My story about Police and Glocks and mistaken 911 calls.
Posted: Sun Jan 18, 2009 9:21 am
Most pants up story ever.
So, I live in residence at the University of Western Ontario right now. So we were all getting ready to head to my buddy Kyle’s 20th birthday party, and I walked by his room after he had already left to prepare for the party (which was being held at his brother’s apartment), and I see another one of the guys in the room, with four cops in the door talking to him. Two of them were the usual campus police, and the other two were City of London police, who deal with issues the unarmed campus police may not be able to handle. So, I look in and in passing just mention to the cop at the door I was just looking for another friend, and then ask him what’s going on. He in turn just asks me if I live “here” and I reply that I live in an adjacent room. After that, he basically tells me to go away. So I go the washroom, then come out, and decide to eavesdrop from around the corner a bit. And the I hear one of the cops mention a “Glock” and that “he lives up north in the bush” and some other stuff like that. At this point, I sure they were talking about me. So I went back over to the door, and gestured to Steve to ask if they were talking about me. He acknowledged this, and the cops turned to me and asked if I was the one who owned a handgun. I said yes. They then asked me if I had it here. I said no, then mentioned it was registered and legally owned, and showed them my R-PAL (restricted Possession Acquisition License--the License that allows one to buy handguns in Canada). They asked me a few more questions about the gun and my reasons for owning in a very offhand way, then said, “this pretty much clears things up” and left. Ok then. I wasn’t really sure what to make of this, especially considering when I saw them, they were practically interrogating Steve and Kyle’s roommate Dmitry, and according to Dmitry, were on the verge of searching his room, but after I came and told them I was the one who actually owned a gun, they seemed like they could not give much less of a shit, asked me some standard questions and left.
This all seemed a little weird, so I asked Steve what exactly the pants just happened. So, apparently, while I was outside the building, Steve was in Kyle and Dmitry’s room playing video games, and his new blackberry, which has some special automatic 911 dial button, accidentally got pressed. Meanwhile, Steve and whoever else was in there at the time happened to be joking about my gun. 911 heard this, and assumed that it meant someone in the residence, actually had a gun right there. Apparently the police also mentioned that on the tape, there was what appeared to be the sound of someone racking the slide of the gun, but that it was muffled and hard to tell. Regardless, they decided to send some cops to deal with this issue, thinking someone was packing a Glock “10,” which isn’t actually even a real model of Glock, mine being a Glock 20, which is chambered for 10mm auto rounds.
I don’t even know what the odds of shit like that happening are, but I mean holy crap. The cops were pretty chill with me at least, but I guess that’s not surprising considering the fact that I approached them, and that I knew more about the Firearms Act then they did. But damn. Dayum.
Definitely one of the stories I’m going to keep logged in my mind for future conversations about lulz.
The arm in question:
So, I live in residence at the University of Western Ontario right now. So we were all getting ready to head to my buddy Kyle’s 20th birthday party, and I walked by his room after he had already left to prepare for the party (which was being held at his brother’s apartment), and I see another one of the guys in the room, with four cops in the door talking to him. Two of them were the usual campus police, and the other two were City of London police, who deal with issues the unarmed campus police may not be able to handle. So, I look in and in passing just mention to the cop at the door I was just looking for another friend, and then ask him what’s going on. He in turn just asks me if I live “here” and I reply that I live in an adjacent room. After that, he basically tells me to go away. So I go the washroom, then come out, and decide to eavesdrop from around the corner a bit. And the I hear one of the cops mention a “Glock” and that “he lives up north in the bush” and some other stuff like that. At this point, I sure they were talking about me. So I went back over to the door, and gestured to Steve to ask if they were talking about me. He acknowledged this, and the cops turned to me and asked if I was the one who owned a handgun. I said yes. They then asked me if I had it here. I said no, then mentioned it was registered and legally owned, and showed them my R-PAL (restricted Possession Acquisition License--the License that allows one to buy handguns in Canada). They asked me a few more questions about the gun and my reasons for owning in a very offhand way, then said, “this pretty much clears things up” and left. Ok then. I wasn’t really sure what to make of this, especially considering when I saw them, they were practically interrogating Steve and Kyle’s roommate Dmitry, and according to Dmitry, were on the verge of searching his room, but after I came and told them I was the one who actually owned a gun, they seemed like they could not give much less of a shit, asked me some standard questions and left.
This all seemed a little weird, so I asked Steve what exactly the pants just happened. So, apparently, while I was outside the building, Steve was in Kyle and Dmitry’s room playing video games, and his new blackberry, which has some special automatic 911 dial button, accidentally got pressed. Meanwhile, Steve and whoever else was in there at the time happened to be joking about my gun. 911 heard this, and assumed that it meant someone in the residence, actually had a gun right there. Apparently the police also mentioned that on the tape, there was what appeared to be the sound of someone racking the slide of the gun, but that it was muffled and hard to tell. Regardless, they decided to send some cops to deal with this issue, thinking someone was packing a Glock “10,” which isn’t actually even a real model of Glock, mine being a Glock 20, which is chambered for 10mm auto rounds.
I don’t even know what the odds of shit like that happening are, but I mean holy crap. The cops were pretty chill with me at least, but I guess that’s not surprising considering the fact that I approached them, and that I knew more about the Firearms Act then they did. But damn. Dayum.
Definitely one of the stories I’m going to keep logged in my mind for future conversations about lulz.
The arm in question:
