Every year, the Police department auctions all the bikes and other stuff stolen off the streets but for whatever reason not claimed by their rightful owners.  Several times, I have wandered the aisles during the 'media preview', looking for something, anything that somehow might warrant more than the single line "the police auction is on this weekend ...."  on the nightly news.  Although there's plenty of material up for auction, most is rather ordinary.   Tools, a few musical instruments, old computers, bric a brak. 

But then I always seem to come across something that makes me wonder, "who would want to steal this?"  And the story flows from there.  Police Auction

I love a good corpse as much as the next guy.  That does not mean I want to pour over the possible reasons why a live body became a dead one.  But apparently many people do and not just professional forensic investigators.  To satisfy that desire the Vancouver Police Museum has scheduled a series of workshops on some aspects of crime scene investigation.  Open to the public, no need to wear rubber boots. 

Even if you do not plan on attending these workshops, a visit to the Museum is quite interesting.  Oh the stories 15-thousand dead people can tell.  Forensic Workshop

The RCMP gets lots of criticism these days and, as the force admitted itself recently over the death of Robert Dziekanski, some of it is deserved.  It is a tough, demanding calling, keeping the peace in an increasingly troubled world and the Mounties sometimes struggle to do the job according to their own standards. 

Those standards have roots extending back more than a century - Maintain the Right is the time honoured motto and generations of Mounties have tried to live up to it.  I was fortunate enough to meet one former Mountie recently, who had just celebrated his 100th birthday.  Looking back, he knew exactly what was expected of him and he says he followed those rules throughout his life.  Musical Ride Man

As a reporter I have covered many murders over the years, though my current beat generally deals with more pleasing matters.  But when I read about the tragic shooting of two people at an Edmonton car dealership over the weekend, I recognized the name of the killer.  Dave Burns had worked there and killed himself.  Could it be the same Dave Burns I went to high school with back in Winnipeg in the 1970s?  The one who stabbed another teen to death at a social in 1974? 

On Sunday, I found out that, yes, it was the same Dave Burns. 

I did not know Dave well.  He was in my Chemistry class in Grade 11 at Grant Park High School.  He was not a bright student, even worse in chemistry than I was.  At some point he had had been put back a year because he was a year or so older than the rest of the kids.  He was a scary guy, brooding, angry, with eyes that made the rest of us wary.  Tales were told about him, about how he beat up other kids.  I did not know if any of those stories were true but I kept my distance.   

 

Who hasn't watched those TV shows and said to themselves, "Hey, I want to make crime scenes my life?"