Portrait of a Detective as a Real Person


Ever since he was a little kid, Bryce Clarke has wanted to be a police officer.
Ever since he was a little kid, Bryce Clarke has wanted to be a police officer, just like his dad. His career almost ended after his spinal cord injury, but he wasn’t done yet. He hung around the station, made himself useful, and eventually was hired back fulltime as a detective working cold cases.

Many pundits predicted NBC’s plan to update Robert Ironside — Raymond Burr’s cerebral paralyzed detective — for a modern television audience would be an inevitable failure. In the disability community, people questioned the decision to cast Blair Underwood in the lead role instead of an actor who used a wheelchair. In the entertainment community critics lambasted the overly gritty production values and questionable plot choices — like having the paralyzed detective transfer into the back seat of a car to beat an answer out of a witness.

But real-life detective Bryce Clarke had hope for the new series. When he heard of the reboot in the fall of 2013, he took the time to write the show’s producers and offer his insight and any assistance they might need. As a 17-year veteran of the Edmonton, Canada, police force, Clarke, 42, has worked everything from patrol to undercover to gangs to his current position as an acting detective on historical homicides, or cold cases. Thousands of other officers across North America could boast similar resumes, but none of them had done it from a power wheelchair, as Clarke, a quad, has. The producers never responded to Clarke’s offer and the show was cancelled less than three weeks after its premiere, but Clarke remains confident that the public is ready for a paralyzed detective.

“As nice of an idea as Ironside is, it was very unrealistic,” he says. “But I do think there is a true story to be told there.”

Police Work in His Blood

Clarke’s story begins with him growing up in Calgary watching his father work as a homicide detective. “From the time I was a little kid I knew that’s all I ever wanted to do,” he says. In 1998 he applied to the Calgary and Edmonton police services, and when Edmonton accepted him, he packed his bags and made his way north to his new home. Over the next three years he worked in various departments before settling in on a unit focused on apprehending break-and-enter criminals.

On Aug. 25, 2001, Clarke invited some of his colleagues over to celebrate the end of what had been a particularly stressful summer highlighted by a series of violent riots. Like he had many times before, Clarke stood on the deck railing and dove into his pool. He heard a crack, then the sounds of his friends laughing as they thought he was playing dead, floating atop the water.

“I woke up about a week later in the University of Alberta Hospital and people were telling me, ‘You broke your neck. You will never walk again, you will never work again. You will be relying on somebody for the rest of your life and you are not going to be a contributing member to society.’ It was like what? My dream of being a police officer can’t be over. My career was only a few short years and there is no way I wanted it to end.”

As a detective in the historical homicide department, Clarke peruses old files for clues to crack Edmonton’s cold cases.
As a detective in the historical homicide department, Clarke peruses old files for clues to crack Edmonton’s cold cases.

Clark had just turned 29. The injury left him paralyzed at the C5 level. He spent the next five months in hospitals and rehab. Despite the unanimous prognosis, he never let go of his desire to return to the force and realize his dream of becoming a detective. His family stayed by his side, as did the Edmonton police force. The chief and superintendent made a special visit to reassure him. “They both came into the ICU and said, ‘Bryce no matter what, we don’t know what your capabilities are going to be, but no matter what, you have a job,’” Clarke recalls. “‘We will figure something out. Just concentrate on getting better as best as you can.’”

His colleagues backed up that promise in spades. They raised over $100,000 to help with bills and securing the equipment Clarke needed to make his country home accessible and pay for a wheelchair van. They also chipped in enough of their personal holiday and court time to push him over the hours needed for him to qualify as a fifth-year officer, significantly boosting how much he received for long term disability. “When something happens to somebody in the police community,” says detective Karen Ockerman, “we really do band together and help out. When something happens to a squad mate, they become very tight, like family.”

Returning to His Dream

Knowing he had the support of his colleagues, Clarke began working his way back to the force in late 2003. “I went in strictly on an under-the-radar type of thing where I wasn’t asking to get paid. I wasn’t trying to go back part-time, I was just visiting and seeing what I could do for them to help.” He started in the gang unit, helping with presentations and lectures for at-risk youth and community groups and quickly discovered he had a gift for connecting with his audiences. “They all thought I got shot by a gang or something like that, so I would tell them that anything can happen to anybody. The gang unit presentations started being more of a motivational type-thing to show people to not give up, you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Detective Bryce Clarke poses with his fellow homicide officers. He credits their unwavering support for him being able to come back to the department fulltime.
Detective Bryce Clarke poses with his fellow homicide officers. He credits their unwavering support for him being able to come back to the department fulltime.

