The Blue Light Run

Um, BONGO

2011-06-20T11:02:00.001+01:00

I don't have any problems with officers climbing the promotion ladder. I have for a long time now, realized that I'm not senior officer material, toeing the company line isn't high up on skills list. I generally say how it is, sometimes it works sometimes it doesn't. I don't do targets, I do the best I can. If my detection rate is below par, I'll probably put it down to being a policeman and doing stuff that doesn't have a target attached to it. I do, however, know when to keep my mouth shut, having dropped myself in the brown smelly stuff on a number of occasions. I have learned by these experiences, perhaps I'm a little bitter over some of them too but c'est la vie. Due to these unfortunate experiences I have become a little distrusting over senior ranks. There are one or two that I admire and pay enormous respect too, but for the most part I have learned to keep my stabbie on inside the nick when brass are on walkabout.

I now know it takes a certain breed to elevate above the lofty heights of Inspector. Supernintendos....sorry, Superintendents can literally make or break a coppers career. Coming to their attention in a negative lights would take superhuman effort and many years to correct. Fortunately I havent had that misfortune, but I know a few that have.

So, why promotion? Getting promoted is hard work. Generally it involves taking a number of exams, some roleplay assessments and perhaps an interview. How brilliant you are as a copper has little to do with this part of the process, its whether or not you can study. There are many learning aids and courses out there which will help you get through part one and part two of the Sgt and Inspectors exams. This is brilliant, if you're a studious type. Not so great if you are a belt & braces foot soldier who is much revered but sadly overlooked by the brass.

Team 3 now have a TPS. I will call this TPS, or Temporary Police Sergeant, Donna. A nice enough girl, newly promoted after passing a number of exams and saying the right things in an interview. The problem is that 'Donna' has previous for being a bit, um useless. I know this, as does the rest of my team, as she was on town beat for 18 months. In that time her arrest and cleanup rate was appalling, as she spent more time in Starbucks and Dorothy Perkins than engaging with her community. I know her former Sergeant very well. Although professional, reading the lines he was somewhat pleased to support her application for the Sergeants scheme. Someone else he doesn't have to worry about anymore.

Donna is now presiding over team 3. It's a response team covering a large rural and sometimes urban area. Donna is in charge and the buck stops with her. Donna has 4 years service. Again, not a problem with that. Getting promoted young in service is an achievement. I wish I had done it, but I refer you back to my first paragraph. Fair play to her, if she can pass her exams then thats great. She's now got to get through a years TPS to prove she's got what it takes to lead from the front. Being a leader is all about teamwork, personal responsibility , inspiring and motivating others. This all has to be 'evidenced', then she will get her 'T' taken away and will become 'substantive'. The big problem is that Donna has already got herself a new nickname. She's now 'BONGO' (Boots On Never Goes Out). Domestics, grade ones, RTC's, suspects on...they all come flooding in, BONGO flaps and waves her arms about, demands current status of her crews. She has run out of units but not once does she consider picking up car keys to deal with the job herself. Her team have clocked this and she is not winning any friends.

I do feel a little sorry for her. She is clearly out of her depth and is struggling. Some of her team help her out, some go out of their way to make life difficult for her, testing her to see how much she will take before she eventually cracks. I had a chat with her last week during some 'down time', she seemed down and told me she was going to see the Superintendent for a performance meeting today. She quite openly told me that she never knew being a Sgt was quite so tough. The demands from the radio, her team and SMT were getting her down. At aged 26 she had the worry of the world on her shoulders. Her parting words were 'if he takes me off the scheme, I don't really care'. A sign that her promotion was not as easy as being able to pass two exams, it's much much more than that.

-- Post From My iPhone

To Err is to be human.

2011-06-02T11:35:00.001+01:00

What is it about specialising that makes certain bobbies forget their roots? Every police officer starts at the bottom, 2 years probation then perhaps specialising in a given area. Equally a lot of bobbies stay on shift, become 'old sweats' as new probationers swell up the shift numbers. It is without doubt being a newbie on shift is probably one of the most intense and exciting parts of their career.

Everyone starts at the bottom, the first rung of the ladder. Yes, a wide variety of incidents help bolster ones knowledge & experience, but this is where you start to learn your craft.

One thing that really grates me is the contempt that some 'specialist' officers have to those junior in service or still on shift. Part of the problem is that by developing specialist departments my force has developed remits. I've known of armed officers stopping kids and finding weed on them, only to hand over to a probationer without even leaving their shoulder number or any evidence of continuity. I've seen shift officers young in service, rejoicing in the double arrest of two burglars whilst committing get a roasting from a Dc for not signing evidence labels. There's no truer phrase than 'stabbies on in the nick' when it comes to CID looking through your evidence package.

Why is this? Don't these officers recall they were young in service once and not everyone has had the benefit of receiving a structured investigator training package? Is it an empowerment thing? Is their training THAT good? To err is to be human. We will always make mistakes. If you don't make any, you're not working enough. Training & procedure helps to overcome this but ultimately mistakes will always be made. Whatever rank you are, or however long you have in service, mistakes can and do happen. It's knowing how to rectify them efficiently and professionally that can save a case.

If someone has made a good nicking then it costs nothing to say 'well done'. To blast someone for not signing an evidence label having nicked someone at 3am, booking in the prisoner, taking swabs, seizing clothing, obtaining statements, and completing a handover package is, in all honestly unfair and completely demoralising. Some people have very short memories.

-- Post From My iPhone

Prompt & Effective Investigation? My Ar*e.

2011-05-11T20:41:00.001+01:00

Yesterday was frustrating. Having filled my diary with appointments the day before I was asked by my skipper to do a quick re-interview on a suspect in custody. This was about 3pm, my first appointment wasn't until 7pm so I thought why not?
I spoke to the OIC and got a verbal handover. Male & female walk into store, blah blah, select items from display, blah blah, leave without making any effort to pay...
I look at the custody log & note that the last interview was done at 10.30am. It was now 3.20pm. "Why the delay?" I asked, seeing that both detainees had been in custody since 7.30 the previous night...the OIC mumbled something about CCTV problems and went red faced. I've been had.
I then found out that both needed re-interviewing, now that CCTV could be viewed. One of them had already admitted to the theft, the other claimed she was an 'innocent' party. Rolling my sleeves up I started looking through interview notes, CCTV. Half hour later I was ready for interview.
I interviewed the female first. CCTV showed her walking around with a basket, her partner in crime filling the basket around the store. They turn into another aisle, with her back to camera, she crouches down and with her back to the camera she does something with the basket. In the next scene the basket is empty, the male having placed all of the items in his back pack.
The female maintains her account, that she was scared of her partner and was reaching into her bag for her inhaler. The CCTV does not show her selecting any items, this is going NFA.
I then show the male the CCTV. He makes full admissions (again) and backs up his partners account that she was scared.
I look at my watch. 5.45pm. Now some CPS advice....I'm not going to make my 7pm appointment but 8pm seems possible. An hour later CPS decide on a charge for the male, the female is (as suspected) NFA. I then speak to the custody Sergeant who, looking at the males PNC decides to remand him for court. Oh and he hasn't been fingerprinted or photographed yet. Marvellous, no way am I going to make 8pm, 9pm or 10pm now. The male is charged, his Doris kicked out with only 15 minutes left on their custody clock.
A fight with the photocopier further hinders my progress as I am sent to look for the budget copier paper that won't screw up the photocopier. 20 minutes further wasted. At 10.30pm I throw down my completed remand file (with copy) on the Sergeants desk with a grumble and a scowl. My Sergeant physically recoils as I recount my experience, denouncing the night & early turn's inability to deal with a simple shoplifting in 20 hours. I am not a happy bunny, particularly as I start my car at 10.45pm so that I can go home and get 5 hours sleep before returning at 6am for a support call.
I would never dream of doing it to others, what makes them think they can do it to me? Mudda fuddas.

Goodnight.

-- Post From My iPhone

Sugar, officer?

2011-05-05T18:01:00.001+01:00

I don't think I'm on my own when i gauge my decision on whether to accept a cup of tea or not based on what White goods are rotting away in the front garden before you've got to the front door.
Tea is such a British tradition. We love the stuff. When someone offers you a cup of tea, etiquette dictates that you make an instant decision based on what you've seen / smelt / touched so far. You need to remain polite as you say 'ooh no thanks, i've just had one' through gritted teeth, not telling your 'host' that the actually the last one you had was 9 hours ago at briefing. I have a golden rule when it comes to tea...if I'm not averse to touching the soft furnishings, I will accept an offer of tea. Anything else I will gladly remain sat perched on the edge of the sofa, gagging for a cuppa really but unwilling to take that chance.
Some people go the full hog. Last week I visited a very nice family in a pleasant part of town. They had all been subjected to threats from a local neighbourhood thug who was carrying a knife. CPS had decided to drop the threats charge to a public order offence. Not enough evidence you see, no knife was found. The family decided to not go to court due to the fear of retaliation and 3 of them were giving me retraction statements. As I sat there and explained the process, Mrs Nice offered me a cup of tea. I had already decided that tea was definitely in order if offered. Mr Nice was a, erm, thoroughly 'nice' chap. He explained to me his fear for his family testifying and explained that he had an unusual surname which wouldn't be too hard to track down if it all came out. Mr Nice was also an airline pilot and spent much of his time away and feared for the safety of his beautiful wife, four lovely daughters and home. Mr Nice had been thoroughly let down by the criminal justice system and I did sympathise with him. I had planned to try and persuade him otherwise but when I saw how frustrated and upset he was I decided to help him the best way I could.
Then I heard the immortal words 'cake, officer?' before I had time to protest a slab of luscious fruit cake was placed next to my steaming cup of tea. Heaven, I thought.
Mrs Nice explained that it had been Millys birthday last week and they were trying to eat up all the cake. I done my best to assist, was offered some to take back to the station for the rest of my shift, but I resisted....

I sat with the Nice family for best part of an hour, listening to them talk about their fears and how they felt let down. For my part I had two cups of tea and some really moist fruit cake. The cynic in me tells me that the tea and cake may have been a ploy to win me over, get on their side. I genuinely think they were being great hosts, awfully British and showed a man in uniform the upmost respect, when the system he represented had failed them tremendously. We also talked about airbus v Boeing, and how the airbus is fly by wire or something. Anyway, it matters not, it was great cake.

PS I lied about resisting but don't tell my shift.

-- Post From My iPhone

Welcome back to shift BLR

2011-04-21T10:08:00.001+01:00

Being on restricted duties is dull. I mean REALLY dull. My workload includes taking statements (at the nick) obtaining CPS advice for stressed colleagues (by phone) dealing with incidents by phone (advice jobs), misper enquiries (by phone), out of force enquiries (by phone). Etc. You get the picture.

It's actually surprising how much work you can get done, if left alone and to your own devices, with no distractions. Looking at my colleagues they are run ragged. They make appointments to follow up on their enquiries, but these invariably get cancelled when they are turned out from briefing to attend a domestic / other prompt crime. Despite working a six day shift, (2 earlies, 2 lates, 2 nights) in reality they only get 2 half days to carry out their enquiries. Early turns are spent dealing with prisoners from the night shift or carrying out constants or getting allocated to crap car duties. No chance of getting their own work done then.

Late turn is a 2pm start, invariably there will be overflow from the early turn prisoners, or further misper enquiries need to be done for the inspector to be happy. Cut off time for CPS is 4pm. Little chance of getting that urgent charging advice for your prisoner coming back on bail next week.

Night turn, 10pm start, is spent charging around on blues, to domestics, fights, nuisance youths, RTC's, etc. There is zero chance of CPS, victims & witnesses don't want to get a call after 10pm and out of force enquiries are met with requests to send it by fax, so the skipper on E/T can look at it (or not) in the morning.

This is without considering court attendance, training days, abstractions and, of course, sickness.

It's not hard to figure out why the police are run so ragged. Too much work, not enough officers, not enough time. Centralizing CPS might have saved the criminal justice system money, but all it's done is create an extra burden to the average Bobby. Charging advice is done via the phone, so all statements, evidence, precons, photos, MG3 & 5 have to be scanned in & emailed. We only have one very temperamental scanner in the nick. It can take an hour just to collate, scan & email the documents, then there's the actual call to the prosecutor, another hour gone...back in the day we could take our case file to the resident CPS lawyer, he would look through it, have a chat and then get a decision, all within 45 minutes. How times change.

I feel for my shift. I can see how hard pressed they are. I see that empty look of despair they get when looking through their trays. The stress is always building, the work load ever increasing. I see all this from the comfort of my desk and try to help wherever I can. However very soon I will be joining them once I'm fully fit. All of a sudden, my desire to return to full duties is flagging a little! I'm not scared of hard work, I love a challenge, but equally I'm happiest when I get the time to actually get the work done. Nothing wrong with living with my head in the clouds is there?

-- Post From My iPhone

Back to life, back to reality

2011-03-30T16:37:00.001+01:00

Having spent some 2 and a bit months off nursing my ankle injury, I have returned to work. It's funny because for some reason I thought I had missed out on something in all those weeks off, however it would appear that I have been somewhat naive.

Today I have been involved in a suspect making off (actually I just listened to the radio, willing the bad guys to keep running in order to justify use of the force chopper at something like £20k per 20 minutes of flying), trying to glean information out of a very excitable Lithuanian gentleman over the phone, deleting 470 emails without reading them (I deduced if it wasn't sent to me direct, I didn't need to know about it - that left me with only 231 to go through), convincing my new sergeant that sending me out single crewed whilst still on restricted was probably against force policy and lastly, and worst of all, listening to Desree who is 3 months pregnant who gave me an overview of who is great / not so great on shift. She also instructed me on how to complete an MG file. Very kind of her, her nine months service clearly trumps mine which is in double figures (years not months). I know my place.

Whilst on the road to recovery I read 'Diary of an on call girl' by PC Bloggs. It was a good read, pretty much everything in it I can relate to in some way and I recommend it. That is, unless you're a probationer or wanna be recruit. If you read this book then expect it to depress you or put you off public service for life (I suspect that the government is trying it's best to do that anyways). Rather than tales of derring do, it is a pretty good reflection on life as a shift worker on a response shift. It makes no apologies for being raw and real. It deals with job relationships, the impact of shift work on the mind and body and how bureaucratic the system has become. Im convinced the same people work in Bloggsy's crime management dept as they do in mine.

Read this book and become a police officer only if you're mad, bad or have a really, really GOOD sense of humour.

Thanks Bloggsy x

-- Post From My iPhone

I feel like closing my eyes and going LA-LA..

2011-03-10T08:21:00.004Z

Like 1000's of other police officers, I await the news of the Hutton report with clenched buttocks, knowing that I am going to get unceremoniously 'shafted' by those in power, and as the old saying goes, I won't even get a peck on the cheek whilst they're doing it. I suspect that the Winsor report was just a quick 'feel up', to carry on with that metaphor.

I really can't begin to put into words how I feel. Anger, frustration, betrayed and despondent are just a few but they don't even touch the tip of the iceberg. There is no point about rambling on about how unfair all this is, citing history will not change what is happening TODAY.

All I know is that the changes proposed will have a profound impact on the very reason I go to work in the first place, my family. I have two teens, one is nearly 18 and the other turned 15. The two teens are working hard towards getting a decent education, my 18 year old is coming to the end of a 2 year sociology course with a view to moving onto Uni. My 15 year old has eyes on the RAF and is working hard to try and achieve the entry qualifications. As a responsible parent I want to support my children in whatever they choose to do. Up until now I thought I had a fighting chance on doing just that, supporting them through college and Uni until they find their own way. Unfortunately if these proposals come in I could be up to £500 a month worse off, so my aspirations of supporting my children in their education are dead in the water (sorry, i'm full of metaphors this morning). I also have an 8 year old, but all he cares about is Lego so I think I'm all right there for a couple of years.

When I joined up I signed a piece of paper, actually quite a few if I recall. After years of relentless shift work, rolling around on the floor with thieving druggie scum, confronting death on a regular basis and generally trying to make a difference a decent pension was, I think, a decent pay-off for missing birthdays, Christmas and other special occasions. Sadly, I think it's only police officers and their families who feel this way, being portrayed in the media as overtime hungry hounds and bloated by all that cash that we simply cannot spend hasn't helped our cause. Everyone seems to think we drink tea and eat donuts. Well, we do but we also rush to your aid at breakneck speed, risking our lives and that of others if you pick up the phone. We also try to help families who suffered the sudden loss of a loved one, pick up the pieces after a fatal RTC, put ourselves in harm's way in violent situations. All these things are carried out everyday by officers all over the country. We do all this and much more you see because we joined up to make a difference, to police without fear nor favour. At the end of it all we just want to retire, hopefully in one piece and enjoy our few remaining years with loved ones before the high mortality rate gets us too.

I don't know what's in store for the future. I see that the Police Federation are preparing for battle, that there will be a call to arms (more metaphors). Officers will march, work to rule, whatever. All this at a time when civil unrest is just around the corner. Scary times.

Busmans holiday.

2011-03-07T10:02:00.001Z

Being off sick has a few advantages. I can catch up on the various US TV series I have recorded and never watched, get abused online by gamers when I attempt to take on the call of duty big guns and revise for my upcoming Sergeants exam. Or not, as is my case.

There is no excuse for not revising. I have the books, the online access and more importantly the time. It's an ideal opportunity, one that I probably won't have for a while. The fact I am writing this blog post just goes to show I am lacking commitment in this area. I have just over a week to the exam and still have (in no particular order) general police duties, evidence & procedure & traffic law to master. I'm quite happy with crime. The very thought of revising sends my blood pressure boiling and I simply switch off to the idea of reading books. My better half reckons I'm suffering from depression. She may be right, I'm no doctor but I guess the signs are there. I'm an irritable, horrible b*stard, hell bent on p*ssing everybody else off apparently. She's probably got a point.

The fact is that I've been stuck indoors for two months with just the odd excursion outside. The first month I was pretty much spaced out on pain and meds. The 2nd month I started to feel sorry for myself and became resentful of what I've done. I've lost out on a number of jobs whilst laid up and all this discontent with paycuts is doing my head in. I've become a royal, miserable pain in the a**. Over the last few days I've bitched at the kids, had a number of domestics with the other half and continued with my general grumpiness. However, I have woken today with a renewed vigour to stop being such a twat. The sun is shining, my health is improving and I haven't watched the news yet. I have also decided NOT to do the exam. This has lifted an enormous weight off my shoulders.

Some would say this is me wimping out, that I should be more focussed. They may be right, but I know one thing ~ my stress levels and the home life of my family come before any job, particularly one that seems to be so devalued by the government and media lately.

To be honest I don't have the 'Mens Rea' for it right now.

-- Post From My iPhone

Me? Paranoid?

2011-02-28T13:51:00.004Z

What a week. I'm not even at work and I'm getting a tad stressed with the bureaucracy of it all. Frantic phone calls into the office have got me nowhere, mistruths and misinformation are abound.

All I'm trying to do is apply for a job.

Because I'm off sick at the moment the job has a policy that anyone who has 12 or more consecutive sick days may not have their applications progressed. This is to stop career 'sick notes' applying for in-demand posts and I can see why it is in place. Unfortunately for me, recovering from a double compound fracture means that any applications by me may not be progressed. doesn't sound particularly fair to me.

Anyway I learn of a job, away from response and more of a community role. My Sgt puts me forward for it and I get a glowing reference. I, of course, have to submit an application (bureaucracy) but the job is all but mine.

BUT there is one small glitch, the deadline for the application has passed. Again, this should not be a problem as they only had one applicant and they were deemed not suitable. Job still vacant then, can I submit my application now please? HR have different ideas. They cite sickness policy, stating I would be 'unsuitable' for the role until fully recovered and that they cannot possibly extend the deadline now. Damned civvies. Being off sick does wonders for your paranoia I can tell you.

It matters not that in my career I have had two sick days prior to my accident. I had a broken hand (one day off) and then kidney stones (again, just one day off). I'm not a frequent sick note, never will be, I just want to get back to work in a role that doesn't involve me dashing around on blue lights because I think I can offer more. I then get a phone call advising that the job has been filled. Thanks very much.

