And So The Story Begins With A Wrongful Arrest

Posted by Innocent Man as Our Story

The day started out like any other Sunday, I woke up early so my wife could sleep in while I took care of our son. It was something we had been doing for a couple of weeks and I liked it because it gave me a chance to further bond with him. He is a fan of “In the Night Garden” and I’m not totally ashamed to admit that it was starting to grow on me, but the only time I would watch the show was when I knew no one else was looking. I had no idea that this day would end with me being handcuffed and then taken away from my family after a wrongful arrest justified by zero tolerance laws.

When my wife woke up a couple of hours later I decided to get some work done. I’m a contract worker, and the latest job was allowing me to work from home, which I really enjoyed. I wouldn’t miss my son growing up in his early months, and it allowed me to help out my wife whenever she needed it. I also had an online business that I was still developing to supplement our single income, and that was what I had wanted to work on.

By 1:30 pm my wife was getting a little antsy and lonely and after sending me a couple of text messages to my cellphone from the living room asking me to stop working, I walked down the hallway to the living room from the back office to spend some time with both of them and discuss our plans for later on. The day before was my wife’s birthday and although I had gotten her a card and her favorite cake we hadn’t gone out to celebrate. We were still fairly new to the area and didn’t know any babysitters. Not that we would trust anyone without some pretty strong references because our son can be a handful, his nickname is squirmy-bug. We were also a little tight on money so we could either pay for a babysitter or go out to celebrate, but not both.

Since moving and getting to know the neighbourhood a little bit, and after making friends with the manager of a restaurant across the street, we knew that he would have no problem with us bringing our son that evening because it was always quiet on Sundays. Something he had told us on one occasion about a month earlier. Both my wife and I have always been concerned about bringing a potentially screaming baby anywhere public that could disturb other paying customers, so it suited us fine. We had some cold beer in the fridge so we decided to have those and just relax the rest of the day.

I am not too sure what it is about beer and finances, but let me tell you the two do not mix. We had recently moved to Durham region and although the rent was similar to our last place, things like hydro, cable, internet, home phone, cell phones and coin operated laundry that were all included in our last place in York, were now all extra expenses. For the past few weeks I had been trying to sit down with my wife so we could go over our budget and figure things out, but the time just never presented itself. I felt that we should be tightening our belts and not overspending because my current contract was coming to a possible end and I knew that I would have to find a new job that would more than likely be out of the home and create travel expenses on top of everything else. I have always lived in major cities growing up and as a result was able to use public transit to get to where ever I was going, so after a move years earlier from Montreal to Toronto I had simply let my drivers license expire. Cars are expensive to have in this day and age anyway. The discussion quickly turned into an arguement and we decided that it was best to just drop it and discuss it later.

Between the early morning wake-up and the beer infused arguement I was feeling a little tired so I decided to lie down and take a short nap before we went out and my wife wanted to finish getting the laundry done. The nap turned out to be 2 hours long and it was almost 8:30 pm by the time I woke up. With today being the day before the civic holiday we knew that the restaurant would be closing at 11:00 pm so we both quickly got ready. Because I work from home I have to admit that I had gotten a little lazy taking care of myself and hadn’t shaved for a week and because it was getting late I decided to forgo the shower and instead changed my clothes and grabbed my favorite baseball hat and then helped my wife pack up our son’s things. Our little man is pretty easy going when it comes to going out, we have one of those strollers that has all the bells and whistles and coupled with a few toys and a bottle of juice and milk he would normally be fairly quiet for a short time. What I hadn’t known until later that night was that because we were leaving the house my wife had taken an extra dose of her anti-anxiety medication before we left.

When we arrived at the restaurant and after the manager and waitresses came to fawn over our rapidly growing son, we ordered two pints of Canadian and toasted my wife’s belated birthday. While we were there one of the waitresses came over after the manager told her we were still looking for a babysitter and she gave us a friends number who not only had a lot of experience but could provide great references. After two more pints of Canadian we decided it was time to leave and along the way back we discussed whether or not we could afford the babysitter. This unfortunately led back to our earlier budget discussion with near the same end results. If I haven’t already said it, do not ever discuss finances while drinking.

