By Jennifer Tryon and Rebecca Lindell, Global News
They work in isolated Canadian communities, alone and without breaks.
They deal with severe crimes without back-up or help.
They love their jobs, but many don't know how much longer they can last.
They are the Nishnawbe Aski Police Service and they are asking for help.
"We enjoy our jobs, go out there and do what we have to do, but still it can't continue the way we're going. Something is going to break," said Sergeant Brian Wesley, who works in Constance Lake First Nation in Northern Ontario.
Members like Wesley are speaking out about the work conditions, chronic underfunding and non-existent standards they say is pushing the force towards its breaking point and threatening to take the lives of officers with it.
NAPS is the police force that serves 35 remote First Nations scattered across Northern Ontario, many accessible only by air.
For Wesley, it offered him a chance to fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming a First Nations police officer and thought himself fortunate his first job was in his hometown of Moose Factory, just across the river from Moosonee, Ont.
But his dream job quickly turned into a nightmare.
While he went to the same college and was expected to enforce the same laws as his colleagues at the Ontario Provincial Police, Wesley's reality was much different.
Across the river in Moosonee, the OPP had 13 officers, a sergeant and support services. In Moose Factory, there were six officers for 2,500 people.
But with only two on duty at a time, it was a ratio that kept him working around the clock, often alone.
"We were going from call to call," he said. "With the lack of funding that we have, we react just to the calls we get."
Reacting often means showing up in volatile situations alone, no partner, no back-up, not even a two-way radio to call back to headquarters in Thunder Bay.
But escape doesn't come at the end of a shift. With few replacements and no easy or cheap way out of many communities, the only days off come if there are no emergencies.
And those days are rare in these communities where crime severity ranks as one of the most extreme in the province. Statistics Canada pegs the rating in NAPS territory at more than four times the provincial average.
"It's not uncommon for officers to have people banging on their doors all hours of the night trying to get their attention," said NAPS police chief Robert Herman. "It's kind of being held captive in the community you're actually policing in."
"What we're seeing with policing is a real double standard that exists in this country. The RCMP and the OPP would refuse to work in the conditions that the NAPS officers have to face on a daily basis," said Charlie Angus, the NDP MP who represents many of the communities.
He calls it third-world policing, but to Const. Lynda Jack, it's just another day on the job.
A routine call in her hometown of Attawapiskat, Ont. has seen her have to arrest her own family members because there was no one else to respond.
"If I have dinner with (my family), they won't bring up the issue. They know, I'm working," she said.
Officers like Jack often fill the gaps for other services that are not readily available in the North, playing paramedic, firefighter, counsellor, coroner and undertaker.
Jack said she rarely got time off after responding to a trauma to digest what she saw, heard, smelled or felt.
"It's part of your head, all the time, 24/7. Even if you try to forget it," she said.
Read more: Decrepit homes, detachments on-reserve threatening Ont. police officers
The conditions have taken their toll on Wesley, now a 15-year veteran on the force. His marriage crumbled. He started drinking. And the stress took over.
After five years in Moosonee, he was transferred to Constance Lake, but the stress came with him - a memory that still causes Wesley to break down in tears.
"The stress was too much, it started affecting my body, started to come out and the room just spinned out of control," he said, recalling the day he finally confided in a colleague.
He took time off and was prescribed anti-depressants, but after five years the cycle started over.
"I thought about throwing in the towel," Wesley said. "The only thing that actually stopped me was my personal beliefs."
That wasn't how the story ended for his friend, Richard Wesley, a rookie with big hopes for the job.
Troubled by the suffering seen on the job and the inequality between police forces, Wesley said Richard Wesley, no relation, fell into a deep depression. He tried to get time off for a stress break, but the force was too short-staffed.
Instead, Richard Wesley killed himself with his own gun.
"We as a police service have to accept the responsibility of what happened to him because we should never have made him work that long, that hard," Wesley said.
