Here's a piece I wrote while out on a ride-a-long with Cst. Richard Huculiak of the RCMP. I've gone a half dozen of the, usually for the May Crime Prevention special supplement. The stories have also been used by the RCMP's media department out of Ottawa. It's fun to see what the officer on the beat goes through, not unlike a reporter's job...not predictable from shift-to-shift. I've done night and day shifts, too, for a different perspective.
Jules S. Xavier
Staff Writer
Examining dog poop was not part of his prerequisite studies at Depot in Regina, but Const. Richard Huculiak likes to be thorough even with minor investigations.
It's Saturday morning and the 16-year veteran Mountie is on his second call of an 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. shift out of the Wetaskiwn RCMP detachment.
Assigned to 6-Alpha-41, a vehicle he shares with Const. Tamara Aquilini, Huculiak received a call from Red Deer-based dispatch about a complaint of a neighbour's dog using another homeowner's yard as a toilet. The call came in just before 9 a.m.
"I've got a call from a woman who says the neighbour's dog is pooping on her porch and lawn," says Huculiak, who obtains the directions to the rural area southeast of Millet.
After a few phone calls to the woman to ascertain exact directions to the acreage, Huculiak finally rolls in and is greeted by an overweight cat, two excited dogs penned up and the homeowner doing yard chores.
He acknowledges navigating his cruiser on gravel roads looking for isolated acreage is not always easy when you're not familiar with an area.
"It's important to know where you are out here, so you look for landmarks," he explains, adding an officer does not have the luxury of street signs to help with orientation.
Huculiak follows the homeowner around the yard, bending over to examine dog feces piles the woman points out as belonging to the neighbour's Siberian husky.
He scribbles some notes, obtains pertinent information from the complainant, then assures her he will have a talk with the dog's owner on the adjacent property.
There's no need for a CSI sleuth — the amiable Mountie laughs — he won't be bagging dog poop for further analysis.
Rolling into the neighbor's yard, Huculiak spots the Siberian Husky chained up near a large shed. The dog is a mom, her excited puppies clamouring at the fence of an enclosure when they see a Mountie exiting his cruiser.
Huculiak gives the friendly puppies a quick pat, doing likewise to the chained dog. A canine owner himself, Huculiak likes animals — he also owns four cats.
Huculiak meets with the owner of the Siberian Husky indoors, explaining he's there because of a complaint from their neighbour.
She's more than co-operative, but points out the neighbour's dogs also find their way across the gravel road to her abode, too. It's the country.
Huculiak explains it would be better for both parties if she ensured the Siberian Husky remain confined to her property. He points out, to negate any neighbourly quarrels over dog poop, that homeowners in the country can put down a dog they deem a nuisance.
Huculiak returns to the other property and explains what he's told the neighbour. He's hopeful the two parties can work out the dog poop issue without further RCMP intervention.
Meanwhile, up at 4 a.m. to start his day, 46-year-old Huculiak enjoyed his routine morning exercise program, a hearty breakfast and some light reading for a course he's taking before heading out for work.
A seven-minute walk from his home to the detachment, Huculiak arrives by 6 a.m., one hour early for his scheduled shift.
"I'm not one to waste time in the morning," he says. "I can catch up on my paperwork before starting my shift. I don't like to leave it for the night shift to catch up.
"If it gets busy (at night), you can suddenly find yourself playing more catch-up."
Paperwork comes with the territory being a Mountie, and it doesn't take long to be swamped under if it's left in the in-basket. Tidying up files for the corporals' basket is a must when there's down time between calls.
Huculiak concedes he can get a lot done when there are no distractions: make follow-up calls on cases, prepare for a DARE class or go over case notes to prepare for a court appearance.
He also likes to ensure his cruiser is ready for the road, loading up on supplies and equipment he will need away from the office, especially if a call is out in Wetaskiwin's vast hinterland.
"I like to pack my water and some extra food," he says, conceding his two vices are chocolate and jujubes. On this shift, a package of jujubes, compliments of his Lakedell DARE grads, are packed away.
8:30 a.m.
Huculiak's first call is to a beef farm south of Wetaskiwin, just off Highway 2A. He arrives to find a native male, now awake, who was found earlier sleeping in a barn.
The farm owner does not want to press charges for trespassing, so Huculiak takes the still sleepy passenger for a ride to Hobbema, dropping him off on the Ermineskin reserve.
10:15 a.m.
Not one to sit around the detachment waiting for calls to come in, Huculiak prefers to be out on the road. That's his style, something he learned while working out of Vancouver's suburb Burnaby, Chilliwack or Lytton-Lillooet, a one-man patrol area that featured 30 native reserves in British Columbia.
Already near Millet, Huculiak decides to make a patrol of that community. He also checks his gas gauge and figures his vehicle requires a little petro from Fas Gas.
Twenty-four dollars later, 6-Alpha-41's belly is full and ready for the road. But not Huculiak, who has a hankering for a slurpee from the gas bar.
"I'm not a coffee drinker, but I love my slurpee for the road," he quips while filling a plastic container.