Anyway a few phone calls to those 'in the know' reveal that the Sgt of the unit was completely unaware of the job being filled. In his words 'some brown nose has been shoe-horned into place by some pips'. I can't win against that, trust me I've tried. My fedrep can't help either. All I can hope for is that once I'm back at work on light duties, I'm in the cut and thrust of it again and another job will come up. In the meantime the job will just have to wait another six weeks for their response driver.

Injury update

2011-01-31T08:41:00.001Z

For those of you casually interested in my welfare (let's face it occupational health don't appear to be), I thought I would give you an update.

My first cast was taken off last Tuesday and the consultant seems to be happy with the results so far. The foot resembles something from a frankenstein movie, with 22 staples on one side, 10 the other. These were removed and all appears well, aside from the swelling which was a little too much for my wife to bear, who had to wait outside to get 'some air'. Anyway I am now in a 'robo cop' style boot and am under strict instructions not to put any weight on the ankle for another two weeks, and then....well, nobody knows. I have no idea when I'll be going back to work much to the annoyance of my new station sergeant who called me a few days ago, demanding to know when I'll be back on front line duties. 'how long is a piece of string' wasn't the answer he wanted or needed to hear, apparently. When asked if I had any letters or certificates from the doctor I referred him to the facts. A double compound fracture, 32 staples...not likely to be running any marathons any time soon. Besides I had a personal visit from my former inspector the day before who took the opportunity to take the piss and drink my tea and eat my cake. Don't these people talk to each other? Clearly not.

Anyway I will know more in a week or so. In the meantime here are some Frankenstein pics...

Come on, is that the best you can do?

2011-01-13T19:42:00.001Z

I didn't get it. That job I wanted so desperately in a plain clothes, proactive role apparently doesn't employ officers with an exemplary service and up to now clean sickness record. Apparently the job cannot wait for my ankle to get fit, it has a position to fill with the next best candidate. Although I'm sounding bitter (I'm not really, just very very disappointed), I would wonder if I really made a fuss whether there would be some uncomfortable bums up on the middle floor. Doesn't our force have a very defined discrimination policy? Isn't this discrimination at it's most basic form? Now I can understand if the position was desperate to be filled (it has been empty for 7 months before money was made available to increase the establishment), or if the dept could not operate without someone in the chair immediately, but given my prognosis is good (out of plaster in 4 weeks, light duties for a further six after), I'm very disappointed that those in charge of making these decisions cannot be man enough to tell me the real reason to my face why I haven't got the job and that I had to find out by interrogating a visiting shift buddy. Only then did I contact my sergeant and ask him outright, to which he was suitably and professionally embarrassed. That said I've lost out to a good copper and friend, so that makes me feel slightly better.

Here's the dilemma. Do I cause a fuss or do I leave it until I get 100% fit and try again?
*scratches chin and muses over options*...

The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated

2011-01-10T17:09:00.001Z

I've been fairly lucky in my career, I've only had a few injuries and they were nothing too serious. They've been mainly strains or bruising. I had a black eye once and my nose has been broken (same incident). I regularly wake up the next day after having a bit of a roll around too stiff to even stand up. Being a bit older and bit wiser nowadays I try not to leap in like it's a playground bundle...after all most of my assailants are at least half my age and very light on their feet. The odds are generally against me.
As you get older and remain on response teams you should continue to work out regularly, eat well and get your rest. You should be mindful of the demands on your body that working shifts can bring. Eating junk food should be a no-no, replacing it with fruit and the like.

So why am I lecturing you? Well these are all the things I should have been doing prior to me launching myself down a flight of stairs and breaking my ankle. In two places. This has led to an operation and a minimum 8 week convalescence period. It's day 7 and I am so bored.
This wasn't done at work, but at home moving a mattress down the stairs. I simply lost my footing and the next thing I knew I was screaming at the sight of my right foot at an alarming angle in comparison to my leg. The sound of my ankle breaking and the image of bone trying to break through skin will never leave me. The job have been great. 6 months on full pay, the next six after half pay. I'm rather hoping I go back within 3 months. I've had a visit from my Sergeant and colleagues, all bringing gifts and taking the piss. Nothing less than I expected really.

So please excuse the absence of any blog posts over the next few months, if I do blog they will be 'retrospective' entries. I have call of duty 6 to master (doubtful) and numerous DVD boxsets to get through. I've even got a Sergeants exam to study for, now that will be challenging to fit that all in!

So, please be safe out there, you never know when things will come and bite you on the arse. I'm fortunate that this will heal, if it happened on job time I could be looking at some decent compo too but that isn't the point. I would much rather I hadn't been too impatient to wait for assistance. Can't stand the thought of 8 weeks of Jeremy Kyle or loose women.

-- Post From My iPhone

"You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!"

2010-12-18T10:31:00.001Z

In these times of austerity I am still amazed and surprised at how some people can be so blasé at how lucky they are. I looked at my wage slip this month and noted with some discomfort at my 'contributions' and then my actual net pay. I'm not going to go into detail but the contributions are well into four figures, after pension, fed subs, life cover, med insurance, tax and national insurance. The last two are the irksome ones, as I do (or will) at least receive some benefit from the first four. However there's no point moaning over it, like millions of other hard working people out there tax and national insurance just have to be paid.
Last week I attended an address to assist the gas company install a 'pay as you go' key meter. Yes, you read right, however I'm not talking about going armed with a monkey wrench. I was there to keep the peace. I was there to prevent the engineer getting a kicking. I was there to help a benefit sucking hairy arsed ape who had somehow spawned three young snot nosed kids get as much cheap gas as he wanted. By contributing nothing.
You see, when this ape owed thousands of pounds to the gas company in arrears they sent a representative round to discuss how the matter could be resolved. The apeman punched the representative in the face. He got nicked, received a caution (rubbish disposal). Weeks later the social services and gas board have got together and established that the apeman and his spawn are eligible, under government legislation, to a gas supply. All they had to do was fit a key meter and apeman pay £3 a week into it and they could have as much gas as they wanted. Yes, you read right AS MUCH GAS AS THEY WANTED. I've refrained from using the term 'needed', as 'wanted' fits the criteria better. The engineer fitted the meter and explained to apeman what he needed to do. Apeman replied that he wasn't prepared to pay anything and that the engineer HAD to give him free gas (on tap). I intervened at this point and told apeman exactly how lucky he was. 'why exactly?' replied apeman 'it's what I'm due, innit?'. Through gritted teeth I reminded him that his contribution to society was exactly zero. Apeman didn't like this and promised to make a complaint. Really? You're going to complain that you've got as much gas as you want for £12 a month? How much do you pay reader, £50, £100, £200 a month?. Or was he going to complain about me, being ruthlessly honest and telling him some facts that he didn't want to hear. I closed the door on the way out, wiping my feet before I got to the pavement.
I can't help but think of the 1,000's of elderly people out there this winter, wrapped in duvets frightened to turn the heating on and the many 100's that will die as a result of not keeping warm. And it doesn't give me a warm feeling inside I can assure you of that.

It's all in the Policy

2010-12-07T09:05:00.006Z

I'm finding it hard to believe its nearly a year since the UK was practically wiped out by the last 'ice blast'. If you recall I blogged then about getting into a snow ball fight with some of our ne'er do wells and getting torn a new one by the boss who had viewed the entire incident on CCTV. With that in mind, this year I thought I had better behave myself and do some police work rather than 'engaging with the community', only I couldn't because the duty inspector decided that driving police cars in snow and ice, especially on blue lights, wasn't worth the paperwork in case the worst happened. It matters not that Joe and Josephine public still drove to work / got stuck / have accidents / are inadequately dressed / have small children with them / ignore all warning to venture outside. They don't have a policy after all.

As the police service we were clearly deemed too incompetent to venture outside to carry out our duties to the full without crashing a car. This is from the same inspector who ordinarily would have no qualms about risk assessing an entry into the drug den of an Axe wielding homicidal maniac high on crack and determining that we didn't need at least taser support. Nice work boss.

After about two hours of doing paperwork and reading up on the latest policy changes (I am being ironic), I decided to leave the station on foot with a probationer. Yes, on foot, reader, we all know what happened last time eh? No sooner had we made it into the High Street a call came in about someone throwing snowballs at passers by. Now, there's 8 inches of snow on the ground, the chances of someone NOT throwing snowballs is minute, therefore we have a policy not to attend snow ball related incidents unless there are actually crimes taking place. However in my book of policing, getting a snowball thrown at you when you (a) don't want to participate and (b) just trying to get to work without having a soaking wet neck means someone, somewhere is at least committing a public order offence and therefore needed to be spoken to. I decided to make my way.

As I approached the scene the controller informed me that the situation was getting worse, the male throwing snowballs had been confronted by a passer by and had produced a knife. Oh and was I in possession of my stab vest (yes, I was it's policy). I soon came across the individual and recognised him as the same male who i had been to court for only a couple of weeks previously (see my twitter feed). He was drunk, again. When he saw me a faint glint of recognition appeared on his face. "HELLO OFFICER." He grinned "I'M JUST HAVING A BIT OF FUN". How he was standing up was beyond me, he was completely bladdered. My colleague searched him under section one of PACE and found a potato peeler in his pocket. "ITS FOR SELF DEFENCE OFFICER" he grinned again. My probationer arrested him for possession of a pointed / bladed article and being drunk & disorderly. At this point a passing member of the public pointed out a six inch knife tucked behind a street bollard near to where we had first detained our suspect. We recovered this and called up for a van for transport. No such luck, all police vehicles were still grounded. It meant having to escort our prisoner on foot to the police station in handcuffs, whilst he was drunk and protesting that he was innocent. To be fair its not that far, but having to explain any concussion injuries to the custody sergeant or PSD didn't feature high on my list. Eventually someone saw sense and came out with the van to meet us at the roadside. Our chap was booked into custody and left to sleep off his Stella induced intoxication whilst we obtained statements and CCTV. He was interviewed six hours later, admitted possession of the potato peeler but denied any knowledge of the other knife. He was bailed, pending forensic examination of the knife.

I read with some dismay this week that the government are doing an about turn on their knife crime pledge. Apparently the jails are too full, it costs too much blah blah blah. BUT anyone in possession might still get a caution. However, criminals who have used knives in the execution of a crime may still go to jail (stable door > horse bolted, anyone?). I really wish someone would wake up and smell the coffee. I do wear this stab vest thing for a reason you know. There is a policy for it, I know I've read it.

Profanity within Policing

2010-11-30T09:13:00.010Z

I've been watching Coppers on C4 with some interest. Out of all of the recent poli-docu-soaps-reality-tv shows this has been by far the most accurate reflection of life at the sharper end. I can draw comparisons between my force and the force being filmed and whilst there are subtle differences I can see that coppers are coppers pretty much everywhere. The banter and work is no difference, just on a differing scale depending on the location.
This week the program followed a PSU (Riot Police) operation in the GMP area at a 'peaceful' demonstration between the English Defence League (EDL) and United Against Fascism (UAF). The coming together of these two groups was always going to lead to problems and as such this would be a major operation, hundreds of officers drafted in, sometimes from outside forces. It's a major logistical operation and is planned to maximise safety for officers and the general law abiding public and minimise damage to property.
Now, I've never been on PSU but I've been in enough public order situations to know how they would have been feeling. However whereas my friday night drunken public order incidents involve no more than 5 - 6 people at a time, which can be quite hairy, the sheer numbers faced by the PSU crews is alarming to say the least. To be blunt I'm not sure if I could go toe to toe with 100's of baying protesters three inches from my face who would stick one on me if given half the chance or drag me into the fray. Well I would, but would be wearing two pairs of underpants.
Some of the language used by the protesters was to be expected. Typical abuse was levelled at police such as 'Nazi thugs', 'fascists', 'goosesteppers' intermixed with more colourful language used to describe fornication and women's genitalia. To be honest you would expect no more than that from some of the protesters. It doesn't particularly bother most police officers, there's very little that they've not heard before. However swearing in a public place (even if it is a riot) is an offence under section 5 of the public order act 1986 so if you swear in front of a police officer and do not desist once warned you may face yourself being arrested.

Now as some of you may know I'm also on twitter (@thebluelightrun - sorry, shameless plug there) and by searching the tag #coppers I am interested in the feedback generated by some viewers after viewing. It's a mixed bag, some support the police, others choose to chastise them. I have copied some if the more recent comments below:

so ignorant as well as offensive.. do we need to guess what you do for a living?..

I think some #coppers needs extreme trainig

I keep expecting one of the guys wielding a baton to say "stop hitting yourself"

totally agree police do a job that is soo difficult & need all support they can get
OK looks like I'm the only person with any sympathy for #coppers .

Yeah the TAU were rather blunt, but what would we do without them?

in the other shows the cops nick people for swearing - a public order offense - so how come they have immunity

if the police hadn't been there they'd have ripped each other apart. The police don't let it get that far

Am I being totally naïve in thinking #coppers are supposed to be able to control their temper when on duty?

its a really good series. Some jaw dropping stuff. Can't say I blame the police for the way they reacted, wrong or right?

just watching #Coppers and compltely torn if the police are just bullys in uniform or doing a very very tough job! Bit of both maybe?

Nobody came off good on #coppers the police were the worst! People were arrested for no reason!

Now there were some sweary police officers, perhaps they used language that they are probably regretting this morning, however given the circumstances and the fact that they were faced with violent, hostile crowds hell bent on removing their heads, I think they were justified in using it. I doubt that they swore first (of course I wasn't there, its only an assumption) and that they used the public order offence as a 'tool' to remove the main troublemakers to prevent the situation getting out of hand. Policing is not easy, particularly under these circumstances, sometimes you have to use the one language that these violent, hostile troublemakers understand.

For the record I do not swear in front of kids, old people or the innocent. However, the drunken, crack-head, violent idiots that I meet on most days in my job do not deserve my respect as they've shown none towards me or others. If they swear at me, they will get one warning before they are nicked, if they try to assault me I will hit them first. It's very simple. And completely justified. I've been trained you see. Quite a lot.

Not your normal stop and account

2010-11-25T09:58:00.001Z

I stopped Charlie Lane last night. Unexpectedly he was quite calm and chatty. I had clearly stopped him in a good mood.
Charlie told me how he had had enough of the town and was 'getting out for good' and heading up north. This was excellent news, Charlie is a violent drug dealer who is not averse to a little bit of kidnap and GBH, usually using a machete or axe. I ran Charlie through PNC - known not wanted or disqualified and the normal warning markers. Then Charlie said something completely unexpected. It took me back, in fact my reaction must have been so obvious that Charlie actually laughed at me. Charlie had apologised. He apologised for all the 'shit' that he had caused over the last 10 years, for being an arse to police and for generally being a general pain. I stood there for a minute and mulled this over. Charlie had apologised in such a way that he had not incriminated himself but was heartfelt (well as heartfelt as he could given that he was a grade A psycho). I thanked Charlie for the apology and let him on his way, wishing him well for the future. The one conversation I have had with him over the years that hadn't ended with me putting handcuffs on and calling for backup (actually it was normally the other way round). Upon my return to the station I submitted a detailed intel report, it's only fair to warn other forces after all.
I don't know if leopards can change their spots, but if they survive the jungle they all grow older. But their claws remain just as sharp.

-- Post From My iPhone

This is not the force I was looking for...

2010-11-01T17:53:00.005Z

I'm sitting here at my home PC on my first rest day after what can only be described as working a weekend in hell. It's around 7pm, I've been up since 7.30am after a 2am finish. My body clock is screwed, I can't eat, basic chores are getting left much to the disgust of my better half when she gets in from work. I have a headache and another sore throat, possibly the start of man-flu, but who knows. All in all I'm feeling pretty pooped.
No doubt I am feeling like thousands of members of the emergency services who endure shift work on a weekly basis. Then there's the guilt, not seeing the kids, missing out on key events like birthdays and Christmas (public holidays or special events have restricted leave), the strain on relationships with your loved ones. It's no surprise that the divorce rate in the emergency services is so high.
I should be used to this by now, shift work is no surprise and many would say I knew what I was in for when I joined and they would be right BUT something has changed, the mood at work is darker than ever. I know I can speak for many of my colleagues when I say we are getting sick of all this talk of spending cuts, no overtime, changes to pensions, no recruitment / less police, changes to practices etc etc. On top of all this the Government seems to be doing its very best to stick the boot in, the media continually egging them on for a good story. Public support also seems to be an all time low (if you believe the media). All in all its all a bit depressing.
Someone of a senior rank told us the other day that we should all be grateful that we jobs (I am) and that it is protected under law (I wanted to remind him that there was a price we paid for this, like foregoing any possible industrial action ever, but I decided not too given the three pips on his shoulder). I think he meant this as a pep talk, but to be honest it just highlighted the chasm that has come between our two ranks.
Since Friday night I have racked up 37 hours at work, only 26 of those will be paid, the rest is 'put in the book' as TOIL. Whilst standing in the holding room at 4.30 am on Sunday, one of the three I had arrested for TWOC / Drink Drive following a decamp then a foot chase told me I was useless (hey, you're the one in handcuffs remember and I'm twice your age) and that he was going to sue me for wrongful arrest (please do so, I could do with a laugh). I was supposed to finish at 3am but turned out from the police station when no other units were available. I recall looking at my watch during my conversation with my prisoner, assessing that I was still 3rd in the queue, I had this one to book in, search, then put through the intoximeter process. I then had to repeat this for my other two prisoners. I estimated that after completing my statement and handover it would be 7am before I walked out of the police station in civvies and I was spot on. The Inspector informed me that there was absolutely no budget for my overtime request and that I would have to take the time off in lieu. Of course I would much rather have gone home, on time, and have had quality time with the kids the next day but that was completely out of the question, given the 'lack of resources'.
In these times of austerity we can all expect to see changes by putting more officers back on front line duties and trimming back on excess spending. I applaud this but fear in practice we will never get to this utopian position as we still have the legacy of targets and whole departments dedicated to managing them, with senior officers more interested in promotion than policing.
With the Hutton report we can expect changes to pensions and terms of employment. Currently the biggest fear is taxing the commutation after 30 years (could cost an officer 50k +), increasing contributions to 15%(we are already at 11%) and even performance related pay. Now when I joined up they were not the terms I signed up for and regrettably at the moment there isn't much I can do about it. Best I just shut up and enjoy these two rest days before it all starts over again. Out.

Reasons why I joined up - no1

2010-10-09T14:05:00.001+01:00

This week I have, along with my partner, potentially saved the lives of three people. All of them were elderly, all of them had collapsed behind doors. I'm not sure why I've had three in three days, there's no reason for it other than the fact that it is still fairly mild weather and the infirm are probably feeling a little more mobile than normal. They all had certain things in common; elderly, dementia, family that were not local. All of them were fiercely independent, they did not want families bothered, their neighbours to have a key or a fuss made. Of the three, two went to hospital. Family members were informed but it all seemed a lot of effort for them to visit a needy parent (probably why the victims didn't want them bothered).

Entering a property under section 17 of PACE to save life is one of our number one principles. Of course I take all necessary steps to ascertain if I can get get into the property without damaging it I will but minutes count so I generally don't mess about. We carry a RAMMIT in the boot of the car to make good our entry. Yesterday I put a back door UPVC kick panel in as Marie had fallen against the front door and the key in the keysafe could not be used. As I battered my way in with the RAMMIT Marie wasn't too impressed, shouting out to me to stop whilst my colleague consoled her. After a minute I was in and rushed to Marie. I could see she was in lot of pain, had sustained a head injury in the fall and was bleeding from her lip. I consoled her further, telling her ambulance were on their way. Marie scolded me for making a mess and indicated that she wanted to get up. Of course, she couldn't and fortunately within a few minutes the paramedic turned up. Leaving her in his capable hands I updated control and requested boarding up for the door, much to the annoyance of the duty inspector.