After putting our son to bed and turning out most of the lights, the discussion turned arguement continued briefly and when I finally realized that it was going absolutely no where, I decided to step out on the kitchen balconey for a smoke and my wife headed towards the bathroom. After grabbing a cigarette and heading to the door I was interupted by a loud crash from the hallway. I stopped mid stride, turned around and went back only to find my wife lying on the floor next to the upturned laundry basket and looking disoriented.

When I helped her up I noticed she wasn’t stable and was swaying back and forth and when I asked her what had happened, she told me she fell after tripping over the laundry basket. This is when I also noticed that her speach was slurred. I know my wife well enough that a couple of pints of beer could not have caused her condition, but all the same I was angry and told her she was drunk and that she should just go to bed. She insisted that she wasn’t drunk and that it was probably just because she had taken an extra dose of her medication. I was stunned at this point, we both knew full well that the medication wasn’t supposed to be mixed at the same time with alcohol and out of anger I told her she was irresponsible and a bad mother. I knew it would hurt her and I do regret saying it because it is not at all true. My wife is a great mother and has done everything possible for our son despite her disorder and disease. Arguements are a strange thing though because those in them end up saying something that knowingly hurts the other, especially when they know each other as well as we do.

As I turned and walked away from her towards the couch in the living room, through my peripheral vision I saw her following quickly behind me. When I sat down she grabbed my face and said that she was not irresponsible or a bad mother and that she would never forgive me if I ever repeated it again. I already knew she was right and that I shouldn’t have said it but instead of simply apologizing, I just looked away, got up off the couch and went to have the smoke I had wanted earlier. This triggered her anger even more.

After finishing my cigarette I re-entered the living room from the kitchen and while passing by looked down the hall to see my wife approaching with my cell phone up to her ear and talking to someone. She still had the look of anger and hurt on her face. After listening for a few seconds I was able to determine that she had called 911 and after continuing the conversation for about a minute further asked the 911 operator if she could just cancel the call and that she had made a mistake by phoning. After hanging up however she told me that the 911 operator said she could not do that, and that the police were on there way.

Because I knew that the police would not know that our son was fast asleep and would end up ringing the front doorbell and waking him, I decided to go around front and then lead them to our balconey entrance which enters our place directly from our parking lot without disturbing any neighbours.

Durham Regional Police And Their Imaginarium

Posted by Innocent Man as Our Story

After arriving at our front stoop and waiting for the responding officers I decided to sit down and light another cigarette…as it turned out it would be the last cigarette I would have for a while. I have some experience with police despite having no criminal record and pretty much keeping my nose clean throughout my life. What experience I had came from being a huge fan of CSI type shows (I also enjoyed Cops for a time) as well as having a few friends that had become career police officers. Both of which does absolutely no good when dealing with an officer responding to a 911 call. From their point of view I was just an unshaven, messy haired guy who had alcohol on his breath sitting outside in the relative dark.

When they pulled up across the street, I put out my cigarette and waved them over to the front door. They asked if they could enter and I said no and that we would have to go in the other way, and I led them around back. Saying no was one of the first mistakes of many I made, but what I hadn’t told them was that no one uses the front door because it requires two sets of keys to unlock, the main lobby door and then the other for the apartment. Our place is basically a duplex with a shared front entrance and everyone who lives in our building uses the back entrance to save themselves the headache of the two doors. Another reason is that I never carry the keys to the apartment with me, either my wife or I are always home when the other goes out, so we just leave the back entrance open.

Because the balconey isn’t much more than a fire escape type staircase that allows only one person to go up at a time and because the sensor lights only activate when someone starts the accent, I warned the officers to be careful going up. There is a loose stair near the bottom that our landlord had delayed fixing and could easily cause someone to trip or sprain an ankle, in fact my mother in law on one occassion had almost done so. They immediately took the warning as a sign of danger, and they demanded to know whether or not my wife was okay. I told them that she was of course fine, but that she had been drinking and I never got the chance to mention the loose stair as they seemingly rushed up to check whether or not my wife was in fact okay.

When we all arrived upstairs we found my wife in the kitchen washing the days bottles so she could start making new ones for our son to have the next day. She seemed to have calmed down from her earlier episode and after seeing the police officers, looked a little embarrassed over the incident. One officer took my wife into the other room so they could discuss things and the remaining officer made some idle small talk with me and never really asked me anything of note.

