Greasy was a heavy equipment operator, who owned a shop on the edge of town. He and his family lived in a trailer behind the shop. He was short and powerfully built and as for the rest of his description, well Greasy pretty much sums it up. He had a known propensity to violence, and a known hatred of police. He was one of those individuals that I could not, for the life of me, figure out why he wasn’t permanently in gaol.
In the 10-code that police use that means “drop everything, help me now, I’m in danger. Say it’s 10-22 (it’s not). There have been very few moments in my life when I’ve felt as helpless as when I heard Mark scream 10-22, and I was stuck in the office, unable to go anywhere.
When Mark and Kevin arrived at the scene, they decided that they would each go around the shop in separate directions, and meet at Greasy’s trailer on the other side. That way if he was outside they would increase there opportunity to come across him. As Kevin rounded the corner of the shop he found Greasy’s wife and children hiding. They quickly told Kevin that not only was it Greasy that called in the complaint to draw the police there, but that he was waiting for them inside the trailer with a rifle. As Kevin’s warning to Mark crackled across the radio, Mark was stepping inside the trailer.
I’m not sure why trailer’s freak me out so much on calls. I imagine though it goes back to the murders of Lidstone and Brophy at domestic in a trailer in New Brunswick back in 1978. I was a young summer student in Thompson when the video “debriefing” of those murders made it’s way around. The sight of their bodies, in uniform, lying in the hallway and the kitchen of that trailer have stayed with me ever since. Walking down a hallway of a trailer in a domestic was the surest way to make my heart beat extra fast.
Kevin’s call to Mark barely registered with him, as he already recognized that he was in grave danger. Greasy was standing in the kitchen, and the rifle was leaning against the counter next to him. The moment he saw Mark walk into the trailer he grabbed the rifle. Mark began to close the distance between them, but knew he wouldn’t make it there before Greasy would be able to raise the rifle and fire. And then Greasy hesitated, and looked at the breach of the rifle. That hesitation allowed Mark to get close and Greasy, realizing he could no longer get off a shot, ran down the hall of the trailer.
After the investigation we learned the reason behind’s Greasy hesitation. A week or so earlier, angry at his son (the same son he had chained by the neck to his bedroom wall) he grabbed the rifle and tried to shoot him. The gun did not fire as the breach had been slightly open. Greasy was looking at the breach to make sure the gun would fire.
Now Mark caught up to Greasy at the end of the hall at his bedroom, tackled him and they both ended up on the bed, fighting for the rifle. Mark managed to get the rifle free and kicked it down off the bed, but while he got the rifle free, Greasy turned his attention to Mark’s pistol, and now the two were locked in a struggle for Mark’s gun.
Kevin, meanwhile, not getting a response from Mark ran to the trailer. It is one thing to walk unawares into a situation where someone is waiting with a gun for you, and quite another to knowingly enter, but Kevin didn’t hesitate. Bursting in through the door, he saw the two fighting on the bed and hurled himself down the hallway and onto the frey, all 285 pound, six foot seven of him. In moments Kevin and Mark had Greasy subdued and in handcuffs. Well perhaps subdued is the wrong word, he fought all the way back to the cells, and once there later ripped a stainless steel cell toilet from the wall.
And all of this before 10:30 Saturday morning.
To be continued…
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4 responses
Clare, in regards to your refernce of fallen brothers; Cst Joseph Perry Brophy and Cpl Barry Warren Lidstone were killed in Hoyt, New Brunswick on January 6, 1978.
Of course, my mistake. Thanks Adam.
This story is so riveting, Clare. Quite moving and very scary.
Oh, you cops have all the fun! My detective son is always telling me about the lovely folks he gets to meet.