One year later, NAPS officer Pauline Nguyen, 24, made the same choice, ending her life after dealing with work-related stress in 2012.
In Jack's case, the stress manifested itself as post-traumatic stress disorder - now nearly as common as fatigue and burnout.
After a suicide attempt, the single mother took time off and now sees a counsellor and makes more time for her two children.
"It's like a bottle, stuff it, stuff all the things in the bottle and then who knows? We don't know when the bottle is going to explode," she said.
Cracks in that bottle are already evident. One in five of the force's 140 officers are on leave, most due to stress. Two officers have committed suicide in the last year. Another four have tried.
Herman, who came to NAPS after three decades on municipal forces, said he can't recall a single stress-related suicide during his time there.
There is also a 50 per cent turnover rate in the first three years, compared to the 85 per cent that last more than five years in other police forces.
The force says more money and better regulation can help them turn things around.
NAPS is part of the First Nations Policing Program, funded jointly by the Ottawa at 52 per cent and Ontario at 48 per cent and has a $25 million budget.
But Herman said it is not enough.
"We have huge overhead; our operational costs are extreme as compared to the policing environment and unless we're properly funded we can't address all the issues at the same time," he said.
Regulating it under the provincial Police Services Act, which covers the OPP, would also help, he said, by legislating standards that would force accountability to provide adequate detachments, radio systems and support for officers.
Public Safety Minister Vic Toews told Global News the government has extended the $120 million First Nations Police Program for another five years. The provincial government has not responded to requests for comment.
But the Nishnawbe Aski Nation doesn't see much of that trickling down to the police force it is supposed to manage. Ottawa and Ontario agreed to a one year extension of the current agreement with a modest funding increase that the nation says won't cover their growing costs. A special federal fund that helped to recruit 11 police officers is also being shuttered this year.
The Nishnawbe Nation has issued a public safety alert to Toews and the Ontario government warning that NAPS officers are in "grave danger" and that the Aboriginal police force cannot continue to operate under these conditions.
When asked about the stress and extreme conditions facing NAPS officers, Toews said he hands out the money, the rest is up to the provinces.
In the meantime, NAPS revamped its family assistance program, came up with a critical incidents stress policy and trained an officer to be part of a critical incidents response team.
But it all takes money - money Herman has to find by looking for "efficiencies" in an organization that doesn't have enough to begin with.
Many NAPS officers have to fly into the communities they serve. Global News flew in with them to get a sense of what their lives are like.
Global National correspondent Jennifer Tryon on the plane flying over Northern Ontario.
Global News arrives in a NAPS community.
NAPS officers meet the crew.
Trucks, not cruisers, are the standard operating vehicles for police officers working in Ontario's north.
A community policed by NAPS.
Global National's Trevor Owens hard at work.
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Shawn Bell - Wawatay News - April 10, 2013
For Nishnawbe-Aski Police Services (NAPS) officers in communities, it is business as usual, for now, despite the political wrangling surrounding the force.
Nishnawbe Aski Nation (NAN) has signed onto a one-year funding extension for NAPS that will see the force continue patrolling 35 NAN communities.
Yet the future of NAPS remains up in the air. NAN Deputy Grand Chief Alvin Fiddler has repeatedly said NAN may have no choice to shut down the police force if funding levels do not increase to more accurately reflect the needs in communities as well as funding levels of municipal and provincial police forces across the country.
"NAN can no longer operate policing under the current terms and we are not willing to extend those terms, as it falls short of the necessary safety services required in NAN First Nations," Fiddler said following a federal government announcement of a five-year funding extension for NAPS in early March.
NAN was upset that the new funding announcement involved no negotiation with First Nations leaders, included no funding increase to meet the need for more officers and other services, and contained no mention of legislating First Nation police forces the way municipal and provincial forces are legislated.
Fiddler has since reiterated his position that NAN may be forced to shut down the police force, given that funding levels remain inadequate to ensure the safety of community members served by NAPS and the officers working for the force.