What happened next left us both in shock. The officer that had spoken to my wife came back into the kitchen from the living room and I heard him say that he didn’t believe her and he then gestured to the other officer with a nod who placed me against the kitchen counter, handcuffed me and informed me that I was being arrested for assault. This caused an almost immediate panic attack in my wife who lunged forward towards the officer and just kept saying no, no, no. At this point I wasn’t sure how this could be happening when I hadn’t even touched my wife, but I asked her to relax and calm down because it would do absolutely no good if she interferred and was charged with obstruction or assault herself. She understood and asked again to speak to the original officer and tried to clear things up while I was taken downstairs. While outside the other officer followed a routine, told me what the charge was, asked whether or not I understood the charge and asked if I would like to be assigned Duty Council. I was still pretty hopeful that this would be cleared up on the spot. It was not.

The other officer emerged from our apartment and decended the stairs with my wife following right behind and screaming that he was not listening to her. When what was going to eventually happen became clear the last thing my wife said to me was, I told him the truth and he is not listening…I love you. I responded that everything would be fine and to take care of our son. She began to cry even more. At this point I had no idea how a police officer could just come into a home and arrest someone for a crime that never occurred but I was still hopeful that after a brief investigation, they would discover the mistake. Perhaps if they had asked me any questions at all, based on what they had assumed incorrectly, the outcome would have been very different. At this point however I didn’t know anything other than I was being put into the back of a police car and was going to jail.

17 Division In Durham And Prison Overpopulation

Posted by Innocent Man as Our Story

I have to admit that while I was heading towards the police station I began to get a little worried but I was still holding out hope that this would all be cleared up quickly. The ignorance of innocence. I still had absolutely no idea why I was being charged with assault, and neither officer asked me any questions about what had happened that evening, which seemed fairly odd to me. Once I got to Station 17 I was taken to an officer behind a desk who asked me a few questions and just before I was led away by still another officer and into a little room, he told me that I should not attempt any communication with my wife. I assumed that meant they were still talking to her. Wrong again. Eventually I was photographed and my prints were taken and the entire time, I was treated like a criminal. It is not innocent until proven guilty in Durham region. In fact from my point of view they don’t even investigate a crime…they invent them.

As a side note for those that are interested, the machine they use to take fingerprints is much different than they show on television or in the movies. It is a fairly large device about the size of a pop machine, with a LCD display screen and a digital reader that they roll your palm and fingers on, and it immediately captures and stores them. No fuss no muss as they say. I’m somewhat of a computer geek having worked with them most of my life, so as worried as I was that things did not seem to be getting any better, I was still facinated by it…probably an escape mechanism from the reality of what was happening.

After I was finally processed another officer led me to the holding cell area. I will be able to visually describe the cell, but that is not what I remember the most about it. I was wearing only a light short sleeved shirt which was normally comfortable because our apartment doesn’t have air conditioning and it was fairly hot outside. The opposite was true in this place, the cell was about 8 feet long by about 5 feet wide, made entirely of concrete other than the combined metal toilet and sink (devoid of toilet paper) and the temperature was better than cold.

I’m not totally sure of how much time passed but eventually an officer returned and I was again hopeful that things were now cleared up. I was instead told that the Duty Council that I had requested when I was charged and arrested was on the phone and they led me to another room that was smaller than the cell but at least warm. What I learned next sent a shiver down my spine and gave me goosebumps that the holding cell had not given me up to this point. I was asked by Duty Council whether or not there was anyone local that he could call to bail me out. There was and wasn’t.

Something to take stern note of in this age of technology, memorize phone numbers and don’t just enter them into your cell phone address book. Because I had neither my cell phone or knew the number of anyone except my own home phone number, I had not a thing to give him. I told Duty Council this but told him that my wife had my cell phone and if he called her she could provide him with the numbers of people to call. Unfortunately because of the nature of the charge he told me he couldn’t do that. From his limited knowledge she had been the one that had charged me and he wouldn’t be allowed to communicate with her either. I asked him what the next step was and he told me that I would have to make a video appearance before a Judge later on, but that a proper bail hearing would have to wait until Tuesday because it was a holiday. He also told me that without anyone to bail me out, I might have to remain indefinetely in jail. Right about now was when mild panic set in.

