There were no crowds ten thousand strong on College St. last Saturday, no undercover cops, no riot police with truncheons, and no shards of broken glass.

A protest, all the same.

Last Saturday, at noon, Norman Perrin brought his civilian citation for an act of bravery to police headquarters and turned it in. After the events of the G20, he didn’t want it any more.

Let’s back up:

Twenty years ago, Norman and a friend went out for a birthday drink; on the way home, they heard, they saw, and they stopped a sexual assault.

Norman said, “A woman was being assaulted there by a man she’d turned down at a bar. My friend went to investigate. The man was beating her head against the cement. I went to call the police. My friend threw me his keys, and said I should get some pants and a shirt for her.”

Pants and a shirt; use your imagination.

The cops came in a hurry; and, as a result of the testimony of Norman and his friend, the bad guy went to jail for a good long stretch.

There you have it: an act of bravery, an intervention, the response of two citizens to an assault.

Norman said, “There was a rubber chicken dinner. The police band played rock favourites, the kind they play in high schools to appeal to the kids.”

We were sitting in front of police headquarters; as he told the story, he dug into his bag for the plaque.

“In grateful acknowledgement of outstanding services and unselfish assistance rendered to the Metropolitan Police in the preservation of peace and order.”

Peace and order?

Hold that thought, and know this about Norman: his father was in the military, and he was in the reserves when he was in his teens.

The last time — the only other time — he had anything to do with the police was a couple of years ago, when he got a ticket for riding his bike through a stop sign. He carries no ID. The cop was rude and crude.

Now jump forward to the G20 ruckus:

Norman avoided downtown that weekend but he, like everyone else, knew what was going on. “The air was full of people talking about what had happened to their friends.” A thousand arrests, people being stopped for no good reason, ID demanded, and so on.

Norman frowned.

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“The main thing was that 5-metre rule, but they were arresting people two miles away. And then we heard the premier saying that no new powers were given to the police. If that’s the case, what protection do I have now? And what the hell can I do about that?”

The question was not rhetorical.

“I can give this back.”

And so, when the weekend’s dust had settled, Norman called the cop shop and asked how he might proceed. No one on duty could tell him a thing, so he decided to hand it over in person on Saturday at noon.

I followed him as he entered police headquarters. He explained himself to the officer at reception. She, taken aback, called for a superior officer.

For the most part, Staff Sgt. Clarke listened politely, but the discussion was not at all satisfactory. Sgt. Clarke said, “I’m not in a position to accept this.” He told Norman to give it to the Police Services Board.

Norman said no, he’d come to leave it, and so he did.

Clarke asked if he wanted a receipt. Norman didn’t. Clarke asked for Norman’s name. Norman rolled his eyes and said it was on the citation.

Outside, lighter of step if not exactly pleased, he said, “Done best, done quickly, I guess.”

Like all acts of courage.

Joe Fiorito appears Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Email :jfiorito@thestar.ca