In 1957 the Scarborough Police Department was integrated into the new Metropolitan Toronto Police Department. After four years on the job I considered myself to be a crime fighting, gun toting veteran. I had even discharged my weapon in the line of duty.

I was on my third solo patrol late one cold fall night in an industrial area of Scarborough. While cursing by an auto repair shop I noticed a window in the garage door wasn’t reflecting the beam back from the spotlight of my squad car. I stopped to investigate and as I approached the building I could hear someone rummaging around inside the garage. I was moving quietly towards the door when suddenly a black clad figure burst out and started running for the empty field behind the shop. I was startled but took up the chase yelling for the suspect to stop.

I was fast but the suspect was faster and as the distance between us increased so did my anger, when a cop tells you to stop, you stop. So I stopped, I drew my gun, pointed it at the suspect’s back and yelled, “stop or I’ll shoot!” He kept running so I pulled the trigger. The suspect tumbled forward and lay still, face down on the ground.

All of the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

As I ran up to the figure on the ground I was hugely relieved to see that he was breathing. He was a boy of 17 and so terrified he had pissed himself.

“You shot at me, I felt the bullet pass by my head!” he said accusingly.

“You should have stopped when I told you to” I answered as I put handcuffs on him and pulled him to his feet.

It was the first and last time that I fired my gun at a human. — PJS