The officer led me back to the holding cell and the sound of the closing door was to me like a life sentence. I knew I was innocent and if someone had spoken to my wife she would have told them the same thing, so why was I still here? I thought back to the last time I saw her. I had told her that everything was going to be okay, but she had that panicked look on her face and she was crying uncontrollably. She had also mixed her medication with alcohol and was visibly intoxicated. Could it be that she had done something to herself in a state of depression and that is why no one knew the truth? I didn’t know. I was worried for myself, but now I was equally worried about her and our son, and there was absolutely no way that I could find out.

The next few hours was like being in a living hell, only a lot colder. I paced the cell thinking about what might be wrong and when I wasn’t pacing, I was lying down on the concrete shelf trying to sleep. It never happened. This went on seemingly forever during which new people were being brought in and placed in other cells. One poor soul that was placed next to me coughed, choked and threw up throughout his stay, along with periodic moans and short but loud screams. Eventually one of the officers came by and threw a wrapped breakfast meal into the cell which gave me some indication of the time…morning.

When I say meal I may be slightly exaggerating. What it consisted of was two pieces of a stale type of bread that I couldn’t identify and what I think was some sort of baloney and mushy melted cheese. It was accompanied with a small styrofoam cup of either skim or soy milk which I drank down right away. When attempting the sandwich portion I wretched and almost threw it up. It was a good thing I had easy access to a toilet.

Time continued to move at an almost non existent pace but eventually it was time for my video appearance before a Judge. An officer unlocked the cell and brought me to yet another small room and a Judge of some sort appeared on a monitor in the room as well as who I assumed was the Crown and my Duty Council. Although I couldn’t hear everything that was going on very well, what I was able to make out was that I was charged with Assault and that bail would be set at $2,000. A proper bail hearing was set for the next day, but at this point I didn’t have much hope that anybody would be there because I still had no information on what was happening behind the scenes, if anything at all.

I was taken back to the holding cell and another unedible meal was served which I skipped completely. Approximately 4 hours later what I thought might be salvation was the news that I was about to be transferred to a penitentiary until my bail hearing because of a prison overpopulation problem. I had an idea or two about why they might be suffering from a prison overpopulation problem…they had at least one innocent man in custody.

The Central East Correctional Centre Transfer AKA Lindsay Penitentiary

Posted by Innocent Man as Our Story

I was led back down the holding cell corridor by an officer sometime in the afternoon and was met by two Ontario Provincial Police officers. I later learned that all adult prisoner transfers are done by the O.P.P. to and from the Central East Correctional Centre in Lindsay. I was asked to turn around and face the wall while they checked to see if anything had made it’s way into my posession during my stay in the holding cell. After a thorough check, they then asked me to kneel on a wooden bench so that they could shackle my feet and afterwards they handcuffed me and told me to sit while they collected the other people for transfer.

Once they had collected, shackled and handcuffed everyone we were led to the back of the police station, and I was placed into a section of the vehicle with someone else who I later discovered was the same person that was in the holding cell next to mine. For those that are curious the O.P.P. prison transfer vehicle looks very similar to the O.P.P. tactical response vehicle only white on black instead of the reverse, and is converted into 4 separate smaller compartments that are monitored by cameras that activate when the vehicle is turned on. The vehicle is also devoid of windows except for a small one where the door is located.

While the O.P.P. officers loaded everyone into the vehicle it became very stifling, but as I said in an earlier post I was dressed pretty lightly. When the vehicle began it’s journey however a light came on indicating that the cameras had been activated, and either an air conditioner or air ventilator started up. I’m not entirely sure how long the journey from Durham Region to Lindsay was but it seemed to take forever and I began to worry again.

Among my thoughts were what I had heard about the Lindsay Penitentiary. It is a maximum security provincial correctional centre that holds approximately 1184 inmates for various crimes that after sentencing were going to serve no longer than 2 years and it also included those that were waiting for hearings at various courts. I had no practical experience about prison other than what I had seen in the movies and on television. As it turned out much of what I had seen and heard was not accurate, at least as far as the Central East Correctional Centre was concerned. Some was.

