Chapter 2

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Sunday, December 5

I arrived back at the gravel pit at 6:40 a.m. on Sunday. Early morning for me, especially on a Sunday.

Only two vehicles were there. I was surprised, very surprised. Francie Power was sitting in his pickup truck and there was someone in with him. Lo and behold, it was my brother Joe.

Joe jumped out the second I parked my car in front of Francie’s truck, which was almost the exact same spot I had been in last night. Joe jumped in the car and started talking.

“I had him on the phone! I had him on the phone!”

“What?”

“I had him on the phone!”

“Joe, settle down. Who the fuck did you have on the phone?”

“Leo, b’y. Leo.”

Talk about being confused. “How the fuck did you have Leo on the phone?”

“The RCMP called me at three thirty, at home, and asked me if I would go on a PA system that they had thrown into Leo’s house. To see if Leo would speak with me. They asked if I could meet them at the town hall at five a.m. I said sure. If me talking on a PA system was going to get Leo to come out safely, I would surely give it a try. What wouldn’t you do for a buddy in a situation like this?”

“How did they get a PA system into the house?”

“They threw it through the living room window.”

“You mean they smashed the glass out?”

“Yes.”

“Leo liked that, I bet. He wasn’t in a bad enough mood as it was, and now the cops are beating out his windows.”

“Anyway, Dutch, after I was debriefed at the town hall I was directed to drive to Foodland. Harold Mullowney was there. Harold had been on the PA system, but from what I understand he had no luck getting any kind of reply from Leo. They tried Harold because he’s been a friend of Leo’s most of his life, Leo and all the Crockwells.

“I got in the RCMP cruiser. They quickly went over what I was debriefed on at the town hall. We went over it at least three times.

“I listened, but what the officer said went in one ear and out the other. I’ve known Leo all my life. And here is some cop from St. John’s, more specifically probably a farmer’s son from the prairies—how is he going to tell me what to say to my friend Leo? I listened just to be respectful. Actually, it went in through one ear and out the other. No one has to tell me what to say in most situations, especially this one. I know Leo as well as anyone in Bay Bulls. I wanted to get that mike in my hand so bad. I knew—I would have bet my life on it—that I would get Leo to respond to me.

“The officer brought the cruiser around the corner of the supermarket, the northeast corner to be exact. We could see the window on the far right downstairs of the Crockwells’, our right—the one the PA system was thrown into. We could also see the front door and half of the window on the left.

“I repeated what the police had asked me to say. And repeated it a second time, and for the third time. It never worked, as I expected. The officer said, ‘Joe, the ball is in your corner, say what you want.’

“By this time I was in a bad state. Here was my buddy since childhood corralled in a house with armed police officers everywhere. I may have only slept for an hour during the night. I actually didn’t know if I could repeat what was in my heart. If ever I had to keep it together, now was the time. I was fighting to hold back exactly how I was feeling.

“I said, ‘Leo, I’m sick of being nice. Pick up the phone, Leo. Pick up the phone, Leo. Please pick up the phone. Leo, pick up the fucking phone.’ By this time I was a bag of nerves. I was determined to get him to reply to me. How, I had no idea. But if anyone in Bay Bulls was going to get a reaction out of him, it would be me. I started repeating what I had said earlier. ‘Leo, pick up the phone. Leo, pick up the phone. Leo, pick up the FUCKING phone. Pick up the FUCKING phone. Pick the fucking thing up.’ Then it happened . . . the light in the bottom right room flashed on for a split second, the room with the window beat out. I knew it. I knew he would reply to me. Immediately upon seeing the light, the police officer brushed my hand, a signal to stop talking. Then the officer got on his cruiser radio and said, ‘He is okay. He is okay. He just flashed the light on and off in the room on our right.’

“I was relieved, as was the officer. Because, really, up to that time we did not know if Leo was dead or alive. That simple little flash of the light was worth more to me than if someone had given me a million bucks. I knew then that Leo had survived the initial onslaught of cops and that he would be able to hold his own going forward. Deep down inside I knew Leo would not self-destruct. And most people in the harbour would agree with me. He is too determined and intelligent. But I wondered to myself how the hell was he going to get himself out of this mess. A mess on a massive scale. And getting messier by the hour.”