Marie is 93 and is suffering from Dementia. On her fireplace are photos of her and her husband in RAF fatigues, Marie had been in the WRAF. There were photos of her children and great grand children and her husband had clearly passed away recently. Marie appeared to be fairly self sufficient, although the lack of food in the fridge was a concern. I could see that Marie had a daily carer visit (who hadn't yet turned up). Marie was taken to hospital to get checked over and monitored whilst we contacted next of kin and waited for boarding up to arrive. An interesting conversation to the NOK that finished with me getting a little obtuse.

Upon my return to the station I was greeted by an email from the control room asking me a number of questions regarding the use of force to enter the premises. They were;

1. Had I exhausted all lines of enquiry before executing section 17?
2. Is the property rented or private? Please pass on details of the landlord / home owner.
3. Is the occupant on benefits?
4. Are you RAMMIT trained?
5. Please explain the extent of the damage. Did you take photographs?
6. Is the occupant still alive?
7. If so, do they, in your opinion, have sufficient funds to repay the cost of boarding up?

I was pretty tempted to answer no to question 6, and yes to number 3, but a suitably curt reply was sent back forthwith. Had Marie been a scumbag then the job would have not bothered to try and recoup costs directly but I sense that Marie will be receiving a letter demanding the cost of boarding up from the constabulary within a very short time. That'll help her recovery no end, eh?

-- Post From My iPhone

But I love him!

2010-10-06T20:21:00.001+01:00

When I joined the job my tutor wisely told me that there were three things guaranteed to get you in trouble, all of them starting with 'P'. Paperwork (not managing it), Property (not managing it / updating it) and Police officers (not managing it / sleeping with it). Of these three I have fallen foul of two but am still here to tell the tale. Since the introduction of our domestic violence policy there is now a fourth P. This stands for Positive Action (not taking it).
Domestics are, like it or not, bread and butter policing. If standing in between two warring, drunk people listening to allegations from both sides whilst little Johnny tearfully looks on is not your bag, then I sincerely advise you not to take up a career as a police officer. There is an expectation that a phone call to the police is all it takes to resolve problems with relationships in minutes that have taken years to break down. Thankfully the vast majority of domestics fall into the 'verbal argument - no offences' category, but some become violent from pushing and shoving to full blown ABH assaults or sometimes even worse. For this reason, dear reader, we and the other 42 police forces in the UK have a policy that in some form or another insists on 'positive action'. So what is it? Loosely speaking it's a policy that insists that where offences are evident OR alleged then the attending officers MUST take some kind of action that will involve arresting either (sometimes both) party and bringing them to justice. This is despite the aggrieved party refusing to assist police by giving a statement or assisting with a prosecution. If an offence is disclosed the officer is duty bound to feel someone's collar. Now I get this, it's to protect those who do not have the courage or capacity to give evidence. I'm all for it and it's there to protect those who cannot or will not use their voice.

But. Yes there is a but. We know it, the job knows it, CPS know it and worst of all many of our aggrieved know it. The very worst thing about having this policy is that one of the two warring drunks has to maliciously say 'he pushed me' and the alleged assailant is unceremoniously brought into custody, without any thought for evidence. Chances of getting a statement are slim, if you do the chances of it being 'withdrawn' later are great. The suspect is interviewed, he denies it, the offence NFA by CPS or someone wearing fancier epaulettes than you. The suspect is freed, back to the insanity of their drink / drug fuelled relationship.
Now I like arresting people who assault their partners. Nobody should be allowed to get away with it and the positive action policy is in place to deal with the shortcomings of evidence. I have been to many jobs where I've only got to see a slight bruising on a tear stained cheek to know that matey is coming in for a chat. What I have a big problem is those individuals who know the system, know that we will shout 'how high' when they ask us to jump for them by making spurious allegations I have a bigger problem when there are 6 officers on duty to police a town of 60,000 and my time is taken up nicking someone who doesn't need nicking, completing domestic violence forms and chasing the 'victim' for a statement. No doubt there are other people out there who need my attendance more. The problem is that I don't want to lose my pension if the very worst happens, so a lot of dots are dotted and t's crossed just to cover my back.

-- Post From My iPhone

Don't call me fella, fella

2010-10-05T10:04:00.001+01:00

I hate being called fella. Not sure why that is, I can only presume it's because it's a buzz word used by so many officers seemingly since the birth of Road Wars, StreetCrime UK and more recently police interceptors. I have nothing against these shows, I watch them and sometimes laugh out loud when I recall similar events in my duty time. I also cringe when 'fella' is used to address the bad guy.

Now calling a bad guy 'fella' shouldn't upset me, they get called far worse if they've given me the run around or have become a bit 'trunky' during arrest. However a little courtesy can help a violent situation and from this I can assess whether I need more hands on deck once at custody. The situation can go one or two ways in this scenario:

Struggling male being restrained on the floor, handcuffed to rear wearing leg restraints (trying to spit):

Me "whats your name my friend, we may be together for some time and I don't want to keep calling you mate / 'fella' / chap / bloke (insert preferred term)"

Prisoner (answer A) "f**k off you piece of sh*t, I hope your children die of cancer on Christmas day!!"

Or (answer B) "okay okay it's John, aarrggh, these 'kin handcuffs are tight!! I'll be a good boy, I'm calm, i'm calm, your alright geez.." etc

Now had I not bothered with trying to get the prisoners name I can pretty much guarantee that answer A would have been the only option, which would have resulted in a call up for the caged van and potentially a scrap in custody. Fun, yes, but not 2 months later when you may be questioned by PSD following an allegation of assault by you and the other 5 officers in the cell. I have a 50% chance of getting answer B if I take a minute to try and build some rapport. If it doesn't work (and it definately doesn't work on everyone) then it's back to addressing them by whatever term you deem appropriate at the time. More often than not prisoners will talk to me rather than my partner. It's not that I'm more friendly, it's just that self preservation is high on my list and I will not lose my job over some low life, crackhead, thieving scumbag, so I will generally be more polite and not let the red mist surface. I despise some of these people just as much as the next copper but I need cooperation at some point and want to see my pension.

And as for fellow officers calling me 'fella'? What is all that about?? That's definately not how to make friends and influence people....

-- Post From My iPhone

Brace! Brace! Brace!

2010-08-05T10:01:00.001+01:00

It's difficult to remain upbeat during these difficult times. It seems that every part of our organisation is under scrutiny with regards to funding. Even getting stationary nowadays seems to be mammoth undertaking, with advanced negotiation skills required for dealing with fastidious admin staff.
Uniform issue is getting looked at, there's talk of issuing two shirts and one pair of trousers per annum and not the usual allocation. All well and good until someone tried to jump a fence and rips an embarrassing three inch hole in the seat of their pants. I'm personally waiting for a new tie, it's been on order for three weeks and uniform stores have asked me for some justification! It doesn't matter whether it was lost, borrowed or stolen it still doesn't change the fact I haven't got one and I need one.
So rough times ahead no doubt. Units will be disbanded as recruitment winds up, officers deployed to shift to bolster depleted officer numbers. Civvy posts will be lost, dept amalgamation is on the cards.We've all been told that millions will have to be saved from the budget and this will make for some very difficult decisions, so brace yourselves. Furthermore there's even talk of taking away the free travel allowance for officers as the government is losing out on the VAT element of every ticket 'not sold'. Now we are getting desperate. Whilst a lot of this is speculation and rumour, one thing immediately canned is overtime. There isn't any, so don't bother to ask. Arresting someone late in the shift will mean you doing the bare minimum after booking in your prisoner and leaving it for the next shift to take over. Not a problem, I never want to be at work after my duty time anyway but some things need to be done even if it's an arrest statement and handover. This takes time and I've given up working for free.
There's a misconception that most police love a bit of OT. Yes no doubt that's the case with some officers but I can guarantee most will want to go home on time to their families as you have to do a lot of OT to make it worth your while. It's an accepted part of the job that you can expect to finish late occassionaly, it's just that now there's zero chance of getting any compensation for it.
This all comes at a time when the banks report massive profits. All rather galling when the public sector seem to be getting screwed over again...ultimately the public will also suffer as thumbscrews are turned and the services are forced to deliver a quality service with less people and less money.

So brace yourselves, were in for a rocky ride.

-- Post From My iPhone

Customer satisfaction

2010-08-02T08:31:00.000+01:00

Like most major towns in the UK we have a sizeable drugs problem. The powers that be have made sweeping statements to the local press that the problem has been addressed and those responsible have been dealt with. Wrong.
Not sure why this press statement was ever made but Joe public are not stupid and could see the drug dealing still going on under their noses, whilst the police are nowhere to be seen. We constantly received calls from a concerned community and attended when we could. Given that our drugs problem had been 'eradicated', calls of this type were given low priority. This sad state of affairs continued for about a month before someone higher up the food chain saw the type of comments that were beginning to appear in the local press about the police and their blinkered attitude to drug crime. In no time at all a warrant was obtained and a rapid entry team, sniffer dog and various other specialist officers found themselves outside the door to a flat at 6am on a summers day. Funny enough, so were the press. The door went in and six were arrested for drugs possession. A thorough premises search found more suspected class A. The job was hailed a success...six arrested, on bail pending forensic examination of the drugs, the suspects were kicked out of the flat they were dealing from and seemed to disappear off the radar. The local press lapped it up, it made front page news. Photos of those arrested being taken away in handcuffs appeared in the paper. The community celebrated that their perseverance had finally paid off and the police had listened and actually done something. A good job all round although had someone somewhere of a higher rank not have been so belligerent we could have moved sooner and kept our community happier. Still, they have to live with the bad press, not me, it's not my face and previous press statement quoted in the paper. There's a career move for you.
Despite this being a sound job, we cannot afford to become complacent. Intelligence already suggests that those arrested have set up shop in another part of town. Somehow I don't think the upper ranks will be quite so willing to denounce the drug problem this time.

So, who's good at juggling?

2010-07-13T09:17:00.000+01:00

Why is it when I'm 'acting up' (to Sergeant role), the world and his wife wants to come out and play? Why is it pretty much guaranteed that there will be a serious stabbing / RTC / robbery / concern for welfare / high risk misper come in at or around the same time just an hour before I'm due off? (this list is not exhaustive by the way).

There is a perception by the public that there is a plod on every corner, we drive around doing nothing all day, drinking coffee and donuts, pick on motorists because it fills government coffers with fine revenue or are just plain lazy. We are useless, rude, never around when needed or have little or no knowledge of the law. Well, I can't argue with some of those points as there are officers who fit one or two of those criteria, but we are only human, and therefore fallable, apparantly.

I work in one of the busiest towns in my part of the country. It is a diverse, multi -cultural community, deprived in most areas, afluent in others. Like most big towns it has a drugs problem, along with the crimes associated with feeding it. It also has a very busy nightlife. Street crime is rife, as are domestics and violent crime. Desite public perception and a very small minority of officers that may fit said criteria, across the division in three sectors we regularly parade for duty with a full compliment of 3 Sergeants and 24 officers. In my sector its 1 Sergeant and nine officers. This is to police a town with a population of 165,000. Of course thats not 27 front line officers that are available...supervisors have to supervise, prisoners need to be dealt with, constant observations on prisoners with mental health or suicidal tendancies have to be covered. This list goes on. Officers have crimes to investigate, enquiries to follow up for bail backs. Also lets not forget abstractions (specialist skills officers abstracted from duty at the drop of a hat) and training courses. And there are boundaries to consider....a Sergeant from a neighbouring sector is unlikely to free up any of his units to cover outstanding jobs, as they will be left short. In summary, if Joe Public really knew how short on the ground we were most of the time then they would be horrified at the proposals being put forward by our coalition government to save money by reducing officer numbers. See link. I'm all for change, if it makes better use of officer's time and increases productivity and therefore public confidence and satisfaction then great, BUT cutting numbers too much and too quickly will send us down a dark path. We live in a world where arresting someone for fraud can turn into an investigation into terrorism, where human rights apply more equally to suspects than victims sometimes and where organised crime is finding its way deeper into suburbia. These are not scare tactics, this is fact.

One government monkey on breakfast TV gave a figure of reducing police officer numbers by 28,000. There are 144,000 officers in the UK. You do the math.

So when that serious stabbing / RTC / robbery / concern for welfare / high risk misper comes in and I look in my magic top drawer for more police officers, where will I go when I find it even emptier? Food for thought.

Reality bites

2010-06-15T17:01:00.001+01:00

The reality of policing is that you never know what's around the corner. This is what makes the job so challenging and ultimately so rewarding. If you don't like surprises, then don't join the police were the wise words of my old tutor. These words still ring true, from the ridiculous and bizarre to the downright dangerous, life as a bobby has a habit of grabbing you by the seat of the pants and hurling you face first into the furore.
I had a moment last week where I had cause to rethink my actions and to question myself. To cut a long story very short I chased a man through three gardens, over two fences and came face to face with him when he ran out of escape routes. A scrap ensued, we both ended up in rather large bush clawing at each other, trying to gain the upper hand. My radio was now on the floor, my asp still just about in my grip. My CS was out of reach...my only real weapon was harsh language accompanied by various palm and elbow strikes. In the end my partner applied CS spray to both of us in an effort to control the situation. It worked, although rather too well in my case as it knocked me for six and at best I could only offer token assistance to the handcuffing procedure.
So, why the chase? What was I thinking?

Reports had come in of a male walking down the street brandishing a knife. The description was of an asian male in his early twenties. As the report came in my partner and I were a minute away. As we turned a corner a male matching the description was walking towards us, a large kitchen knife in his right hand. He stopped. We stopped. He then ran and we both gave chase. The last thing on my mind was calling in a taser team (they were in another part of the division). By the time our scrap started, there was no sign of the knife. Turns out he ditched it two gardens back (recovered), for which in hindsight I am eternally grateful.
When I got back to the nick my sergeant tore me 'a new one', wanting to know why I had chased an armed suspect, why I didn't wait for backup. To be honest I also wanted to know the answer, the repurcussions to me and my family were immense. In all honesty I don't know why I did what I did. Tasers, dogs and helicopters are available, provided you could wait. Unfortunately I felt I could not stand around waiting for anyone, not with a potential mad man walking around with a knife in my town. Isn't that why we joined up? My sergeant now thinks I'm reckless. Can't win them all, eh?

To date I haven't told my wife the full story, I'm sure she would force me into a cosy little desk job somewhere.

-- Post From My iPhone

Fatal attraction?

2010-05-28T18:31:00.001+01:00

My job isn't always about responding to incidents, chasing bad guys or deterring crime. Sometimes you are called to jobs that involve people that are simply crying out for help, they cannot cope with modern day life and turn to drink or drugs to get them through each day.
We have a serial caller on our patch called Sylvia. From the outside she looks like any other normal middle aged female living on her own. However when sylvia is having a bad time she turns to vodka, takes on a whole new persona and craves attention. Unfortunately though she craves the attention of male officers stating she may 'kick off' if female officers are sent round.
I had the misfortune of being dispatched to see Sylvia. Fortunately I also had with me two very young in service (and age) male officers. I gave them sound words of advice about how to deal with her, having only visited two months previously.
We arrived and Sylvia met us at the door, clearly worse for wear, crying and wearing only a dressing gown.
I sent the two probationers in first, determined to monitor how the dealt with her and hoping to stay in the background.
Sylvia poured out her heart to the two officers. They tried their best to reason with her but she wasn't having any of it. One of the officers made a schoolboy error and asked Sylvia what she wanted. Sylvia looked at each of them in turn, eyeing them up. "I WANT...." she said, looking at them then me "A CUDDLE....FROM HIM". Sylvia was pointing at me. Great. I explained to Sylvia that I could help her in many ways, but cuddling wasn't an option. "NOTHING SEXUAL" she said. Now you might think that giving her a cuddle wasn't a big deal, but I'm big on self preservation and there was no way I was going to give someone with mental health issues like Sylvia a cuddle. That would be leaving myself wide open.
Sylvia then asked me if I had a wife. I replied 'yes, with three kids'. She tutted and turned to my colleague. He cottoned on quickly and replied 'yes, a girlfriend with a baby'. The other probationer was by now out of the room, on the phone to Sylvia's daughter. "WHAT ABOUT HIM?" asked Sylvia. My probationer and I grinned. "DONT KNOW" I replied, "YOU'LL HAVE TO ASK HIM". Which she did, as soon as he walked back in the room. He blushed and spluttered an unconvincing yes. He's only 20. Arh, bless.
After I poured the rest of her vodka down the sink, Sylvia promised to call her doctor in the morning after she had sobered up. Her daughter was on her way over to look after her, so having no concerns for her welfare we left. As we did so she thrust a piece of paper in my younger colleagues hand. On it was her mobile number. Horrified, the probationer stated that Sylvia was older than his mum. I think he felt quite nauseous afterwards.

We updated control and I just knew they were stifling giggles.

-- Post From My iPhone

There may be trouble ahead.

2010-05-27T09:08:00.000+01:00

Well the summer weather seems to have kicked the scrote gene into top gear. I'm only three days into this set of shifts and already I have arrested and interviewed an idiot for racially aggravated public order (charged), arrested four for a street robbery and attended numerous disturbances 'on a one'. Now don't get me wrong I love being busy, I work best under pressure, there is nothing like going to a job under response conditions, having to risk assess, watch out for other idiot road users, make some sense out of the radio chatter. There really is no job like it.
At social functions I often get asked 'how do you do your job' and 'i couldn't do it'. My reply is that I get paid to drive fast cars, deprive bad guys of their liberty and give help to those who need it. Admittedly there are things I don't like, for instance spending hours on end standing around in custody, the command teams never ending quest for detections and some of the bureaucratic bollocks that seems to pour down from the top floor, but for the most part it is a most excellent vocation.

This year is already shaping up to be hot and busy. And I'm already looking forward to the roller coaster ride...

-- Post From My iPhone

You couldn't make this up

2010-05-24T16:16:00.000+01:00

Just when I thought I had seen how low some crims would go, I recently had the misfortune of attending a job that involved a world war 2 vet, his 86 year old carer and two colourful types from the travelling fraternity. Now not much surprises me here, I've dealt with the criminal element traveller friends on many an occassion and know they have little or no regard to how they leave their victims.
Major lionel Swanscoombe (ret) is 92 years old. A fine Englishman who still manages a stiff upper lip and would have given anyone (especially the Hun) a damned good thrashing in his time with his swagger stick in the event they crossed his path. Sadly we now live in a time where the wartime antics of major lionel sawnscoombe (ret) are long forgotten by the criminal element and are often seen as easy prey.
The good major and his wife had, out of the blue, received a phone call from a 'neighbour' who stated his drains are connected to the majors and that they were in a state of disrepair. The drains needed urgent work and in order to do so a special machine had to be hired to inspect the drain system. It just so happened that the deposit required for the machine was £4000. The money had to come from the household where the work was going to be undertaken. Payment could be made in person using a chip and pin machine at the company main office some 25 miles away or by cash. To save effort, the money would be collected by a courier the next day. And so the major and his wife kissed goodbye to £4000 they had set by for their funerals.
This clearly wasnt enough. A week later an elaborate scam started involving four men, Gary the neighbour, john from the hire company, karl a solicitor and DC Samuels, a copper carrying out survaillance on the gang.
Fortunately by this time the police we involved. I was present and listened to numerous phone calls made to the majors wife, first from Gary, then karl stating he had a bankers draft made out to the major in order to give a full refund (the cheque was to the sum of £8000 and all the major had to do was get another £4000 out of the bank and he would get the bankers draft to pay in). Then john called saying he needed a further £6000 for a bigger machine. This was all topped off by DC Samuels who stated he was tracking the gang, monitoring their phone calls and that the major and his wife should do everything they asked, that they should withdraw the cash in case the gang were watching them and hand it over when another courier called. Of course the courier would be arrested after they left the premises so as not to cause any undue stress when they were arrested.
I listened to this bile and my blood boiled. The major knew he had been had and his pride had stopped him calling us until they started again. This old soldier had fought in far off lands against a hostile enemy. Now he was being targetted by the very people he fought for. It just wasn't fair.
The majors wife played her part brilliantly. The sting was set for the next day at 1100 hrs. I liaised with CID. Three officers were to wait in the house, a plain car was in the street to intercept any vehicles or persons. At 11.07 hrs a male was arrested at the address, another who was waiting in a van around the corner. At 11.21 hrs the majors wife received a phone call from DC Samuels. He asked if all was okay, the majors wife said she had handed over the money some time ago. At this the stakeout cop became flustered and finished the conversation with the words "I think we've been rumbled".....never a truer word said.