When we arrived we were all disembarked from the O.P.P. prison transport vehicle and led into what I can only describe as a large booking area with cells that lined all the way down a long wide open corridor. I was handcuffed in front of a prison guard that was on the other side of a glass partition and he asked me numerous questions that were entered into a computer and printed out on sheets of paper that would soon become my new prison file.

Each guard seems to be part of a specific department including general entry and notifications, prisoner photos for what becomes wristbands, a section for changing out of street clothes into prison uniforms, as well as a health department for a medical check-up that includes some sort of a medical professional. In between each of these stages I was placed into the various cells with other prisoners. Again I will be able to describe these holding cells but I cannot describe what I was feeling during the initial stage of my stay.

For the most part the guards are emotionless but some are outright hostile towards new prisoners. On more than one occassion when someone made a mistake during these initial stages they were verbally threatened with some sort of harm. On one such occassion another prisoner I was with had touched the handle of a holding cell door which was apparently forbidden. I remember thinking at the time that if this was in fact his first offense and stay, how would he know what he could or could not do because I sure didn’t. I remember also thinking that I had better not make any similar mistakes myself. I eventually did.

During my progression down to the different departments and during the photograph stage I made the mistake of looking a little too closely at the computer system used for the images. As I said earlier I’m somewhat of a computer geek and was again facinated by the device and once the guard noticed I was looking he told that I was nothing more than another prisoner and that I had better keep my eyes front or else. The guard never told me what the or else meant but I was almost positive that it would not be good.

As it turns out, the guard probably just meant the food and temporary accommodations. Each of the cells at this stage are a disgusting cess pool of what looks like feces in the fully exposed toilets, vomit filled sinks that dispense clorine flavored tap water, and graffiti covered walls with concrete benches embedded in them. While during my stay in one such cell all the prisoners were served a meal. It was definetely a step up from what had been served in the Durham holding cell.

They came in two plastic containers one of which contained two pieces of whole wheat bread, a package of lemon flavor crystals, a fruit cup and a spoon. I quickly ate what was served but quickly realized that if I continued I would probably either throw up or have to use the toilet. I lost my appetite and never looked inside the second container.

Just prior to being served and eating the food I went through the rather humiliating experience of being strip searched and checked for contraband. I was told to place my street clothes into the same type of bag that is used to hold suits and it was afixed with my name and file number and placed on a rack for storage. I had picked up an orange bundle along the way that I was told to open and it revealed what I would be wearing for the rest of my stay. The bundle contained a set of blue boxer briefs, white ankle socks, and an orange t-shirt and jumpsuit. Unfortunately the prison shoe supply stock had dwindled and because they had none that fit me, I had to remain shoeless during my stay. I put everything on and was taken by a guard to another holding cell closer to the entrance where I then met with a female medical professional.

She asked me some standard questions and then asked me about my medical history. Other than my need for glasses for distance I have always been given a clean bill of health. I had no real want or need to see the inside of the prison more clearly, so I told her that it was not really an important requirement. She then gave me a shot and I was oficially finished with my processing and I was taken by a guard and placed in a much larger cell at the other end of the long corrider. Upon arrival the other two occupants were already asleep on the concrete shelves so I layed down as well. At this point I had been awake for over 36 hours other than the 2 hour nap I had taken on the Sunday evening that the story began, and I eventually drifted off. The nightmares I began to have of the entire experience were interrupted by another guard opening the cell door.

We were led by the guard towards an elevator that decended to a lower level and we travelled down another long corrider until we were next to a large device made of wood that resembled an old style electric chair. The guard told us to each place both sides of our face down against a type of small glass plate and then to sit down in the device. I later learned that it was a metal detector used to check whether or not we had somehow managed to smuggle in contraband.

We were eventually taken to what is called a pod within a range. It is a fairly large area that contains 16 cells with 2 bunks in each, 3 public showers, a group of tables and seats bolted to the ground as well as a television mounted high on one wall. There were already a number of occupants there that I had not seen during my processing so I kept mainly to myself. It also contained 3 phones similar to payphones that could be used to make collect calls. Finally…I might get some questions I had answered.

