Dunphy inquiry — the heart of the matter

Watching the inquiry into Don Dunphy’s death unfold feels like looking through both ends of a telescope.

In the early days, the scene of the shooting at his house in Mitchell’s Brook was brought into sharp focus — the chair where Dunphy was sitting when RNC Acting Sgt. Joe Smyth pulled his revolver and fired, Dunphy’s duct-taped stick, the battered old rifle, the blue plastic tub, the wandering cats, the cluttered surroundings.

As the inquiry proceeds, that focus has necessarily shifted, with our attention directed further outward.

If Smyth shooting Dunphy was the rock thrown into the ocean, the actions and reactions of those the act affected are the ripples, ever-larger circles the further we move from the initial impact of rock on water.

The ripples have moved through Dunphy’s family and community, through police detachments and departments, all the way to the Office of the Premier.

Dunphy’s death sparked immediate responses.

When the news broke, members of the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary Association rushed to the scene to comfort Smyth.

The RCMP dispatched officers to investigate.

Meghan Dunphy was told of her father’s sudden death and started the spiral into shock and grief and disbelief.

Media began to probe and question. Social media speculation was rampant.

The premier’s office communications machine kicked into gear: who is the dead man? Did he have a criminal record? What is the message to be delivered?

The premier’s protective detail tightened up security.

In a scrum with reporters a day later, then Premier Paul Davis distanced himself: “I didn’t know anything about this. I didn’t know the tweet existed or the comment existed. I didn’t know that the police were following up on the comment. I had no idea that the officer had gone there.” He said he had called Smyth to offer “personal support” but hadn’t directly contacted the Dunphy family.

More and more the focus was shifting away from Dunphy as people’s energies were being diverted into following the pattern of events as described by Smyth.

Now past the halfway point of the inquiry, we have been taken backward and forward in time but still lack many definitive answers.

Did Smyth act appropriately and with justification in visiting Dunphy alone and unannounced on that Easter Sunday in 2015, inquiring about posts on Twitter that, by all accounts, posed no serious threat to anyone?

Did the RCMP act objectively and without bias in carrying out its investigation of an RNC officer?

Did Meghan Dunphy’s lawyer, Erin Breen, overstep the mark in asking higher-ups to bring in an independent agency to conduct the investigation because she was concerned about the RCMP having tunnel vision?

RCMP Staff Sgt. Kent Osmond has called Breen’s behaviour “scandalous,” saying his career could have been affected.

Of course, it’s not only Breen’s actions or the RCMP’s investigative approach that have been called into question. This inquiry — any inquiry — necessarily examines policies and procedures and protocols to see if adjustments and improvements can be made to prevent similar occurrences. And not everyone enjoys having their actions and decisions thrust into the glare of the spotlight.

But amid all the indignation and rankling of people understandably wanting to protect career and reputation, let us never lose sight of who this inquiry is supposed to be about, or why it is even necessary.

Donald Dunphy was a loving father, a loyal friend; an outspoken and abrasive advocate for injured workers; someone who, according to his daughter, finally had some reason to feel optimistic about the future. One moment he is relaxing at home, the next he is dead.

We may never know exactly what happened in that house; I can’t see how the inquiry will dispel that uncertainty.

But perhaps it can determine whether the approach taken in confronting Donald Dunphy was the right one, or whether he could have been treated differently and with greater dignity.

As far as I’m concerned, Breen was doing her best to ensure justice is served for a man who is no longer able to speak for himself.