As his former coworkers saw how much Clarke could do, they began to involve him in more duties. In February 2009 he returned to full time as a constable working in the gang unit. He helped coordinate projects, wrote orders and even got involved in undercover work. “We tried to hide the fact because once they knew there was a policeman in a wheelchair, I wouldn’t be able to do much more,” he says. The first few assignments went well, but a close call in a gang and drug-related operation late in the summer of 2009 caused concern. “I was put in a little bit of a compromising position where my safety could have been jeopardized,” he says. “It wasn’t, and everything worked out fine, but unfortunately it shed light to some of the superiors that you gotta be careful because Bryce might not be as safe as some of the other guys out there … I loved it. I would still do more of it, but obviously my safety is foremost.”

Clarke transferred to the historical homicide, or cold case, unit in the spring of 2010 and within a year was promoted to acting detective. Staff sergeant Brad Mandrusiak, who had helped restart the historical homicide unit, said bringing Clarke over was a no-brainer.

“Working in that unit and doing that particular kind of work requires a certain expertise, a certain tenacity and a certain personality. Obviously there were some limitations in terms of what he could do physically, but he had that personality and that vision. There is a unique way of looking at things, a way of looking at evidence that detectives who are working at that level have, and Bryce is one of those people.”

For Clarke, becoming a detective was the realization of a dream. “Every day it’s a reality that I’m excited to go to work. Not a lot of people can say that. One of the reasons I became a police officer is I saw that in my dad. He loved going to work every day and he always told me that if you love what you do, you’ll never feel like you’re working, you’ll never feel like you have to go work every day. And it was so true. I only hope others get to experience something like that, that they love what they do so much that they don’t feel that it’s work. It’s more of a calling, so everyday I’m grateful. I go to work and I get to be around a bunch of people who I genuinely enjoy being around and get the satisfaction that I’m working side-by-side with them to accomplish some pretty amazing things.”

On the Cold Case Trail

The city of Edmonton has around 190 unsolved homicides going back as far as 1938, more than enough to keep Clarke and his two colleagues in historical homicides busy. Mandrusiak has since moved on to another unit, but said that working cold cases is different than what most people think. “People have this idea from television, what I call the ‘Hollywood-ization of policing,’ that everything is done in an hour. For those of us who work in the business, policing and police investigation is generally not done in an hour.”

Clarke has a full-time attendant who drives him to the office every day, helps set him up with a cup of coffee and whatever paperwork he needs and then takes off until the end of the workday. During the day he works independently, knowing he can always ask his colleagues for help. Mandrusiak says Clarke’s co-workers learned how to respect his independence while also making themselves available if needed. “I quickly came to understand what might be the limitations for him, and these are things that are not insurmountable, things that any human being would do for another human being,” he says.

Working cold cases means sorting through boxes and boxes of old evidence and watching countless hours of video in hopes of finding the needle in the haystack that previous investigators might have missed. Clarke has a knack for finding those needles.

“As an example, there was a lot of video evidence that needed to be reviewed in a historical file — multiple hours of video that had to reviewed at regular speed,” recalled Mandrusiak. “He was able to find images of the suspect in and around the murder scene just hours before the crime, so we now have confirmation that our suspect was in and around the scene at the time of the murder.”

With that kind of detective work and solid teamwork, the unit has closed a number of cases and made headway on many more. Clarke sets the tone for the unit, according to Ockerman. “He always wants to get the bad guys,” she says. “He has that natural curiosity and desire to help out and do something positive. He’s very eager and tenacious.”

That tenacity is also apparent in Clarke’s off-duty work. He is an outspoken advocate for people with disabilities and sits on the Premier’s Council on the Status of Persons with Disabilities. He has parlayed his knack for public speaking into steady work as a motivational speaker, and he is an ambassador for the Rick Hansen Foundation. He regularly shares his story with school and community groups, emphasizing the importance of maintaining a positive attitude no matter your situation in life. That message — and the authenticity with which Clarke delivers it — resonates with everyone who knows him.

“He is not only an inspirational person to people with spinal cord injuries, Bryce is a guy who quite frankly is an inspiration to all of us,” says Mandrusiak. “He wants to do more, and that is a good thing. You look at him and the challenges he is facing, and there is a guy who is coming to work and is being positive, pushing the envelope, and he wants to better himself. What a great thing.”


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