Katherine the Cop

I was traveling from Saskatoon to Vancouver for a conference. There was a stop over in Calgary and I had a connecting flight to Vancouver from there. The lady seated next to me on the flight was a cop. I love women in uniform. I looked at the cop, with an irresistible urge in me to communicate with her, and said, “Hello, are you going to Vancouver as well?” She replied smiling, “No, going to Manitoba, stopover at Calgary.” “Ah, IC” I said.  We got on with our businesses after the brief exchange of words. We landed in Calgary and it was snowing with all flights delayed indefinitely. We were stuck and all of us cursed the weather and took off in various directions, as we had unlimited time to kill.

I looked for a Tim Hortons, my favourite coffee shop, bought myself one of my favorites - French vanilla coffee- and looked around for a place in the coffee shop to sit and read. As I looked around, I saw this lady in Uniform from my flight reading something at the corner table. I went over and said “Hello” She looked up and said “Hello again” with shining eyes. I was instantly drawn to her by the radiant smile. I said, “I love women in Uniforms, they look very sharp, prim and proper with kempt hair and don’t have a birds’ nest for a hair do” trying to initiate a conversation with the beautiful stranger in uniform. She laughed delightfully and said, “Thanks for all your compliments. Please, have a seat” pointing to the chair across from her. I sat down, took a sip of my steaming coffee and we got chatting after introductions. She told me her name was Katherine Wallace. With in a few minutes there was a comfort level established between us and I vented all my troubles with finding a masters’ thesis topic in the area of female gangs and such and she talked about her family, work and the risks that accompanied her line of employment. She narrated lot of funny incidents, misinformed busts and such. I took a cigarette out of my pack and asked her, “Do you mind?” She shrugged her shoulders and said, “No, please go ahead” looking at me, engrossed in deep thought. After a few minutes, as if she recalled something, she unexpectedly said, “I am going to tell you something. I’d like to share from experiencing it”

“Yeah, awesome. I love cop stories. Love to hear it” and continued to smoke and sip my coffee, adjusting myself in the seat, getting ready to hear everything, she had to share.

All of a sudden she seemed to be in a trance, as she recalled the story and narrated it to me.

“This happened exactly six years, nine months, thirteen days and eleven hours ago” she said, looking at her watch. Jee, intense opening lines I thought, as I was eager to hear it all. She continued.

“It was spring and we just came back from holidays and I had to go back to work the following day. Something inside me didn’t feel right but, we got to do, what we got to do right? So, I went to work as usual. As I entered the hallway off the elevator, all my colleagues came running to me and unanimously, in a single voice said, Kat, congrats for the promotion. You are going the head the narcotics division in Manitoba. I said, “Thanks,” in a very low, timid voice as if, that was the worst news I could hear. Can there be an irony larger than this? - A drug user heading the narcotics division, I thought.

I started smoking weed a few years ago, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Marijuana helped me get through all the side effects of chemo and radiation that I had to go through. Two years later, I was cured of cancer but was stuck with my habit of smoking weed. I even developed love for smoking pot. I enjoyed it profusely that, I went to work after smoking a joint, along with carrying a few in my pocket, to sneak outside to have a good toke before I got down to work. If some one knew, I would loose my job, my credibility and I’d be a social outcast. I knew the risks involved but, could not stop myself from doing it.” I was listening to every word coming out of her mouth reaching me like a bullet, piercing through my thoughts, with intensity of a falling meteor.

“Anyways, back to the story she said and continued - 12^th July, Katherine head of narcotics, was herself heading the operation in the field that day” she said, it in a very boisterous and excited tone, and continued her narration.

 “We had the plan, paraphernalia, and manpower needed for the bust. We were going to hit one of the biggest marijuana grow operations in the narcotic history of Manitoba. We reached the site exactly at 9.10 am. The farm looked absolutely empty. No equipment, no weed growing, no people working. The entire crop was cut and disposed. Just with in 36 hours. Unbelievable, I thought. Some one must have tipped this guy, my head was screaming back at me. However, something felt very strange inside me, like an intuition of something bad was going to happen. We went to the house on the property and knocked on the front door.

A white man in his late 30s looking very shabby, wearing a house-coat opened the door and said, “Yes, what can I do for you?”

One of our sergeants asked, “Are u Tom Polansky?”

He said “Yes, that’s me.”

One of the eager new recruits said, “We have a warrant to search your house.”

Tom replied, “Sure, go ahead.”

I stood at the door and supervised the whole procedure, while the others searched the house, more like ransacked it. They found nothing that connected Tom to the grow op in any form or shape. No evidence what so ever. I was disappointed. As I tuned around to head to my car, one of the sergeants came out calling, “Katharine, you need to look at this. None of us know what it is, to rule it out as evidence.” I went back in to see what it was. I took one look at the stuff and said, “Cuff him.” Everyone looked stunned. It was a small ziplock bag filled with MARIJUANA SEEDS.

 “These are marijuana seeds” I said, as a reply to their unasked questions, noticing the expressions on their faces.

 Tom looked surprised and enquired in a rough tone, “How do you know that? Only people who smoke regularly can recognize this variety of seed.”

I was taken aback. All the officers looked at me with inquisitive, probing eyes. All I could say was, “Guys lets go,” trying to conceal my embarrassment.

Never thought the biggest bust of my life would accompany MY BUST as well!

 An inquiry was initiated and after conformation, I was sent to six weeks of rehab and two years of probation after that. Now, I am back baby, enjoying my work and family.” She completed the story, smiled at me and took a sip of her coffee. I was dumbstruck for a while not knowing how to react to her story.

I slowly regained activity in my brain cell and said, “Wow! What a journey there? So, you completed your probation and went back to work.”

 “Yes. Four years now” She said, smiling wickedly at me.

There was an announcement, requesting all passengers heading to Manitoba, to report to the boarding area, at gate number five.

As she got ready to go she said, “Sweetie, the first step in conquering an addiction is to accept the fact that you are an addict. Be able to say it aloud - I AM AN ADDICT. I never did.”

“I am just coming back from my ADDICTIONS ANNONYMOUS MEETING,” winked at me, grabbed her stuff and walked to her terminal to board her flight to Manitoba.

She left me with one thought - This is some woman in uniform!