Both males were questioned at length. Incriminating evidence was found on their mobile phones as well as during the house searches. Both were remanded and put before the next available court where they entered a not guilty plea. We never did find DC Samuels.

-- Post From My iPhone

Police management

2010-05-19T18:42:00.001+01:00

A man in a hot air balloon realised he was lost. He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit more and shouted, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I dont know where I am".

The woman below replied, "You are in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You are between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude".
"You must be an engineer", said the balloonist.

"I am" replied the woman, "How did you know"?

"Well, answered the balloonist, everything you told me is, technically correct, but I have no idea what to make of your information, and the fact is I am still lost. Frankly, youve not been much help so far".

The woman below responded, "You must be in Police Management".

"I am", replied the balloonist, "but how did you know"?

"Well", said the woman, "you dont know where you are going. You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise that you have no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, its my fault".

-- Post From My iPhone

God's waiting room.

2010-04-12T09:06:00.000+01:00

Last week I was called to a disturbance at an old people's home. This isn't as strange as you think, staff at these homes are abused and assaulted on a regular basis. Unfortunately the vast majority of cases are from elderly folk that have dementia and are not in control of their own actions. That was the case here, an elderly gent hadn't taken his meds in the morning and had become a bit of a handful. By the time we arrived the chap was dozing in his chair, his meds now kicking in. I checked him over whilst my colleague obtained details from the home manager. You never know, there could be some underlying abuse going on but on this occasion I'm happy to report this was not the case. Needless to say we have a duty of care and I checked him over for any visible injuries (there was none), took a look at his care plan and spoke to the staff at length. Looks like this was a fairly regular occurence for Bert and words of advice were given to the care home. No offences were disclosed and a suitable update was given to the control room.
Whilst I was chatting to the manager, my colleague called out to me. I wandered over, she put her finger to her lips and pointed to the living room. There I could see at least ten elderly females, facing the same way, all transfixed to the television. I walked in a few feet in order to see what was going on. On the TV was a very graphic program, depicting a penis enlargement operation. Nothing was left to the imagination and the images made me wince a little (actually a lot). At that moment my colleague saw an opportunity and called out "HELLO LADIES, WHAT ARE WE UP TO HERE?" from behind me. All but a couple of them turned and looked at me in unison. I felt my face flush and one of the old girls tottered over to me and placed her hand on my arm and whispered "DON'T WORRY LOVE, IF YOU'VE SEEN ONE, YOU'VE SEEN THEM ALL" , before wandering back to her seat. I beat a hasty retreat, my face burning with embarrassment and muttering to my colleague that she should always sleep with one eye open from now on, as this is war....

Pretty Woman. So where's Julia Roberts?

2010-04-06T13:07:00.001+01:00

A few weeks ago I found myself working a lot of overtime to pay for an upcoming holiday and to assist the force in using up it's 'hardly touched' overtime budget just in time for the coming financial year (always happy to oblige). This involved working rest days, sometimes undertaking duties that I had never done before or not for a long time.
One of these was acting as a spotter in the local red light district. In plain clothes and in an unmarked car I would relay details of any working girls loitering on street corners as well as spotting potential kerb crawlers. Given that I hadn't performed this duty for a long time it made sense to make me the spotter, as my face was relatively unknown.
Around 9.30 pm I was 'doing the circuit' when I was flagged down by a young girl, aged about 16. Very pretty, which is not the norm for our locals. Without any hesitation she opened the door and jumped in the passenger sear. I was sat, gobsmacked, with a police radio chattering away on the dashboard with my police stab vest clearly giving me away.
The conversation went something like this;
Girl:" I'm up for business, how about you."
Me: "um, what do you mean business?"
Girl: "20 for a blow job, 30 for full sex"
Me:" uh (getting hot under the collar), I'm police and you, my dear, are very nicked..."
Girl: "get out of it, you're not old bill I know all of you...oh shit."

The girl, Charlotte, was arrested for soliciting. She was only sixteen and needed an appropriate adult for interview. I called her mum, she agreed to come in immediately. Result, I thought, in and out of custody in three hours.
Mum arrived and we all settled in to the interview. Charlotte was extremely candid about her life as a prostitute, went into a lot of detail (too much for poor mum). Charlotte came from a decent background, mum and dad worked hard to provide but Charlotte had turned into a wild child at 14. I felt sorry for mum, who was trying to keep it all together in the interview. I started to ask more direct questions, one of them tipped mum over the edge.
Me:" so Charlotte, why have you decided to work the streets as a prostitute?"
Charlotte:" beats working at macdonalds."
Me: "how so?"
Charlotte: "rather than work 8 hours for forty quid wearing a stupid hat, I can earn £300 a night selling myself. I do anything, whatever the men want, I don't care, as long as I earn my own money."

Mum broke down in tears. Interview concluded. Charlotte clearly needed more than just being arrested, she needed help from social services and a whole manner of other agencies. I felt sad for Charlotte and for mum. Charlotte received a reprimand for her first offence, although technically there was a degree of entrapment on my part (I didn't know she was there, honest) I feared this wouldn't be the last night she would grace our custody suite.

-- Post From My iPhone

It's simply criminal

2010-03-31T01:58:00.001+01:00

If there is anything guaranteed to get you out of the rain in order to spend 9 hours in custody, it's arresting 3 juveniles for criminal damage. I have to thank them for keeping my aging bones free from any damp induced ill effects as well as keeping the mileage on police cars really low, as my designated response car moved exactly two miles in an 11 hour shift.
So what makes it so complicated? Well it's not the work - three kids caught by CCTV 'tagging' a wall in broad daylight, the offending paintsticks still in their possesion when searched and exercise books with practice 'tags' seized in house searches as well as an admission from two of them prior to getting to custody. Easy you would think? Even without a solicitor the custody process is painful, appropriate adults have to be organised, the juvies rights & entitlements must be given. A fight with a drink driver in custody didn't help matters, all non police personnel were removed whilst officers (me included) ushered the offender into a cell who was subsequently strip searched.
All three were interviewed and two made admissions. The third stated he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. After a referral to the youth offending team, they were released back into the custody of their parents who made noises about confiscating xboxes etc (yay - way to dish out punishment, go mom, go dad). Another hour submitting the relevant forms and completing a crime report and we were all good to go home. All six of us. Yes it took six to deal with three prisoners (3 tutors, 3 probationers). We were all off late, but at least we were dry, that's the main thing (apart from the detection for the command team of course). At least I can go to bed content in the knowledge three punks were off our streets for at least 11 hours...

Chinese take-away

2010-03-29T10:07:00.000+01:00

The public can be a fickle bunch. Quite often police actions are misinterpreted as being oppressive and unfair, particularly when making 'public' arrests. If things get a bit 'hands on' I can pretty much guarantee that I will get some kind of abuse from a passer by as I sit on top of a struggling prisoner who has just assaulted my colleague and threatened to gouge my eyes out with a spoon. To be fair, I can see what this sometimes looks like...police perceived as being too heavy handed whilst handling some youth who is protesting his innocence, yelling 'false arrest' or such like. The facts are that the youth is (a) struggling, (b) just been involved in a violent assault, (c) is probably under the influence of drugs or alcohol and (d) has warning markers for violence.
On Friday I was directed by my control room to a chinese restuarant in the town. Its a popular venue, particulary with shoppers as it provides a 'full asian buffet experience' for just £7.99 a head. I was informed that one of our regulars was having a meal and that only two hours prior had assaulted his girlfriend by giving her a black eye and then tried to strangle her. A real charmer, he was wanted for ABH.
As I pulled up outside I could see a number of patrons staring out the window. A look of bemusement on their faces as I approached the entrance with two colleagues. A quick chat with the greeter enabled me to enter the premises on my own, whilst my colleagues waited at the door. I'm conscious that a police presence can upset some people, some of whom are easily put off their chow mein. I recognised our charmer on the other side of the restuarant and approached him. In my best friendly copper voice I asked him to accompany me to the door as we needed to have 'a chat'. Initially resistant to my charms, he eventually stood up and threw his £8.00 on the table for his dinner. I took a gentle hold of his arm and this is where it went a bit wrong. It seems that our charmer was not keen to join me outside and made a bolt for the fire exit to his left as we approached the main entrance. My grip on him wasn't what it could have been and he managed to get a few yards on me before I brought him to the floor. By now my two colleagues were also in the fray, one of them got a knee in the nether regions from our charmer before he was fully restrained. It all became a bit of a hullabaloo.
Now this is the fickle part. A member of the public decided to inform me in no uncertain terms that he would be complaining to the chief constable. Our actions were unnecessary and had put him off his dinner and that we should 'leave this young man alone'. This was as I was trying to get a handcuff on a struggling prisoner whilst shouting at him to 'calm down' and 'stop fighting'. It was irrelevant that we had detained a violent escaper who was wanted for a serious domestic assault. Had he been the father of the girl who had been assaulted, would he have been quite so critical? For the record our charmer was further arrested for a public order offence but was uninjured apart from a few cuff marks, unlike my colleague who had to nurse some rather tender testicles. I await the Reg 9 in anticipation.

It's just routine Guv.

2010-02-08T09:56:00.000Z

A hunch is all it takes. There's no logical reason why a certain vehicle attracts the attention of an alert copper. It may be the obvious such as a moving traffic offence or their manner of driving. Sometimes though you just 'know' something isn't right and pulling over a vehicle for a random stop check can reap rewards and make for a good collar.
Last week I was on mobile patrol with my probationer. Not much was going on, so I decided that jeremy (my probationer) needed a bit of traffic process for his development. A short while later my attention was drawn to a black ford fiesta two vehicles in front of me. There was nothing particularly interesting about it, if anything it looked in good order. I relayed the index to plate to jeremy and he ran it through PNC. The MOT had expired so it was worthy of a stop. Just before I did though I asked jeremy to check intel to see if there was anything interesting about the vehicle. You never know, it may be used by a known drug dealer.
Intel suggested that the occupants of the vehicle had been seen by a member of the public showing off a black handgun. Interesting. This intel had come anonymously from a concerned member of the public via crimestoppers. I called up control and asked for some backup as I wanted to put in a stop on the vehicle. An ARV (armed response vehicle) offered up and advised he was going to put the stop in due to the intel. As frustrating as this felt, I knew it was the correct procedure and I really didn't want a gun pointed in my face, real or not.
The ARV quickly caught up and tailed the suspect vehicle while I had to hang back. My role was to stop traffic behind me at a safe distance in order that the ARV could put in a safe, hard stop. A few minutes later the fiesta stopped at traffic lights, the ARV boys jumped out, guns drawn and barked out orders to the occupants to "get the f*** out of the car". Two bemused eighteen year olds were unceremoniously forced to the floor with their hands spread as far as they could. I watched as the ARV searched the males, then the car. An officer indicated that he found something in the drivers seat back. He held it up and I could see that it was indeed a black handgun. A few tense moments passed, then the ARV proudly announced they had secured a water pistol. It was unloaded into the gutter and 'made safe'.
With no aggrieved there were no offences, the pistol was 'seized' for destruction and the driver and his mate were given some very stern words of advice (and a ticket for the expired MOT). If nothing else the ARV got a workout after a mundane day patrolling in snoresville. I must admit my adrenaline had been pumping too...and my probationer was positively speechless.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

This is a rant. You have been warned!

2010-01-28T20:09:00.000Z

Today I attend a job where the suspect is a foreign national seeking asylum in the UK. He's been here since 2004 and over the last three years has committed a string of 21 offences including ABH, criminal damage, shoplifting and drugs possesion. Today I nick him for TWOC, resist arrest and driving otherwise in accordance. When arrested he assaulted me and had to be taken to ground and handcuffed most vigorously. When taken to custody he was taken directly to a cell due to his violent demeanour, strip searched and kept on constant obs for his welfare.
He was arrested at his place of work yet according to his immigration status he is not permitted to work. So I called the border agency chappies who are normally keen to deport such miscreants for offending on our turf. I was told they had 'no interest' in him as he cannot be deported due to his personal safety in his homeland as this would be a breach of his human rights. Now, I understand that bit, I wouldn't want to be held accountable for any serious injury or worse if he was to go back. What I have a big problem is the fact these types are guests in our country. We give them food, clothing and somewhere to sleep at the taxpayers expense. I know some decent working families who are far worse off. What I get angry about is that our hands are tied when it comes to dealing with these people. I'm conscious that even writing this post I may be viewed as being racist (I'm not by the way). It seems that it is fine that scum like this will continue to bite the hand that feeds them and conveniently forget that they are guests and should behave as such and not infringe upon the human rights of his victims and their families.
I know nothing will change, I know that my rant will go unheard but I had to get it off my chest. So, there you go. Rant over. Do I feel better? Not particularly....

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Wanda is not a fish

2010-01-26T10:49:00.000Z

At ninja skills training (sorry defensive skills) they bang on about using tactical communications (tac comms), officer approach & stance, the conflict resolution model, how your behaviour affects others, the reactionary gap, etc etc. All very valid and if you want to avoid getting the odd punch on the nose then it's worthwhile paying attention. I've been doing this job for a while now and whilst I'm not afraid to get stuck in, if I can avoid a fight and talk someone into handcuffs using tac comms then all the better. The biggest problem I often encounter is being crewed up with a probie who's been watching too much street wars or police interceptors and is a little 'punchy'. It's quite often the younger ones who prefer wearing the uniform than actually getting stuck into paperwork. On a Friday night turn you can almost feel the testerone brewing in the office prior to jumping on a carrier. I've seen it, done it, got the scars to prove it. I have nothing to prove anymore and almost laugh when I see the young guns postulating prior to deployment. Bless em.

Recently we were on the public order carrier on a friday night and were called to reports of a female making off from a criminal damage at a pub. Clearly she didn't like the cocktails and had demonstrated her frustration by throwing a bar stool at a window.
The fact it was a female made me sit up and listen. Fighting girls is not one of my favourite pasttimes, they kick, scratch, spit, bite and have a natural ability to target the soft fleshy parts that men need to procreate. They also have their own soft fleshy parts that men can get themselves into trouble for touching, even inadvertently. This one we will approach under caution. Or so I thought.
A further description came in, White female, chubby build, shoulder length curly hair wearing a short White miniskirt. 'Sounds like Wanda' I uttered to the 5 probies on the bus, who were oblivious to the info and were hypnotised by the two tones, mad grins on their faces.
Wanda is a known troublemaker in the town. She has numerous public order offences to her name and will generally fight most coppers if they get hands on with her. I relayed this information to the probies, they all nodded in unison.
We soon found Wanda kicking a telephone box. The probies jumped out and approached her while I secured the carrier. 5 probies now surrounded Wanda who was beginning to show signs akin to that of a cornered rat. 'This is going to go very wrong' I heard myself say as I approached. At this point Wanda try to push herself away and one of the probies grabbed her by the wrists. He was now less than one foot away from her face and I remember shouting 'get ba....' as Wanda headbutted the probationer who hit the ground. To their credit the probies jumped on Wanda and wrestled her to the floor. Various probies spilled out from the melée only to jump back in. I jumped in, held Wanda's held to ground with my left knee whilst my right knee sat on her rib cage, pinning her to the floor, my right hand trying to hold onto her flaying right arm. 'Cuffs!' I shouted. One went on, the other, well it wouldn't go near the other hand. Wanda was snarling by now and trying to bite. One of the probies used another set of handcuffs and joined them at the front. 'Brilliant, now she's got a weapon' I remember thinking. I ordered the probationers to cuff her at the rear before we all ended up with various lacerations.
Wanda was eventually placed in limb restraints and carried into the back of a caged van, still swearing, still fighting. I looked at all of the probationers who were now very disheveled. The one who had been headbutted was nursing his forehead. It wasn't a major injury, and it surprised him more than anything else. Still, he needed checking out by paramedics.
Turns out that Wanda had sworn at one of the probies, who had sworn back at her. Wanda in her drunken state didn't like being cornered or being sworn at and had tried to get away. This resulted in said probationer getting headbutted and Wanda being taken to the floor by six police officers in full view of the general public and CCTV. Public perception? Use of force? Approach & stance? Tac comms? All of their very recent defensive skills training was put to the test and noone had passed. A lot of valuable lessons were learned by the probationers at that job, one of them had a painful reminder for a week afterwards. I too learned a valuable lesson. Get out of the bloody carrier first.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

I'm no Linford Christie!

2010-01-25T12:32:00.000Z

I hate foot chases. Apart from the obvious that it knackers you out if it goes on for more than five minutes, you also have to contend with street furniture, mums with buggies, jeering youths and cars that absolutely and catergorically will not stop to let you pass. The bad guy (s) are normally half my age, light on their feet & wearing Nike air trainers whereas I'm wearing a stabbie, belt kit and running in size 10 steel toecap army boots. I only have 12 years left in the job, so tripping over a bollard and smashing by pelvis on a kerbstone is not high on my agenda. I've seen it happen and believe me it isn't pretty. Or funny if it's one of your colleagues...
For this reason one of the first things I ask any new probationer is "what are you like at running?". Most eager ones tell me they are trained to an Olympian standard. That's that sorted then. You chase them on foot, I'll back up in the car. Well that's the plan, it never quite works out that way...
The other day my probationer was taking a statement from a shop owner. CCTV called up and stated they had a wanted person on camera, not far from our location. Various units called up, two PCSO's had eyeball on him but were holding off...an unmarked unit were coming in from the top end of town. I looked at my probationer, who was in the middle of his statement. I told him it was okay, other units were nearby they'll get him. Best finish the statement....a few minutes later CCTV called up again. Our suspect was moving off on his bicycle. The PCSO's were told to hang back for health and safety reasons, the unmarked unit still some minutes away. This was it, we had to go. I told my probationer that we would try to sneak up on him as this lad had warning markers for escaping....as soon as we got to the doors of the shop we spotted him. And he spotted us. In fact he was staring right at us. A seconds pause and I shouted "RIGHT GETTIM!". My probationer launched himself out of the shop, the bad guy started to make off on his bike....the lad made it to the road and was gaining momentum fast. My probie stepped up a gear and chased this lad on his bike up a busy main road, cars stopped in awe and passers by just stared. Why does that never happen for me? He was like a gazelle and was catching up with the cyclist fast. Me, on the other hand was way behind calling for back up in between gasping for breath...The lad seemed to be getting away when all of a sudden two plain clothes officers jumped on him (rather he cycled into their arms). My probationer was on him in seconds, slapping handcuffs onto the protesting teenager. I caught up, clearly worse for wear. After a few minutes I asked my probationer what had arrested him for. "what me? I haven't arrested him for anything yet" was the answer. "best nick him for something then" was my reply and the words were said.
A foot pursuit up a busy main road, members of the public took their time to take the mickey out of me when the bad guy was driven away by another unit. I thanked everyone for their kind comments. Given that I hadn't even warmed up I thought I had done rather well.
My probationer later received an email from the controller stating she was impressed. I, on the other hand, got one of commiserations....

