POLICE FRATERNITY SUFFERS KEEN LOSS

TIE GOES ``to the winner.''

What does that mean? I don't have a clue. But those were the only
words spoken, to a reporter, by Toronto Detective-Constable Rick Shank
late yesterday afternoon after a jury of six men and six women threw
in the towel at the officer's manslaughter trial.

Other than: ``I'm not going to say anything.''

Verdict: Mistrial.

In baseball parlance - from which the aforementioned expression arises
- - the accurate and oft-used clichE9 is as follows: ``The tie goes to
the runner.''

Which means - again in baseball slang - that the benefit of the doubt
in a close bang-bang play goes to the runner, the offence.

Applying this metaphor to what happened in the courtroom yesterday
would suggest that the offence in this case is the prosecution, the
crown. The defence, naturally, is the defendant, Shank, and his lawyers.

But perhaps the offence is the defence, in this case, because the onus
rests on proving the charge beyond a reasonable doubt. Follow? Which
means the benefit of that doubt goes to the accused, if one is looking
for winners and losers with a hung jury.

Or maybe, as I suspect, Shank simply misspoke himself, this being an
extraordinary situation and a tumultuous moment in his life.

As tumultuous as the moment(s) in which suspected crack dealer Hugh
Dawson was pumped full of nine bullets, on Easter Sunday, March 30,
1997? Again, who can say?

Shank, bizarrely, has slain a suspect before - 20-year-old Ian Coley,
on April 20, 1993 - but was cleared and even praised by the Special
Investigations Unit for trying to avoid deadly force on that occasion.
(The crown on this current case was not allowed to tell the jury about
that other shooting, because it would have been too prejudicial
against Shank.)

In any event, sports metaphors are inappropriate.

This was no game.

But, in terms of an outcome, it's the closest an on-duty Toronto cop
has ever come to being found something other than not guilty of
manslaughter in the shooting death of a suspect.

For the policing fraternity, then, this was a keen
loss.

Said Shank's close friend and fellow officer, Sergeant Pat Burke: ``This
was the main time, wasn't it? This was it.''

That has yet to be decided. All parties will reconvene on Nov. 18 in
assignment court. It will be up to the crown law office of the
Ministry of the Attorney-General to decide how they want to proceed:
Drop the charge, stay the charge, or try the case again.

There's also the possibility that the crown could go back to square
one, and seek another indictment (which would require a new
preliminary hearing) on a charge of criminal negligence rather than
manslaughter.

But, in a courtroom where all of the 98 available seats were filled -
at least half of those in attendance were police officers in support
of their colleague, including police Chief Dave Boothby and Deputy
Chief Bob Kerr - the atmosphere was one of stunned distress.

Some never moved from their seats, as if frozen by the outcome, just
staring into space until a bailiff ordered the courtroom cleared.
Others crossed their arms as if in restrained fury. Many stood in a
protective cordon around Shank, while his wife Nicole - a cop with
Waterloo Region police - wept into a tissue.

The inability to reach a verdict upon which all 12 jurors agreed
should not have come as a surprise. Twice on Thursday, the jurors had
relayed information to the judge, in written form, that they were
having difficulty coming to a consensus. And just after 2:30 p.m.
yesterday, when lawyers from both sides were called back into the
courtroom - followed by the swell of spectators - Mr. Justice Eugene
Ewaschuk took his seat on the bench with a folded note in his hand.

Any astute cop would have noticed that. It didn't augur well. And
moments later, Ewaschuk read the news: ``Your Lordship, after a
further review of the evidence, the jury has been unable to arrive at
a consensus.''

Shank grimaced, pressing his lips together, which brought out the
dimples in his cheeks. He shook his head, scratched his ear, wiggled
his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders - the muscular Gordie
Howe-sloping shoulders.

A mistrial leaves the taste of ashes in one's mouth. Nothing settled,
nothing resolved, a purgatory of justice.

The jurors must have been aware of this. Some of them looked abashed
as they filed back into the courtroom. A few wouldn't even look at
Shank. At least one shook his head back and forth as if in
disagreement with this conclusion, at the end of this day.

A cashier, an assembler, a salesperson, a millwright, a nurse, an
engineer, an economist, two clerks, two housewives and one unemployed
woman.

No score.

Rosie DiManno's city column usually appears Monday. E-mail:
dimanno@hotstar.net

Checked-by: Patrick Henry