Honourable senators, on Friday, Edmonton’s journalism community came together to mourn one of their own: Janice Johnston, who covered cops and courts for the CBC. She was a reporter’s reporter, the kind of tough and tender woman who put the broad in broadcaster.

For more than 30 years, Johnston covered some of the biggest crime stories in the country without fear or favour. She went toe to toe with the police, never hesitating to call them to account. At one point, they actually, outrageously, got a warrant to tap her private phone because they were so frustrated that she would not give up her sources. She was just as hard on judges — fighting publication bans because she believed the public had a right to know what went on in public courtrooms.

Along the way, she earned the respect of homicide detectives and Crown prosecutors, defence attorneys and judges, for her precise professionalism and ferocious work ethic.

One of the most important stories of her long career involved an Indigenous woman who had been the victim of a brutal, near-lethal sexual assault. The Crown prosecutor, worried the woman might not show up to testify, had her jailed. The woman was transported to and from court in shackles, right next to the man accused of raping her. Like an avenging angel, Janice worked to expose what had happened.

With passion and heart, she covered murders and child abuse trials, police misconduct hearings and disbarment proceedings. She was a ferocious competitor and loved nothing better than getting the scoop. Very, very occasionally, I would beat her to a story. Watching her fury filled me with glee, because to beat Janice was a victory indeed. It was even more fun when we worked in tandem to fight a publication ban or unseal an exhibit because, while she was a great competitor, she was also a hilarious and inspiring comrade-in-arms.

At her memorial service, her husband Scott, a veteran city hall correspondent, talked about what it was like to live in a house where, he joked, he was always the second-best reporter. Just once in their 36-year marriage he beat her to a story about the resignation of a police chief. She called him moments after his scoop went to air, with words he could not repeat in a United Church.

Earlier, in the 1990s, she worked for CFRN, Edmonton’s CTV affiliate. But when she turned 39, the station’s new managers slowly pulled her off air, replacing her with younger faces. She quit in protest and announced that she was leaving journalism. But she couldn’t be kept away. After a few years as a media consultant, she returned to the fray at CBC, where she did some of her best and most important work — long after her hair went silver.

She’ll be so missed by Scott, their daughter Samantha and their granddaughter Cali, and missed by every Edmontonian who turned to Janice Johnston for truth in our city’s darkest moments.

Thank you, hiy hiy.