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Not a disaster movie

2010-01-11T18:18:00.001Z

The snowy weather has reduced most of the UK to a post apocalyptic state, the movie the day after tomorrow doesn't even come close. I mean, snow...on a workday? The schools are shut, milk is turning sour in the farms because the tankers can't get through, anyone living more than 5 miles from their place of work is guaranteed a day off. Except the emergency services of course. People still have domestics, shoplifters still try their luck, drug dealers still push their gear to finance the pit bull and a new 50" plasma tv. It never stops, as a result the emergency services still have to find some way of getting into work. For me it wasn't too difficult. Thermals, beanie hat two pairs of socks and an iPod got me through an hours hike to my station. At the station the inspector had decided that only emergencies were to be attended to reduce the risk of police officers denting the cars, getting them stuck or, even worse, denting somebody else. Imagine the paperwork. So given emergencies were being covered by one solitary 4x4 unit, we were told to get walking. We donned our full compliment of wet weather gear and set off for a 9 hour shift in blizzard conditions. Now I don't mind, it's something different and as long as you are suitably attired the weather isn't a problem...what is a problem is dragging yourself up a hill by using a handy garden fence, then being met at the top by the local scum-a-razzi armed with ice balls and looking for some wooden top fodder. My colleague and I put up a brave fight, even though we were ill prepared. I only lost my helmet once and we managed to beat them back towards their turf (I suspect it was because one of them knew I'd recognised him). I laughed like a drain, my sides and face were hurting from so much tomfoolery. My laughter stopped however, when I heard the local CCTV operator having to give the control room my current location between fits of giggles. I had to admit it was me on the radio, the CCTV operator was placed in an awkward position as he knew who I was. Upon return to the police station an hour later I was met with jeers and a round of applause. The governor on the other hand had clearly had a sense of humour bypass. That was a very uncomfortable meeting, but my face still ached from the laughing. Unprofessional? Fraid so...fun? Absolutely!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The best defence?

2010-01-02T10:33:00.000Z

In this crazy world where it is perceived that the bad guys get more rights than some victims, I am always at my happiest when I get 'one over' a defence solicitor. Like most police officers who interview their own prisoners I view the defence solicitor as a necessary evil. Given the criminal justice system we have is deemed as one of the fairest in the world I accept them for what they are. How they sleep at night is beyond my comprehension but I guess someone has to do it. For the most part defence solicitors know how to play the system and are reasonably well behaved. I have had a few stroppy ones who decide that my line of questioning (getting to the truth and making the prisoner squirm) was inappropriate. I have ones that have hijacked my interview, answering questions for the prisoner. No problem, I've just stopped the tapes and ejected them from my interview.
Anyway there's a line drawn in the sand and some of them decide to try and cross it.
Take new years eve. As a result of a routine traffic stop we arrest a disqualified driver for TWOC (taking a motor vehicle without owners consent). The prisoner coughed it at the roadside, then at the custody desk. He didn't want a solicitor so I decided on a quick interview before he changed his mind. Prior to and during interview he was offered the services of a legal representative, which he declined. Anyway he sang like a canary, admitted to both offences. On the way back to the custody desk we bumped into 'Jan', a duty solicitor in on another job. She recognised my prisoner and asked if we had been into interview already. The prisoner replied 'yes' and that he was 'bang to rights' ( which he was). At this she erupted, shouted at the prisoner and then turned her attention to me, accusing me of 'tricking' her client, being 'unethical' and 'unprofessional'. Of course I reminded her of where she was and who she was speaking to and if she continued to shout in the custody area she would be removed. She wasn't happy with this and decided to speak to the inspector....fortunately he was already in custody carrying out prisoner reviews and had heard everything. He took Jan to one side and 'reminded' her of the process, her client was offered legal advice on three occasions and that she should wind her neck in. Nice one guv, good to have some support for a change! I went home a happy bobby, my prisoner charged and remanded and looking forward to my next encounter with Jan.

I know Kung Fu

2010-01-01T18:32:00.000Z

It was a cold sunny day in the town, my probationer and I were in the middle of a routine vehicle stop check when a report of a road rage incident involving threats using a weapon of some description came in not far from my position. A female driver had been threatened with what appeared to be a baseball bat or large stick by another road user following a verbal argument over parking. The local CCTV operators had been alerted and were scanning the town for the offending vehicle.
After a few minutes a vehicle matching the description was spotted queuing to get into a town centre car park. I called up, allocating my callsign to the incident as did a number of other units. Then CCTV called up "CONTROL, THE VEHICLE HAS ONE MALE OCCUPANT. WE CAN SEE INTO THE VEHICLE AND CAN SEE WHAT LOOKS LIKE A LONG STICK ON THE BACK SEAT". I asked control for clarification. Apparantly it was some kind of stick. I was then informed that given the lack of information and no positive sighting of a bladed weapon, ARV's would not be attending. This was the control room Inspector's assessment from 30 miles away in a nice toasty office. Thanks for that.
"RECEIVED CONTROL, WE WILL JUST HAVE TO SEE WHAT WE'VE GOT WHEN WE GET THERE". 30 seconds later we were T/A, another unit pulled in next to the suspect vehicle. I approached the drivers door and not liking my gut instinct, drew my CS spray. Pointing it at the driver through the open window I instructed him turn off the vehicle. The driver looked at me, then at the three other police officers with me. Without saying a word he turned off the engine and got out. He leaned towards me, I stepped back and held the CS up to his face. Under his breath he uttered "I KNOW KUNG FU". This made me step back one pace. 'What? who was this guy? Nero from the Matrix?' I thought. Keeping my nerve I replied "WELL GOOD FOR YOU. YOU HAD BETTER BE PRETTY GOOD, ME AND MY THREE MATES HAVE ALL GOT CS SPRAY AND BATONS AND MORE THAN WILLING TO USE THEM TO PROTECT OURSELVES IF YOU FANCY A GO". The male simply looked at me and smiled.
By now there were four of us standing next to the suspect. He wasn't going anywhere.
One of the other officers looked into the back of the car and informed me that there was what appeared to be a samurai sword and nun-chucks. Smiling charlie was subsequently arrested for possesion of offensive weapons and a public order offence. He came quietly, handcuffed and very closely watched. In custody he refused to give his name or answer the questions posed by the custody sergeant. He was strip searched and placed in a safe harm suit to be 'on the safe side'. He never protested once.
Whilst booking the weapons into property my curiosity got the better of me. I thought I would see if the sword was real and not imitation, like so many are. It cut through a piece of paper like a hot knife through butter.
Makes you thankful for stab vests and gut feelings doesn't it?

A silver haired fox.

2009-11-23T10:01:00.000Z

I remember quite vividly being tutored on shift. It was a great time, my first foray into real police work. As a very wet behind the ears probationer, I experienced confrontation on an unprecendented scale, had a taste of man's inhumanity to man and witnessed the social degradation that goes hand in hand with some of the more colorful characters we meet in our daily work lives. And I loved it.

My tutor was a silver haired old school copper called Bill. I had no idea how old he was, only that he was 'more than likely' in his early forties. The lines on his face no doubt belied his real age. I knew he had been around since the miners strike and that he had seen the big changes in the criminal justice system and policing in the UK change forever. Bill had been a beat officer all his working life, spent some time as schools liasion before becoming a tutor. Bill used to 'swing the lamp', furnishing me with tales, most of them touched with some wisdom in an effort to highlight where i had perhaps gone wrong or needed some development. Bill was old school. His younger shift colleagues regarded him as a 'dinosaur' and 'out of touch'. Bill had more policing skills in his left small finger that most of them could muster collectively. I had the upmost respect for Bill and my time with him has stayed with me. He taught me patience and how to use my communication skills to their full advantage. "Who wants to fight when we can just talk?" Bill used to say. I have witnessed first hand this silver fox outsmart drunks and druggies more than once, even talking them into handcuffs. At 6'2" Bill was no lightweight and could handle himself. He often told me he wanted to go home after a shift, not casualty.

Some years later I am in Bill's boots. I am tutoring and for the most part I love it. I meet young guns and form bonds with them, I am genuinely interested in seeing how they develop and like to give them their handshake when they reach confirmation. It means a lot to me.

So, what about Bill? He's still about. His silver hair now white. He has a little desk job that keeps him off the front line, but we do catch up every now and then. A little while ago he came up to my office and asked to speak to me. "BLR" he said, "I HAVEN'T GOT MUCH USE FOR THIS NOW. I WOULD LIKE YOU TO HAVE IT" Bill handed me a small silver key. It was well worn and a bit bent at the end. "ITS A KEY TO ALL THE PARK GATES IN THE AREA". It was a special moment, I don't know how long Bill had had it or even if it still worked. I took it off him and thanked him. Of all the probationers Bill had taught I felt touched that he had chosen me to have it. Perhaps it is because Bill saw a lot of himself in me, or that I was now a tutor. I really don't know.

For the record the key doesn't work. I tried it one night after a group of lads had decamped from a stolen vehicle and made off over the fence into a park. I didn't curse Bill, I knew it probably wouldn't work given the council change park gate locks every 5 years. I placed it back onto my key chain and my probationer asked me why I wanted to keep it because it clearly didnt work. "ITS MORE THAN JUST A KEY" I replied before pulling myself up over the fence. Besides, I need to hand it down to someone at some point. I've just got to find the right one.

It's not a catwalk.

2009-10-20T09:14:00.001+01:00

In my role as tutor constable I have got used to many students coming onto the unit fully equipped with new gadgets and kit that they have paid for out of their own pocket. Some of it is useful, like a decent torch or fixed penalty ticket folder, some of it not so (key holder that stops your keys from jangling or a PAC tag clip that also doubles as an effective ligature if you get into a rumble). The job provides new recruits with enough to start them off, all of it at a cheap cost. Handcuff holders where the seam splits, baton holders which are designed to lose your ASP in a foot chase. In short the job knows it has to replace these items on a regular basis, so will not spend a lot of money on them.
I confess to having a number of items bought & paid for by myself. An adjustable cuff holder (for a leftie), leather MAT belt and a decent adjustable baton holder are in my arsenal. I also own a TAC vest and have my POLSA 'Gucci' kit safely stored in my locker. All of which is engraved with my collar number as there are some light fingered coppers out there who seem to think that someone elses kit is 'fair game'. Personally I think they should have their fingers cut off. I bought this kit for practical reasons, it lasts and I can rely on it. In theory if it all goes a bit wrong and I'm not wearing my 'issued' appointments it can affect my claim, but hey ho. I also own a Garrity LED torch which I purchased in Walmart 3 years ago for $5.00 (incl tax) whilst on vacation in Florida. It is still going strong, it sits nicely in my job issue baton holder.
When a new bunch of students arrive on my unit the sgt unceremoniously strips them of their newly bought kit. They are not permitted to wear it on my unit, when and only when they are released onto shift are they allowed to wear non job issue stuff and only with their new sgts approval. One of my students took exception to this. He told me that he would use his two new torches as the job ones were, in his words, 'shite'. I told him I didn't really care and it was his lookout if he gets caught. I just reaffirmed what the sgt said, he ignored me. So be it.
One if his new 'toys' was an LED light that clipped onto his stab vest. It was very good at its job, he could write tickets in the dark (as opposed to writing them out in a dry, warm police car) and he felt a bit like robo cop I guess. I waited in anticipation to see how long it would stay attached to his stab vest. I didn't have to wait long, a few days later we attended an officer assistance call. Two officers were struggling with a drunk male whilst his mates were trying to set him free. My student jumped into the fray, pushing them back giving them warnings to move on. One lad had to be pushed more than the others and we ended up piling on top of him, a short scuffle ensued. This lad was also nicked for drunk & disorderly. The van arrived and took both idiots away.
I checked on my student and pointed out to him that only the back of his LED torch was still attached to his stab vest. A look of horror fell across his face and he started to look frantically for the rest of it in the dark. He got out his £45 LED torch which apparently harnessed the power of seven suns only to find it had a cracked case and refused to work. I lent him mine. He found the vest light under a bench some 20 feet away, the lens destroyed and the clip cracked. It had clearly been trodden on during the scuffle. With some angst my student threw my $5.00 (incl tax) torch back at me and his vest torch in the nearest bin. Teddy and pram are two words that sprang to mind. Of course his experience is one I share with all my new students and unlike him, most of them get the message.

Vewy Vewy Qwiet.....

2009-10-13T08:53:00.000+01:00

"Unit please, suspects on, 14 Richmond street". Suspects on. Those two words, guaranteed to all police officers ears twitch. The thrill of the chase, you can't beat it. I called up " RR14, show me en-route, ETA 3 minutes". I flicked the blues on and floored the accelerator pedal. The Ford Focus diesel clattered into life, the two tones wailing at the rush hour traffic. My probationer held onto the FM handle, a look of fear and a mad grin spreading across his face. His first blue light run, hopefully memorable for all the right reasons.
The traffic parted in front of me and I had a clear path, in my mirror I could see two other units behind me in the distance, neither were response drivers and they were doing their best to make way through the traffic. I could hear a dog unit call up, offering their services and realised they were after my prey! I arrived on scene in just under the three minutes, the dog unit arriving immediately after. The informant was clearly upset. "I arrived home and I noticed my kitchen door was open, I think I saw someone run out of the back. My laptop was dropped on the back step". The dog unit was deployed and quickly picked up a scent. Just behind the burgled house was a row of three partly built houses. The dog was now very excited, started barking and circled around, close to a house with a big steel fence around it. This was it, time to put in a containment. Send the dog in, flush out the rabbit. "police dog! Come out or the dog comes in!" shouted the dog handler. The dog was beside itself now, trying to climb through the hole in the fence which was small man sized. The dog unit went in and came out five minutes later. "No trace on the ground floor, can't get the dog up to the first floor as staircase not finished". I entered the building and inspected the stairs. It would be difficult but not impossible to get up them. A small patch of mud stuck to the top step caught my eye. "He's upstairs" I told the dog handler. We then had a brief discussion about deploying the dog by shoving it up the unfinished stairs. "Not a chance, too risky, the dog could get hurt". Was the reply. Ok, that solved that one. I could then see from where I was standing that the loft hatch was hanging down.
I told my probationer to grab a shield and dragon lamp from the boot of the car, we were going to flush this guy out. We climbed up to the next floor and then heard a noise from the loft. I shouted again "Police! Come down now or we will send up the dog!". No reply.
By now other units had arrived and one of them came back with a handy set of step ladders and a MAT, or NATO helmet as its more commonly known. A very brief plan of action was formed. Being the biggest and most experienced everyone decided I was going up first. If Billy burglar was up there, the sight of me dressed up as Darth Vader with baton, NATO helmet and shield might make him think twice about playing up. I wasn't so much worried about the burglar but the very real danger of falling through the ceiling.
A few more challenges were made, but again there was no response. With the visor down I squeezed through the hatch and gingerly shown the torch around. Nothing. I then shouted again, this time I thought I saw some of the loft insulation twitch. I approached the corner of the loft, my colleague now at the hatch in charge of the torch. I then gave the insulation a prod with my baton and felt something hard. A harder prod and something squealed. Got him. Billy burglar was unceremoniously pulled up by his tee sheet. No older than 15 years, covered in dust and fibres from the loft insulation he was directed to the loft hatch where he was arrested by me for burglary before anybody else could say the magic words.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't...

2009-10-05T09:15:00.000+01:00

Complaints are a regular occurrence in the police service. In most instances, someone is going to be displeased with what you've done. Whether it's the criminal for actually getting caught and claiming 'illegal arrest' or the innocent victim who fails to comprehend that all lines of enquiry have been exhausted and that without any further information becoming available, their crime will remain undetected and 'filed'. Now take it from me, most police officers like to get a positive disposal for reported crimes they are investigating. It's not a secret, all police forces in the UK are 'measured' and have 'detection' targets. This filters down to the bobby on the beat, who has a monthly target to reach. It used to be arrests, but detections now seem to be the way forward for our command team. What I'm saying is that it is in an officers best interests to investigate crime properly, to get that detection. Anyway, I digress...members of the public are quite often left feeling that police haven't done enough to investigate their crime and will on occasion make an 'official' complaint.
Complaints are a pain in the rear. All of a sudden you go from being a contentious harding working officer, to feeling like your name is being pulled through the mud. You find that you spend a ridiculous amount of time justifying your actions, defending yourself and colleagues. This not only takes up an enormous amount of time but more importantly it takes you away from doing what you are employed to do, responding to incidents and investigating crime. Now you are probably thinking about a major IPCC complaint, but no I am referring to the low level 'walking in to the police station and bitch about the investigating officer' affair. If you do this, complete a form in the front office and you can guarantee you have taken at least one officer off a shift for at least 4 hours. Sergeants and Inspectors then kick into gear, you are pulled into offices 'for a chat', your work is scrutinised, every update on the crime report meticulously trawled through. Sorry, did I say one officer? clearly the Sergeants and Inspectors should have other things to do to (or so I'm told).
People complain about all sorts of things. Officers that are rude ("get back , I am dealing with a violent drunk / take your bloody mate home now or your both nicked etc"). Officers that are negligent ("he promised to update me on Sunday but I waited in and got no call. I don't care he's on rest days after a 60 hour week") and officers that fail to perform their duties ("I told him its the bloke who lives in the flat upstairs, I saw him in the hallway. Why do you need evidence? Its him I tell you, I just know it"). Anyway you get the idea. I'm not saying people are stupid but sometimes I wish they had an insight into how investigating crime works. It isn't 'the Bill', where suspects 'cough it' after one interview and you wouldn't believe the hoops the CPS have us jumping through even if you catch billy burglar walking out of Mrs Miggins house with a TV under his arm. Trying to explain to Mrs Miggins why Billy only got 50 hrs community service is heart wrenching, given that discovering you've been burgled will stay with you for the rest of your life. Sorry, digressing again....
This week I got such a complaint. I was on duty outside a local nightclub. Everyone was in high spirits, lots of whooping and merriment going on. A young lad approached me and told me his girlfriend had been 'inappropriately touched' and assaulted in the club. I asked him to get her. She stumbled towards me, clearly drunk and shouted "well its about f***ing time". Charming. I ascertained that the suspect was still on the premises, obtained a description and myself and another officer went into the club to look for the bad guy. Our radios didn't work in the building so we informed control we were going in. Whilst in the club I was pushed, jostled, I felt hands reaching for my belt kit, radio, CS and baton. There were over 1,000 people in the club. I felt a little intimidated to be honest.
We then left the club, not having found the suspect. The girlfriend demanded to be taken around the club but given the fact she was (a) drunk, (b) volatile, (c) my radio didn't work and (d) I could well get a good shoeing by clubbers looking to exact some revenge on the wooden tops if it all went wrong inside, I decided that it wasn't safe to go back in. The girlfriend didn't like this and played up. She was told to go home, get some sleep and we would contact her when we returned on duty. The next day I walked into a complaint from her father, stating that didn't go into the club at all, the suspect was still on scene, why didn't we arrest? we were negligent etc etc. I then spent the next four hours typing a statement detailing and justifying everything I had done. Oh and so did the other three officers who were with me. Jobs were coming in thick and fast, but we couldn't go....
Anyway, the complaint was resolved 'locally'. Meaning that the inspector had to listen to the bile coming out of the complainant's mouth who clearly only had half of the story. The Inspector then assured the complainant that the officers would be spoken to, but if he wanted to make the complaint official then the matter would be fully investigated (thanks for the support Guv, stab vests firmly on inside the nick methinks). The complainant stated he did not want to ruin anyone's careers so as long as the officers were 'spoken to' he was happy with that. I was hoping he would take it all the way, after all his daughter hadn't given him the full facts. Indeed, it transpires that the girlfriend wasn't 'inappropriately touched', she lied to get us to enter the club in the first place.....
We've all had them, they are not nice. It used to be said that if you didn't get a complaint once in a while you were not doing your job properly. I don't necessarily agree with that but I am conscious that I work in a job where you cannot please everyone all of the time. Unfortunately some victims of crime will never get justice. It's disappointing but a fact of life.

Kung Fu Panda and Kick Ass Moves.

2009-09-07T11:44:00.000+01:00

Years ago a lot of effort was put into teaching new police officers a variety of holds, grabs and take downs. Some of holds were so complex a degree in human anatomy was required to implement them, as was a fair degree of luck when trying to apply them to your quarry. I still remember those late nights in the gym practising an array of thumb locks, arm holds and handcuff take downs prior to the practical assessments the next day.