“Joe, how did the cops know that Leo would reply to you?”

“Well, actually I ran into an officer, up to Paddy’s yesterday afternoon, who I’ve gotten to know over the years. Meeting him at sudden deaths and that, where the police would have to be called. Anyway, we had a quick chat about the situation with Leo. I told him that I was good friends with Leo, and if there was anything that I could do to help the situation in any way to call me, anytime, night or day. I gave him my cell number when I was leaving, just to make double sure he had it. I was kind of thinking that they would call me. The officer asked me many, many questions about Leo.”

“Joe, you have to be beat. You’re on the go over twenty-four hours with a little over an hour or so sleep. You should go home and have a nap. If anything happens, I’ll call you immediately.”

“I’m not going anywhere until Leo is safely out of that house.”

“Joe, you could be in for a long haul. You know how determined Leo is. I guess Janet is putting on Sunday dinner?” Janet is Joe’s wife, and she usually has Sunday dinner on the table around noon.

“I don’t know, Dutch.”

“If she does, when you go home to eat, lie down for an hour or so.”

The gravel pit started to come alive. I guess the news of the flashing light was getting people on the move. Guaranteed someone had posted it on Facebook.

I guessed that not many of us Micks or Prods were going to be going to church. Not with that kind of excitement in the harbour. Bay Bulls is 90 per cent Catholic, 10 per cent Protestant. Only two communities on the Southern Shore, Bay Bulls and Aquaforte, have residents who are Protestant.

All the new arrivals wanted to know what had happened overnight and that morning.

Joe filled all hands in on his stint on the phone and how Leo had flashed the lights for a split second for him. This was news, big news. It was the most action since the standoff started. Joe must have repeated the story a dozen times before lunch. He was like a snake-oil salesman, going from vehicle to vehicle, adding on a little here and there as he went. His voice was starting to get hoarse from talking, but that was no big deal. Joe loves to talk. It’s part of his job as the local undertaker. He spends hour after hour in his funeral parlour, talking.

They say he talks more than our father, who started the business way back in 1965. He also loved to talk, in between smoking three to four packs of cigarettes a day, plus chewing a plug of tobacco. He lived to the ripe old age of seventy-seven and could most likely have hit 100 only for the smoking. The doctors said his body was worn out from it. He once told me that he was smoking a pipe at ten and on the cigs full-time by the age of eleven.

David “Lou” Williams from Bread and Cheese arrived. Bread and Cheese is the most easterly area of Bay Bulls, on the north side of the harbour. It’s where the Protestants live. The Protestant Williamses on that side of the harbour are called Lou, an old family nickname. David Lou had his younger brother, Scottie Lou, with him. The late Mike Williams, known as Mickey Dave, one of the Catholic Williamses on the north side, owned the stage where the Smith murder weapon, a sawed-off shotgun, was found in 1984.

David Lou said he couldn’t believe how many police vehicles he’d seen at the town hall on his way to the pit. He also said he saw two police dogs, each in a separate SUV, at the town hall.

Joe said that, during the night, from around 11:30 p.m. onward until he left the pit, he saw many first-response vehicles coming into the community from the direction of St. John’s. They had been riding in like the cavalry, he said. Most stopped at Foodland to have a quick chat with the officers on guard there, mostly officers from Ferryland and Holyrood. Joe figured they were getting directions, since they continued down Cemetery Lane East to the command post at the town hall.

I started scoping the area from the Catholic church to the town hall. It was eleven forty-five and people were leaving the church after Mass. As they passed the town hall, they slowed down to have a look at all the police vehicles in the town hall parking lot. No one had ever seen that many cop cars at the one time in Bay Bulls.

By the time noon rolled around, I realized that there would be many more cars in the pit today than yesterday. Joe and I had the best spots, me in my car, Joe in his SUV. I wasn’t about to lose my spot for the sake of food, so I decided to give my better half a call to ask her to put sandwiches together for Joe and myself and have her ask our sweet daughter, Stacie, to dart them over to us.

Tina said no problem, and she didn’t think Stacie would mind bringing us sandwiches. She said, “I’ll mix two Thermoses of coffee for both of you. Hot coffee may warm you up.” I said thanks, much appreciated.

