Journal Entry: A Night to Remember
Today has been incredibly frustrating. After having my daughter, my Cree heritage has become more noticeable. This heightened awareness has made me even more conscious of a huge issue. The RCMP and their corruption within is only getting worse.
Last night, I was out late. My sleep schedule is unpredictable, so it’s not unusual for me to be awake at odd hours. This time, it was because I had attended a nighttime ceremony. Since I have family nearby, I decided to visit a few of them. To be honest, I use a randomizer to choose which relatives to see, as there are many to choose from.
It was well past midnight when I got on the QE2, one of our major highways where the speed limit is 110 km/h. Now, let’s get to the heart of what happened and frightened me like never before. As I drove along the dark and quiet road, my mind occupied with thoughts from the ceremony and my visits, something happened that shook me to my core.
I had one of my younger siblings with me in the car when I decided to pass two semi-trucks with dual loads, also known as B trains. There were no other cars on the road at all. This section of the highway always makes me pay extra attention due to the lack of shoulder on either side. Suddenly, as I was halfway past the first truck, a black SUV came up behind my tiny Civic. On this highway, people tend to drive at 120 km/h, and many drive even faster, so you have to be very careful when passing, especially in the two-lane sections because we all know what comes next: tailgating.
In my car, due to it being a manual, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that are perfectly valid to use. They fall under the last clear chance of avoidance rule. A cop once tried to give me a ticket for using these tactics until I explained what I was doing and why. My first step is to turn off cruise control; I don’t need to hit the brake for this. I can hit that third pedal—the clutch—to do this. So, I let my speed go down without my brake lights lighting up. I’m trying to say, you don’t know if my brake lights work or not. It had been a bit since the last on-ramp, so the only reason I would not have known he was there is if his headlights were off. He first turned them on, and I could see how fast he was going.
I did try to get back into my lane but couldn’t slow down fast enough to make a lane change back behind the semi-trucks before he was rather close to my bumper. His first method was to flash the high beams, not the most effective thing to do at night, not to mention there is nowhere I can go, and now my night vision has been messed with by that flash of light. I checked my car odometer and, since I run Google Maps, many roads have the speed limit posted and an odometer on the screen with some settings. Both said I was going 115 km/h, the speed I tend to use on this highway. I usually get passed, but I don’t get the aggression like I do if I am going 110… you know, the speed limit!
This is when I use the clutch to signal, “Hey, my brake lights might be out. You should back off because if something happens, you’re going to hit me.” I have decent success with this method, which is nice. However, with this guy, it did not work. It pissed him off. He started keeping his high beams on. Now the inside of my car is so bright it might as well be daylight. This has now made road conditions dangerous because I cannot see. So I do hit my brakes, very carefully, to try and get him to go back. When this doesn’t work, I get my sibling to just turn the flashlight on with their camera to indicate, “Hey, we are recording you.” When this didn’t work, I was getting irritated. I wasn’t scared yet.
My next move I used because I know the highway well and the semis’ headlights gave me enough ability to see to feel comfortable doing this. I hate using this one; however, if I need to, I’d rather have additional wear and tear on my car than be hit. I sped up a bit, normally fast enough to get enough distance to use my next move. He kept up, so I dropped a gear and sped right up. Hey, I am driving a sports car; it has give even for its age. This is not possible to do in an automatic as far as I am aware. I got enough distance between me and this guy, and knowing he will be increasing his speed to close the gap, I still couldn’t get over; I was halfway past the second semi’s load. Now I downshifted two gears, cringing because I know the damage this does, but I’d rather not be hit.
What this does is it puts a ton of torque on the engine, making it work real hard suddenly, which brings your speed down real fast and without brake lights. I am screaming, I can stop a lot faster the you can, back off. This is my last resort method, and it did not work; this guy was still lighting up my car, and it is not as if I can go anywhere. I couldn’t get ahead of the semi because I was relying on that vehicle to keep on the road and see hazards. I was now scared. All my tricks did not work; if anything was ahead of me, even trying to stop to avoid it would cause an accident.
My anxiety heightened as I decided to trigger the Apple SOS on my phone, mounted on the dash. The screen turned red, signaling an emergency call for help. I described each terrifying moment in detail, my voice betraying my fear despite my attempts to stay as composed as possible. Desperately, I mentioned that I was coming from the reservation, unaware of the implications this could have.
As the call reached ten minutes, I was growing increasingly frantic—where were the police? The blinding high beams, the aggressive tailgating, and the lack of escape routes made me feel utterly trapped. It seemed one of the semi drivers had noticed the distressing situation. The lead semi flashed its blinkers to get my attention. Both trucks slowed down, and the lead driver signaled that it was safe to change lanes, creating a space for me. I was immensely grateful at that moment, recalling the driving tips I had learned from truckers in my family and those I call friend.
