The Bay Bulls Standoff

by Chris Ryan

  “I wonder what they’ll come up with today to try tonight? You mark it down, they’ll try something. And it will be different than last night’s plan.”

  “But Joe, the question is, what?”

  “I have no idea, Dutch. I’m not an expert in getting people out of houses who don’t want to come out.”

  “And it seems they aren’t, either. If they had talked to a few local townspeople when this all started, we wouldn’t be here now. I said that earlier in the week, Joe. They jumped the gun. And when it all got going they couldn’t stop it. It’s like a runaway train. The longer it’s going, the harder it is to stop. And the million-dollar question is, what will end this standoff? Who knows? Not me.”

  “Me neither, Dutch.”

  “Joe, you see that car coming up the top road?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the Telegram reporter that’s been hanging around Uncle Tom’s all week. Guaranteed he’s coming up to ask us about last night’s assault on the house. Joe, say nothing. We agreed when this started to say nothing to the media until this is over.”

  “Dutch, don’t worry. I won’t open my mouth. Where did he park?”

  “He’s close to the rim of the pit. He’s walking up the road there now.”

  The reporter walked up to the side of Joe’s SUV. Joe wound down the window.

  “Hello, men. How are you doing this morning?”

  “Good, mate, and you?”

  “Fine, thanks. I hear from a few of the locals that there was a lot of excitement over at the Crockwell residence late last night. I missed it. I had to leave around seven last evening to get my story in for today’s edition. Some of the locals down the road there suggested that I come up to talk to the two of you. They said that the two of you were most likely here last night when it went down.

  “So, is it true? Were you here and did you witness the assault?”

  “No comment.”

  “Come on, boys. Give me a break, give me a little tidbit. Please. Something for me to start my story for today.”

  “Sorry, we’re not saying anything until this is over.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, why? We’re both good friends of Leo’s. And we’re not adding anything to this story until it’s over.”

  “Everyone in this community is some guarded when it comes to talking about one of their own.”

  “Yes, we are. We are tight-knit. We’re not adding anything to this story. The cops seem to be doing a good job on their own.”

  “The first day this standoff started, a woman and her husband welcomed me into their home for coffee and sandwiches. They told me to come back anytime during the day for a refill or to use their washroom. Some of the nicest people I have ever met.”

  “You want a coffee? Hop in, I’ll bring you to my house for a free java. But you’ll get nothing out of me on my friend Leo. Listen, I’ll give you the shirt off my back. Or my brother Joe’s, for that matter. But we will not incriminate one of our own.”

  “I promise I won’t use your names.”

  “I heard that before from the media. A reporter promised me one time that they wouldn’t use my name in an interview I did. And lo and behold, whose name was attached to the story when it broke the next day? Mine. So, I learned my lesson with the media.”

  “Come on, boys. Please. Do you know how hard it is to get someone to talk about Leo?”

  “I’ll tell you why no one is saying anything. Because everyone in this community knows him and respects him. So that’s why no one will say anything.”

  “Can I quote you on that?”

  “No!”

  “They say it was wild over there last night.”

  “No comment.”

  “Okay, I get the hint. I may track the two of you down when this is over.”

  “If you wish.”

  “Can I have your names?”

  “No. You have a good day, sir. I have to wind up my window now, I’m getting cold.”

  We watched the reporter walk back to his vehicle and drive down the top road to Uncle Tom’s.

  “Dutch, wasn’t he some persistent?”

  “Joe, they’re all like that. Actually, he was good. Some of them you can’t get rid of. Well, he wasn’t too bad. He took the hint when we gave it to him. You wait and see, he’ll be back sometime today to torment us again. He’ll get about the same amount of information that he just got.”

  “Okay, let’s go to Vincie Crane’s. Let’s move. The newspaper is definitely in by now.”

  We went to Vincie’s and Joe got our coffees. When we got back to the pit I told Joe I’d been talking to Jeff on the phone while he was in Vincie’s.

  “What was Jeff saying, Dutch?”

  “Not a lot. He couldn’t believe what I told him about their attack on the house last night. Said he can’t wait to finish school tomorrow afternoon for the weekend. Said he’ll be like us, here nearly full-time.”

  “Could be over by then.”

  “The rate it’s going, I don’t know. I wouldn’t bet on it, Joe.”

  “Too bad more people from the harbour never saw what we saw last night.”

  “Yes. Too bad the TV cameras weren’t here to see what we saw.

  “They’re never around when you want them. They’re like the cops. When you need one, there is not one to find. And when you don’t want one, you’re kicking them from under your feet.

  “Joe, I can hardly see Leo’s, the fog is so thick. And can you smell the salt water? I love that smell. One thing I missed when I lived in Toronto. When I used to return from Toronto, the second you got off the plane in Torbay you could smell that salt air. It used to make me smile. Late in the year to smell the ocean, but I guess with the temperature after warming up, and the fog . . .”

  “Dutch, I noticed that when I came out this morning that the temperature had risen.”

  “I hope this lifts. If not, we’re not going to see much across the harbour today. This scope and these binoculars might be good, but they haven’t made them yet that lets you see through fog. Any idea where we can go that puts us closer to the house?”