There is no doubt that some of these skills have proved to be effective during my service but I still have to suppress a grin when I see two or three bobbies piled on top of a struggling prisoner. I'm not laughing at them, it's the fact that the reality of restraining someone is get them on the floor at the earliest opportunity and to keep the sharp bitey bits from your soft fleshy parts and I have rarely seen a text book thumb lock. The most effective way to implement this is to execute a front / rear leg sweep followed by the Kung Fu panda static restraint method (sitting on the suspect). Once applied, the suspect can be handcuffed, limb strapped and is firmly under no illusion that he had been detained. There is little room for complex thumb locks here, so much that someone at the training college has realised this and most 'holds' are no longer taught.

Recently I was on duty with a probationer, she was a mere slip of a girl just 19 years old but loved to get ‘stuck in’. It was late evening and we were called to a disturbance in the street. Reports were coming in of a male trying to attack vehicles with a tree branch in the middle of the road. Sure enough upon arrival we saw a number of cars trying to turn around and a male screaming at the top of his voice. "I WANT TO ASCEND" he was shouting, along with threats to kill himself. We ran over to the male who had fortunately discarded his hefty tree branch by leaving it on the roof of a stationary vehicle, it's driver clearly intent on not getting out. I grabbed hold of the male by his collar and started to drag him to the side of the road as there were far too many moving vehicles in it for my liking. Reasoning with him was not an option. My probationer was trying to force his right arm up his back to gain control, but this wasn't working. We eventually dragged him to side of the police car where I forced him against the boot. I shouting at him to calm down, but the male responded by throwing a punch my way, which I successfully dodged. With size and sanity on my side I executed a text-book-perfect front leg sweep taking the violent mad man to the floor. The male struggled and kept shouting for us to let him go, so that he could 'ascend' to a higher place. The only place immediately on my mind was a cell or secure hospital. The male continued to struggle and then tried spit at my colleague. The way to deal with this guy was to get his face closer to the pavement. In order to do this I placed my full body weight on the thrashing prisoner whilst placing him in a half nelson. Not a strictly ‘approved’ unarmed defence technique but it was very successful as this gave my probationer an opportunity to place him in limb restraints. A few minutes later the male was successfully subdued and restrained and a caged van arrived to take him to hospital as he had been detained under the mental health act.

The whole incident had only lasted a few minutes but both myself and my probationer were exhausted. It just goes to show that when it all kicks off so do the gloves and ju- jitsu type thumb locks cannot always be implemented in time. In fact implementing one of those was the last thing on my mind.

Tales of the Unexpected.

2009-08-24T11:09:00.000+01:00

Being a police officer, I'm used to dealing with strange things and have witnessed a number of unexplainable events. However, I am always looking for a logical explanation and generally speaking I put such experiences down to the trick of the light, fatigue etc. I know I am not the only police officer to see persons at the side of the road at 4am only for them to fade into thin air when you get closer. It used to bother me, but I've got used to it. I've witnessed UFO's (weather balloon, low flying aircraft?), spirits (morning mist / smoke fumes?) heard the voices of crying children when searching an attic (tv noise from a neighbouring house?). The long and short of it is that there are a lot of things out there that can be explained, but some cannot. In my role I try to take an objective view of most things, with the realisation that whilst most can be explained away but with the knowledge that perhaps some things can't. For years I was a sceptic, but experience has told me to have an open mind. My wife thinks I'm finely tuned but not willing to accept that there is 'something out there', I think I'm just getting on a bit.

I have just returned from a two week holiday and had a terrible time sleeping. I initially put this down to the heat, too much food and an unstimulated mind. Every morning I woke up thoroughly exhausted, the dream I had still vivid in my mind. The first night I dreamt I was in a very old dilapidated house, my wife asleep in the room next door. I had a real feeling of doom when I was at the door of a bedroom and recall being sucked into the corner of the room, calling out for my wife but my voice just could not be heard. All a bit 'poltergeist the movie' for me!

I also had other dreams, on the last night I dreamt I assisted with an arrest warrant and got into a struggle. The prisoner had not been searched properly and tried to stab me and a colleague with a knitting needle. We were ok, a few cuts and grazes but I realised I wasn't wearing my stab vest and was in plain clothes with just a baton to protect me. What's all that about? Was there a message in there?

I discussed this with my wife whilst packing to go home. She looked at me and informed me that she needed to tell me something, she had been keeping something from me all holiday knowing I wouldn't sleep or settle. She proceeded to inform me that she woke up in the middle of the very first night and saw a white shape in the corner of the room, at the bottom of my bed. She described it as a floating wispy dark grey cloud, not quite person shaped but definitely had some form. She remembers being very angry at it and felt it was threatening towards me. It then faded away. She informed me that she was initially unsure if it actually happened, but my wife has had many experiences in our previous house and has a good 'sixth sense'. I believed her, I had no reason not to. To say this spooked me is an understatement, it made sense. That first night with that terrible nightmare was the night she saw that spectre at the bottom of my bed.

I have no explanation for this. Sceptics will say my wife was tired, her mind was playing tricks and my nightmare was purely coincidental. That may well be the case, but I just know that something wasn't quite right and I believe my wife totally. Tales of the unexpected indeed.

The FM Button

2009-07-20T13:42:00.000+01:00

On our personal radios, we have a little orange button. It sits on top of your radio far, far away from the working end of the radio, the keypad. The purpose of this button is to get help, from wherever and however fairly pronto, on blues. Hold the button down for a few seconds and everyone in your division is alerted to your peril. A loud intermittent bleeping noise cuts in over all transmissions and the airwaves is yours. Everyone can hear you, whether its screams of fear or shouts of ‘GET BACK!’, normally followed by various expletives. In training you are taught to shout ‘location location location’. No-one does. In essence this is the modern day equivalent of the police whistle.
This button is, fortunately, rarely used. Most of the time they are accidental activations (normally CID officers leaning on it whilst stretching for their coffee cup) or over zealous PCSO’s who are following someone ‘of interest’ who ‘may be wanted’. The noise from the activation immediately grabs your attention and there is always a slight pause before the officer calls up to say sorry for leaning on it. I am pleased to report that I have been to precious few real activations, probably only about ten in my entire career. That said every time it goes off, there is a real chance something having gone a bit wrong.
Not everybody is entirely comfortable with the whole ‘FM’ button. Recently a dog unit attended a domestic incident. I was in the station half monitoring radio traffic, half trying to complete a court file. I was with my skipper talking about anything but work, when all of a sudden I heard the words “10-9 - OFFICER ASSISTANCE”. It was spoken fairly quietly, the officer a little out of breath but not sounding in any peril. But no activation. The radio traffic fell silent as dozens of police officers listened intently. Was this a joke, had I misheard the transmission? No, ‘10-9’ is what we used before we had the Sepura radios when you had to literally shout to get assistance and not rely on technology. The caller was the dog unit and he was in trouble.
My skipper and I stared at each other for a micro second then bolted towards the door. There I saw a great sight, at least half a dozen response cars with lights activated all scrambling to get out of the rear yard. We jumped in a car at the rear of the convoy and headed towards the last known location of the dog unit. We arrived within a few minutes to find a house completely surrounded by at least twenty police officers. I went to the front (for no reason other than the back garden was full of coppers and I felt like a spare part) and there I saw a suspect trying to fight about 5 officers in the hallway. He lost, was dragged out, handcuffed and limb strapped. He certainly wasn’t very happy, there was a lot of confusion and an awful lot of blood. I took him by the arm and held onto him, throwing him into the waiting caged van destined for the hospital.
It became clear that the dog handler had stopped this chap following reports of a domestic incident at the address. As the dog handler started to check him out, the suspect made off on foot. The officer gave chase but lost him in some foliage around the corner. The suspect then jumped at the police officer from the foliage and started to pummel him to make good his escape. The officer used the only thing he had in his reach to protect himself, his ASP Baton. Using the handle of the baton he hit the suspect over the head several times causing a large, three inch cut on top of his head. The suspect then ran off, that’s when the dog handler called for assistance and the world and his brother turned out for him. That must have been very reassuring.
With the suspect safely restrained we all returned to the police station as the suspect was at hospital getting treatment for the head injury. Three of our biggest, meanest officers were there with him.
A while later further assistance was required, the suspect had started to ‘play up’ whilst being sutured and had to be further restrained by the officers at scene. I turned out with the van again and upon arrival I was informed that the suspect had been further arrested for a public order offence at the hospital. Apparently whilst being restrained, an officer had inadvertently reopened the head wound with his fingers. Not very pleasant for either the suspect or the officer, although I suspect the officer managed to sleep well that night.
Thankfully, the dog handler had only received minor injuries, the stab vest taking the brunt of the punches. If he had deployed his dog, things might have been different, but with this job events happen so quickly he didn’t really have a chance. Afterwards he openly admitted to forgetting his radio even had the orange ‘FM’ button! Fortunately this officer had the presence to state where he was immediately prior to the assault and I think this was a valuable lesson learned for everybody.

What is it with leopards and their spots?

2009-07-07T09:48:00.001+01:00

Most people in my line of work develop an intolerance for anti social behaviour. There is no doubt in my mind that ASB stems from poor parenting, a complete lack of respect for anyone and anything, social deprivation, being victims of crime themselves and sheer boredom. This isn't an exhaustive list and I may be stereo typing your typical bored teenager, or 'chav' as they can be affectionately known.
Last week my perceptions were changed a little, things are not always as they appear and although I sometimes pride myself on having an open mind, I am not afraid to admit when I am caught by surprise.
I was asked to attend a nuisance youth call, kids were kicking a ball about in an estate car park. Nothing new in this, been to this particular estate many times. Upon arrival I saw a bunch of kids, aged between 7 and 11. One of the younger ones was crying, his left ear looked red and swollen.
I asked one of the older lads what was going on, he told me that an old guy had come out of an address and called them all sorts of names and then when one of the kids told him to go away, the old man came out and grabbed the young lad and
Clipped him around the ear. A resident, who was getting shopping out if his car then approached and confirmed the same. I established that they were not 'working together' and decided to knock on the door of the old man.
The old man was about 72, stooped and clearly angry. I asked his name and clarified that this was also the informant from the original job. He barked and swore at me during my attempts to establish what had gone on. He then told me if he was 20 years younger he would clip all their ears and kick my arse too. He told me that he had had enough of the kids screaming and laughing outside his house and that he had also written to the local council on at least 3 occasions to have the swing park moved further away from his address because he couldn't stand the noise. I asked him why he felt so angry but he just told me to eff off.
Mr Giles refused to calm down and continued to throw abuse at me and the kids. The mum of crying son had now turned up and wanted the blood of Giles. For his own safety more than anything else, Giles was arrested under section 4 of the public order act and assault occassioning actual bodily harm on the minor.
Upon arrival at the police station, Giles tried to fight me and 2 other burly coppers. He lost but not before he was taken to a cell and strip searched. A PNC check later revealed that Giles had served 15 years for armed robbery some years ago and also had an ASBO not to enter certain areas where youths congregate (parks etc) as he had been arrested for assault against a minor only a year before.
It turns out that Giles made the nuisance youth call after he had assaulted the lad in an attempt to cover his arse. I guess leopards never do change their spots.

Time to go code 11?

2009-06-23T09:43:00.000+01:00

As a result of the recent nightjack ruling, I was asked by an american twitter friend of mine whether I would be blogging about how I felt about the ruling. At first I wasn't that keen, the judgement has sent a shockwave of fear amongst police bloggers and my initial reaction was to shut up shop. I initially resisted as I wanted to see how others felt first. I have seen a number of fellow bloggers out there walking away from what they love doing. Metcountymounty, The Plastic Fuzz, etc. Sad times, an indictment of how very expensive freedom of speech has become.

I don't know how long I will last. My blog is low key and tends to describe events that I am / have been involved in, I do not make any reference to names, places, etc. Those that are mentioned are changed anyway. These things have a habit of coming back and biting you on the a**. Especially in court, that would never be good. I even resist undermining my superiors and those who make decisions in whitehall. I have my own personal views on these things, but they tend to stay locked away and will not find their way onto my blog. However, the very fact I am writing this means that I am contravening force policy, for which I can expect to be disciplined if I am discovered or 'outed'.

So why do I blog? I guess the biggest benefit for me is relieving stress. A lot of the things I experience and see are kept in, yes we chat about it at work over a cup of tea when the heat has died down but there is a lot of bravado involved. I am a normal bloke, I have three kids and a normal family life. Yes I see bad things and although I do tell my wife some of what goes on, I never divulge all. She would either (a) not be able to sleep, (b) nag me into getting some counselling or (c) wouldn't understand, which would lead me to frustration. Blogging gives me an outlet to vent some of my stress, which minimises the health risk for me and the impact on family life.

I also like to entertain. Some of the things I experience are too funny or ironic not to share. It shows we are human too, not law enforcing automatons (well not all of us). I hope my writing reflects this.

So, what of the future? I am sad to see my fellow bloggers go, but I understand why. I want to keep going, but at what price? The nightjack ruling has certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons. The Times, like all other journalists, shouts 'freedom of speech' whenever the door is shut in their faces. It is rather ironic that whilst doing so, the Times has inadvertently and effectively removed freedom of speech for the little people out there, for those whose only vent was to blog anonymously and give an honest insight into how things 'really are'. I hope they are truly proud of what they have achieved.

Hope to be back soon.

REFLEXES OF A NINJA (NOT)

2009-06-11T10:49:00.000+01:00

I ache today. I have just crawled out of bed to discover my legs don't want to work and that pretty much everything from the neck down is running about 30 seconds behind. Why, you may ask? Well if you didn't I am going to tell you anyway.

Yesterday we were tasked to implement the summer drink driving campaign. Its the same every year, the summer months mean increased alcohol consumption earlier in the day and therefore more chances of catching the scourge of our roads, the drink driver. In the UK we have the power to stop a moving vehicle for any reason and the drink drive campaign is used to get the message over to anyone who is stopped. For the most part, drivers welcome this small inconvenience but there are the odd few who take a real exception to getting stopped. In my experience these are the ones who normally have something to hide.

After about three hours stopping vehicles, I decided to go a little further afield. All of the drivers we had stopped so far had been receptive to the campaign. Those with minor traffic violations (brake lights not working, no seat belts) were given tickets and breathalysed. No drink drivers here, so I went deeper into the countryside.

It didn't take me long. My attention was drawn to a sports coupe clearly not keeping to the speed limit in the country lanes. I made ground on it, it was pushing 55 in a 30 and I was struggling to keep it in view. Then a tractor pulled out and he had to slow down, I caught up with it and pulled it over. He could not get past the tractor so had no choice.

You can tell a lot from how someone gets out of a car. Their stance, there attitude. My personal radar was on full and I could sense that I was going to have my hands full. Fortunately I was not alone, my probationer was fired up and could sense the same. I think he picked up on my wariness as we approached the driver. As it turns out, a fat lot of good that did.

"HELLO SIR, DO YOU KNOW WHY WE'VE STOPPED YOU?" I asked.
"UM, I THINK I WAS GOING A LITTLE FAST AROUND THAT LAST BEND OFFICER" he replied.
The driver was leaning against his car. He was a little unsteady on his feet, his speech was slurred and his eyes were glazed. Bingo, I thought.
"OK, THIS IS HOW IT IS, I SUSPECT YOU HAVE BEEN DRINKING SO REQUIRE YOU TO PROVIDE A SPECIMEN OF BREATH" I instructed.

The driver complied, the test was performed and the result was negative. I stared at the readout which displayed zero. 'Drugs' I thought. As I was thinking this, the driver pushed my colleague who was caught unawares and fell on his ass. I tried to grab the driver but he turned and ran towards the field next to us. Cursing my slow reactions I gave chase, shouting for the male to stop. He didn't and kept running and leapt over a hedgerow into the next field. The field was uneven and I have to admit I was blowing big time, the going was tough and I could hear my colleague calling up for assistance but he didn't know the name of the road where we had stopped the car. Then I had a stroke of luck, the driver slipped and hit the dirt. As he struggled to get to his feet I launched myself at him. Being an ex-rugby player (tight head prop) I tackled him midrift. I heard the air expel from him and there was a satisfying crunch. 230 lbs of equipment laden copper was now on top of our driver who had now started to cry. Not sure if it was pain induced, but it was gratifying none the less. He made a last effort to fight me off, but by now my colleague had caught us up so we cuffed him and he was arrested for fail to stop and on suspicion of driving under the influence of drugs. A search of him revealed three wraps of crack, so he was nicked for possession and a subsequent search of the car revealed a set of 'knun chucks' under the passenger seat. So he was nicked for that too. Add resisting arrest and it was a full house. The driver cried all the way back to the police station. He was worried about what his 3 year old would think of him in years to come. I told him it was better he got nicked now before he actually killed someone in that two ton silver killing machine he was driving.

Schoolboy error.

2009-06-01T14:58:00.000+01:00

Last Wednesday I had a day of running around from job to job, until we eventually settled on taking a statement for a street robbery. When I say 'we', I mean me and my brand new shiney probationer, just two weeks out of training school. After a rather painful three hours listening to my colleague obtain a witness statement I decided that I needed something to drink. We were off duty in an hour and had to pass the 24hr supermarket on the way back to police station, so a quick visit to the store for a much needed OJ was in order. Here was the first schoolboy error. As I walked into the foyer a member of security approached me and advised that they were watching, via CCTV and covert staff, two 'ne'er do wells' walk into the rest rooms with a mobile phone held aloft their heads to circumnavigate the store alarm system. One of them was armed with a very long screw driver as the mobile phone was held in a security case. With a heavy heart I told the store security that we would wait outside, in order for the pair of them to complete the offence by walking outside the store without paying for the item. I updated control and told them where I was in case things got hairy.
After about five minutes the security guard approached me and told me the pair had left the rest rooms without the phone and were now walking about the store. The phone had been recovered by a member of staff. No problem, I briefed the probationer that he will arresting for attempt theft, going equipped and criminal damage. A few minutes later, the pair walked outside. I stopped the male, my probationer spoke to the female. The male was drunk, but happy to be searched. I then found a pair of pliers in his pocket and a bloody great screwdriver up his sleeve. I then told the probationer to say the magic words, which he did without any problems.

Then it went a bit wrong.

My man decided that being handcuffed was not on his agenda. I managed to get them on after a brief bit of pushing and shoving, eventually controlling the male by the bar in the middle of the handcuffs. This led to a bout of potty mouth from the male, who called me, in no particular order and with random interjected expletives: a nazi, a facist, gay, pig, etc. No problem, water off a ducks back to me. I told him to behave and stop being so naughty. Unfortunately as i was doing this, he decided that he was now embarrassed at being nicked and tried to run into the car park with me still holding on to the handcuffs. A twist of the cuffs and he was stopped in his tracks but then he decided to run at me, head down. I jumped on him, fortunately another unit by then had arrived and there we were, three police officers on top of a fighting male with the general public strolling by. We eventually got him in limb restraints and called up for a caged van. The male was then taken into custody, with his trousers around his ankles, handcuffed to the rear and wearing limb restraints around his knees.

In custody the male calmed down and requested a cup of water. I gave this to him and realisation dawned on that about an hour previous I had attended the store for a drink, which I had still not had! Isn't that ironic? After all the paperwork I got off about four hours late, much to the dismay of my good lady.

Next time, I will find the smallest corner shop before going off duty, OR take a bloody drink with me!

NOT THE USUAL BLOG

2009-05-23T11:16:00.000+01:00

It's weird. This time last week I was going to blog, but I got distracted and didn't come back to the computer. The blog would have been a rant about how tired I felt, how demotivated I am. It would have come off the back of an 18 hour shift, I worked out I had been awake for 23 hours. I was tired, hungry, run down. In fact I was beginning to question why on earth I do this job.