Meanwhile, the federal and provincial governments continue to bicker over funding for First Nations policing in Ontario. Under the current agreement Ontario pays 48 per cent of First Nations policing, while the federal government pays 52 per cent.
On March 31 a federal program called the Police Officers Recruitment Fund expired. The $400 million national fund had been in place since 2008, and was being used in Ontario to fund, among other things, 11 police officers for NAPS, eight police officers in Treaty #3 and one police officer in Lac Seul First Nation.
Conservative MP for Kenora, Greg Rickford, told Wawatay that the Ontario government always knew the recruitment fund was going to expire in 2013.
Rickford said that considering the fact the federal government had paid the entire cost of the additional officers for the past five years, it would have been prudent for the province to take the lead on funding an extension of those positions. Yet, he said, the federal government has heard nothing from the provincial ministry on the file.
"The responsible thing for the province to do would have been to acknowledge that the federal government has paid for the positions, and sit down to talk about its willingness to contribute," Rickford said. "The province had plenty of time to look at the increased numbers and come to us, and they didn't.
"We do not know where the province stands on this," Rickford added. "We have not heard anything from the province on this matter. Not one thing."
In a written response, the provincial minister of community safety and correctional services Madeleine Meilleur disputed Rickford's comments.
Meilleur said she has written three letters to federal Public Safety Minister Vic Toews requesting meetings to discuss the issue of First Nations policing.
"I am disappointed in the federal government's decision to end the Police Officers Recruitment Fund," Meilleur wrote. "Ontario used the limited funds provided by the federal government to help First Nations police services hire more officers, as well as increase numbers of OPP and municipal officers. The decision to end the program lays waste to diligent recruitment efforts developed over the past few years and will have an impact on community safety.
"We have been and will continue to lobby the federal government to maintain or increase funding for policing resources in First Nations communities on a permanent basis," Meilleur added.
As for NAPS, acting chief Bob Herman said the force remains optimistic that a solution can be reached so the force can re-hire the 11 officers who were funded under the Police Officers Recruitment Fund. He said the positions are essential for the force, and that the loss of the officers puts added strain on NAPS.
And as NAN waits for negotiations on the funding levels for the police force, Fiddler continues to push for NAPS to be legislated as a police force, the same way municipal and provincial police forces are legislated, rather than operated as a program as it is now. He also wants to see funding increases so NAN communities see the same levels of policing as other communities across the country.
Rickford said the federal government's commitment to a five-year guaranteed funding for NAPS is a step in the right direction, as it will provide "stable, core-funding" for the force.
But Ontario's minister noted that the province is still waiting to hear details on what provincial allocations under the extended funding will be.
"The federal government must come to the table with First Nations and my ministry to identify collaborative solutions to support the long-term sustainability of First Nations police services in Ontario," Meilleur wrote.
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Treaty Three Police imposes pay and benefit cuts and outrages its union
By Alan S. Hale, Kenora Daily MIner and News - April 5, 2013
Treaty Three Police car.
Financial woes at the Treaty Three Police Service have the force's management and the union representing its officers at each other's throats.
Police Chief Conrad DeLaronde has told his staff their pay and benefits are being cut back to try to save the police service from a looming $1-million deficit, but is doing so without talking to the union and in violation of their collective agreement.
The Public Service Alliance of Canada is furious and is filing a unfair labour practices complaint against the police service as well as a human rights complaint stemming from removal of all maternity and parental leave pay for officers.
Mistrust between the union and management runs thick. The union accused DeLaronde of being anti-union and unwilling to negotiate; DeLaronde said the union cannot be trusted to make the compromises necessary to save the police force from financial collapse even if he did try to negotiate with them.
"If we keep on going down this track, everyone will be out of a job because we won't have the ability to pay anyone," said Delaronde in an interview Friday. "So shouldn't we make some cuts? Even if we consulted with the union, saying 'this is what we had to do to survive,' their position would more than likely be the same.
