I was taken hostage at gunpoint 40 years ago. That terrifying memory now strengthens me
CBC
This First Person article is the experience of Dave Cheke, who lives in Calgary. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
I was a hostage — taken by strangers on a high-speed chase in my Chevrolet Corvette and held for 11 hours at a truck stop at gunpoint.
I still vividly remember the moment it finally came to an end.
I stood up, I tucked in my shirt to make myself feel professional, and left the room just ahead of the police negotiator and the last gunman. I could feel the silence. Even the traffic was so quiet, I could hear the click of the firearm safeties being switched off as the tactical team moved in.
It's been 40 years since that crisis and yet it sticks with me — especially that final moment. It keeps coming back.
The hostage situation started at 8:30 a.m. on May 18, 1982. There was a knock at the front door of the Safeway in Saskatoon where I was a 24-year-old assistant manager. Two well-dressed men said this was a hold up.
I remember thinking, just do what they say so no one gets hurt.
But after the gunmen got the cash, one of them asked for keys to a vehicle.
I gave them the keys to my Corvette and was then forced into the front seat — perched on the centre console — and we took off down the main road.
Police were after us almost instantly, lights flashing. The sound of gunfire rang out from inside my car — shots coming from right beside me, spent shell cartridges hitting my face. The noise was so loud it seemed unreal.
The chase continued until the driver lost control and slammed the car into the sidewalk curb. I was pulled out of the car, guns aimed in my direction, voices loud and a tension like nothing I experienced before.
What followed next was a blur, but felt like a TV drama. The gunman commandeered a police car, the chase continued, and suddenly I could see a Husky House Service Station restaurant. We slammed into a wall, and I was pulled out again and forced toward the restaurant. Patrons were fleeing around us.
But in the midst of that chaos, two police officers followed us into the restaurant. They called the gunman by name and said we should sit down to talk things through.
The gunmen grabbed a second hostage — an American woman who had been using the washroom — and now we had tension of a different sort. Negotiations began between the gunman in charge and a detective. I was so impressed at how calm the detective was — almost like he was just having a conversation, nothing stressful or aggravating. They talked for hours and it turned out the leader, James, had escaped from a prison.