Suspended with Pay: Should Guilty Police Officers Repay the Public Purse?

By Justin Heath

When a police officer is accused of misconduct or a crime, the standard playbook in Canada and the United States often involves suspension with pay—a limbo where they’re off duty but still cashing checks. It’s a policy rooted in fairness, presuming innocence until guilt is proven. But what happens when the gavel falls, and they’re found guilty? Across both countries, taxpayers have footed bills running into the millions for officers later convicted, sparking a growing call: if they’re guilty, they should pay back every cent they earned while suspended. It’s a simple idea with complex stakes, and it’s time to unpack why it makes sense—and why it doesn’t happen.

The Cost of Paid Suspensions

The numbers tell a story of their own. In Ontario alone, a 2024 CBC investigation pegged the cost of paid police suspensions at $134 million over 11 years, covering 438 officers sidelined for over 306,000 days since 2013. High-profile cases sting the most: an Ottawa deputy chief raked in $650,000 over two years, while OPP officer Jason Redmond collected $1.3 million across seven years before his 2023 conviction for sexual assaults. In the U.S., data is patchier, but cities like Minneapolis have paid out millions in misconduct settlements, often while officers drew salaries during investigations.

This isn’t pocket change. Taxpayers—nurses like me, teachers, small business owners—are funding officers accused of everything from brutality to fraud, only to see some walk away guilty with no financial reckoning. The logic is straightforward: if you’re convicted, you shouldn’t profit from the public dime while the case played out. Repayment could claw back those funds, easing the burden on strained budgets and sending a message that accountability isn’t just a buzzword.

The Fairness Argument

Suspension with pay rests on a bedrock principle: innocence until proven guilty. Police unions, like Ontario’s Police Association, argue it’s a safeguard—cops have families, mortgages, bills. Stripping pay preemptively risks punishing the innocent, especially since investigations can drag on for years (Ontario’s median suspension length is 553 days). But once guilt is established, that presumption flips. A guilty officer wasn’t “earning” that salary—they were coasting on it while courts confirmed their wrongdoing.

Take David Doel, a Hamilton inspector suspended in 2009 for misconduct, including on-duty sex and misusing police resources. He pocketed $552,626 over four years before retiring mid-hearing in 2014, dodging accountability. Had he been convicted, should taxpayers have eaten that cost? Repayment flips the script: it respects due process during suspension but demands restitution when the verdict lands. It’s not about prejudging—it’s about settling the score after the fact.

Deterrence and Public Trust

Beyond dollars, there’s a deeper issue: trust. Police wield power—guns, cuffs, authority—and when they abuse it, the betrayal cuts deep. Paid suspensions for guilty officers feel like a slap on the wrist, especially when departments like Toronto’s see nearly half of convicted officers return to work (CBC, 2024). Requiring repayment could deter misconduct by hitting where it hurts: the wallet. An officer might think twice about crossing lines if they know a guilty verdict means refunding years of pay.

Public faith is fraying—surveys like Angus Reid’s 2021 poll show 60% of Canadians want police reform, and U.S. protests since 2020 echo that sentiment. When an officer like Redmond, convicted of heinous crimes, walks away with $1.3 million from his suspension, it’s not just money lost—it’s credibility torched. Repayment could signal that the system isn’t rigged to protect its own, offering a tangible fix to a cynical public.

The Counterpoints

It’s not a slam dunk. Logistically, claw-backs are messy—guilty officers might not have the cash, especially post-conviction with legal fees piling up. Minnesota cops average $72,000 a year; a multi-year repayment could bankrupt them, shifting the burden to families or sparking lawsuits. Unions would fight tooth and nail, arguing it’s double punishment—jail time plus financial ruin. And what about partial guilt? If an officer’s convicted on lesser charges, does the full salary get repaid, or just a slice?

Then there’s precedent. In Canada, Ontario’s new 2024 rules allow suspension without pay for serious off-duty crimes, but only if charged—not convicted—and it’s rare elsewhere. The U.S. leans on civil forfeiture to seize assets from criminals, but applying that to salaried pay during suspension is uncharted. Without legal frameworks, repayment stays a pipe dream, stuck in policy limbo.

A Path Forward

Here’s the fix: tie repayment to conviction outcomes. Guilty of a felony or serious misconduct? You owe it back—full stop. Lesser offenses could scale repayment—say, 50% for disciplinary breaches. Fund it through garnished pensions or seized assets, not just empty pockets. Start small—pilot it in a province like Ontario, where suspension costs are sky-high, or a U.S. state like California with big police budgets. Track the data: does it cut misconduct? Boost trust? Save cash?

The status quo—paying officers to sit out guilty verdicts—is a relic of a system too soft on its own. In 2025, with healthcare short 20,000 nurses in Canada and U.S. cities slashing services, every dollar matters. If you’re a cop who broke the law, you don’t deserve a paid vacation—you owe us. It’s not vengeance; it’s justice, plain and simple.

Justin Heath is a  freelance writer for Veritas Expositae

You can reach him at justin.heath@veritasexpositae.com