Montreal. A city famed for its hockey, its poutine, and now, its startlingly efficient application of ballistic trauma. In what authorities are calling a 'tragic but instructive incident,' four souls were dispatched to the great beyond by a still-at-large gunman. A scene of panic, of sirens, of that particular Canadian politeness even in the face of mortality. But worry not, for the British counter-terrorism establishment has dispatched its finest minds to gawp at the gore and scribble down what they learn. They are, after all, professionals.
According to Whitehall sources, a team of experts has been deployed to Montreal to 'monitor lessons learned from policing responses to major incidents.' This is not, as one might cynically assume, a PR stunt or a junket. Oh no. This is cutting-edge international knowledge exchange. They will observe the cordons, study the forensics, and interview the traumatised. They will file reports, attend briefings, and perhaps indulge in a spot of maple syrup procurement on the side. All in the name of keeping Britain safe. They are learning how to fail better.
One can only imagine the briefing notes. 'Observe the dispersal of witness statements. Note the efficiency of paramedic triage. Is there a definitive correlation between shooting volume and doughnut consumption?' These are the vital questions. Because what London, Manchester, or Birmingham could really do with is a detailed case study of how Montreal handles its body count. It's the British way. We don't innovate; we plagiarise tragedy.
The sheer audacity of this, the sterile bureaucracy of it all, is breathtaking. Four people dead, families shattered, a city in mourning. And somewhere in the ether, a civil servant is pencilling in a PowerPoint slide: 'Key Learning Outcome: Bullets kill people. Consider alternative solutions.' It is the very pinnacle of absurdity. The gunman, presumably still armed and philosophical, might appreciate the irony. His victims won't, but their loss has been quantified for the greater good.
And let's not forget the cost. With public finances stretched, these lessons don't come cheap. Flights, accommodation, per diems for officials who will undoubtedly demand a 'safe working environment' that includes hot beverages and reliable WiFi. The real question is whether the British taxpayer is getting value for their corpse-watching dollar. Will the notes be bound in leather? Will they be read aloud in Parliament? Or will they join the vast archive of well-intentioned white papers that gather dust until the next atrocity? History suggests the latter.
Montreal's police, meanwhile, are probably thrilled to have an audience. 'Look, we're screening with dignity! Look how we stanch the bleeding while maintaining social distancing!' It's like a macabre chef's table. And the British observers, in their sensible shoes and high-vis jackets, will nod gravely, sip their Tim Hortons, and reflect on how terribly civilised it all is.
But let's not be too harsh. There is genuine expertise to be gleaned. Canadian police have well-established protocols for mass shootings, and cross-border collaboration can save lives. It's the performative aspect, the bovine gravity of the thing, that sticks in the craw. The press release might as well have read: 'British Officials to Goggle at Montreal Shooting for the Benefit of National Security.' It is satire that writes itself.
In the end, the dead remain dead. The lessons, however theoretical, might one day prevent another such tragedy. Or they might not. But at least someone will have taken meticulous notes. And if nothing else, they'll have a charming anecdote about Canadian friendliness to share over a gin and tonic at the staff canteen.
