"I could have gotten away," says Frank. "But why should I run? I'm not a criminal. I just didn't think I was doing anything wrong."

In the spring of 1994 the federal government closed the food fishery for the first time ever. The Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) shut it down to save cod stocks. The Minister of Fisheries also said that it would be easier to convince other countries to stop fishing cod commercially if Newfoundlanders gave up jigging for food. Then in June DFO announced it would give out jigging licences to tour boat operators so that tourists could jig cod for fun.

At the same time, trawler companies were still allowed to take a by-catch of cod. That means that companies could catch and sell cod as a small amount of the other kind of fish they were trawling for. Inshore fishermen like Frank blame big trawlers for destroying the fish stocks. And now tourists were allowed to fish too. That was it for Frank. He was determined to get his winter supply of cod.

As Frank remembers it, he even jigged a few cod as the fisheries officers pulled up alongside him. "I kept fishing while they were reading me my rights," says Frank. "You have the right to remain silent ... well I'm not silent, I'm jigging."

The officers searched Frank's boat. They took the thirty-five fish he had caught that morning. Then they brought him ashore. They took his boat and engine as evidence. Frank says the fishery officers told him they wanted to search his freezer. They said if he didn't let them in they would call the RCMP and cause a big fuss in front of his house. "We're not used to having the Mounties come to the door," says Frank. "I told them to come on in."

The officers found a bag of cod cheeks and a few more fish that Frank had in his freezer. The cheeks were for his father. The fish was for the winter. They charged Frank with fishing groundfish during a closed time-cod jigging.

You can't get a legal aid lawyer for this kind of fishery offense. The maximum fine for illegal jigging is $100,000. Frank can't afford any fine. He can't afford a lawyer. He makes about $250 a week in federal fishery aid. He has to support his wife Ruby and their two teenagers on that. He can't go to jail either. If he does, his fishery aid money will be cut off.

As he pulls in a nice-sized cod for his supper, Frank says he isn't sorry. "They should never have closed the food fishery. People need that fish for the winter. I need it—need it, want it, and I'm going to have it."

Frank was not surprised when the northern cod fishery was closed in 1992. Inshore fishermen like himself have been warning the fish stocks were in trouble for years. Frank didn't want to give up fishing, but he knew the stocks needed to rebuild. It was hard for Frank to stay off the water. At 49, the life of an inshore fisherman is the only life Frank knows. It's the only life he wants to know. Frank looks older, smaller, less alive when he's sitting at home. He says he only feels like himself when he's working out on the water. "Staying home, that's not living," says Frank. "That's just existing and a poor existence at that."