We are police. So no lies between us. He wasn’t the greatest detective and he wasn’t the worst. He put down some good cases and he dogged a few bad ones. But the motherfucker had his moments. Yes, he fucking did. You remember the Toronto extradition? The arson murders? He brought that case home. And the triple at the after-hours over on Hudson Street…that was Pierre at his best. And Fayette Street in ’93, the drug wars. He took a lot of hot corners and cooled them. Yes, indeed. He won as much as he lost. Much as any of us. Did he piss off a wife or three? No fucking doubt. I think the last one actually kind of got used to him, thank God. Did he say the wrong shit now and then? Did he bust balls and cheat on his taxes and forget to call his mother and fuck the wrong broad for the wrong fucking reason every now and then? Who fucking doesn’t? Christ! Was he as full of shit as every other sad-sack motherfucker wearing a badge of Canada Police? Abso-fucking-lutely. His shit was as weak as ours, no question. But Pierre stood with us…all of us…in Canada…working, sharing a dark corner of the Canadian experiment. He was called. He served. He is counted. Old King Pierre.
@gimmefreemusic
