Mounties marred by sexual misconduct
Over 3,000 apply for class-action fund
Silina Sargis showed up at the Royal Canadian Mounted Police academy in 2010 to start what she hoped would be her dream career. But soon, she said, a sergeant major began harassing and bullying her.
There was unwanted touching at a regimental dinner. During a drill, the sergeant major grabbed her hand and slapped her face with it repeatedly, bringing her to tears. On graduation day, she said, he held her uncomfortably close while her troop took photos, pressing his erection against her.
“I should have felt really proud and excited,” said Ms. Sargis, now 38. “Unfortunately, I felt really scared, ashamed and confused. My parents were so proud of me, and I couldn’t tell them what happened.”
Like the maple leaf and the moose, the Mountie with the scarlet tunic and the wide-brimmed Stetson is one of the most widely recognized and beloved symbols of Canada. But now sexual misconduct allegations are rocking the institution.
Hundreds of women have come forward to describe the national police force as an old boys’ club, where men boorishly commented on women’s bodies and made unwanted advances. Women reported finding sex toys on their desks and pornographic images in their files, and said men exposed themselves, groped them and raped them.
The RCMP has set aside $150 million to settle two class-action lawsuits over sexual misconduct — the first in 2016 with female officers, and now, with women who worked or volunteered for the agency in non-policing roles.
Women who experienced sexual harassment within the Mounties say they were frightened into silence. When they did complain, they say, they were ostracized or suffered retaliation.
Ms. Sargis had hoped the harassment at the academy in Regina, Saskatchewan, would stop once she arrived at her detachment in Richmond, British Columbia. But it continued. She sued the RCMP over a workplace accident in 2015; deemed unable to work after the all-terrain vehicle crash, she was discharged last year.
When Sherry Lee Benson-Podolchuk spoke out in 1991 about harassment and bullying as a mounted police constable in Saskatchewan, she said, she found a dead prairie chicken, dripping blood, in her locker.
“This is a threat,” she recalled thinking. “I’m in danger here.”
Janet Merlo, the lead plaintiff in the first class-action suit, says she suffered near-daily harassment as a constable in British Columbia.
Ms. Merlo, 56, filed a complaint in 2007 — which she called “career suicide.” The perpetrator was protected, she said, and she was slated for transfer far from her family.
‘A bundle of emotions’
The settlements cover claims dating to 1974, when women were first permitted to join the Mounties. More than 3,100 applied for the 2016 class-action fund — three times the number expected. But that might represent just a fraction of the complaints. The true number might never be known publicly, because some are settled out of court and are subject to nondisclosure agreements.
Attorney Angela Bespflug, who represents two of the three lead plaintiffs in the current action, said she has been contacted by more than 500 potential class members. If the court approves the settlement, she said, she expects the number of class members to double.
Lead plaintiff Mary Ellen Copland, a municipal employee in British Columbia, said in an affidavit that when she complained that a colleague had forcibly kissed her, an inspector told her she should have just slapped him.
Women said they left careers over the toll on their health and relationships.
Greg Passey, a Vancouver psychiatrist, treats male and female Mounties employees with posttraumatic stress disorder. His uncle and father-in-law both worked for the force.
“I had no idea how bad these issues were until I started assessing and treating women,” Dr. Passey said. “The level of abuse of power is absolutely astounding and disheartening. One of our iconic pieces of Canadian history is rotten to the core.”
Protecting its image
With roots in the 1873 founding of the North-West Mounted Police, the RCMP has been romanticized in Canada and beyond. It’s also powerful — it’s not only the national police force, but it also provides provincial and municipal policing across large swaths of the country. While it can be argued that the Mounties of real life never bore much resemblance to those of popular culture, the force zealously protects its image.
The RCMP has attempted to address sexual misconduct. In 2014, it streamlined its complaints process, and a new law beefed up the commissioner’s ability to fire employees.
In 2016, then-RCMP Commissioner Bob Paulson apologized to women. His successor, Brenda Lucki, the first woman to permanently head the force, has promised to end harassment and discrimination.
The Mounties agreed in 2016 to
20 “change initiatives” to eliminate harassment. Gail Johnson, the agency’s chief human resources officer, said most are in place.
Whether they will spur a cultural transformation is another matter. In 2017, a civilian panel took aim at the force’s “dysfunctional organizational culture.”
“In the past decade alone, over 15 reviews have been conducted of the RCMP and its organizational culture, identifying a dizzying array of more than 200 recommendations for reform,” the Civilian Review and Complaints Commission reported. “Unfortunately, few have been implemented.”
This year, Public Safety Minister Ralph Goodale announced a civilian advisory board to advise Ms. Lucki on harassment and bullying.
Ms. Merlo, who has written a book on her experiences, said the force’s inability to implement recommendations in the past makes her skeptical.
Michael Dawson, a professor of history at St. Thomas University in New Brunswick, said the RCMP’s mythology has functioned as a “protective coating,” preventing people from asking “serious, probing questions.”
For Ms. Sargis, that coating has been corroded. She said she has PTSD from her experiences. She keeps her graduation book and diploma in storage. She left her uniform in her locker. She never got her badge encased as a keepsake.
“It’s too much of a trigger,” she said.