Man on the run

The last thing we expected to encounter while holidaying at my mother's farm in South Western Ontario was a fugitive on the loose. A man who has killed three people and has since gone into hiding...or fled farther afield, the authorities are not sure and/or are not saying.

The manhunt has resulted in one sleepless night for my mother — with her daughter and granddaughter whom she sees twice yearly newly arrived to the farm, the last thing she expected was a threat to their safety — and friends and neighbours reputedly outfitting their homes with locks, dead bolts, alarm systems and additional outdoor lighting. Oh, yes, and my inlaws calling to inquire if we're okay.

This is a rural community. Residents don't typically lock their houses up tight when they venture into town for supplies. Nor do they always remove keys from ignitions; after all, you never know when you'll need to take the pickup over to the North field. When I was child we didn't lock the doors at night, neither when we were out, nor when we were sleeping within. And only when our beat-up old car was stolen from its shady spot near the road, did my father decide it was time to lock up the vehicles and drive shed at night. Still, the doors to the house remained unlocked. Now I see my mother locking up before we go to bed and can't help but mourn the loss of innocence.

However, I think it's time. The world has changed. After all, back in the city I wouldn't dream of leaving the house without first locking the doors and putting on the alarm. And either my husband or I check that all is secure before we retire for the evening. It doesn't take a fugitive to make us vigilant. It's just something we do.