While he's on the road, his teammates are back catching up on paperwork or handling early morning calls out of Wetaskiwin.
Huculiak's day shift partners include Travis Murphy, James Skeoch and Peter Wyman.
"I don't mind rural policing," he says. "I did it in B.C., but I'm enjoying my return to Alberta where it's flat.
"I'm back home, getting used to the four seasons again. I loved B.C., but hated being wet all the time due to the constant rain."
He adds, "It's all about teamwork. We're creatures of habit and do what you're comfortable doing."
Patrolling the rural areas means fewer contacts with humans, not unlike what the Lethbridge-born officer experienced rolling a cruiser through Burnaby's busy streets.
11:08 a.m.
Driving along Highway 795, Huculiak takes a twirl through the parking lot at the Pipestone Cafe. He observes the parked cars are all of the same make, BMW's.
Driving further, he notices a long yellow extension cord running across the highway. This piques his interest, turning east and following the cord. It runs parallel to the gravel township road.
A sign further up the road tells the story of what the yellow extension cord is being used for — a seismic crew has been running cord and seismic gear plugged into the ground for many miles across roads, through ditches and over muddy farmer's fields.
He exits his vehicle to check on a worksite area, minus workers, where the seismic crews are storing materials. There's no one around an empty pickup truck to give Huculiak the story of what's happening on desolate fields on a cool spring morning.
11:42 a.m.
Huculiak makes a patrol around a quiet Crystal Springs. There are few residents out and about, but he's watchful for anything suspicious or that's out of place.
12:12 p.m.
A growling stomach forces Huculiak to seek nourishment. A Mountie cannot subsist on chocolate, jujubes and slurpees during a shift.
Having met the owners of Two Old Crows restaurant who provided pizza for his DARE grad students at Pipestone, Falun and Lakedell Schools, Huculiak decides the quaint Ma-Me-O Beach eating establishment will be his lunch stop.
Ordering the lunch special, Huculiak quenches his appetite with a large omelet and hash browns. Between bites, he talks about his personality and being a cop after leaving Depot for his first posting in 1989, a five-year stint in Burnaby.
"Every officer is different," he concludes. "You develop your own style when it comes to dealing with the public (good or bad).
"You develop techniques for doing interviews. It's not what you see on TV.
"Even bad guys have emotions. You get respect when you give respect. When someone tells you the truth during an interview … they're clearing their conscience."
12:53 p.m.
With lunch done and his appetite satiated until dinner, Huculiak is back on the road, heading west on Highway 13 to make a patrol of the summer homes in the vicinity of Pigeon Lake.
He comes across a few hearty souls out doing yard work or checking on the cottage since it was closed up last fall for the winter.
Huculiak converses with a few individuals who approach the cruiser when he pulls over. Pleasantries are exchanged. He sees the interaction with the residents as good public relations. Forging contacts now could be beneficial in the future.
1:12 p.m.
Travelling east on Highway 13, Huculiak runs a plate on a small pickup with plenty of miles on the body. It comes back to a large transport truck.
Signalling for the driver to pull over near Range Road 255 by flashing on his overhead lights, Huculiak wants to know why the plates don't match the truck.
A closer inspection of the plate shows the F is actually an E, but there's rust and wear on the licence plate which brought about the confusion.
But Huculiak also discovered the driver did not have his driver's licence, so he has him switch and allow his mother to drive. A warning is passed on to the obliging driver and Huculiak is back on the highway.
During a tour of the rural areas, Huculiak likes to keep an eye on the super mail boxes. He points out these structures are often targets for vandals or theft.
"They get pried open for the cheques and credit cards," he says. "They keep the good stuff and throw out the other mail."
Not relying on a spidey sense like superhero Spiderman, Huculiak does rely on his own instincts — he looks at the bigger picture while out on the road.
"You're looking for something that doesn't look right," he offers.
Like watching the motorists around him. He doesn't pull over every vehicle he comes across for a random check of driver's licence, registration or insurance.
Instead, he looks for inconsistencies with the vehicles in front of him or which zoom past in the opposite direction.
"You look at driving patterns," he explains. "Are they hitting their brakes? Not using signals? Check to see if their lights are working (at night). If there's a problem, then you pull that vehicle over and check it."
1:38 p.m.
Continuing his patrol on the periphery of Wetaskiwin, Huculiak takes a twirl around By-the-Lake Park.
"It's showing a presence," he explains when asked about checking out spots where people might congregate in a park area on a warm summer day. There's few people out on this day, the weather playing a factor.
Still, Huculiak likes to check the area for anything that might be out of place. Overturned garbage cans might signal vandals were there the night before causing havoc under cover of darkness.
"I never take the same route when I'm out patrolling," he says, noting there's nothing predictable about his driving route.
2 p.m.
Recalling a recent case of vandalism on his watch out at Coal Lake in the Gwynne valley, Huculiak decides to take a patrol east of Wetaskiwin.
A drive through the campground finds a number of families hunkering around their campfire.
Nearby is evidence of vandalism from the weekend before — a picnic table is but a steel skeleton, the wood burned away thanks to vandals with little respect for another's property. The campsite is vacant, with no picnic table to use.