I'm glad I got distracted because there is nothing worse than putting words down and regretting them later. This week I have had some personal stuff going on which has made me realise how important the health of your family is. Last friday we lost a friend of twenty years to cancer, he was aged just 47 years old. A great guy, led a simple life. He worked full time, had no children and enjoyed tinkering around in his garden in his spare time. He enjoyed a pint or two, rude jokes and and the odd cigarette. He was diagnosed in December and spent the last month at home in bed. He wasted away from being a 13 stone fit male to just under 6 stone. Anyway he passed way in his sleep and his funeral was yesterday. On Monday my cousin was re-admitted to hospital with complications arising from a recent spine operation. He complained of headaches, nausea and couldn't lift his head. On Wednesday he was diagnosed as contracting bacterial meningitis, more than likely contracted post op in the hospital. He has spent the last few days in a high dependency unit, heavily sedated. He is responding well to treatment, but it is early days yet. Our thoughts and prayers are with him.

The long and short of it, is that police officers like to complain. We make it an art form, we see the dross and worst of humanity and this can affect our attitude, our cynicism. We can have money problems, we feel over worked, undervalued, we feel stress. What I haven't felt recently is just how lucky i am to be alive, with none of the problems that others have. I have a steady income, a pension to look forward to. I have vacations booked up and my children are healthy, well fed, clothed and educated. If something happens to me, my family will be well looked after. In short, I have no reason to complain. Had I blogged last week, all you would have read is the bleating of cynical copper, unaware of exactly how lucky and 'rich' he is.

When is a robbery not a robbery?

2009-05-11T10:36:00.000+01:00

The answer? After a lengthy discussion with CID.

Ok, that's a little contraversial and perhaps unfair but it is a running joke in the nick that our colleagues in the Criminal Investigation Dept are not fighting the same war on crime as we wooden tops are. That actually is technically true, when a crime of a serious enough nature comes in, the bobbies in suits do the major investigating. They take statements, speak to witnesses, informers etc. They spend time doing things in a specific order, in a set way. Well that's what I'm told anyway. CID in my division deal with certain types of crime, crime that needs their professional input and painstaking investigative processes. They have a remit and will not cross it. Who am I to question what they do? I'm just a wooden top, going from one job to another.

However last week I had a run in with CID. It wasn't pleasant for all parties and has left me feeling a little heavy in heart and disillusioned with our colleagues in suits.

I attended a street robbery whereby a 78 year old woman was standing at the bus stop waiting for the number 6 when a young lad grabbed her handbag off her shoulder. The old girl was made of stern stuff and tried to pull it back. The young lad then had to exert some force to obtain the handbag. He tugged, she fell, he ran. The young lad was grabbed by a member of the public who had witnessed the incident, however the young lad got away after assaulting the good samaritan.

An area search was carried out and the suspect was picked up by another unit. Great stuff. I offered up to speak to the victim and we took her home, just around the corner from the bus stop. Whilst there the victim complained of a sore knee and thumb. I could see that her thumb was very bruised and it looked swollen. I suspected it was broken so called a paramedic who attended and checked her out. She had to go to hospital, which we offered to do after she managed to provide a statement. I updated control, advising the victims injuries and that I had taken some preliminary injury photographs. Oh and could someone make CID aware? this was a robbery.

I returned to the police station to add our evidence to the prisoner handover package and just as I was going off duty a member of CID approached me in the locker room. The conversation went something like this:

CID "Are you sure this is a robbery?"
Me "Yes. Force was used when he stole the bag"
CID "Was the force used on the bag strap or victim?"
Me "What do you mean? force is force. The consequences are that our victim is in hospital"
CID "Ah yes, but if the force wasn't directed at the victim then technically....."
Me "B*ll*cks. Force is force. She has got a smashed up knee and a suspected broken thumb. How much force does there need to be?"
CID "Listen, if its a theft followed by an assault we will get uniform to deal with it..."
Me (slamming my locker door) "It is irrelevant. The victim is nearly 80 years old. She is in hospital. She could go into shock, die from pneumonia, anything. Surely we have a duty of care? we can argue about who takes the job later. In my book this is a robbery and as such it needs your team's efforts to deal with it 'properly'"
CID "I will have to speak to my Sergeant"
Me "You do that. I'm going home".

I stormed off home, incensed by the conversation I had just had with a 'suit'. The next day I returned to CID and spoke to the same officer. He proceeded to run off a list of things that uniform should have done before giving it to CID. The statement wasn't good enough, CID were not informed at the time of the theft only after arrest, house to house wasn't done, the other witnesses were not spoken to, SOCO photos were not arranged....not all of this was directed at me, we had done our bit so I wasn't worried but I didn't like his attitude. I asked him if he had a radio. He replied "Yes". I then asked him if he monitored it. He replied with a sheepish "Yes". I politely but firmly reminded him that he was also a police officer and as such had a duty to monitor the radio. I also reminded him that had he been monitoring the radio he could have directed resources where necessary and co-ordinated a proper investigation. More than likely he wouldn't have even needed to leave the office. I then left the office having vented my spleen. My office is about 3 minutes walk away. By the time I got there my Sergeant was having an animated conversation with CID on the phone. When he got off, we went to another room. I guess I was going to be 're-educated'. Strangely enough I wasn't, my skipper agreed with my sentiment but not the way I had spoken to 'the suit'. I was told to have more respect, not to let my emotions get the better of me. I grinned and took it on the chin. My skipper knew he wasn't going to change my mind, so we agreed to disagree.

For the record the victim has a badly bruised thumb and knee. The suspect was bailed for further enquiries. I've been told that there is a chance he may even get charged when he returns in a month's time. So all in all a good job right? Well you would have thought so. Now only if CID had been monitoring from the start...it would have met their remit that's for sure.

Definition of Robbery, contrary to Section 8 (1) of the theft act 1968:

A person is guilty of robbery if he/she:

• Steals and immediately before or;

• At the time of doing so, and in order to do so, uses force on any person, or

• Puts or seeks to put any person in fear of being then and there subjected to force.

All pretty clear cut to me.

My right foot and intelligence led policing

2009-04-23T23:08:00.000+01:00

"UNIT PLEASE, 21 SAINSBURY AVE, CONCERN FOR WELFARE, IT'S ON A ONE" the radio crackled. I informed my probationer to offer up for it, seemed like a fairly straight forward job, and something else for his portfolio. My probationer gave our call sign and we were attached and committed. Whilst en-route I asked my probationer to obtain details whilst I navigated through the traffic on blues.

"CHILD ABUSE UNIT HAVE HAD A CALL FROM A NEIGHBOUR OF NO 21 WHO WISHES TO REMAIN ANONYMOUS, THEY STATE THE 13 YEAR OLD BOY IS BEING ASSAULTED". My probationer asks if there are any previous calls to the address. Only a couple of domestics, replies the controller. Now remember this part, my probationer asked if there was any previous calls, this is so that we can gauge the risk before we get there, what sort of people we are dealing with, if anyone is known to police at the address. I call it self preservation and I rely on my controller to feed me with any information that's available.

We T/A (tell control we arrive) and walk up to the door. I listen to the door before knocking. Nothing, no shouting or crying. I do however, hear the TV. Excellent someone is probably in. We knock and I hear movement inside. "WHO THE F*** IS IT?" comes the reply. "POLICE" I shout. I will not publish the reply only that it involved considerably more expletives than I was comfortable with.

The door opened and there stood a man, long wild blonde hair, no shirt and his chest covered in self harm marks. His torso positively rippled with muscle. My heart sank when I saw him. It was Charlie Lane, local drug dealer and general pain in the ass. Charlie has PNC warning markers for (in no particular order): Mental Health, Suicidal, Weapons, Firearms, Drugs, Violent towards Police, Escaper, Cage Fighter, all round grade A psycho will little disregard for my chief constable and his band of merry men. Brilliant.

My radio crackled again. "IS THAT UNIT GOING TO 21 SAINSBURY AVE? THAT'S CHARLIE LANE'S ADDRESS!" stated a concerned officer, probably sat in a station somewhere looking at a VDU. "HE'S GOT WARNING MARKERS YOU KNOW". I thanked the officer for the info and silently cursed the controller for doing such a crap job with the intel. Meanwhile Charlie wanted to know what the F*** we wanted. My probationer, completely oblivious to the radio traffic, tried talking to Charlie. Charlie wasn't listening, he just wanted us to foxtrot oscar. I then said to Charlie "LOOK, WE HAVE CALLED TO CHECK ON THE WELFARE OF A YOUNG LAD LIVING HERE, THERE ARE REPORTS HE HAS BEEN ASSAULTED. CAN WE JUST CHECK HIM OUT". Charlie replied "F*** OFF" and tried to shut the door. Somehow and without any concious effort my right foot found its way in the door, stopping it from shutting. Charlie looked at me and I felt my stomach tighten. "WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU DOING?" he demanded. Actually he said much more than that, but you get the drift. "LET ME CHECK THE KIDS CHARLIE AND THEN WE WILL GO". Charlie looked at me and stated that with the help of the police his kids had been taken into care, only two days previously. My initial thoughts were 'Nice work control, feeling a whole lot better now for that piece of intel. Should have come from you, not him'. Trying to appeal to his better nature, I then asked Charlie if he could call his son. Charlie said no, I told him we will have to come back and it could get messy and we wanted to avoid all that. My foot still remained in the door. What was all that about? Charlie wanted to know if I was threatening him, I replied "NO, WE JUST WANT TO CHECK IF EVERYONE IS IN ORDER". I then muttered something about s17 power of entry to preserve life but I think it got lost in translation. Charlie actually growled and called for his son. His son came to the door, Charlie kissed him on the side of the head. I looked at him and asked him if he was OK. The lad nodded and wandered off. Charlie then lost it. At this point I backed off from the doorstep. Charlie was very keen to show me how much he worked out and asked me if I wanted to come in and check the rest of the house, you know "JUST FOR FUN". Knowing that Charlie concealed swords and martial art weapons in the house I politely declined. He then started to cluck and called me a chicken. I figured that was our cue to leave.

I liaised with the Inspector and informed him that in my opinion this was a malicious call from a neighbour, intent on causing Charlie and the police problems. I had looked at the son and he appeared ok and I really didn't want to antagonise Charlie into ripping me a new arsehole if I entered. The Inspector agreed and we left.

Upon return to the police station I contacted the supervisor at control and expressed what a terrible job the controller had done when carrying out intel. During the incident at least three officers had tried to contact me by my radio to warn me, but I was already committed, already dealing. As a result I had to complete a duty report, detailing everything I was concerned about. No doubt it will end up on someone's desk, only to be filed under 'whining bobby'.....

Local Knowledge

2009-04-20T09:50:00.000+01:00

I'm getting on in years, my memory isn't what it used to be, I struggle with names for people I've seen around the nick for years and I often find myself having conversations with people who clearly know me and my family yet I have little recollection of exactly how I know them. I blame my greying side burns, years of shift work, not enough rest days and the constant onslaught of work, the drive for detections. In short I think I'm getting a little burnt out. What is really worrying is that I can still recognise a burglar from 50 yards away, in the dark with his back to me. I can even give you his date of birth. This can pay dividends when on patrol and much annoyance to other police officers who's sole contribution to a briefing is making the tea (no sugar thanks). I don't profess to be an expert 'thief taker' but I know a scrote when I see one.

The other evening a calls come in: burglars making off from a scene. Everyone turns out, burglars are hot potatoes at the moment and everyone likes the sport of catching the little scamps. The force chopper lifts, a dog unit has to forgo refs and high tails it from across the other side of the division. There are about six local units scouring the streets and trying to establish pinch points, etc. Reports come in that the males have split up and one is being followed by the informant. Along with my probationer, I am one of those six cars. I carry out an area search, its dark and raining, my vehicle spot lights illuminating side alleys and the living rooms of residents oblivious to the chaos unfurling around them. Although I have lived and worked and lived in the town for some years, this particular area is not one I am too familiar with. Not looking good for someone in my advancing years. Although I can get about, I struggle with road names. My probationer lives 39 miles away and has zero local knowledge, there is no map in the car (well there is, but the page we want is missing), the radio is too busy to ask for directions and we obviously have no Sat-Nav. Then another update. "SUSPECT IS NOW WALKING TOWARDS LEICESTER RD, DOWN JONES CLOSE". I look at my probationer. She can see the look on my face. "WHERE THE F*** IS THAT?" is what she sees. I turn into a side turning and travel about fifty yards before realising that the road is closed. I start to reverse and then see a road sign. 'JONES CLOSE'. I look up and see two figures in the distance, walking towards me. They haven't seen me. Brilliant.

I reverse quickly and park up at the bottom of JONES CLOSE and we get out. A few seconds later a male appears. "HELLO MIKEY" I said. I instantly recognised him from briefing and have nicked him before. He stops, looks at me and says "ALRIGHT? WELL YOU MIGHT AS WELL NICK ME I AM IN BREACH OF MY CURFEW". I smile at him. Another male walks around the corner. It's the informant. He points at Mikey and gives me the thumbs up. I turn to Mikey. "ACTUALLY MIKEY, MY COLLEAGUE HAS GOT SOMETHING TO SAY TO YOU". She arrests him on sus burglary. He resigns himself to the handcuffs being placed on him. He has been running for about 25 minutes now. This is hard work for a heroin user and think he is grateful for a rest in a nice warm car and soon-to-be police cell. Mikey is presented to custody, his clothing seized, finger printed, photographed and put to bed all cosy. Mikey ends up being charged and remanded all weekend to appear at court. A good nicking, completely by fluke but we are more than happy to take the glory.

I make a mental note to spend some time in this part of the town to try and gain some better local knowledge. I know this will be futile and resign myself to spending more time on my DS, playing 'Brain training'.

A very public funeral

2009-04-07T08:26:00.000+01:00

This post is going to upset someone. No doubt about it, it's a given, one of the few certainties in life. I have to say from the outset that this is my opinion, I do not make any apologies for it but I do acknowledge that someone is going to get upset.

So, what am I posting about that is going to be so contentious? Well (here goes) it's the funeral of one Jade Goody. For those of you who don't know who she is (you must be from far far away) she is a young woman, a mother of two who has tragically lost her life to cervical cancer at just 27 years old. This young woman also happened to be the biggest ever 'star' of Big Brother, has been vilified by the nation thanks to the press and a racist moment on her return to celebrity BB a couple of years ago, where her comments and actions 'shocked' the nation and created an 'international stir', as well as making a international 'star' of the victim, Shilpa Shetty (sp?). Whilst this was very unfortunate, everyone involved done very well out of it thank you very much. All thanks to the media mind you.

Anyway she passed away in her sleep on Mother's day after a very public illness. Living TV stalked her every move and they had exclusive rights to air her wedding just before she died. It was reported that she was doing this 'for her boys', to make sure she had provided for them when she had passed on. I use the word 'she' because the only thing her new husband, Jack Tweed, is good for is looking good in aviators and keeping the police and the criminal justice system gainfully employed. Jade lived in a mansion in Essex, drove around in very expensive cars and had plenty of money in the bank thanks to her celeb status, book and perfume sales. I have come to the conclusion that I just don't get the whole celeb thing, BB is something I watch in company with the wife and teenage daughter as this is one of the few 'quality' family moments we get together. Watching BB is a small price to pay.

So why am I posting about Jade when this is a police blog? well, I was there on Saturday. If you knew me and squinted you would have seen me for about 0.03 seconds on Sky TV. I was stunned at the open display of grief that was eminating from the crowd, which was about 2,000 strong. Women and children were wailing, consoling each other. A couple even fainted I understand. I was pushed, tugged and called various names whilst I attempted to stop people's children from being run over by the funeral procession. There were people walking about with Jade's face on their tee-shirts, with 'RIP Jade' written on the back, banners displaying their love for someone they never knew, flowers sellers making a good living, ice cream vans doing the same. There was even two giant TV screens for the crowds to watch the funeral whilst they licked their ice creams, etc. Call me old fashioned but funeral's are for marking your respects. The whole event was a media circus. Someone said it was exactly as how Jade would have liked it. How could they possibly know that, did they speak to her before she died? In fact the whole event went exactly how the media would have liked it. Lots of photos and video of women and children crying, a strong police presence, a jostling crowd, lots of column inches. I told a paparazzi with a 6foot camera lens to get out of the road before he got run over. He told me he was trying to get the money shot, I told him I didn't want to complete the paperwork if he got run over. Madness.

I genuinely feel sorry for Jade and her family. no-one should be taken away so young and it is a tragedy. I do, however, find the whole media thing shameful. The children will be well cared for, I just hope that Tweed fella, who is no more than a thug who has been given more than enough leniancy by the criminal justice system, doesn't continue to live off Jade's legacy (and money). But we all know that is exactly what will happen, eh? Where's the justice in that?

Parking violation

2009-04-03T10:01:00.001+01:00

I came into work yesterday to see a female colleague of mine somewhat miffed and perturbed. This was unusual, given that she is one of the few officers in my nick that always have a positive attitude to work at 7.05 on an early turn. "WHAT'S UP?" I asked. "GOT A ^&%%%** COMPLAINT" she replied without looking up from her emails. No way, I cannot imagine a scenario where she would get a complaint for anything, she is such a nice and considerate person. She then told me that someone had put in an official complaint against her and a colleague. As most officers know the vast majority of complaints against them are for being 'rude' to members of the public. Most of the time these complaints are malicious and unfounded, however there are of course exceptions when police officers have been rude. I know myself I have been a little curt with someone if I think they are (a) lying, (b) obstructive or (c) both, however I haven't got time for niceties if someone is playing up. It's not right I know, but it's the way it is. I don't like speaking to people in a curt manner when the need arises but they are not listening it's the only way I can get through to them. Anyway I digress.

I turns out that my colleague was called to a detained shoplifter in a very large out of town supermarket. Security had detained a male and he had started to play up, so police were required on the 'hurry up'. Upon arrival said supermarket car park was rammed full, no spaces to talk of. Given the circumstances of the call (male is trying to get out of holding room and being held down by staff) my colleague spots a parking space near the entrance. I can imagine her thoughts now 'Ideal, get the car close don't want to drag a prisoner across the car park'. So she parks up and runs in with her partner. They do the business, cuff the prisoner and take him to the car, he is now compliant.

Cue three weeks later to yesterday. The Inspector at the local police station had received a complaint from a member of the public who stated that a police car had been abandoned in a disabled parking bay for ten minutes, meaning he could not park. The Inspector looked into the incident and could see that parking in the disabled bay on this occassion was justified. He explained this to the member of the public who admitted that he had seen two officers escorting a prisoner out of the premises to the car, however he still felt that those officers should be spoken to with regards to their lack of consideration. The Inspector apologised and promised that he would. Informal resolution at it's best. Anyway the Inspector contacts my colleague (by email) and reminds her in future to only park in a disabled bay if it absolutely unavoidable. Which, of course, on this occassion it wasn't. My colleague was understandably annoyed over this, but I told her not to take it to heart. She had made a decision at the time and this was justified. My colleague was answering an emergency call, a shoplifter was violent and possibly assaulting a member of staff. She travelled three miles to the store on blue lights in an effort to get to the incident before anyone got seriously hurt. She ran the risk of a POLAC (Police Accident) and was risking her life and that of her colleagues. She chose to park at the nearest point to store for officer and public safety. All of this is justified right? Well, thanks to that member of the public my colleague has been chastised (by email) for doing her job by an Inspector who caved in to the MOP's demands. It's no wonder she is now demoralised and a very grumpy partner.

My thoughts on this? "JOG ON".

Collateral damage.

2009-03-30T13:49:00.000+01:00

I received a tasking on Friday morning in briefing. It is fairly unusual for me to do something pro-active, it is the nature of being a response officer that incidents will have generally happened by the time I get a assigned by the controller. A fight will have turned into no-one wanting to give details, suspects will have long made off the only descriptions fitting 96% of all local youths, a domestic incident will have gone from actual bodily harm to a verbal altercation. In short, being a response officer can be fraught with frustration so actually receiving a tasking fills me with glee.