About twenty minutes after I’d called Tina, she called me back.

“Chris,” she said, “you’re not going to believe this.”

I could hardly understand what she was saying, she was laughing so hard.

She said, “Were you talking to Sharon yet?”

“No. Why?”

“She called, looking for you.”

“Well, what did she want?”

“I can’t tell you. If I tell you, I’ll spoil it. She’ll call you in the next few minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll hang up and wait for her call.”

Tina was right. My phone rang less than a minute after speaking to her. It was Sharon. “Dutch, you’re not going to believe this.”

“Believe what?”

“Kevin Plumber was right.”

“Right about what?” There were so many things going around in my head that the name wasn’t registering.

“Donna’s not home, and her mother said she hasn’t seen her since yesterday. We can’t find her anywhere. So the only place she can be is either in Ferryland or in Holyrood, locked up.”

What a hearty laugh I let out! “Sharon, I told you that she was seen walking up Irish Town Road. I knew Kevin wouldn’t bullshit me over something like that, something so serious. So are you going to call and ask if they have her?”

“We don’t know what to do. I guess we’ll wait for another hour or two and see if they bring her home.”

“I don’t think the police bring you back home after detaining you. I believe you need to be picked up. And I believe someone needs to sign a release.”

“If we don’t hear anything by one o’clock I’ll get on the horn and try to find her.”

“Sharon, I don’t know if they’re allowed to tell anyone if they have someone in custody. Something to do with the new privacy laws.”

“Well, it will be worth a try.”

“Don’t worry too much about her. She’ll surface. She’s tough as nails. But in the meantime, good luck with it. That’s what Donna gets for not doing what the cops told her. I’m sure they lectured her yesterday when they nabbed her by Leo’s house the first time.”

“Dutch, you know what Donna is like. No one is telling her what to do.”

“Well, look what she got for not doing what she was told.”

“Dutch, she’ll only laugh that off. That won’t bother her a bit.”

“Anyway, Sharon, call me the second you find her, will you? I’m kind of hoping that she is locked up. At least then we’ll know she’s safe.”

“Will do. Dutch—sorry, for not believing you yesterday evening.”

“No problem, hon.”

Joe had gotten the gist of my conversation with Sharon. “Too bad we never got to her before the cops nabbed her. I knew she was locked up last night. Sure, she wouldn’t have slept all day and all evening. If she was home she would have been up here with us. You know what, Dutch? If this goes on much longer they’ll have to lock Donna up. You and I know how determined she is.”

“Yes, much like her cousin.”

Stacie arrived at around 1:00 p.m. Ham and turkey breast with lettuce and tomatoes, and baby tomatoes on the side. I love tomatoes. And the coffee, as promised. The boys hanging around the SUV said, “Dutch, she got you spoiled rotten.”

“You’ll have to get a woman from Witless Bay,” I told them. “The best women on the Shore.”

There were two-thirds more police cars than the day before, and an ambulance on standby. Not your typical ambulance, but a big cube-van type like the fire departments use. Ambulances, which belong to Eastern Health, run around $175 an hour. I started to realize that this standoff could get very expensive.

They put two police vehicles on O’Driscoll Place, on the northeast side of Leo’s, close to Sharon O’Driscoll’s house. One was a grey Chevrolet car, the other was a dark blue Chevrolet Suburban. Each vehicle had two officers in it.

At around eight o’clock, Joe told me to put my scope on the Pinch. The Pinch is the big hill you see coming into Bay Bulls from Goulds. It’s roughly 115 metres above sea level.

“Why do you want me to scope it?” I asked.

“There’s a very large truck coming down the Pinch,” Joe said.

The vehicle that Joe told me to scope was indeed large, with a lot of lights on it. I said, “Joe, that looks like one of those police trucks that they use as a command post in situations like this. I’ve never seen one in operation in real life, but I’ve seen them used many times on CSI.”

I kept my scope on it. Joe used the binoculars. The vehicle slowed down and went into Foodland’s parking lot.

“Joe,” I said, “this is heavy duty. They don’t take vehicles like that to police or crime scenes unless they expect the situation to last for an extended length of time.”