Huculiak also points out the campground sign was used for target practice, bullet dents peppered across the government sign.
2:19 p.m.
Huculiak then swings north to check out Crooked Lake Community Church, opened in 1932. The church's graveyard was hit by vandals.
"I found a grave marker had been pulled from the cemetery and pulled out on to the road," he recalls on a previous patrol.
2:30 p.m.
Returning to Wetaskiwin, Huculiak stops by the dry cleaners to pick up his ceremonial serge. After using it at three separate DARE grads that week, he had it cleaned for an upcoming Leaders of Tomorrow ceremony he will work at along with rookie Const. Bruce Lussier.
2:45 p.m.
Back at the office, Huculiak completes the downloaded files he worked on earlier that morning. He stays ahead of the paper trail, knowing there will be more reports to file before his shift concludes.
3:44 p.m.
His next call sees Huculiak return north to Millet to investigate a reported rock through a large storefront window. Witnesses reported it was done by a young offender, who was supposed to be still at the scene.
Huculiak arrives to find a trio of teens, one sweeping up the large pieces of glass in front of Millet Foodland.
Taking copious notes as he interviews the teens, plus nearby neighbours who thought one of the teens looked like the culprit.
"You'd think if you threw a rock through a window you wouldn't still be standing here when the police showed up," he says.
The teen cleaning up the mess assures Huculiak the culprit who tossed the rock quickly ran off. He scribbles down statements, which later will be added to the downloaded file sent from Red Deer.
Once he sorts out the different stories as to what happened to the window, Huculiak also talks with the store owner, who did not see the rock thrown, but heard the crashing glass.
A patrol of the area turns up nothing.
4:10 p.m.
Dispatch comes across the radio with a complaint about five northbound motorcyles on Highway 2 driving fast and pulling wheelies on that stretch of two-lane pavement.
Heading west on Highway 814, Huculiak figures he can head them off by the time they reach the Millet overpass. His hunch is correct.
Only a few minutes of setting up on the off ramp to Highway 2 north, the crotch rockets pass by. No sooner than Huculiak activated his overhead lights, the five bikes quickly pull over.
With no cover, Huculiak was just expecting to try and record a few licence plate numbers before the bikes sped off, acknowledging 6-Alpha-41 is not equipped to race motorcycles built for speed.
4:22 p.m.
Everyone dismounts from their bikes, doff their helmets, and await Huculiak's arrival from his cruiser. Each driver dutifully handed over their licence, registration and insurance paperwork.
"They were all co-operative with me," he says.
4:36 p.m.
Back in the cruiser while the five males out of the Sylvan Lake area chat or make calls on cell phones, Huculiak runs the plates and licences.
Good attitudes and co-operating with this Mountie enabled all five to escape receiving a ticket. But Huculiak did give them a stern warning, noting the next time they were caught doing stunts or speeding the police might not be so lenient.
"I sent them on their way," he says. "I thanked them for their co-operation. Respect gains respect."
4:45 p.m.
Covering a file from the night before for another member, Huculiak parked in a U-turn area on Highway 2 and made a call to a distraught father about his teen daughter's behaviour.
A lengthy conversation allowed Huculiak to offer the dad a number of options, without having to bring the police in.
While parked, traffic going south and north noticeable kept to the speed limit.
5:20 p.m.
Driving south on Highway 2, Huculiak spots a car with its hazard lights on. He pulls over just as another vehicle pulled up.
The stranded teens en route to Calgary were picked up by their father, who would return later to have the car towed away.
5:30 p.m.
With 30 minutes remaining in his shift, Huculiak decided to head back to the detachment, exiting at the Highway 13 overpass.
Near Range Road 245 he pulls over a van that seemed to be in a hurry, travelling over the posted speed limit and passing another vehicle.
"I gave him a warning," says Huculiak. "The driver's wife gave him an earful."
6:05 p.m.
Pulling into Fas Gas in Wetaskiwin, Huculiak tops up 6-Alpha-41 with more petro. He likes to leave the gas tank full for the next member coming on night shift.
6:10 p.m.
Calling it a day, Huculiak goes 10-35, but spends the next hour finishing off his reports from that afternoon. He moves a bag full of chocolate dropped off for Aquilini, the member who shares the same desk, aside so he can work the keyboard.
"It's time to play catch-up," he says of figuring out his notes and applying the information to the files attached to his name and cruiser.
Then it's the seven-minute walk home where the father of a 17-year-old son and 19-year-old daughter can relax with the wife and five family pets.
Despite an uneventful morning shift, Huculiak concedes there's never a dull moment being a Mountie working out of Wetaskiwin's detachment.
And despite handling a sudden death the day before or seeing carnage at an accident site, Huculiak enjoys his job, whether working with his DARE students or helping someone in distress when their car breaks down on a lonely highway.
"I love working with the community and the people living there," he says. "As a police officer, you don't look at catching all the bad guys because that's not going to happen. You'd need a lot of intelligence and surveillance for that.
"You have to be proactive. See where you can assist. Don't call it problems, but address the communities concerns or issues."
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