Scarface saves face for an alleged criminal. Five drug trafficking and possession charges against Lowell Somerville of Brampton didn't stick, because of surveillance video of a police officer swiping a painted wooden Al Pacino effigy as a keepsake.

Brampton councillor wants to watch her watchers. Likening it to "a scene straight out of President Donald Trump's White House," the Brampton Guardian reports on a councillor's motion to have all news media inquiries publicly posted to the city's website. (The move seems to be a response to a Guardian article critical of city councillors' work on public transit.) Councillor Gael Miles is behind the idea. Naturally, some of her colleagues consider the proposal ridiculous.

Hamilton Consulate pops up on Queen West. A sales pitch for investing in "Toronto's Brooklyn" is into its second day at the Burroughes Building. (Meanwhile, Steeltown blog The Inlet wonders what risks getting bulldozed by a boom.) In keeping with other campaigns to promote Hamilton, the artisinal aura is signalled on the sidewalk with the usual contrived typographical authenticity. 

"I'm going to take some time to reflect on everything that has happened." Catherine Jheon has turned introspective in light of social media reaction to her Toronto Life story, "We Bought a Crack House." But the GoFundMe to help pay her family's $730,000 debt—or at least donate everything short of the goal to tenant advocates—has momentum, thanks to the fundraising campaign's creator, who refuses to break character.

Galleria Mall’s gentrification is off to a sneaky start. Toronto Star critic Murray Whyte’s review of an art exhibition that comments on redevelopment plans for Dupont and Dufferin comes to the inevitable conclusion that the whole soul of the place is in the existing shabby shopping centre. The place's future is signalled by the new digital photo booth that recently replaced this analog one:

Randall Pepper is the latest name in Beatles lore. June 1, 1967 was the U.K. debut of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. For the anniversary, Alan Cross is peddling a story from the granddaughter of a cop from Aurora who led the group's security detail in Toronto in August 1966. She claims the album title was a nod to him, and the OPP patch on Paul McCartney’s military outfit—one of those given to the Beatles two years earlier—was a wink to the inspiration. (McCartney was vague about any details when asked in 1969; grandpa Randy died in 1970.)

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