“What do you think they’ll do with it?” Joe asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Where do you expect them to set it up?”

“Good question. I don’t know. I’m thinking at Foodland or at the town hall.”

We kept focused on it, watching its every move. As soon as it stopped at Foodland, police officers entered for a short time. The rumour in the pit was that there were between thirty-five and forty cops on duty in Bay Bulls. That was a large number, considering that the RCMP detachment for all of Ferryland district, which stretches approximately 100 kilometres, from Bay Bulls in the north to Cappahayden in the south, covering roughly fourteen communities, has only six officers.

We continued to think aloud about where they would set the vehicle up. I said that I thought the town hall was the best place to park it, since that seemed to be the place with the most action. Joe disagreed with me; he thought Foodland was the best spot since it was closest to the Crockwell house. I said, “Joe, it’s a communication centre, not a tank.”

Within twenty minutes the huge truck started rolling again. It turned left when it exited Foodland, crossed the bridge, and hung a left, heading for the town hall. When it arrived, it backed into the northeast corner of the parking lot. It sprouted more lights, and we could see two men crawling on the ground, setting up jacks on each of its four corners. Two other men climbed on top of the truck. One was working on what looked like an old 1970s TV antenna. The other was setting up one of two dishes, much like the ones used for satellite TV. The second piece of equipment looked modern compared to the first one. One of the men got off the top of the truck and started to unroll what looked like a heavy-duty extension cord from the truck to the town hall.

“Joe, this is not going to end quickly,” I said. “I can see this going on for a few days.”

Joe agreed; Leo was not going to give up easily. “Dutch, you don’t know Leo like I do. I have been buddies with him for more than forty-five years. Actually, closer to fifty. Leo will end this on his terms, no one else’s. As you know, he hates cops. He always did. And after that wrongful detention in 1998, he hates them even more.”

My back was killing me. Joe looked like someone dragged over the coals. He had been on the go for thirty-six hours with roughly one hour of sleep.

Sharon called me on Brenda’s cell. “Come down and jump in with me and Brenda,” she said.

I went down and got in Sharon’s car, which was five or six cars away from Joe’s SUV. “What’s up?” I asked.

She started a rant that lasted ten minutes. She was pissed off with the RCMP. Two days and they still wouldn’t let her get Peanut. Her dog had water enough for roughly two days. “If I don’t get him out by tomorrow evening, the situation will start getting serious for Peanut. If they had told me that this was going to last this long, I would have grabbed him on the way out.”

I said, “Sharon, who ever thought that it would be going on this long? No one knew that Leo was this determined.”

“Dutch, everyone in the harbour knows how headstrong and determined Leo is. Didn’t the cops learn anything from their dealings with him in 1998?”

“Sharon, Leo could be there for weeks. Knowing Leo, he was prepared for this. He always said that they would be back to crucify him for making them look like idiots in 1998.”

“I can’t argue with you. We know how smart he is. And I wouldn’t be shocked if he had a stockpile of grub, coffee, and smokes in case something like this happened someday. They’re certainly not dealing with the average person.”

“Did you go home for supper?”

“No, Judy brought supper up to us. Hot turkey sandwiches.”

“Jesus. You had better grub than me and Joe. We had sandwiches, too. Compliments of Tina, delivered by Stacie. She brought us lunch as well.”

“Stacie is driving?”

“Sharon, Stacie has been driving for two and a half years.”

“Holy shit, she grew up in a bloody hurry.”

“Sure, Hollie just turned thirteen.”

“Where does the time go? I remember Joey with them down on the public wharf one day. Hollie was around two, and Stacie may have been nine or ten. Man, time flies.”

“Sure, Sharon, Joey has been dead for eight and a half years.” Joey was the girls’ father, my best friend.

“He’s been dead that long?”

“Yes, he died on July 25, 2002. Anyway, Sharon, tomorrow morning make a roar to me and I’ll jump in with you and go have a chat with the cops. That’s ridiculous, that dog alone and most likely out of food and water. Sure, if you did that yourself to a dog the cops would charge you with cruelty to animals.

“You staying much longer?”

“I may as well, no house to go home to. I’m bunking down at Judy’s.”

“Drink much beer here today?”

