Fortin’s cuts were not serious, and once paramedics had finished treating him in the ambulance, MCU took him to his detachment. Everything was moving like a dark dream, his mind was clear yet he felt numb as they continued with the next steps, photographing him, seizing his weapon then his blood-stained uniform as evidence.

Someone got his sweatpants, T-shirt, and running shoes from his locker for him. He put them on and was taken to a small interview room, feeling like a suspect as he told Sergeant Jim Falk and Sergeant Theo Garner, senior members of MCU, what happened.

A camera was suspended from the ceiling corner of the room and Fortin was aware of the blinking red recording light.

He relayed how he had received the call; that he was familiar with the complaint history at the residence, the financial stress the Dolan family was experiencing; Lyle’s drinking, his threats and how he had abused Trudy, who had called the RCMP several times to intervene, often recanting while showing signs of obvious violent assault. Fortin recounted how in the previous call he had previously physically subdued Lyle, charged him and that his case had been pending before the courts.

Then came the last call for help to the Dolan place.

Fortin detailed his reasons for not awaiting back up, specifically that he’d heard a cry for help and was convinced Lyle was harming his family.

For nearly an hour Falk and Garner were meticulous, carefully taking notes and asking questions over and over.

“Okay, Will, one more time,” Falk said. “Lyle fired at you and you responded?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go over this again, Will. You did not discharge your weapon until he opened fire at you, correct?”

“Correct, I killed Lyle and the children.”

“Hold up there,” Garner said. “We don’t know that your bullets struck the kids, not until the forensics, ballistics, and the medical examiner complete their work. Lyle could have killed them before you ever got there, Will.”

Garner’s comment lit on Fortin like a ray of intense sun. But any hope that he was not responsible was quickly eclipsed by what was roiling in his gut and in his heart.

I know it was me. I killed those kids.

When Falk and Garner finished taking Will’s statement, he was cleared to go home. But before he could leave, he had to pass through his commanders, huddled in the detachment’s small reception area: his sergeant, his inspector, and his superintendent.

All three had been pulled from bed. They were unshaven, wore jeans, casual shirts, and smelled of cologne. All eyes turned to him, surveying his sweatpants, T-shirt, and bandaged face.

“How you holding up, Will?” his sergeant asked.

Fortin shrugged.

“You’ll get through this,” his inspector said.

Fortin dragged both hands over his face.

“I had to go in. I couldn’t wait for backup.”