Newfoundland troublemaker sentenced to banishment
Odd punishment for criminal with 27-page record
Gordie Bishop is a Newfoundlander, born and raised. But unlike so many other Newfoundlanders, he is a Newfoundlander who, in his 32 years of life, has never left the province.
It is a point of personal history that was irrevocably altered Tuesday afternoon in St. John’s. Bishop, a beefy, dark- haired man dressed in a white shirt, appeared before Newfoundland Supreme Court Justice Alphonso E. Faour for sentencing for multiple crimes — break and enter, assaulting a police officer, dangerous operation of a motor vehicle causing bodily harm, breach of recognizance and failure to stop after an accident.
Bishop could have been locked away, but instead he is being sent away — banished, that is — from Newfoundland and Labrador for a period of one year.
“It is important to know that this is not designed to foist a criminal on another jurisdiction,” Bishop’s lawyer, Stan MacDonald, told the court, as reported by The Telegram in St. John’s. “It’s designed to break a cycle of criminality.”
MacDonald and the prosecution jointly recommended the sentence, and the judge agreed.
Banishment dates back to ancient Greece and the Roman Empire. Bad seeds in a community, with serial patterns of misbehaving, were sent off to wander alone — often in the wilderness. The idea was they would have ample time to live their shame and reflect upon the error of their ways and, perhaps, change. Or else perish. In t he c ontemporary context, banishment most often arises in connection with First Nations. Several Indigenous bands in New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Saskatchewan have pushed to have community members trafficking in drugs banished.
Gordie Bishop, meanwhile, has a long history of trafficking in mayhem in Newfoundland; his criminal record is 27 pages long.
The scene of his most recent undoing was Peter Easton’s Pub, a hole- in- thewall on Cookstown Road in central St. John’s. The pub is identifiable by its green awning and neon yellow sign featuring a swashbuckling, cutlass- brandishing pirate. ( The real Peter Easton was a 17 th century pirate, harassing the hated Spanish — on behalf of the English Crown — off the coast of Newfoundland.)
Gordie Bishop triggered a security alarm at the pub at about 5: 20 a. m. on Jan. 2, 2015. He was dressed in a black jacket and jeans and a dark blue toque. He had a crowbar and a screwdriver. He was up to no good, evidently, when police arrived, and he fled to the roof of the building before leaping over its edge — leaving a trail of footprints in the snow behind.
Bishop’ s escape unravelled in his getaway car, a small black Chevy, which Constable Cathy Snelgrove approached in an effort to stop the would- be thief. She reached inside to grab the keys. Bishop sped away — with Snelgrove half in the vehicle — whereupon she tried to bail out, an exit that ended with her hitting her head on the pavement.
Snelgrove would spend the next several days in hospital.
Later that same day, constables Karolyn Nolan and Caelie Conroy spotted Bishop in the parking lot of an apartment building. Const. Nolan approached Bishop on foot. Their eyes met. She shouted at him to stop. She referred to him by name: “Gordie!”
Bishop fled to his car. Const. Nolan drew her service revolver and pounded on the window. But off he sped, careening into Const. Conroy’s squad car, before escaping. Five days later he was arrested.
Thirty months later he was in Justice Alphonso E. Faour’s courtroom in St. John’s on a Tuesday afternoon in July.
Bishop did not address the court, but he did not object to his banishment, either. He has family in Fort McMurray. Alberta, after all, isn’t the wilderness.
But it might just be a place where a Newfoundlander, who has never left home, can find a way to make a fresh start.