If I have ever written or breathed anything unflattering about Christie Blatchford, I take it back. This is by far the best, most sensible, thing I've read so far; especially if you get to the end.
---
By CHRISTIE BLATCHFORD
Wednesday, December 28, 2005 Posted at 4:04 AM ESTKey
From Wednesday's Globe and Mail
TORONTO — This one, well, this child was 15.
She was a gifted and versatile athlete -- she swam, played softball and ran cross-country -- at one of the city's better schools. She was a knockout, with white-blonde hair and the long limbs of the backstroker she was.
"The funniest, prettiest and all-around nicest person" at her school is how she was being remembered yesterday on a classmate's blog. "I can't think of a single person who didn't love her," the friend wrote.
The girl was shot once in the upper body.
Her family has asked Toronto Police not to release their daughter's name for as long as that is possible. The police obliged. It seemed a reasonable enough request. The family has rather enough on their plate without having to fend off requests for photos and interviews.
Their daughter was murdered, and she was murdered in front of her mom and a sister while they were engaged in that newly dangerous urban activity -- shopping the Boxing Day sales right downtown on the busiest street in the city on one of the busiest retail days of the year, absolutely surrounded by crowds.
At police headquarters yesterday, spokesman Mark Pugash was asked again and again, "Is this the worst?"
He didn't know how to answer.
"What do you mean by worst?" he wondered.
Do you rank it by age and the tender years of the victim?
If so, then the shooting of little Shaquan Cadougan, who was but four years old when he was struck four times when gunfire erupted outside his mother's townhouse this August, is the hands-down winner.
If the measure is age and brazenness, then it would be the shooting of that little girl, Tamara Carter, who was all of 11 when she was shot in the forehead while sitting on the Jane Street North bus with her mom after getting her hair braided on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
By boldness alone?
Aaahh, then perhaps the shooting this summer at Dundas Square -- with its much-talked-about, and somewhat controversial, police video cameras, not to mention the presence of actual uniformed officers -- would qualify. Twenty-one-year-old Dwayne Taylor was gunned down there, the shooting and the subsequent pursuit and arrest of the alleged killer all caught on tape.
If the criteria are the number of shots and the number of silenced witnesses, well, any of the various nightclub shootings of recent years, wherein shots and witnesses fly with equal speed, would do. I remember one, a few years ago, where dozens and dozens of people happily stepped over the body of the fallen in order to flee the joint before police arrived.
If place is the determining factor, then surely the shooting last month on the front steps of the West Toronto Seventh-Day Adventist Church, when an 18-year-old was killed while attending the funeral for his friend murdered 10 days before, would take the cake.
The point is, despite the sure pronouncements yesterday from several quarters that this shooting -- this particular one -- means the end of Toronto's innocence, this has been a long time in the coming.
The city making a claim for innocence now is like the woman in that old joke who refuses to sleep with a man for $10 but agrees when the ante rises to $1,000. In the punch line, the woman is outraged and asks, "What do you take me for, a prostitute?" and the man fairly replies, "We've already established that. We're just arguing about price."
Toronto's elephant in the room, for about a decade, has been the number of gun slayings.
Most of the time, they are confined to small pockets of the city dense with public housing projects -- places like Jamestown in north Etobicoke; the Jane Street-Finch Avenue West area; parts of Scarborough. Many of the victims themselves were at least peripheral players in the drugs-and-gun milieu; many were affiliated to the various gangs in those areas. Many were poor and people of colour.
These hard truths should never make homicide acceptable, and I'm not suggesting they did, but by the nature of the victims and the geographical narrowness of the shooting locales, what they did do was make it endurable for most Torontonians most of the time.
As a for instance, while the young men of Jamestown effectively were being picked off one by one just a few years ago -- I wrote a story about this protracted rash of shootings, and traced about 20 of Jamestown's young who had either killed or been killed in about a two-year period -- most people in the city were still able to go about their business feeling confident they were safe.
In the main, that is still true, as anyone who lives downtown, as I do, would tell you. For the people in the violence-plagued areas I mentioned, however, it has been a long time since they could say the same thing.
Last week, while I was travelling with the Jack Layton campaign, one of the people I met was an Ontario organizer for the party who reminded me we'd met, many years earlier, when there were protests about the several fatal police shootings of young black men. "Now," I said, "young black men are shooting one another." At the same time, we both said, "That's worse."
Periodically, a particular shooting will burst through the bubble of complacency: An especially young child will be hurt; the son or daughter of a palpably, demonstrably good family will die; a shooting will unfold in a very public or sacrosanct place. Whenever it does impinge upon the bigger, broader, middle-class city, the cry goes up for a fix.
But the problem isn't new, nor is the widespread reluctance to squarely face it. I don't think it's rocket science, either.
In the short term, judges have to treat weapons offences seriously, make bail harder to win for those who have previous weapons convictions or breaches of firearms prohibitions, and impose the toughest sentences the law allows. Those who open fire on Yonge Street and at funerals and on buses are already beyond rehabilitation, and those who carry handguns are unlikely to be moved by a ban on them: You might just as well ban crime, for all that will work.
But for the next generation of youngsters in those mostly forgotten corners of the city, any solution is more difficult and will take longer and cost a lot of money. These are young people with promise, who should not be written off because of where they live. Their neighbourhoods may need more police, but they also need more recreation centres, more companies willing to get involved in jobs programs, more sports teams and more clubs, more role models for those who don't have dads and more help for hard-working single parents.
In the Boxing Day shooting, Toronto lost a lovely teenage girl who used to get up for six o'clock swimming practice. She was a perfect innocent, absolutely. The city herself, its citizens and leadership, not so much.