  “Dutch, we could go down by Uncle Tom’s, there by the old school.”

  “But there’s always a big crowd down there. And getting a spot is not easy. People down there have their spots and are keeping them, much like us here in the pit. And also, that’s where most of the media is hanging out. And I don’t want to go anywhere near them.”

  “Same with me, Dutch.”

  “Shag it, we’ll stay here. The fog will lift sometime today. If not today, it will lift tonight when it gets dark. Fog lifts most times at dusk or dawn.”

  “The cops are some lucky. They have had a good week weather- wise. They could be here in much worse weather. Imagine if a big old northerly wind started blowing, with snow. Sure, Leo could walk out the door and continue up the road and the cops wouldn’t even see him. Wouldn’t that be priceless. With all those eyes on the house, and Leo strolls away unnoticed.”

  “You said it.”

  “What a joke that would be. Watching him like a hawk for almost a week, and he walks off, due to weather. And when they enter the house, no Leo. ‘Jesus, I wonder where he is?’”

  “I’d tell them to check George Street. Might be down there having a beer or two. ‘Drop into Shamrock City first, might be there for happy hour. If he’s not there, he might be over at O’Reilley’s. Probably would have strolled over to the Sapphire Pub, nice and close to home, only for you closed it, for no good reason.’”

  “At least Leo will get a bit of comfort with this weather.”

  “I know he has not punched some week. I’m half thinking he may have mild hypothermia. Especially since they cut the power.”

  “Rest
assured, Dutch, he’s in a small room in the basement with a little heater of some sort.”

  “I pray to God he is.”

  “This is not as hard on Leo as the cops would like to think it is. Or we might think.”

  “I hope for Leo’s sake what you say is true. Sure, the other night it was minus five with a northerly blowing. Imagine being in that house then. Be like sleeping in our garages with the windows open.”

  “Dutch, the reporter is coming back.”

  “What . . . you serious?”

  “He’s coming up the top road. Identical car.”

  “Hang on, Joe, let me have a look. Joe, that’s not the reporter, that’s Ronnie Dunne. His vehicle is the same as the reporter’s. I noticed that when the reporter was here earlier.”

  “Wonder if he is coming up for a yarn?”

  “Probably is. I haven’t seen him since this all started. Actually, he hasn’t even called. That’s strange for Ronnie.

  “No, he kept going. Probably never noticed us. Well, Joe, he’s half blind, and with this fog I can see why he missed us.”

  Brenda and Sharon drove up, parked, and got in with me and Joe.

  “Good morning, girls. I was talking to Ann Marie last night after the attack on Leo’s.”

  “Wasn’t it wild? It was wild from Irish Town. Ye must have had a good look, also.”

  “Well Sharon, where do I start?”

  “Now Dutch, before you start, slow the fuck down. I can hardly understand you when you get excited.”

  “That’s why Boggy put the nickname Double Dutch on me.”

  “I always wondered where you got that nickname.

  “Anyway, from our vantage point here it was wild, like a war movie. We thought the house was on fire. There were times you could see very little of it. And those noisemakers. How fucking loud are they! Joe’s SUV was shaking every time one went off. Ann Marie said you got a rush.”

  “Dutch, rush? That’s an understatement. Dutch, when the first one went off I hit the deck.”

  “What?”

  “I collapsed on the deck, I got such a fucking scare.”

  “You serious?”

  “Yes! I hardly remember hearing anything after the first one. Someone walked me out to my car on the side of the road. I was shaking like a leaf.”

  “I hope I never witness anything like it again. Humans should not have to go through anything like that. What we saw was not human. I think it was criminal. It was full-blown war. Too bad the media never got it on camera. Joe and I believe Leo fired twice.”

  “What?”

  “Well, the last two bangs we heard were not as loud as the other bangs. And when we heard those last two bangs we saw a blue flash twice. It was the only time we saw any flashes. I don’t believe any of the devices that the cops inject into buildings in situations like this ignite a flash. Poor old Leo will be deaf by the time this is over. How fucking tough is he. Not many men would have endured what he went through last night. I’ll say it again, probably for the tenth time since this started, they picked the wrong fellow to go to war with.

  “I can’t wait to hear what kind of spin the cops will put on their failed attack last night.”

  “Dutch, don’t worry, they’ll have their spin on it.”

  “Sergeant Boyd Merrill will be worth listening to today or sometime tonight on the tube. Seems like he has been contradicting himself since this started. I’ve seen better spokesmen than him, especially for police forces. The young female officer the RNC uses for PR is excellent. To the point, with a great vocabulary. Well, how can he put a good spin on this situation? With it taking them this long to get a man out of a house.

  “Anyway, I’m gone for lunch. I’m not rushing back this afternoon. There won’t be anything happening around Leo’s today. They’ll be racking their brains for a new strategy for tonight. See you later, folks.”

  “Bye, Dutch.”

  I ended up having a much-needed nap until suppertime. Annie fed me and I left for the pit around seven. Joe was there already.

  “Joe, what time did you come back up?”

