Allison Cano

Prime Minister Stephen Harper stood by his Calgary Centre candidate. ‘Lee Richardson has been a fine Member of Parliament with a long and outstanding political career, and nobody thinks anything like that about him,' Harper said

First it was Calgary Centre NDP candidate and political newbie Tyler Kinch calling for incumbent Lee Richardson’s resignation. Then Liberal public safety critic and incumbent for Vancouver South Ujjal Dosanjh weighed in, calling on Conservative leader Stephen Harper to fire the veteran politician. By the end of the day, Liberal leader Stéphane Dion added his voice to the chorus of politicians calling for Richardson’s head.

At issue were comments Richardson made in an interview with Fast Forward in which he linked immigrants to crime. Local media were all over the story even before the hard copy of the paper hit newsstands Thursday (they found the story on our website). Throughout the day, Fast Forward’s phones rang with reporters, producers and news directors asking for a copy of the interview tape with Richardson. (We didn’t give it out.) The story was ultimately picked up by everyone from CBC’s The National to Comedy Central’s Indecision 2008 blog in the U.S.

When Harper arrived in town the following day for a carefully scripted campaign announcement (local media were allowed to ask only three questions of the Calgary prime minister), Richardson’s name inevitably came up. A national reporter asked Harper if he’d fire the MP. “In the case of Mr. Richardson, he clarified a comment made before it was even published,” Harper said. “And I do think that some of these stories are ridiculous examples of gotcha journalism that have nothing to do with anything the voters care about in this campaign. Certainly, Lee Richardson has been a fine Member of Parliament with a long and outstanding political career, and nobody thinks anything like that about him.”

Some facts are required. Gotcha journalism is a dishonest, cynical and unfair method of news reporting that typically involves a reporter who tries to set someone up and get them to say or do something that will get them in trouble. Loaded questions are often asked to accomplish this. Gotcha journalism demeans everyone: the reporter, the story’s subject and the public.

Our story on Lee Richardson was very different. When I phoned Richardson September 18, I wasn’t hunting for an explosive quote. I’d decided to call local candidates and ask them about their respective parties’ approaches to crime since three people in the Calgary area had been shot that week. My goal was to cobble together some sort of story on crime policies. Richardson, to his credit, was the only Conservative candidate who returned my phone calls.

I lobbed him softballs. How does the Conservative plan on crime compare to other parties’ approaches? And how are the Conservatives addressing the social conditions that cause crime? In response to these questions, Richardson made the comments that have been endlessly repeated since. “If you’ve been in a refugee camp, then you live day-to-day,” Richardson said. “And those are troubled people. They come here and, well, it’s easy to take advantage of people that are trying to help.”

“So you see a connection there?” I asked.

“I’m not making this up,” Richardson replied. “You can see that for yourself or not.” Richardson also urged me to “talk to the police” and “look at who’s committing those crimes,” as the perpetrators weren’t kids that grew up next door. When I did talk to the police, however, they said there was no evidence to support Richardson’s assertion.

What to do? The “gotcha” route would have been to run Richardson’s comments just like that, splashing his political opponents’ accusations of xenophobia and ignorance across the headlines. Since we’re a weekly paper, that story would have been on newsstands for seven full days. That, however, wouldn’t have been fair. Or we could have forgotten about the whole thing and pretended it didn’t happen. But that would hardly have been responsible, given that citizens have a right to know what their elected leaders say and think.

Ultimately, I called Richardson back the next day and asked him to clarify what he’d said. Right away he expressed regret. (He didn’t, however, say his comments were referring to youth gang activity, which is what he told other media after the story was published. He simply told me he was referring to only a “small minority” of people.)

Richardson also asked me to disregard his previous comments. I let him know that as a reporter, I couldn’t do that, but I assured him that I would include his response to his own remarks. And that’s what we did. We framed the story as one of regret, not racism. There’s nothing “gotcha” about that. Harper is right: Richardson clarified his comments before they were even published. But he clarified them because we called him back, not the other way around.

Ironically, as Richardson worked to distance himself from what he’d said after the story was published, others eagerly embraced his words. Even the Calgary Herald’s editorial board said Richardson’s comments were “arguably defensible” and grumbled about political correctness corrupting Canadian politics.

Letters to the editor in that paper and this one echo that sentiment. A woman from Richmond, B.C. phoned after my story ran to rant about how Richardson was “right on.” After listening to 10 minutes of hateful nonsense about how “lowlife Indos who can’t even speak English” are taking over the lower mainland, I hung up on the lady. Richardson may regret what he said, but many, it seems, think he was bang on the first time.