One Saturday morning in January, just before 9am, someone knocked on our door. It wasn't the type of polite knock you might expect from someone you know, but the kind of repeated, pounding knock that makes you inclined to stay in bed until it goes away. Except that my housemate did answer the door, and shortly she came to our bedroom to say that someone was here to see me.

My partner and I emerged to find two Winnipeg Police officers in our home, one by the front door, the other already well inside the foyer. My thoughts immediately went to family and friends. Had there been an accident? Was my family safe? I confirmed my name with the officer in the foyer, and was mentally preparing myself for whatever terrible news I was about to receive.

"Mr. Altemeyer," one of the officers said, "we'd like to ask you some questions about your involvement in DAISY-Q."

In other words, some powerful person somewhere had decided that my political beliefs needed some probing in my own home at 8:45am on a Saturday morning.

For the record, DAISY-Q aka. Direct Action Is So Yummy - Quebec, was a group of mostly young people with whom I had worked in the lead-up to the Free Trade Area of the Americas Summit in Quebec City last spring.

Our preparation activities were the same as those of thousands of other concerned citizens in Canada and across the hemisphere: public education forums; fund-raising; research on FTAA policy documents (made difficult by the Canadian government's refusal to release them to the public, though 200 US corporations had access from day one); and specialised civil disobedience training sessions so we'd be prepared if our peaceful demonstrations were met with Police violence.

Which is, of course, exactly what happened.

Now nine months later, a different form of violence - intimidation - made itself known in the front hallway. It was communicated through the erect, no-nonsense body language, heavy boots, and full leather jackets of the officers, to say nothing of the guns that were clearly visible on their hips. In contrast, my partner, our housemate and I were all recently awakened, barefoot and in our pyjamas.

The three of us, two women and one man, stared at the two armed men who had arrived unannounced in our home, and wondered what was next.

The officer closest to us in the foyer asked me directly if I knew the name of a DAISY-Q organiser fitting the description of medium build, brown hair and a moustache. Two thoughts immediately came to my mind 1) no way am I telling him anything; and 2) who the hell are they talking about? No one I knew from DAISY-Q fit that description. (Do I even know any young people with moustaches?)

One officer told me he had a photo of the person they were looking for, but that it was in his office and not here. He then specifically named someone from DAISY-Q and said surely I knew him. I did, but I was somewhat confused - the person they had named was not only missing the moustache, but also the hair, having been bald the entire time I had known him.

He also assure me knew for certain I was a DAISY-Q organiser because my name "was all over the e-mails" they had been monitoring. The police have more access to the Internet than most people realise, was I aware of this?

Up next was the Traffic Act, which, the officer was at pains to emphasise, is "a very powerful piece of legislation." So powerful, in fact, that anyone who organizes a demostation that interferes with the flow of traffic could receive a police summons and have 10 demerit points applied to their driver's license, just like that.

He then asked if I wanted to see what that would be like, and before I could answer he began searching the inner pockets of his jacket. The search went on for a while, as he looked in one side pocket, then the other, then back again. In the end he opened his jacket and pointed to a folded up form - I didn't get a very good look at it, though I think it was pink - in the pocket back near his armpit and said that was what a summons looked like. I didn't tell him I don't own a car.

Finally I took the opportunity to answer his original question about my involvement with DAISY-Q. I hadn't been to a meeting in nearly a year since, to the best of my knowledge, the group didn't even exist anymore. This seemed to relax the officer's mood, and he gave us his card and asked that we inform him of any demonstrations we might be planning in the future. After some chit chat, he and his colleague left.

Our housemate put his card on the kitchen wall, right next to the photos of the riot cops behind barricades shooting tear gas and water cannon at us in Quebec City.

Since then, I have wrestled with whether of not this interrogation should be documented and shared with others. Would doing so feed the intimidation and fear already being used to maintain a firm grip on our nation's law, finances, and psyche?

After many conversations with friends, family and activist colleagues alike, I have heeded their near unanimous advice and wrote this. I have also since learned that I am not the only social justice activist to have received this kind of treatment recently from the Winnipeg Police. Therein lies as good a reason as any to tell this story. For while I was not intimidated by the police intrusion, someone else might be, and that would be tragic.

If we want to change the world for the better, everyone's rights as active citizens - including the right to protest - must be protected. Not by the police, but by each other.

Rob Altemeyer was the editor of Manitoba Alternatives - a publication of the Canadian Centre of Policy Alternatives and was elected as MLA for Wolseley in the 2003 Provincial election.