"I don't disagree with the negotiating process ... but based on all the grievances and the difficulty that we've had in the negotiation process, they are not reasonable at all. Not once have they ever been reasonable with this service. Not once have they ever compromised."
DeLaronde said the Treaty Three Police Service has been running deficits that run into the hundreds of thousands of dollars for years, but usually the federal government covers the expected shortfall near the end of the fiscal year. This year that didn't happen, and the recently released four-year funding agreements with the federal government didn't contain any budget increases. So now the police force is running a $1-million deficit and keeping its doors open by using a line of credit.
The union said that just because the police force is having funding problems does not give it the right to violate the collective agreement; a legally-binding contract the police service signed in good faith. Despite DeLaronde's skeptisim, the union said it would have worked with him to find ways to save money if he had asked.
"(DeLaronde is orginally from the RCMP which has no unions) so he is totally unfamiliar in dealing with a union environment ... We have always been willing to cooperate with the employer, to sit down and talk, but it takes two people to have a conversation," said Judith Monteith-Farrell from the Public Service Alliance of Canada.
"We would have had a discussion about where we can say money. I may have had ideas and the officers may have had ideas on where the needed cuts could be realized. I would have never agreed to the rollback of maternity leave pay because that targets a specific group, but there are other places where entitlement savings could have been found."
The cuts were announced in a three-page letter to staff late last month. There are three main cuts. One is the elimination of maternity and parental leave pay, which is the subject of the union's human right complaint because it mostly targets women.
When a Treaty Three Police officer went on maternity or parental leave, they were still paid 80 per cent of their regular salary while they were gone, in addition to the maternity allowance they are entitled to from the EI system. The government allowance will have to suffice now that maternity leave is unpaid.
Officers also face a cut in pay, despite the fact the union won them wage parity with the OPP in binding arbitration - a major source of management's mistrust of the union's commitment to keeping the police force operating. A 1st Class Constable earns about $83,000 - a sum that officers of aboriginal status take home tax-free. The cuts will bring their salary down to about $80,000 a year.
The last major cut is the removal of credits used to get paid time off even if all an officer's sick days are up. At the beginning of the year, officers are given 64 hours of paid time off they can use as they want. That is now gone, so if someone uses up their sick days, any additional time off will be unpaid.
The union said these efforts to save money are wasted because by not negotiating with it, management is forcing the union to go to court to enforce the contract which will cost the police force thousands of dollars in legal fees.
"To defend this program that they are undertaking is going to cost a huge amount of money. They have hired a very expensive law firm out of Toronto. They have money for that, but not any money to pay officers. They're doing this instead of just sitting down and working it out," said Monteith-Farrell.
DeLaronde doesn't think the collective bargain is valid. The Treaty Three Police Service is challenging the union's ability to represent its officers with the Canada Industrial Relations Board. DeLaronde said as a federal union, the Public Service Alliance of Canada doesn't have the jurisdiction to represent officers who are a part of a policing provincial program which is bound to provincial policing rules.
"If the CIRB rules in our favour, then the union is gone and all of the grievances that they have are gone. Because (their jurisdiction is under investigation) we have no obligation to consult with them," added DeLaronde.
The union doesn't see it that way, arguing that because of the federal funding and the relationship between First Nations communities and the federal government, the Treaty 3 Police Service does fit inside its jurisdiction and so its agreement remains valid and must be legally enforced.
For the moment, neither side is willing to back down on the issue; with DeLaronde and the police service management convinced it is doing what is needed to ensure public safety in the communities the service patrols, and the union unwilling to allow an employer to impose unilateral cuts on its membership.
"It's so unfortunate. It's not a good situation for anyone. I'm sure the police chief is not happy about this or takes any joy in it. But he could at least have attempted to talk to us. We've been able to work things out in the past," said Monteith Farrell.
"What are we supposed to do, keep driving our service into a hole where we can't get out? Or do we take action to prevent problems down the road," concluded DeLaronde.