-eighties. They won’t live it down. This will be a blight on the RCMP forever in Newfoundland. They will lose so much respect. It’s hard to believe the once-proud Canadian institution has lowered their standards to this. They will lose respect not just with the residents of Bay Bulls but the whole island. And with Canadians, for that matter. Many Canadians are watching this story nightly on the national broadcasts. And online, too, with all news stories going up as fast as they read it on air or show it on TV. When people see that on the national news they’ll shake their heads in disbelief.”

  “Dutch, I won’t believe it until I see it.”

  “Brenda, I hope I don’t see it. I pray I don’t see it. It will be a wild thing to see. It will be like something you’d see in a movie, not something you would see here in our little community of 1,200 people. I have never heard of the RCMP ever doing anything like this before. Certainly not in our province.”

  “But Dutch, how many times have the RCMP spent a week trying to get someone out of a house? One person.”

  “I don’t know about getting someone out of a house. But did you read the book on Albert Johnson, the Mad Trapper of Rat River, by F. W. Anderson? The RCMP chased him around the Yukon and the Northwest Territories for over forty-eight days before they killed him in a shootout.”

  “Never heard of it, Dutch.”

  “There was a movie made about it. I believe Lee Marvin played Johnson. And Wilf Carter wrote a song about it, called ‘The Capture of Albert Johnson.’ You should pick up the book. I got it at Michael Donovan Public Library on Topsail Road, across from New World Fitness. And go on YouTube to listen to Wilf Carter sing the song.”

  “I’ll have to do that.”

  “The movie was good. I watched it over twenty-five years ago.”

  “So I guess Leo will be our own Albert Johnson, a cult hero. Especially in Bay Bulls.”

  “Brenda, you mark it down. I bet Con or Arthur O’Brien will write a song about all this and Leo. Or the new Irish band that just started up, with a bunch of teenagers in it. Murphy’s Reel, two of Ronnie Power’s sons, Daniel and Sean, and Roger Williams’s daughter is the lead singer, I believe. Her name is Hilary. And a young fellow by the name of Michael Carter from Witless Bay. Glen’s son. And the name of it will be something like ‘The Standoff in the Harbour.’ I’d say there’s people writing poems about Leo as we speak. We have some smart and witty people in Bay Bulls. And, might I add, musical.”

  “Joe is coming up th
e top road.”

  Joe pulled in the pit like a madman, obviously afraid he might have missed something. He got in with me for a change.

  “Hey, any movement over at Leo’s?”

  “No, Joe, very quiet.”

  “What about down at the town hall and over by Foodland?”

  “All quiet.”

  “Dutch, the story you told me last night is apparently true.”

  “Joe, you can speak freely. I told Brenda the whole story of what I heard.”

  “Brenda, isn’t that the wildest fucking story you’ve ever heard in your life?”

  “Joe, if they go ahead with that, people will be very upset with the RCMP, destroying a woman’s house to get her son out of it. It’s not even believable, Joe. You wouldn’t be able to write that for a script for a movie. It would be a B movie at that.”

  “Brenda, try and keep this between us. We don’t want to be responsible for starting rumours. And you know how rumours get started in Bay Bulls and can continue on forever.

  “Listen, I’m like everyone, I love a bit of news and gossip. But never, and I mean never, do I repeat anybody’s name that tells me anything. Especially if it’s juicy. And that Facebook. Boy, you got to be some careful with that. The stuff people put on that is not fit. People tell their whole life story on that. There’s one woman here in the harbour who holds nothing back. She almost tells how often she has sex with her hubby. She always got the poor mouth. Jesus, sweetheart, we don’t need or want to know all that stuff. TMI—too much information. People are after telling her to tone it down, but it is just as well to talk to the white llama that Spinny O’Driscoll has watching over his herd of sheep.”

  “Brenda, you on Facebook before you came up here today?”

  “No, Dutch. Why?”

  “There’s a Leo Crockwell fan page started. And there was a nice picture of Leo. And the picture wasn’t one that all media outlets are using this week. So I’m curious where they got the picture.”

  “I knew it, Dutch. I knew one of them evil young fellows here in the harbour would do something like that.”

  “Well, it was started 3:10 a.m. this morning, and when I left home at around eleven this morning there were fifty-eight people that requested to befriend Leo. Brenda, I’m telling you, by twelve o’clock tonight that will be up to 500.