Their intervention not only provided a crucial opportunity to maneuver safely but also likely prevented a catastrophic collision on the upcoming sharp turn with no shoulder. As I safely moved into the lane, I communicated with the 911 dispatcher that I was out of immediate danger. The dispatcher reassured me that the RCMP was on their way, and I headed towards a nearby gas station to calm down. The adrenaline rush was fading, leaving me shaky and nauseous. My sibling was equally affected, and we both took time to recover before continuing our journey. I ensured to save the dash cam footage, knowing its importance by swapping SD cards.
I am now almost to my exit; from where I was, that was a good 20-30 minute drive. This was when my phone rang from an unknown number. Knowing that cops often have blocked numbers, I answered with, “One moment, let me find a safe place to pull over, please,” instead of a typical greeting. Still trembling from the recent ordeal, I tried to compose myself.
To my astonishment, the officer on the other end began reprimanding me, threatening to write a ticket for going under the speed limit. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts and respond calmly, masking my anger. Apparently, the driver who had harassed me had called the cops after I did, providing a misleading 30-second clip of me driving at 90 km/h—likely during the time I was trying to adjust to the blinding high beams.
When I finally spoke, I carefully explained, “Officer, if you listen to my 911 call, you’ll know I tried to slow down because the high beams made it impossible to see. I was driving according to road conditions, or at least trying to. That’s when the driver glued himself to my bumper. I can provide a continuous video of the entire incident, both forward and rear view.”
The officer continued his tirade, but my anger had shifted to a cold, calculated resolve. I knew exactly what to do. When he paused for a breath, I firmly requested, “I would like your badge number and the number of your detachment.” Legally, an officer must provide this information immediately if asked. When he refused, I couldn’t help but smile—something he couldn’t see.
Unbeknownst to him, my dash cam recorded audio, and I had the call on speakerphone, capturing everything. I calmly informed him, “I want your supervisor to contact me.” His answer was another refusal, which was not only unprofessional but also likely illegal. I held my ground, aware that I had sufficient evidence and was prepared to escalate the matter if necessary.
The fact I was pointing out to this cop that I had further evidence, I had knowledge that he was breaking the law with his refusals and I did point this out. I was pissed as it was that I got a phone call not a bunch of cherry lights while the incident was going on. If the semi’s had seen what was going on, they would have also informed the cops of the danger. Nothing would change this RCMP officer’s attitude that I was at fault. I thought it was innocent until proven guilty? I kept that one to myself.
Then he made me see red when he said, “I will let you off with a warning.” Excuse the fuck out of me. After that extremely dangerous incident and everything I had, he was still blaming me?? I calmly stated, “Since you refuse to provide your badge number, I have to conclude you are impersonating a police officer and am terminating this call. The recording will be handed over to the proper authorities.” He tried to give me crap that I didn’t have his permission. Thing is, if you call someone’s personal number, they don’t need to inform you they are recording. Plus, in this case, one-party consent laws also apply. I terminated the call and refused to pick up any unknown numbers. This guy had me furious. I still had no clue why he was determined to blame this on me.
When I called my dad early this morning, he told me to never say you are coming from the rez but the closest town/city, especially with the RCMP, or you will be lucky to get even what I did get because they think I am native. Now I had run into issues with officers being discriminating in person some pretty bad ones to, but over the phone, you would think they would at least just pull us both over instead of handling it with just phone calls well after the incident thankfully resolved itself with no loss of life or a bad car accident. I will be bringing this to the Kings Bench (Federal law court) in the next few days. I may not be able to get the officers information but it should be recorded and if not they can trace the call and get the number even though I can not. I will fight, not for the driver to get charged though that would be nice, I will be fighting to get the officer jail time at minimum. We hear these stories so often, that we have stopped saying anything. Typical bystander effect, I don’t need to call someone else will. Thing is, everyone is thinking that so that call isn’t being made. I should not have to hide that I am coming from the rez, which is on a secondary highway with a major gas station on it. So I could be anyone coming from there not just a resident.
This can not continue, something needs to happen and we all need to start demanding for this change to happen by reaching out to the commissioner, the government officials. Anyone you can think of when we hear these things. No one deserves to go through what I did last night. What if I had been a new driver and didn’t know that road? What if I got scared and hit the brakes instead of the gas? So many things could have gone wrong. It is not about race, it is about discrimination period from those who are sworn to uphold the very law they are breaking.
I never used to be scared of the police; now, though, I am often more scared of them than the situation, and that is not right. I should not be able to say that, or even think it. I should see them as safety, instead I see them as a danger.
Who am I? 
I would love to hear from you!