MANITOULIN—They are protectors. They are peacekeepers. But above all, they are relatives—carrying the weight of community and crisis on their backs, often with no backup and nowhere to turn.
A new report released last week lays bare a grim reality that’s long simmered under the surface of First Nations policing in Ontario. Officers working under the Ontario First Nations Policing Agreement (OFNPA) are struggling—not from a lack of heart, but from the unrelenting strain of working alone, underfunded, and unsupported in the very communities they serve.
Seventy-four percent of officers surveyed say they’ve experienced mental health issues while on the job. Over a quarter reported their mental health as “poor or very poor” in the past six months. The report, titled Mental Health Review of the OFNPA Police Services, was commissioned by the Chiefs of Ontario and authored by independent reviewer Meredith Brown.
The Expositor spoke with UCCM Chief of Police James Killeen. At the heart of the conversation is a stark truth: First Nations police officers are bearing the brunt of a broken system. Three-quarters of officers under the Ontario First Nations Policing Agreement (ONFPA) and four out of five with the Indigenous Police Chiefs of Ontario (IPCO) report grappling with serious mental health challenges. Beneath those numbers lies a deeper story—one of chronic underfunding, colonial frameworks, and culturally mismatched systems that leave officers isolated and overburdened.
Chief Killeen believes First Nations officers need more than band-aid fixes—what’s needed is a reimagining: culturally grounded policing, financial investment, and structures that honour both the sacred trust between officers and their communities, and the human toll of carrying that responsibility alone.
“I don’t want to speak officially on behalf of OFNPA, but I can speak to the mental health reviews that were done. Both the OFNPA and Indigenous Police Chiefs of Ontario (IPCO) reviews were conducted by the same person—Meredith Brown—so when you look at them side by side, you see a lot of overlap. In both reports, the prevalence of major mental health challenges among officers and staff is striking. In the IPCO review, 80 percent of officers reported mental health concerns, while the OFNPA review links these issues directly to workplace stressors. Fifty percent said cultural inappropriateness impacted their job performance, and about 65 percent felt the organizational culture didn’t adequately support mental wellness. We’re pushing for changes across our nine services under IPCO. Even though OFNPA officers aren’t with stand-alone services like ours, they’re still part of the larger network of First Nations policing—and the issues are consistent across the board,” he said.
Constable John Sahanatien of the Hiawatha First Nation Policing Services puts it plainly: “The working alone—I think that’s the number one stress. If we could reduce that, I think it would be incredibly helpful.”
Currently, the OFNPA provides funding for just 72 officers and 10 sergeants across 17 First Nations in Ontario—communities that don’t fall under the jurisdiction of the OPP, municipal, or other Indigenous police services. Some communities have only two officers on the roster. In order to offer even basic 24/7 policing, each detachment would need five to six officers. Even then, it would still often mean a single officer on duty—a practice condemned by the report as unsafe and unacceptable.
“When you look at OFNPA, I think those officers actually have even less support. We operate as independent police services within our individual First Nations—our policing is tailored to the specific needs of our communities. OFNPA doesn’t have that kind of autonomy. They’re bound to the mandate of the OPP. It’s like, ‘Put Indigenous officers in Indigenous areas, give them a different patch,’ but at the end of the day, they’re still OPP officers. That lack of independence makes a big difference. It’s a major issue that speaks to the deeper structural inequities in how policing is delivered to our communities,” Chief Killeen went on to say.
The pattern of overwork and emotional fatigue is repeated in testimony after testimony.
“I’m the only one here. I do the investigation, I file the report, and then I go right back out.”
Officers working days off. Community members showing up at their homes for help, unwilling to wait hours for the OPP. One in ten officers who take leave for psychological distress stay off the job for more than a year. And many never speak up at all—more than 40 percent of officers surveyed never disclosed their mental health struggles to anyone at work.
Chief Todd Cornelius of the Oneida Nation of the Thames calls it what it is: “A colonial inequity in real time. Our officers deserve dignity, equity. These aren’t just employees. They are our community members. They carry this trauma in silence.”
The report doesn’t mince words. It calls the current system a “construct that contemplates and establishes First Nations-led policing but then staffs it inadequately,” and declares that this chronic underfunding “should be considered a failure of the governmental obligations of reconciliation.”
The Expositor spoke with Chief of Police Ron Gignac of Wiikwemkoong Tribal Police Service — a standalone police service governed by IPCO — who has taken a bold approach to the mental health issues the officers at his service are facing.
“This isn’t theory—it’s action. Through our own staffing model and wellness coordinator, Wiikwemkoong Tribal Police is addressing systemic burnout with boots-on-the-ground reform. We’re a standalone First Nations service under IPCO, and we’re not waiting for top-down change to protect our people,” he said.
In February 2025, the Wiikwemkoong Tribal Police Service wove a historic thread into the fabric of their sovereignty — a $112 million, 10-year funding agreement with the federal and provincial governments. This landmark accord brings not only financial stability, but the breathing room for vision: space to dream forward, to expand the circle of safety. With it comes the promise of more boots on the ground, more minds at the table, stronger walls, and new programs rooted in care and community protection.
Kent Elson, legal counsel to the Chiefs of Ontario, says the time for polite asks is long past. “We are at a point where the mental health of officers is as bad or worse than any other police service. And the cause is lack of resources—resources First Nations have been asking for, year after year.”
The underlying funding comes from the First Nations and Inuit Policing Program (FNIPP), a federal-provincial cost-sharing arrangement that hasn’t been meaningfully updated since 1996. Despite a 2021 mandate by then-prime minister Justin Trudeau to legislate Indigenous policing as an “essential service,” the legislation remains stalled—yet another promise mired in jurisdictional wrangling and bureaucratic delay.
And the cost of this inaction is measured not just in failed policies, but in human lives. Officers absorbing trauma without support. Communities left without adequate coverage. Elders fearful in their homes.
MPP Sol Mamakwa puts it bluntly: “This government needs to support police services equally, no matter who they serve.”
The report makes 14 clear-eyed recommendations, including increased staffing, stable long-term funding, career advancement paths, and culturally grounded mental health supports. It highlights both the unique promise and burden of officers policing their own communities—where love of the people is strong, but the emotional impact of each call cuts close to the bone.
“These are our relatives,” says Deputy Grand Chief Stacia Loft. “They are doing the work not just because it’s a job, but because they care. Let’s meet that care with action. Let’s lift them up as they have lifted us.”
One might wonder how many more reviews, how many more damning reports, it will take before governments respond. But perhaps that question is a luxury. For officers like Const. Sahanatien, the work continues—one foot in front of the other, heart armored against a system that demands everything and gives back little.
“I’ve given the best years of my life to this,” he says. “The return was supposed to be that they’d look after us at the end. If we’re injured. If we’re broken. That was the deal.”
So far, it’s a deal not kept.