“No, had a half after lunch. Brenda just picked up another. Can’t drink too much . . . too many cops in the harbour. Want one?”

“No thanks. I’m going to go back and have a gander with my binoculars. Don’t want to miss anything.”

“Relax, b’y, have a beer. Nothing’s going to happen over there tonight.”

“Did you see the humongous truck that backed in behind the town hall?”

“Yes, we saw it and were wondering what it was.”

“It looks to me to be some type of communications vehicle. I guess they’ve come to the realization that Leo is not going to surrender in a hurry.”

“Leo will wait them out until Christmas. If you had to hand-pick someone in the harbour to be in a situation like this, Leo would be the fellow to pick. He is as determined as a bull.”

“I’m expecting to see this on the national news tonight.”

“No, Dutch. This a little local story. This is not big enough to make the national news.”

“You wait and see, Sharon. I’ll bet you a dozen beer this will be on the national news tonight. If not tonight, definitely tomorrow night. If this is still going on this time tomorrow night, it will be three nights. That in itself is a story. Man with a weapon, barricaded in a house for three days, surrounded by no less than thirty-five to forty cops. With more and more being added every day.”

“Dutch, there are not that many cops around his house.”

“No, Brenda, there may not actually be that many surrounding the house. But definitely there are at least a dozen sharpshooters around the house. Joe and I counted them today. There were two in each of the two vehicles in your lane, Sharon. There were no less than four in the grass behind the house.”

“Dutch, where did you count four cops in the grass? You’re off your head.”

“Sharon, you’ve never had a chance to look through my binoculars or scope, have you? If one of those cops had their fly down on your lane, I would see it with my scope.”

“Now, Dutch, you’re exaggerating. What do you think you have there, the Hubble Space Telescope?”

“I may not have the Hubble, but the spotting scope I have for birdwatching is awesome. If you and Brenda were up walking on the ridge, I could identify you in seconds.”

“When did you start being a birdwatcher?”

“I started about ten years ago. I was always into it on a small scale. But I got serious on a bigger scale when I had an eastern towhee at my feeder in the fall of 2001 and the winter of 2002. All the top birdwatchers from town came up to see it. One of them, Jared Clarke, a MUN student at the time, asked me to go down to Cape Race that spring with him. So it kind of grew on me.”

“Like, where do you go to look at birds?”

“We go down to the sod farm in St. Shotts and work our way back from there. We try and make sure we get out to Cape Race. We get a lot of rare birds out there. Remember, it’s twenty-two kilometres out into the Atlantic Ocean. Besides, I love to go out there. There’s so much history along that coast. Have any of you read Robert Parsons’s book on all the shipwrecks out on that coastline in the past 100 years or so? Anyway, we check all the known ponds and headlands in most communities. In winter we know who has the best feeders that attract birds in each community.”

“Dutch, I have to laugh. Grown men going around looking at little birds.”

“Well, Sharon, it’s better than drinking beer every Saturday. Actually, it’s one of the fastest-growing hobbies in North America. There’s a movie being made as we speak.”

“About birdwatching?”

“Yes. The name of it is The Big Year, and it stars Steve Martin and Owen Wilson. Two excellent actors. Funny actors. Anyway, girls, I’m going back to Joe before he gets lonely. Sharon, just have a gander in your rear-view mirror. Who is that in with Joe?”

“Looks like Jeff O’Driscoll. I certainly miss his mother, Bernice, in the post office. She was great for having a chat.”

“Who are the two new women working at the post office these days?”

“I don’t know. I guess they’re new in town. There are so many people moving in here these days, with all the new subdivisions being built. I hardly know anyone anymore. I see groups of kids coming out of Foodland and don’t know one of them.”

“Anyway, I’m gone.”

“Dutch, hang on for a second. You’re always in a fucking hurry. You’re more hyper than Joe.”

“So how long are the two of you staying?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking midnight. Why? I hate to leave, afraid I’ll miss something.”

“Well, if anything happens between now and midnight I’ll give you a shout at Judy’s. I’ll call your cell, Brenda. Give me your number and I’ll put it into my BlackBerry. Myself and Joe are going to start rotating our time here, starting tomorrow morning. It doesn’t make any sense for the two of us to be here constantly. We figured if we rotated our time we would be covering this close to twenty-four hours a day. When I’m sleeping and resting, Joe will stay. While Joe is asleep, I’ll monitor the situation.”

