Policing the Fringe. Charles Scheideman

longer, the result would have been different.

      The warden approached the pinned sports car from the passenger side and spoke to the driver, who was still inside the car. The warden later advised that the driver was calm and in control of himself, and that he apologized to any and all present, saying he did not know why he had acted like that. The warden assisted him out of the car through the passenger window. When the offender was out of the car, he continued his apologies and even thanked the truck drivers for bringing him to his senses and stopping the danger he was creating. No one thought to secure and disable the little car. The driver was able to convince the warden that he was sane and remorseful and that he would make himself available to face any charges resulting from the happenings that morning.

      The warden then shifted his attention to the long line of traffic that had built up behind the trucks. He left the offender standing beside the pinned sports car and began directing traffic. Soon he decided to speed up the clearing of the traffic and asked the truck drivers to move their vehicles so they only blocked one of the two uphill lanes. The lead truck had only moved a few feet ahead when the Fiat burst out of the box and sped away with the driver flashing the peace sign from his open window.

      The warden ran to his vehicle and slowly set out in the direction the fast little car had gone. The International Travelall four-wheel drive was very useful in some circumstances, but highway travel or pursuit driving was most definitely not its long suit. The offender’s Fiat, on the other hand, was right in its element on the open highway. This fact was about to be very clearly demonstrated.

      The parks vehicle was able to struggle up to a maximum speed of about forty miles per hour on the mountain grade while the sports car could make eighty or more. The pursuing warden never saw the offending vehicle again.

      The forced stop had taken place only a short distance west of the highway summit. The pursuing warden immediately started the message intended for us at Golden, which began the tedious process of being relayed back to Revelstoke. Eventually we received enough information to conclude that the offender must be stopped at the first opportunity and decided to establish a roadblock on the Columbia River bridge between Golden and the east end of Rogers Pass. We needed about ten minutes to reach this ideal roadblock location, but we were about halfway to our planned destination when we met the little car and saw the driver waving the peace sign as he streaked past us. I was in the passenger seat of the police car; the driver was an experienced police constable and an excellent driver. We executed a skid turn and immediately pursued the Fiat, which was travelling at about eighty miles per hour. We immediately radioed this information back to Golden. There was only one policeman left at the Golden office and he made a desperate attempt to get to the highway with his police vehicle. We saw him near the highway as we flashed past on the main road.

      The police car I was in was an extremely powerful Ford sedan with an engine that Ford designated The Interceptor. If this car was pushed for maximum go, it would shift out of low gear at sixty miles per hour and out of second gear at one hundred miles per hour. The man in the Fiat Spider had now met something to be reckoned with.

      After we turned, we were in close pursuit of the Fiat within about one mile. We then saw firsthand how this person was performing. He drove on the left into blind corners and passed other vehicles with no regard for oncoming traffic. In the first mile that we were in close pursuit he came close to four or five very serious crashes. It was only the quick evasive actions of other drivers that prevented a catastrophe. We allowed a gap to open between us in the hope that he would use a little caution, but that seemed to make no difference to him. We were aware that the lone remaining RCMP member in Golden was trying to get to the highway junction before we did. However, the highway was more than four lanes wide at the junction and we knew there was little he could do even if he did get there. This guy was not going to stop for a flashing red light on a single police car.

      As we entered the congested area of the highway near Golden, the Fiat was forced to slow and swerve through the traffic. The driver braked into a skid to avoid a crash and then geared down and immediately accelerated as hard as the little car could. We came behind with our lights flashing and the siren howling, expecting to see a crash at every intersection. We cleared the first business area along the highway and approached the main highway junction just in time to see our last chance for assistance still a quarter of a mile from where he may have been able to help. We shot by the intersection and started into Kicking Horse Pass, the section of the Trans-Canada Highway that was known as the worst ten miles of driving from one coast of Canada to the other.

      We now felt that we had a small advantage. The highway was so winding that traffic was much slower than in the area we had just covered west of Golden. The pursued car had out-of-province license plates, so we were quite sure the driver was not familiar with the road and thought we would be able to push him into overdriving one of the many curves. At that point we would have welcomed the sight of him running off the highway rather than crashing into some other unit of traffic.

      We held a small meeting to decide if I should try to shoot a tire off the car. The meeting was called to order. The secretary was absent. A question arose from the floor. SHOOT?? YES! TRY IT! All in favour? Carried. New business? None! I asked my driver to yell “clear” if there was no visible oncoming traffic and “hold” if there was. This motion was also carried by a unanimous vote.

      I removed my seat belt and leaned out the passenger window of the big Ford. I had never fired a shot from a car but I was amazed how the car door and the flared fender supported my attempt. As we entered the second mile of very winding road we were in close pursuit. The little car had to slow greatly to get around the curves and it was very short of acceleration compared to our unit. At times we were so close behind the Fiat that I could not see the right rear wheel, which I had chosen as my target. I fired three shots over the next mile, each of which I felt could have done the job, but there was no visible effect. We then entered another very sharp uphill curve to the right. The little car braked hard to reduce his speed for the curve and as he came out of it he presented the side of the car to my vantage point. I could clearly see the right front wheel and I had the “clear” call from my driver. I shifted my point of aim to lead the front wheel and fired. Once more there was no visible result, but we were again tight behind the little car.

      After the fourth shot we met oncoming traffic and I held fire. We pursued uphill for nearly half a mile with constant oncoming traffic until the next opening. I was about to take aim again when I saw smoke from the front of the little car. The thin wisp quickly became a cloud and we began to feel we had won. The Fiat was now in obvious trouble. It could no longer accelerate as it had in the previous miles and we could see chunks of smoking rubber flying up from the right front wheel. The driver continued to give it all he had over the next two miles, but his efforts were now futile. He was only able to generate twenty miles per hour or less. Suddenly the little car nearly disappeared in a cloud of steam as a hose burst and the contents of the overheated cooling system vaporized in an instant. This phase was over.

      We bounded out of our car and pulled the screaming driver out of the Fiat. He now presented a very different attitude than he had when he was stopped one hundred miles earlier. He appeared to be terrified, and he pleaded with us not to kill him, all the while fighting us with all he had. He had lost control of his bladder. We were easily able to overpower him and we placed him face down and cuffed his hands behind his back. The moment we released our hold on him he rolled over and tried to kick us, but this was of no danger to either of us.

      The other police car, which had overtaken us near the slow end of the chase, took the prisoner and returned to Golden. We waited for a tow truck to remove the car to secure storage. I examined the little car to see where my bullets had struck and found three bullet holes in a close group just below the right rear tail light. The bullets had penetrated the outer skin of the car, but then had hit the heavier metal of the inner fender and had not gone through. The right front tire was gone and the wheel was worn down until it would no longer turn on the axle. I examined the right side of the car from end to end but I was unable to find any indication of a bullet impact. We assumed my last shot must have penetrated the side wall of the tire. The flat tire then caused heavy resistance for the little car and the engine boiled and seized.

      Any one of the first three shots could have