  “Right after supper. Here since around six thirty.”

  “Anything happen over to Leo’s since I left?”

  “No, and I was back and forth here all afternoon.”

  “I said that, didn’t I. After the big event last night, I said there wouldn’t be a thing moving over there today. Wonder what’s on their plate for tonight?”

  “I guess time will tell.”

  “John Deagan can’t believe that this standoff is still on the go. He also can’t believe that we’re in the pit the best part of six days and nights. I asked him to come for a look and a yarn. Said that’s what he won’t. Not as long as he has a book to read.”

  “Dutch, he does some reading.”

  “Joe, I read a book or two a week. John easily reads three or four a week. Every time I walk into his house he has a book in his hand. Could be eight o’clock in the morning or twelve at night. I used to go to the library with him. Years ago, when we used to go swimming at the Mews Centre, I’d get two or three books, maybe four. John would get ten or twelve. Browse them all, pick out what was worth reading, and most likely read four or five of them in a week. A very knowledgeable fellow.

  “Sometimes I used to doubt that he was reading everything he said he read. But over time I would end up getting a lot of the same books. Sure enough, every time I questioned him on a given book he knew it, hands down.

  “Anyway, John wasn’t the only fellow I spoke to when I was home. This story will blow you away. I could not believe it when it was told to me. I heard a big rumour when I was home for supper. I heard that the cops might flood Leo’s house tomorrow night.”

  “What?”

  “I said I heard a rumour that the cops are planning on flooding Leo’s house.”

  “What do you mean, flooding his house?”

  “Apparently there is talk, strong talk, that they’re bringing over the Witless Bay volunteer fire department to assist them in flooding the house.”

  “Holy fuck. Leo will go nuts. We think we saw war last night. He’ll come out through the roof. Well, wait until the first gallon of water hits the house. You tell me they’re going to blatantly destroy Mrs. Crockwell’s house in order to get Leo out of it?”

  “That’s the rumour.”

  “Well, if that’s true, what has the RCMP become? Where are they going to get water to do this?”

  “Joe, there’s a fire hydrant right in front of Mrs. Crockwell’s house.”

  “Yes, but I’d say that’s frozen, with the recent cold weather we’ve been having.”

  “Joe, it’s not that cold. It would have to be a hell of a lot colder for it to freeze. I know a little about hydrants from being on council. It has to be, like, minus fifteen for three or four days straight for them to freeze.”

  “Well, I hope for their sake that it’s frozen.”

  “That would be the best thing to happen. If I was still on council and this request came in from the RCMP to use the town’s water supply to destroy this woman’s house, I would flip. And if the other councillors went along with it, I would be on the phone to all media outlets in minutes. I would do everything in my power as a councillor to stop it.”

  “Why would the RCMP go to the council?”

  “Joe, it’s the town’s water supply. They would have to get clearance from the council, to cover the town’s ass in the case of a lawsuit. And if they destroy that woman’s house with water, rest assured there will be a lawsuit. And so there should be. Who gives the RCMP the authority to destroy a person’s house in their pursuit of upholding the law?”

  “Dutch, you have a few good points.”

  “Joe, if they do it I can see all three being s
ued, the RCMP, the Town of Bay Bulls, and the Town of Witless Bay. They can’t sue the volunteer fire department; they’re volunteers. So they’ll have to sue the Town of Witless Bay. It’s their fire department. Actually, it’s Bay Bulls’s also, we subsidize it. It’s a regional fire department. There are members from Bay Bulls and Mobile. And there may be one or two members from Tors Cove.”

  “When is this supposed to happen?”

  “Sometime after dark tomorrow night.”

  “Well, if that rumour gets out you won’t move up here. I still don’t believe it. You tell me they’re going to use volunteers from Bay Bulls and Witless Bay to help destroy the woman’s house? That will go over well with Leo. I wouldn’t want to be a volunteer fireman when Leo gets released after all this is over. I’d be pretty nervous. If I was a volunteer fireman and saw Leo coming towards me, I think I’d run in the opposite direction.”

  “I would, too, Joe.”

  “Dutch, I still don’t believe they’re going to do that. That is the most cockamamie thing I have ever heard.”

  “Joe, it’s going again.”

  “What? What’s going?”

  “The robot. I guess we’ll settle in for another bit of entertainment. Listen to it. Same old song. Over and over and over. Leo must be some sick of listening to that. I know I am. It’s leaving, Joe.”

  “That was a short visit.”

  “Joe, I’m calling it a night.”

  “What? Already?”

  “Joe, I’m burnt. My back is killing me. And I’m so sick of looking though the scope and the binoculars. I’m burnt out, been at this all week. I’ll be at Tina’s if anything goes down. Call me, okay?”

  “Definitely.”

  When I got home and turned on the TV, the National was just coming on. I watched it, waiting to see if there would be an update on the standoff. The phone rang. It was Ann Marie. I told her I was home at Tina’s, watching the news.

  “Dutch, what are you doing home so early?”

  “I’m burnt out from looking through the scope and the binoculars and my nerves are gone from what I saw last night.”

  “You mean when they attacked the house.”