“Good idea, Dutch. You’re like VOCM—on-the-spot news. How long do you think this will last?”

“Girls, I have no idea. But you know as well as I do that they picked the last fellow in the harbour to mess with. Leo will wait them out until the cows come home.”

“But Dutch, how long can he go? The window in the living room, the room that they threw the phone into, that’s shattered. It’s got to be getting pretty fucking cold in there. Someone said that they’re going to cut the power in the morning.”

“That should go over real well with Leo, Sharon. That will only piss him off more. They should try being nice to him. If they use those tactics, they will only harden his resolve. Don’t the cops know you get more flies with honey than with vinegar? I wouldn’t want to be the linesman that has to get on the pole in front of the house. I would be a tad bit nervous.”

“No, no, Dutch. Apparently they can do it with the transformer unit by the church.”

“That’s what that little beige building is. I always wondered what it was. Are you sure? I always thought that you had to get on the pole closest to the house in question to cut the power. Each house is isolated. That’s what you had to do years ago.”

“B’y, I don’t know. But someone said up to Paddy’s this afternoon that was the plan, come Monday morning.”

“Sharon, you’re probably right. They got to start using some tactics. They can’t leave him there too long. Sure, there are six businesses closed down because of this.”

“Six—you sure?”

“Well, Foodland is closed. Kennedy’s drugstore, the Sapphire Pub, A Cut Above. And the post office apparently won’t open in the morning. Rumour has it you will have to go to Witless Bay to get your mail. Okay, that’s five.”

“Dutch, I can honestly say I never knew that.”

“Well, anyway, I guess community gatherings like this are good for something. Catching up on all the local gossip. Anyway, I’m twenty minutes trying to get out of here. Sleep close to your phones, girls. Good night. See you later.”

“Later, Dutch.”

I went back to where Joe and I were parked.

“Hey, Joe. Jeff, I thought that was you. Where were you all day, Jeff? Figured you would be up here.”

“No, Mother wanted a run to town. She had to dart to Walmart and a few places. She doesn’t like to drive in the winter.”

“Jeff, sure, there isn’t a flake of snow on the ground.”

“No, but she’s nervous that it will snow while she’s shopping, so I go just to be safe. So, Dutch, fill me in on what happened today with Leo.”

“Not a thing. No more excitement than yesterday. The only change from yesterday is there are a hell of a lot more cops and cop cars in the harbour. Joe, did you tell Jeff about you getting Leo to flash the lights?”

“Yes, told him the whole story.”

“Well, Jeff, that’s a good sign. At least we know he’s still okay.”

“Okay, but what kind of shape is he in? With the window beat out of the front of the house, it’s got to be freezing in there. And we all know he smokes like a tilt and he lives for his Tim Hortons coffee.”

“Jeff, don’t worry, Leo always knew this day would come. He told me more than a dozen times that he always thought the cops were following him for making them look like idiots in 1998. I’d say Leo has enough smokes and coffee to keep himself going for months. Probably more coffee in that house than Tim Hortons sent to Afghanistan for the troops. And if the rumour is true . . . you must have heard the rumour about cutting his power come Monday morning?”

“Sure, I know that will get him out.”

“Jeff, don’t kid yourself. I guarantee you Leo has a Coleman stove in that house. I’d also bet that he has propane heaters. Leo will end this on his time and terms. It may take a few days or even a week, but when he gives them his demands I’d like to see the list. Longer than your average Santa Claus letter. That might be the start to rectifying this situation.

“Jeff, what a crowd went through this pit today. Well, last night we thought maybe thirty to forty cars went through here. Today, you could double that.”

“You serious, Dutch?”

