Getting arrested | David Dorson

We don’t know how many people are arrested each year in Canada, but it’s a lot. About two million crimes are reported to police annually. Prior to COVID there were more than 300,000 criminal cases each year (and what will be surprising to most people is that only 60 per cent of them ended with a guilty plea or conviction).

Then, too, police can and do arrest people who are never charged but are released minutes or hours later. The best estimate is that some four million Canadian adults (which is about one in eight) have a criminal record of some kind, which means they were arrested at some point. Though, as two leading criminologists have pointed out, it’s more like 25 per cent of men and four per cent of women. In short, being arrested is hardly an uncommon event in this country. It is almost certain that you, reader, know someone who has been arrested. 

Anyone who has been arrested is going to remember it forever. Because being arrested is at best highly unpleasant and in many cases a lot worse than that.

My arrest happened at 6 a.m. I was asleep. The phone rang and when I sleepily answered it, I was told police were at the door, and I was to let them in. Then I started hearing loud pounding on the door. When I answered it four or five police came in, one of whom told me that I was under arrest and showed me a search warrant. I can’t remember what happened in detail. I was sat down on a couch with one officer while the others searched. Then I was taken back to my room to get dressed, so I could be taken to a police station.

Had I known better I would have made some different choices. For example, it was summer and I remember briefly wondering before putting on a short-sleeved shirt. This was a mistake, as the holding cells in the police station where I then spent many hours were freezing. I should also have taken off my wedding ring and left my wallet and keys behind, because these were taken away at the station and after my bail a few days later I had to get someone to drive me to a distant location to pick them up. Anything valuable that you have when arrested, and in particular cash, phones or computers, has a reasonable chance of disappearing along the way so that you never get it back.

I was handcuffed — hands behind my back — and put in the back of a police car, just as you see in the movies. That is definitely not a happy moment, in part because you can be confident that people are watching. It’s also very uncomfortable to sit in a car with your hands behind you — but I would soon realize that was one of the minor discomforts I would experience.

I remember the 20 minutes or so drive to that station very well, as I began to come to terms with the destruction of my life. My career would be over. My reputation would be shattered, whether or not I was found guilty. The effects on my family, friends and colleagues would be massive. An arrest, to the extent it becomes public, can create almost as much destruction as a criminal record. 

Although we say ”innocent until proven guilty,” many, many people in fact believe the opposite — that if you are arrested you must have done something to deserve it! As one person said to me later, “You hired an expensive lawyer, so you must be guilty of something.” A media story that mostly cites police about the crime and your arrest is hardly balanced by the single sentence that “the allegations have not been proven in court.”

My arrest experience was mild. As I began to meet many others who had been arrested I heard many stories. One person I became close to described being arrested for a non-violent crime at gunpoint in a parking lot.

Quite a few described being handled quite roughly — hit, slapped, thrown on the ground, kicked. Often this happened in front of their families, including young children, who were given no explanation of what was going on. I met quite a few men who had trouble speaking about their arrest. Others who began hyperventilating if they saw a police car on their street. I did not meet anyone who had been arrested in a “no knock” raid, but we know that happens as well.

All of this is not intended to attack the police. They have to arrest some people who are very difficult, even though most aren’t. Having spent many years working in bureaucratic organizations, it’s easy for me to see how it works. There is a bad incident where things go wrong, and new rules are introduced for every situation to prevent it happening again. 

The result is “worst possible situation” rules, which is when the standard operating procedure is intended to prevent something that might happen one time in 1,000.

So police handcuff all prisoners even though the vast majority are not going to hit anyone or try to escape from a police car. Or police draw guns even in situations where the chances of them being needed are very, very low. The operating principle — which is not at all specific to police — is that it’s better to have many people treated unnecessarily badly than it is to have one bad situation develop.

Just as we are now seeing calls for restrictions on bail and parole even though, as an expert told the Senate a few years ago, out of about 140,000 violent offences a year in Canada, typically five or fewer are committed by a person on parole. 

Most of us are conditioned to think of arrests as being like those we see on TV — really bad guys being taken off the streets. Of course that does happen. But the vast majority of arrests are for quite minor offences — for example, getting into a fight, being drunk, damaging property, shoplifting, doing something stupid. Quite a few people who are arrested are very young and foolish. Couldn’t we do that in a less damaging way?

Arrest is just the very first stage of the long journey through the criminal justice system. But for most it’s a very, very bad beginning.

David Dorson is the pen name of someone who went through arrest, case disposition, imprisonment and parole in Ontario a few years ago. Law360 Canada has granted anonymity because he offers a unique perspective on a subject that matters deeply to many readers, and revealing the author’s identity would make re-establishment in the community after serving his sentence much more difficult than it already is.

The opinions expressed are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the author's firm, its clients, Law360 Canada, LexisNexis Canada, or any of its or their respective affiliates. This article is for general information purposes and is not intended to be and should not be taken as legal advice.

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