I immediately called family members that could provide me with those answers. The first two calls I made were met with no accepting of the collect call charges and simply hung up on me. The final call I made was answered by my father in law who gave me the lowdown. It wasn’t a positive conversation.

The first thing I discovered was that both my wife and our son were alright, and a weight was lifted from my heart as well as my shoulders. The next thing I discovered is that there was absolutely no investigation done during my absense and that the charge of assault was moving forward despite my innocence. I was told that my wife had called the Durham Regional Police Station multiple times throughout my initial stay in the holding cell and had offered to come in and make a video statement which was promply denied each time she requested it. Eventually the responding officers informed her that they no longer wanted to hear from her and that the case was no longer in their hands and to call the Crown attorney instead. She had also tried to arrange for bail but because of misinformation about the bail amount and the time of transfer that was provided to her, I had already made it onto the prison transfer vehicle bound for Lindsay. I informed him of what I knew up to that point, the bail would be $2000, which he did not know, and that I would be appearing sometime the next day in live court, which he did know. As it turns out my wife figured out how to access the phone numbers in my cell phone and had made a call to almost everyone in it and had located someone to post bail. I also told him that I was not allowed to call her to give her any updates which he had already assumed based on the nature of the charge. He concluded the call by telling me not to worry and to keep my head up. I never told him that both those things are not something you can do while in prison with other inmates around. I worried anyway and quickly scanned the pod.

Guards came by during my time in the pod and dropped off towels as well as bedsheets and the television was turned to the cable channel selection screen. I frequently check this station when planning on what to watch, but I had absolutely no interest in seeing it scroll at that current moment. Eventually another guard came into the pod to tell us that there were no toiletries available and that it was time to get into our cells. I was partnered with another person that pretty much kept to himself and I prepared the top bunk for the night. Ironic that I am afraid of heights and wouldn’t normally choose the top bunk, but I thought it best not to complain. I figured I would probably not get much sleep anyway. I was right about that.

I’m not sure why but the television on the range was left on throughout the night and because of the emptiness, echoed into the cells. At home I have no problems falling asleep with the television on, but this place seemed to make that impossible. The lights were eventually shut off in the cell and I was able to finally fall asleep until I was woken up by an alarm that went off sometime in the night.

I awoke to flashing lights that entered the cell from a small outside window and a blaring sound that I thought could only signify some sort of problem. Between that and the television blaring it made any further sleep at the time impossible. Eventually the noise ceased and the television no longer seemed as loud although the volume had not been lowered to my knowledge. The rest of the night passed by with rare moments of light cautious sleep until the lights were turned back on and two guards opened the cell and started to read off the names of those that would have to come with them to prepare for court.

The procedure to prepare for court was very much like the entry processing. However the guards were concerned about my lack of footwear when I was about to be brought back upstairs. I informed them that at the time they had no shoes available and the guards constantly looked at me with distain and mistrust. After changing back into my street clothes however I was informed that the shoes I had been wearing when I was brought in would have to remain behind and I would be walking around in only my socks including for my court appearance. This was overheard by another guard who eventually was able to locate a pair of shoes for me to wear.

I was placed into a holding cell with the others that were attending court in Durham and guards eventually brought around some plastic containers of food. After opening the container and looking inside I reflected on the contents. It contained two pieces of whole wheat bread, a small container of peanut butter, bran flakes in a separated compartment, accompanied by milk, orange juice and a spoon. I’m not sure how they plan meals but based on these contents there is a great need to keep everyone regular. I still had no desire to use the facilities and did not want to miss my court appearance because I was stuck on the toilet. I skipped the bran flakes and drank the milk and juice. I opened the peanut butter next and picked up a piece of bread and after less than a second realized that the spoon wasn’t accompanied by the usual fork and knife combo. I felt fairly stupid when I realised that prison was probably not the type of place that would knowingly provide anyone with a knife, even a plastic one. I used the spoon.

Eventually it was time to be taken back to Durham and a guard read out some names that include mine and asked me to take position against a wall where I was shackled and handcuffed to four other prisoners. The O.P.P. officers led us back outside and we were then placed into the O.P.P. prison transfer vehicle for the return trip.