Crime in Saskatoon and Mental Health: What We’re Missing in the Conversation

Every few days, someone brings it up in conversation.
“Have you noticed how bad the crime is getting in Saskatoon?”

It’s in the news, the neighbourhood Facebook groups, the grocery store line. People talk about Saskatoon like it’s becoming a different city, one where safety feels shakier and tension sits just under the surface.

They’re not wrong.
Crime in Saskatoon has been climbing, and people are worried. Property theft, drug use in public spaces, assaults-they’ve all increased. The fear is real. But as a mental health professional, I also see something deeper happening beneath the surface.

Behind every headline about rising crime in Saskatoon, there’s another story ,one about untreated mental illness, trauma, poverty, and burnout.

The people committing crimes are not just “criminals.” Many are struggling with mental health issues, addiction, and socio-economic insecurity. When basic needs aren’t met, when therapy and medical support are out of reach, desperation takes over. I’ve met people who steal because they’re hungry. People who lash out because they’re terrified. People who use substances because it’s the only time their brain quiets down.

That doesn’t excuse harm, but it explains why it’s happening.

When mental illness goes untreated and survival becomes the daily goal, judgement, impulse control, and emotional regulation fall apart. Saskatoon’s rising crime rates are not just about bad behaviour. They’re about a growing population of people who are unwell, unsupported, and unseen.

But the suffering doesn’t stop there.

The other side of this crisis - the one we talk about even less - includes the people responding to those same calls for help.

Our police officers, firefighters, paramedics, nurses, and other first responders are also struggling with their mental health. They see trauma every single day. They witness overdoses, domestic violence, suicide attempts, and tragedy after tragedy. They show up in moments most people couldn’t bear to see once - and they do it every shift.

Their nervous systems are overloaded. Their sleep is wrecked. They experience compassion fatigue, burnout, anxiety, and depression at staggering rates. Many of them have lost coworkers to suicide. They are protecting a city that is hurting while quietly breaking down themselves. And yet, culturally, we still expect them to be fine. To compartmentalize. To absorb the trauma and keep moving. To stay professional, unshaken, stoic. But the human brain isn’t built for that much exposure to distress. Eventually, it leaks - into anger, numbness, overdrinking, irritability, or emotional shutdown.

So when people talk about rising crime in Saskatoon, I see both sides. I see the person on the street acting out of despair. And I see the responder who’s barely holding it together after years of witnessing despair. That’s not a justification. It’s a reality check.

Everyone in this system is reacting to the same wound - a community that’s been chronically under-resourced for mental health.

It’s tempting to simplify the story: “Crime is up.” “People are out of control.” “Police aren’t doing enough.”
But those statements miss the human truth.

The person breaking into a car might be detoxing and starving.
The paramedic arriving might be on their fourteenth hour of an impossible shift.
The police officer might be thinking about their last traumatic call.
The store owner might be terrified about their safety and their finances.

Everyone’s nervous system is maxed out.

We are living in collective fight-or-flight. When that happens, empathy collapses. People start reacting instead of relating. Fear breeds anger. Anger breeds blame. Blame breeds division.

But if we slow down long enough to really look, we see that the same mental health crisis runs through all of it.

Crime, addiction, burnout, anxiety - they’re different faces of the same unhealed wound.

At The Hive , we work with people on both sides of this divide.

We see first responders trying to process trauma without losing their edge. We see families hurt by addiction, victims of crime trying to rebuild safety, and people who’ve committed harm learning to take accountability and heal. The through line is pain. The goal is healing. Counselling is one of the few places where these conversations can happen safely. It’s where a police officer can talk about nightmares and hypervigilance without stigma. Where a single mom can admit she stole groceries and hates herself for it. Where a paramedic can cry about the things they can’t unsee. Where people can stop pretending they’re okay and start actually healing.

Change won’t happen through judgment. It happens through understanding. Through giving people a chance to unpack what’s underneath the behaviour - the grief, the fear, the isolation, the hopelessness.

When we treat the human behind the crime, we prevent future harm.
When we care for the humans behind the uniform, we prevent burnout and breakdown.
Both sides need support if Saskatoon is going to find balance again.

The conversation about crime in Saskatoon has to include mental health. You can’t fix one without the other. If you’re feeling fearful about what’s happening in your neighbourhood, that feeling is valid. But remember, the rise in visible crisis is also the symptom of invisible suffering. And if you’re a first responder, police officer, nurse, or anyone in the field of crisis work - please know that your mental health matters just as much as the people you serve. You don’t have to carry it alone. You don’t have to “tough it out.”

At The Hive, counsellors like Kat work with people who’ve reached that breaking point - the place where anger, exhaustion, and sadness all blur together. Kat helps clients learn what their emotions are trying to protect, how to release tension safely, and how to reconnect with purpose and calm.

Because this isn’t about fixing anyone. It’s about rebuilding safety - inside the people who live here, and inside the city itself. Saskatoon doesn’t need more fear. It needs more understanding.
More therapy. More compassion. More honest conversation. This city isn’t lost - it’s hurting. There’s a difference. And healing starts the same way for communities as it does for people: one honest conversation at a time.

If you’ve been feeling the weight of it - whether you’re scared of rising crime or burned out from witnessing it - reach out. Talk to someone who understands what trauma looks like on both sides of the badge.

Because Saskatoon doesn’t heal from the outside in.
It heals from the inside out - one nervous system, one human, one session at a time.