“Jeff, here this afternoon the cars were lined up bumper to bumper from the pit to the Track Road in as far as Alfie Power’s on both sides. I went in as far as Marie Williams’s this morning trying to find a better spot for a lookout. I parked on Keith and Shannon O’Driscoll’s land. My favourite niece’s land. You could see Leo’s house from in there, but the view wasn’t as good as here. The elevation we have makes the difference. That’s why I can’t figure out why so many people are hanging around Uncle Tom’s. There’s no elevation down there. They can’t see the town hall like we can see it. They might see a little of Foodland, the old Tin Can, but their view of the town hall is blocked by the old school. So not only is this a better spot for a look at the house, but you see more stuff on the move. Every time a cop car moves, we see it, which gives us an advantage. Helps us to predict their next move.

“Someone said they ran into Angus O’Brien this morning while they were in at the end of the Track, and he told them that his sister, Marcella Tobin, and her family were sent out of their house, too. He said Marcella was getting ready to host a sixtieth birthday party for her husband, Kevin, Saturday evening when the cops showed up at the door and gave them five minutes to get out. He said she had food everywhere in the kitchen for the party. She had to go and leave it where it sat. She suspects it will be all spoiled by the time they get back in their house. Their daughter had to go back later in the evening with SWAT team members to retrieve their cats.”

“What a waste. The RCMP should have to pay for that.”

“Yes, and a lot of other stuff as well.”

“I also heard that Sandra Cahill and her daughter, Meghan, and her new baby, Austin, were out of their house as well. Kevin Cahill is out on the Hibernia rig doing his hitch; he left to fly out on Friday. He was supposed to go Thursday but was grounded due to fog. It seems that the cops are using the houses to keep an eye on Leo. There is talk, he said, that they may be putting sharpshooters in both of the houses come daylight Monday morning.”

“Dutch, that’s wild. That’s the first I heard about anyone being ordered out of their homes, other than Sharon O’Driscoll.”

“I also heard that Billy Oates and his wife, Barb, were out as well, and Tom O’Driscoll and his family. And that Martin Tobin and his family are out of his grandfather’s house.”

“Well, you would expect Martin and his family to be out. That’s the closest house to Crockwell’s.”

“And there is talk that Junior O’Driscoll will be out Monday morning. Jeff, you should know that, Junior being your uncle.”

“I haven’t spoken with him in the last week or so, too busy with schoolwork. Actually, I haven’t spoke with him since this all started.”

“Isn’t this wild, that half of that side of the harbour is inconvenienced? Why? Sure, Leo isn’t about to hurt anyone. Never has. Never will. Jeff, what do you think about all this?”

“Well, Dutch, I’m like everyone else. Don’t have all the details on how and what this started over. Heard some rumours. But you know what rumours are like in Bay Bulls. One fellow hears a story, adds a little, the next fellow hears it and adds a little. By the time it gets around the harbour it’s so blown out of proportion that it has the makings of a movie many hours long. A story that would top one of your Uncle Tom’s lies.”

“I used to have great chats with him at the arena when he played recreational hockey. He was a fine hockey player. Pretty cagey with the puck. And tough as nails. If you drop your gloves with him, you better have packed a lunch, because he would fight until the cows came home. Don’t think I ever saw him lose a fight. I watched him play hockey for fifteen years or so. First at Brother O’Hehir Arena in St. John’s and then up at Southern Shore Arena. I truly miss the hockey that was on the Shore back in the 1970s and 1980s.”

“Bay Bulls was always king on the Southern Shore when it came to hockey and fighting.”

“I agree, Jeff. When you saw fellows like Brian Mulcahy—Luke—Jerry Williams—Scanner—and Irvin Crane don the green and white, you knew you were going to get your admission’s worth. The good old days.

“It’s sad to see Leo in this situation. You couldn’t find a finer fellow, at least not in this town. He would do anything for anyone. And the first to lend a hand at anything physical.

“Jeff, I prayed for him last night. And you know I’m not big on prayers. But if my prayers can get him out of that house and the situation he’s in safely, I’ll pray the rest of the winter. Actually, I’d almost go to Mass every Sunday. Please God this will end without anyone getting hurt, Leo or the police.

“The longer this goes on, the more nervous I’m getting. Who knows what the outcome will be? Nobody really knows. I’m no big fan of cops, but they have a job to do. As I get older I appreciate them more and respect the work they do. The world would be a sad place without them. And they have families to go home to as well as us. I’d say there are police hoping and praying this ends peacefully.”

“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.”