The fury of press that erupted last summer during Toronto's chaotic G20 summit has evolved in many ways since the first days of reporting in the wake of the stories. At first articles focused, as they generally do, on official statements of authorities. But what emerged over time was an outpouring of personal stories that all cast serious doubt on the “official story”.

From Adam Nobody, savagely beaten and arrested in the street for giving his name, to John Pruynⁱ a disabled man who was arrested and saw his prosthetic leg confiscated as a “weapon”, these stories painted a very different picture of the weekend's events. We soon learned that much the fierce medieval weaponry police were showing off to the press did not come from protesters at all, but from Brian Barrett, who was attempting to catch a train to a role playing gameⁱⁱ.

As countless witnesses posted their footage to YouTube, the entire spectacle became a national sensation. For the mainstream press, it became increasingly difficult not to cover the story everyone was talking about online.

In the weeks and months that followed it became clear that any and all attempts into an inquiry into police behavior would be severely stifled by the government. But all the while, arrests of protesters continued. While Bill Blair and the Federal Government were downplaying the need for an investigation into the debacle, even people posting comments on YouTube videos became the focus of lawsuits. Increasingly, this appalling double standard itself became the story, until it became clear that the issue was now far larger than one weekend of rowdy protests.

By October, the Toronto Star was focusing on the Special Investigation Unit (SIU), which investigates allegations of crimes by police, and issues of police accountability in a big way. Sources such as the Ontario Ombudsman were quoted calling the SIU “impotent”ⁱⁱⁱ and the Star notes that the SIU has not had a successful conviction for a firearms offense since 1994^iv. Police unions were lambasted for interfering with investigations and for encouraging officers not to cooperate.

So far, only one officer has been personally charged with assault during the protests. Constable Babak Andalib-Goortani has been charged with the assault-with-a-weapon of Adam Nobody after video of this arrest was posted on YouTube. Chief Blair initially claimed the video had been “doctored”, but he was forced to retract that statement as the original videographer stepped forward, and officers who were questioned eventually pointed towards Andalib-Goortani^v.

He has also since been charged with a second assault for the attack on Toronto blogger, Wyndham Bettencourt-McCarthy.^vi He has not been removed from duty. Other officers have refused to give statements, making investigations difficult, and the only punishment so far has been a day's pay each docked from ninety officers who did not display their name tags during the summit.^vii

To suggest that police in Ontario are considered “above the law” is not a stretch, it is legislation. If an officer commits a crime and you are the victim, you have very little recourse. Traditionally, under the Police Services Act, you would need to file a complaint or charges within six months or you would be completely out of luck. From there, most obvious complaints such as forcible confinement or assault would be thrown out because they were done “in the line of duty.” But even if they were clearly against police codes of conduct, the worst the officer could get would be suspension with pay. Similarly, police budgets are exempted from scrutiny in ways that no other publicly funded department can boast.viii

No case represents these frustrations better in Hamilton than the tale of Kevin Dhinsa, an officer whose charges under the Police Services Act were thrown eight days after the six month deadline passed. The charges – 24 counts of sexual harassment against 12 co-workers (mostly cops) exposed how brutally difficult it is for even the police to press these charges.

Other more recent cases have highlighted abuses in custody by Ottawa police, such as the “strip search” of Stacy Bonds where she was forced to the floor under four male officers and had her bra cut off with scissors. A video of this went viral^ix and soon led to other similar abuses and videos being uncovered in Ottawa^x.

As these stories snowball, public trust in the police has seriously wavered, and public officials and grassroots groups have become bolder in challenging the police. After a decade that saw policing budgets grow by 41% on average, nationally, many cities are now questioning the need for further raises.

Toronto, Calgary, Vancouver and others have all started making cuts^xi. A recent wage increase for Ontario Provincial Police officers has raised fears of cash shortages in towns across the province^xii. Many municipalities are taking on their own chiefs or departments, such as Orangeville, where residents recently packed a town hall meeting demanding an inquest into their force's behavior^xiii.

Policing organizations are reacting, too. The Ontario Association of Police Services Boards is demanding action on officers who have criminal records^xiv, and to protect officers from suspension without pay. And in perhaps the scariest recent outrage, civil libertarians in British Columbia are raising questions about a vast database that police have been keeping on the public, which is reported to include around 85% of the adults in the province^xv.

Policing is a deadly serious matter. And while it is not always easy to talk about in public forums (and perhaps is even less easy now), it is something that needs to be discussed. The power granted to police officers and departments means that, without oversight, tremendous injustices are possible. If we, as a society, value “the law” enough to enforce it with tasers, guns and jails, then the law should also, at the very least, apply to those enforcing it. And whatever the limitations of “the press”, if we raise these issues loudly enough, there are some stories they just cannot ignore.