Toronto Police want’s you to be hostile. A Personal Story

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Let me start by saying I have had very few experiences dealing with the Toronto Police, other than seeing them at events directing a crowd. I have always been polite and understanding that the police are here to protect. Our counterparts in America often complain about police brutality and it is a pride of mine to say here in Toronto the police are different; the two experiences I’ve had with them, however, has left a bad taste in my mouth and has incited a kind of fear in me even though in both cases I was the victim.

The first and second call was made by my mother to a house that I rented in mine and my husband’s name. Now most people who know me know my mother has always been slightly abusive towards me both physically and verbally and we have just never gotten along in my 25 years.

The first night she called them was to take me to the mental hospital; why?; I told her to wear clothes when my husband was in the house. I noticed a few times before the incident she would walk around naked and would leave her bedroom door open knowing my husband was coming up the stairs or in the house. This I’m sure would upset anyone and I being myself stood up and told her this was not appropriate and I would not tolerate this; especially since I invited her, my step-dad and brother to come live in the four-bedroom house (she was living in a basement before this and I was taking care of my little brother).

When the cops arrived it was two black young officers they asked the situation tried to mediate asked me if I wanted to come with them (I declined, asking her instead if she wanted to go because it was clear to everyone I had a right to do what I did which was talk to her) and they left the house.

The second incident happened shortly after at the beginning of this month. After arguing with my husband for some time about the living situation and how I felt uncomfortable in our own home we finally got a new place and were moving out. The week leading up to us moving out my mother started taunting me. Telling me to go on disability to collect benefits. Now I’m not sure if this was her messed up way of trying to support me but I was not impressed. I put myself through the University of Toronto majoring in Political Science. I’ve had one full-time job after this and four-part time jobs while enrolling in college to get an accounting degree, which during this time I took the semester off to have a baby with my husband of 3 years, (I am now pregnant).

While we were moving the neighbor started filming my ass for his friends and calling me a whore, I heard him, turned around, saw what he was doing and was visibly upset and as I also minored in Women and Gender studies in university started to stand up for myself as I was taught to do. My mother from the couch must have heard the commotion and decided now was a good time to get her last jabs in asking me if I needed to go to the mental hospital (honestly I still don’t know what she would get out of this) and so I got in her face and started yelling at her. It was at this moment that she pushed me now 2 months pregnant and on a high risk of having a miscarriage. I was holding a hanger at the time and started swinging it so she would back up.

Fast forward my husband has now broken up the fight and we get back to moving. This is when I noticed that I have started bleeding. After we moved on load to the new place and pull into the driveway cops are waiting for us. Now before this, I told my mother if you call the cops on me a second time I will be pressing charges against you because you hit me first, I was pregnant and it was self-defense since my mother is about 245 pounds and 5’7 and I was 130 5’5 after being 2 months pregnant.

I started crying during the whole ordeal this time they sent three cops and again she tried to tell them to admit me to a mental hospital. One cop was white and middle-aged, the other brown skinned and young in his 30’s, and the other a black middle-aged cop around the same age as my parents.

After recounting my story they ended up calling an ambulance to check if I was indeed having a miscarriage. When I got to the hospital the younger cop and the older black gentleman were there and kept me in a separate room from the other patients. The younger cop took my statement and during the wait for the doctor the black cop started telling me a story about his life about how he went to his brothers house when he kicked him out and burned down the kitchen and that he too was Jamaican; I had to stop him right there to tell him I was not interested in hearing this story because I was leaving my house so my brothers would have somewhere to live, explaining once again how I rented this house on my name.

When I got in to see the doctors they kept asking why the cops were still here and I like them did not know. I already gave my statement and my husband told me to think about pressing charges because we would again be left with the responsibility of housing my two younger brothers. After crying for most of the doctors visit worried about my baby I was told my pregnancy levels were fine and that I was to have an ultrasound the next day. I guess another officer had come on the scene asked the two that were there why they were and they started blaming me again. Saying I told them I would come to the station with them tonight 12:00 a.m at this point even though I gave them my information and told them I would decide the next day as I was too worried about the baby. The black officer then started telling me not to press charges because I would go to jail too; looking over his notepad saying my mother said I also hit her after she pushed me( self-defense) when I told him that was what self-defense was he said no, I would go to jail because I used a plastic hanger that did not touch her (neither of us had scratches) and it was assault with a deadly weapon; Despite it just being in my hand when she hit me the first time. So I explained how this was a threat by the police, which is when the third black officer who just arrived started raising his voice in the hospital room telling me it was not a threat and I was no longer the victim because I will also be charged with assault if I move forward with the charges.

Fast-forward to last night at around 8:30 or 9, there was a knock on our door while we were getting ready for bed, we usually go to bed at 10:00. My Husband called me from the bedroom and I had on track-pants and a tank top house-wear so I threw on a robe. I don’t know about you but when someone is talking to me about something important I was raised by my grandmother to give them respect by looking in their eyes which also shows that you have nothing to hide. Both officers were dressed in plain suits; One cop an Indian man in his 50’s and the second was white and middle-aged. They started by telling me about my mother so I knew why they were here and if I wanted to press charges. I said no once, then the Indian man started calling me names under his breath because I guess I was too attentive in this serious matter. I tried talking to the white cop and the other cop again cut me off and presumed to call me names under his breath. After I realized he wanted me to be hostile and not polite and attentive I told them for the third time I don’t want to press charges and if they could leave. This is when he told me my mother also did not want to press charges.

Needless to say, I had to just write it out because I have a headache just thinking how wrong it all could have gone if I had not previously had smoothe conversations with police officers.

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