The bleeding hearts of the Toronto Star would have you believe that yesterday's dawn raid on the black gangs of North Toronto (which netted 95 perps, guns, drugs, and dirty money) were bad because they scared the children.

Here's a different perspective on yesterday's police raids.

It comes from Andrene, who is 10 years old and experienced the first minutes at the end of police guns after officers burst into her bedroom just before dawn.

She was there with her mother, Sharon Mitchell, 32, and baby sister, Alexandra, 2. Down the hall in another bedroom were her cousin, Joanna, 9, and Joanna's mother, Charmaine Osbourne, 30.

"This morning, the police officers, they came and they were kicking down the doors," said Andrene in a solemn voice. "And they came in with their guns and they were pointing at my sister and me.

"My sister got scared and she was crying."

Alexandra was trying to coax Boss, a little white poodle-mix, to play. But the dog whined. The fur on its left side was burned to the skin.

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She is angry that police had children at gunpoint. A supervisor for the Toronto school board, Osbourne said police should have known better than to do that, especially when she believes their surveillance would have shown children lived there.

Osbourne and her daughter, Joanna, hit the floor at the first blast, but police ordered them back up on the bed. "They had both of us on the bed with high-powered rifles pointed at us," said Osbourne, claiming they were held at gunpoint for about half an hour before being allowed to wait outside the house.

"My daughter was crying like there was no end to it. She was there crying and they had a gun on her.

I would be far more worried about having my criminal brother in the house with my little girls than having the cops come in. No children were harmed yesterday, but Toronto has seen little kids caught in gang crossfire many times over the past couple of years, some even losing their lives. As a matter of fact, child services should take those kids away and charge the mother with endangerment just for letting a gang-banger in the house with them.

As for little Andrene, let me tell you a little story...

It was 1984 and I was eight years old when we heard the banging and the boot steps that seemed to come from everywhere. It was winter, and it had darkened early. I was in the living room, in front of the bay window through which there was only blackness and the reflection of the TV, watching Three's Company. My father was in the next room, on the phone. He looked out the window, slammed down the phone, and ran out to the living room. I was grabbed unceremoniously from the La-Z-Boy and herded to my bedroom just as the pounding began on our front door. "Stay here" he said. "Don't you dare leave this room!"

The noise coming from the upper duplex above us was deafening. Yelling, a scream, more boots. I hid under the bed, terrified. What was going on? Who was at the door? What was happening to my daddy? Soon the door was opened by my mother, and our doberman was shoved in with me, the door closed again. Valentine (the dog) crawled under the bed with me (classic misconception that dobies are scary animals - really they're big pussies), shaking and whimpering. I put my arm around her and we cowered there for an hour, until the noise stopped. Until Daddy came back to get me.

I've just told you a story from an 8 year old's perspective - scared, unsure, clutching her dog, wondering if her daddy would ever come back. That little girl was me. Now I will tell you the adult version of what happened, which was explained to me that night and that I have never forgotten. Robert Mingo, our upstairs neighbor, with his two brothers Melvin and Nelson, had stolen $68 million of stocks and bonds from Merrill Lynch. They hid the suitcases in our shared garage, in an old car my father had up on blocks. That night, after thorough investigation, our duplex was descended on by the Montreal SWAT team, who surrounded the building, guns pointed at every door and window. They busted into Mingo's upstairs, ordering everyone, including Robert's heavily pregnant wife, face down on the ground. The team ransacked the house, and all were arrested. They came to our door and dragged my father outside, down into the garage, to present him with his suddenly valuable car, and to do preliminary questioning. Obviously he had no idea what was going on, and he was free to return to his terrified family (and dog).

I learned a very valuable lesson that night. I learned that if you commit crimes, bad things happen. You might be a nice person (the Mingo's were extremely nice people, and used to have barbecues with us), you might be friendly and family oriented. But bad things will still happen if you break the law. The cops came to my house, heavily armed. I was afraid. But ever since that night, I have not feared them. Once it was explained who they were and what they were looking for, I knew I was in no danger from them. Twice more in my life I have been in situation where the SWAT team were involved, and I was never afraid. I merely did what I could to protect myself should there be shooting (get in a room without windows, stay low), and I knew that when it was over the bad guys would be gone.

I hope Andrene realizes that they weren't coming for her - they meant her no harm. She was just in a dangerous place at a dangerous time, but that the police are not to blame. Her mother and her uncle are to blame for putting her in that situation. The police are responsible for getting her out of it. Good for them.

Labels: Drugs, Gangs, Jamaicans, Law Enforcement, Merrill Lynch, Mingo, Police, Rexdale, SWAT, Toronto