A town on the outskirts of his division has been hit by dwelling burglaries. These are all have a similar m.o - access through rear of the property, a tidy search, games consoles and small electrical equipment being taken at a similar time of day. In addition to deterring the little cherubs with high vis patrol, we also want to catch them so I am given an unmarked car, a spreadsheet detailing crime hot spots and a partner from the burglary squad who has about 22 years service and would find it hard running to the toilet let alone after a rather limber 15 year old youth who can shimmy over fences like a cat. Our brief was to drive around the hot spots and stop check anyone who looks like they are up to no good. We are also informed by the Inspector that if we actually arrested someone on suspicion of burglary then the command team would love us. Being considerably underwhelmed by this fact, I dragged my new partner-for-the-day Tony (or 'Tone') from his cuppa and three day old copy of the daily sport newspaper. My probationer is on a course so it looked like Tone and I are stuck with each other.

About halfway through the shift, 'Tone' was spotting from the passenger side of the vehicle. We had already stop checked a paper - boy and a couple of youths on their way into school for second period. This tasking was dull as dishwater and my new found enthusiasm was being sorely tested by a lack of suspects and 'Tone 's' never ending moaning about the command team and how things are not what they used to be. Now that was normally my favourite topic but after listening to 'Tone' whitter on I have realised at how contrived I probably sounded. I made a mental note to myself.

As I turned the car into the ironically named poets estate, I spotted two youths wearing dark hoodies walk down an alley that cut through a row of terraced houses. Now if they are wearing hoodies, particularly dark ones, in my book the only thing missing is a confession. I shouted at Tone “THERE!” at the same time pointing across his field of vision towards the direction of the alleyway. Both youths were now out of sight. “WHAH?” replied Tone, his conversation with himself about detections severely cut short. “TWO WHITE LADS, WEARING HOODIES, DOWN THAT ALLEYWAY" I barked. Tone told me that they were probably just more kids on there way to school. I considered this for a second and told him that something didn’t feel right. Tone moaned. We (me) then came up with a cunning plan. “YOU GO DOWN THE ALLEYWAY, I WILL DRIVE TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BLOCK AND MAKE MY WAY TO YOU”. Surprisingly Tone got out of the vehicle, brushed off the sandwich crumbs and made his way to the alleyway. I then scooted off to the far end of the block of terraced houses.

At this point I was thinking of bringing in more units, perhaps a dog unit to secure the area. I even considered the force helicopter. I so wanted to shout into the radio "SUSPECTS ON" or "SUSPECTS MAKING OFF". I then remembered that these kids hadn’t done anything yet and I really didn’t want to get too much of a ribbing if it was all for nothing. In hindsight, a good call.

I got out of the car and made my way to the right hand side of the block. I tried to radio Tone but there was no answer, so I had no idea if he had stopped the youths, had spotted them or was lying in a crumpled corner having been happy slapped. I climbed a 6 foot garden fence and peered over the top. “Tone” I hissed, trying to get his attention. Nothing. I looked over the two or three gardens the best I could and established that there was no obvious signs of entry to the rear of the properties. A couple of minutes passed and then I heard an almighty racket. I looked over and could see the top of Tone’s head peering over the fence from about 100 metres away. A triumphant Tone got to the top of the fence and gave me a big grin and a thumbs up. He looked pretty pleased with himself, he obviously hadn’t done anything quite so physical for a while. I was about to respond by signalling for him to check the back door of the property belonging to the fence when there was a loud crack, a yelp and a howl and lots of wood being thrown up in the air. Thinking Tone had been assaulted I ran to his location and found him nursing the back of his leg and split pair of trousers. The fence was wrecked, it obviously could not take any weight, particularly Tone’s. I told Tone to stay where he was while I checked out the properties. After a few minutes I established that all was in order and helped a limping and cursing Tone get to our unmarked Vauxhall Vectra.

On the way back to the police station, Tony was very quiet, almost grumpy. I felt a little awkward and a little guilty if I’m honest. Tony now had to face the embarrassment of walking into the police station with a split pair of trousers and the thought of writing a duty report justifying the fence damage to the inspector who will no doubt want an inquisition into how the damage occurred. Best intentions and all that.

Oh, for the record on the way back to the police station I spotted the two lads again. This time in company with their mums and en-route to the local junior school. Too much enthusiasm on my part, now suitably curbed methinks….

Single crewed? worst nightmare.

2009-03-24T16:26:00.000Z

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This is a cop's worst nightmare, an oversize drunk who just won't go down. The officer showed great restraint given that he was on his own at first and he is in a land where carrying firearms is the norm. Although it is easy to cast judgement now, if the cop had taken him to the floor much earlier the show would have been cut short. Easy for me to say, eh?

Care in the community and stab vests

2009-03-23T14:03:00.000Z

Anyone who questions whether 'care in the community' works should spend a night out with the girls and boys in blue. Now don't get me wrong, I am not one of these coppers who uses the words 'nutter' or 'mentalist' frequently, having had first hand experience with a family member having a mental illness I am fully aware of some of the problems faced by the sufferers, those who are close to them and the agencies that come into contact with them.

As part of one of those agencies I come into contact with those suffering from mental health on a fairly frequent basis. Take last night, we attend a call from someone stating that they are receiving 'disgusting' text messages. The controller states that the caller was 'rambling' and 'not making much sense'. I told my probationer that the address was an apartment complex where the social services place patients who were being treated 'in the community'. I told her to watch her back.

Anyway, upon arrival we were let in by Steven. Steven was in his mid forties, heavily built, about 6 foot tall, a skin head covered in tattoos. A quick scan of the room and my eyes were immediately drawn to a set of kitchen knives on the floor next to the TV. I made eye contact with my probationer, trying to draw her attention to the same. She got the message.

The conversation went something like:

"WHATS GOING ON STEVEN?"
"ITS THEM DIRTY B*ST**DS, SENDING ME TEXT MESSAGES ABOUT MY MUM"
"HAVE YOU STILL GOT THEM ON YOUR PHONE?"
"DELETED THEM. DIDNT WANT TO LOOK AT THEM. THEY GET ME ANGRY"
"OK....WHAT DO YOU WANT US TO DO?"
"STOP THEM SENDING ME TEXTS"
"WHO IS IT? DO YOU KNOW THEM?"
"NO, I JUST TOLD YOU I DELETED THEM. TAKE MY PHONE AND CATCH THEM"
"OK BUT IF WE TAKE YOUR PHONE, THERE IS NO EVIDENCE ON IT"
"CATCH THEM OR I WILL USE MY KNIVES, I WILL STAB ANYONE COMING THROUGH MY FRONT DOOR"

At this point, the mood changed to slightly concerned to absolutely bricking it. I looked at my probationer and using a jedi mind trick urged her to get closer to the door. This didn't work. Steven then stood up and walked towards the TV (and the knives). I grabbed the probationer by the arm and pulled her towards the door. Steven stopped and looked at me. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he said. "LEAVING" I replied. Steven then started to throw things about whilst we backed off towards the door. "LEAVING?" he shouted. "WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT MY TEXTS?" . I muttered something about calling us again when he got another one or calling into the police station and left to a torrent of abuse, not all of it pointed at me but to no-one in particular.

We got outside and I held the door for a moment to ensure we wasn't followed out by Steven. A quick update to control and a warning marker placed on the address and we hightailed it out of there. It is force policy to now wear ballistic vests at all times outside the police station. For once I am glad I adhered to force orders!

What's evidence got to do with anything?

2009-03-19T09:25:00.000Z

If I'm going to get anyone charged, let alone to court, I generally need evidence. This can be in many formats - statements, CCTV, forensic, fingerprints, DNA, positive I.D's etc etc. The list is not exhaustive, but I do generally like to have one of the above when I'm sat in an interview room sat opposite a 'suspect'.

Now we are all human beings, some of us are a little more evidence focussed on evidence gathering than others. Some are in the job for the adrenaline rush and think nothing of the consequences of not obtaining details of witnesses on the scene, even if its just a name and a phone number. There are also those in the job who are exceptionally good at gathering said evidence and these generally find their way into CID or the burglary squad where their talents can be honed to perfection. I like to think I am somewhere in the middle, if I arrest someone and have to hand over to the next shift, I like to put together a good handover package with all the enquiries done. Those that were not done I list with a reason why. I know that this isn't always practical and the scene can be chaotic and quite often witnesses 'disappear' into the ether....

What I do find unacceptable (and blatantly lazy) is getting an arrest package that has none of the aforementioned required pieces of evidence. To be fair I had a statement from the aggrieved, however I also had a statement from another witness completely contradicting the aggrieved's account. In short I was asked to arrest a 'suspect' who had allegedly stolen a wallet from the aggrieved party. The suspect worked in a convenience store and the aggrieved had stated that he had entered the store and was served by the 'suspect'. He then left the store and the next day he realised he had left his wallet behind. Then then returned and spoke to the same assistant and asked him for his wallet back. The assistant denied any knowledge, the customer lost his temper and accused him of theft. Cue a rant at the manager and an extensive search for the wallet to no avail. It was agreed that the manager would carry out an investigation and review CCTV etc. After 18 days the customer had heard nothing and recontacted the store. The manager then informed him that she had reviewed CCTV and this had showed the customer actually being served by a female, and the wallet being handed in where it was left under the counter. So, where did it go? well, the store employs six members of staff, three of whom had recently been fired for 'stock discrepancies'. Not happy with this explanation the aggrieved then called the police to file a report. This was then allocated to a shift officer, who made a half effort to gather some evidence (CCTV had now been wiped due to the time lapse) and then promptly placed it in the bottom of her work tray whilst other jobs piled up that demanded her attention.

This job then, somehow, got through a vetting process and ultimately turned into an arrest package. It was painfully clear that whoever vetted the package didnt get past the first page. This package was rubber stamped and handed to the duty Sgt to action as it had a 'named suspect'. So we arrest him (at work) and take him to the police station. We ask all the questions in interview, fingerprint him, take his DNA and get him to smile for the camera. The whole process took 5 hours only to get a 'no further action' decision and the suspect was released without charge.

Ultimately this young lad was arrested because the aggrieved had stated he served him and was therefore responsible for the theft. A statement from the manager stating that she had viewed the CCTV and he had not served the aggrieved in the first place had never been taken into account prior to the package being put together. This lad didn't have to be arrested, he could have been interviewed under caution. We have other options, arrest isn't the only one. Instead his first encounter with the police was being placed in a cell, interviewed with his fingerprints and DNA being taken from him. Not a nice experience if you are innocent.

The aggrieved was 74 years old and a very angry man. My probationer spoke to him to give him an update, he then shouted at her stating 'justice hadn't been done'. I then had to speak to him to try and placate him. I told him that had he come to us in the first instance we could have looked at the CCTV ourselves, there wasn't enough evidence, a lot of it was circumstantial, etc etc. I felt sorry for him that he has lost his wallet but I do not like arresting the wrong people. He didn't like this, I can feel a complaint coming my way. Hey ho.

What this does smite of is a classic knee jerk reaction to a report of a crime, albeit very low level. Our 'detection' culture led the Sgt to allocating this arrest package in a 'cough or nothing' attempt to get another tick in the box to show the command team how great his shift is. Personally this doesn't sit easy with me, as a tax payer myself I am pretty pissed off that police all over the country get bogged down with dealing with stuff like this every day when there is lawlessness in some areas that needs to be addressed by having a visible police presence and deterring crime.

This blog was a little heavy, so I am going to end on a joke:

I walked past the fridge last night and thought I heard two onions singing a Bee Gees song.....when I opened the fridge door it was just Chives talkin...

(sorry)

Contains scenes of mild peril and comic fight sequences

2009-03-17T22:57:00.000Z

Well I'm back. It's long overdue, there's only so much tea I can drink, spreadsheets I can update and briefings I can review. I actually came back early against the wishes of occ health, but much to the glee of my rather stressed and inundated Sergeant.

So, I get to play with all my toys again. Just a quick roll call before I hit the mean streets of suburbia:

Handcuffs - check
Body Armour - check
Personal Radio - check
C.S. Spray - check
Four pens that work - check
A ream of blank witness statements (MG11's) - check
A bag of maynards wine gums - check

So armed with all the above, my probationer and I headed off to the 'shires' to show them country folk how us urban coppers play. A request was made for our unit to provide cover and given that my Sgt was concerned, albeit very slightly, about my still healing finger, decided to deploy us. He figured we would stay out of trouble.

Everything was 'Q'* until two hours before we are due to knock off. We have attended a couple of jobs, mostly words of advice given. Tried to arrest someone for some remote outpost at the far flung edge of the county (known as the 'outer rim'). No joy there. Then we get a call to attend a high school to help eject a student who had been refusing to leave. Now in my day it was fairly difficult to get kids to stay in school, however a student refusing to leave was a new one on me so with a degree of curiosity I attended the scene.

We were met by an over zealous drama teacher who explained that the pupil in question had been disruptive in class, abused the teachers and then refused to leave. She then spent five minutes looking for keys to the 'secure unit' where the lad was being taught. School isn't what it was in my day.

Upon arrival in the class, after having to sign in (yes, sign in - our body armour obviously not totally convincing) we saw the lad sitting in the corner, doodling on a PC. Everything looked calm, but remember appearances can be deceiving. Kenny was 16, well built, about 6' tall and had a mean scowl. The teacher in charge (I use the term loosely) explained that young Kenny had told her to F*** off, called her colleague a fat C*** and had tried to start a fight with one of the other kids. She asked us to eject him as he had also threatened to kick her face in if she went near him. I told her that as a father I would try to reason with him, after all I had teenage children. Using all my communication skills (yes all three of them) I politely asked the lad to leave, stating that if he didn't he would leave us no choice and we would have to arrest him to prevent a breach of the peace. His reply was eloquent. 'F*** off Copper'. I quickly established that we hadn't built up rapport so asked my colleague, who was much younger, bigger and fitter than me to reason with him. Not fazed by this change of tact, the lad looked at my mate and said 'right, your turn is it? F*** off copper'. See where this was going? I asked him why he was acting up and he told me it was because the 'fat cow' refused to give him access to google. I then noticed what the lad had been doodling with - he had a photo of 'fat cow' on his pc and using MS paint was making reference to her sexual preferences. Oh the horror. Can't think why he wasn't given access to google.

In the end after a few more pleas and warnings not to swear, my mate nicked him for breach of the peace, this turned into a brief scuffle on the classroom floor in front of six other cop hating students chanting 'fight fight fight'. Kenny was quickly tied up in a neat bow by my mate and we escorted him outside. After 5 minutes and with the lack of an audience, a tearful Kenny calmed down and was de-arrested and the handcuffs were taken off. He grabbed his bike and was allowed to go on his way, however he hadn't taken into account the very small gap between two cars that he tried to get through. This brief lack of judgement saw Kenny going over the top of his handlebars with the rest of his bike landing on top of him and the car. Ouch, that was going to hurt. Kenny was unhurt, his pride dented and his wheel bent. His legal guardian turned up and threw the bike in the back of the car and took Kenny away. Much swearing and nashing of teeth was involved.

This whole episode made me think about my time at school, about how I was petrified of the teachers and more so of going home to my Dad if he got wind of me being rude to a teacher. This was 25 years ago and the world is a very different place. No respect and no boundaries exist, how on earth can we ever reverse this trend? Answers on a postcard please.

* 'Quiet' - not to be uttered until you are safely off duty / have handed the car over to late turn

Goodbye message to all my students

2009-02-23T18:02:00.000Z

As some of you may know I am a tutor constable. This means that I take probationer police officers straight from training school and teach them basic policing for ten weeks before they go onto their shift. After their ten weeks with me, they reach 'independant patrol', meaning that they can go to jobs on their own without a chaperone, tutor or mentor. That said ten weeks isnt nearly enough the best we can ever hope for is to get the probationers to a 'safe and legal' level!
When they leave us, they go onto their shifts with a whole new bunch of skills. To help them on their way, I also send them a little email reminder with more hints and tips on how to survive the mean streets. I thought I would share this with you and have attached the document to this post. Its in PDF, so you may need adobe to open it.

Good Bye and good Luck.pdf

Before you open the file, here is a mini glossary:

Bobby - Police Constable
PDU - Professional Development Unit (training unit)
APS - Acting Police Sergeant. Not a confirmed Sergeant, just someone who has put some stripes on in the absence of a confirmed Sergeant. Also called 'acting up', more apt than some officers realise.
Cock - Not a cockeral.
Eastenders - long running UK TV soap drama. On BBC America too (unlucky).
Control - The control room.
Controller - your 'dispatcher'.
Public Order - anything that involves someone swearing or shouting loudly that is likely to upset a member of the public. But not police officers, because the 'law' has decreed that we (police officers) cannot get upset or alarmed or distressed.
Double Hard - take someone who looks quite tough and double it.
Fluorescent jacket - very bright yellow coat favoured by UK police services. Zero stealth capability, no use if a car hits you and crap when rolling around on the floor with a suspect.
RVP - Rendevous Point, a safe meeting point where all of the emergency places will meet up and will be deployed by the incident commander. Nightmare to set up.
Twatting / twat / twatted - There are other unpublishable meanings to this, but in the job this means to strike someone with your baton or open fist. Normally only justified in the event that immediate threat of violence or injury is likely.
Gobby - mouthy, rude, disrespectful, swearing, being abusive. Getting a bit too common place in our youth of today for my liking.
ADHD - Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. In my day this was classed as being 'naughty'. Now a buzz word in custody suites all over the UK.
C.S Spray - Incapacitant Spray, similar to Pepper Spray or PARVA. High contamination, ineffective on animals, affects up to 95% of humans. Can take up to 5 minutes to activate in some people. If after 30 seconds nothing has happened, you need to be running the other way as it seriously pisses people off.

An inspiration. No more whinging about my hand!

2009-02-10T13:56:00.000Z

In September 2007 Arron was seriously injured whilst playing rugby football. He broke his neck and the outlook was bleak. This is his video, shot just nine weeks after the accident. Aaron is still employed by Essex Police and is due to return on restricted duties soon. More here http://www.arronwilliamstrustfund.co.uk/

I am an agent of Satan but my duties are largely ceremonial.

2009-02-10T11:43:00.000Z

I'm currently on restricted duties due to my hand injury. This means six weeks of office / admin based work. Can't get into anything confrontational, can't even go into custody to train anyone on the intoximeter procedure. I can't even take a statement because its my left hand that's busted (this blog is brought to you by the wonders of male finger tip typing). To say I'm bored is an understatement...and its only been three days! Now, its going to be a minimum of 6 weeks before I am back out on the street and I have to admit I am a little concerned about losing my sixth sense and not being as sharp as I need to be. My finely honed ninja skills will soon turn to mush, my waist line will expand even further because there are far too many donuts in the office (I mean the kind with jam and sugar, not the supervisors I work with). So what am I to do??? well I have a plan. I've been to the local video rental store and picked up the Die Hard box set. There's nothing like a bit of John McClean to retrain the brain and keep my senses alert. Yippee ki - yay! God help the probationers when I get back.

I heard a rumour.

2009-02-05T08:39:00.000Z

Well blogs are alive with a rumour that from 16th February 2009 changes to the counter - terrorism act will make it an offence to photograph a constable. For this henious crime you can expect ten years pokey, locked up and interrogated 'Spooks' style in an underground detention cell, surrounded by hard looking men in suits and computers that go 'blip'.

Now before we all get carried away, lets look at some facts. The counter - terrorism law is quite specific. The actual act (58A or Section 76) is linked here. In summary the act a states:

58A Eliciting, publishing or communicating information about members of armed forces etc
(1) A person commits an offence who—
(a) elicits or attempts to elicit information about an individual who is or has been—
(i) a member of Her Majesty’s forces,
(ii) a member of any of the intelligence services, or
(iii) a constable,
which is of a kind likely to be useful to a person committing or preparing an act of terrorism, or
(b) publishes or communicates any such information.
(2) It is a defence for a person charged with an offence under this section to prove that they had a reasonable excuse for their action.

Now call me old fashioned, but proving (iii) is going to be a little difficult for the average bobby to prove. Sometimes its plain impossible to get a charge agreed by the CPS for a simple shoplifting! Lets face it we can arrest for anything nowadays, provided it's justified. What this act is aimed at is targetting the very real threat of individuals taking photographs of members of the armed forces, police officers, government buildings etc that is likely to be useful to a person committing or preparing an act of terrorism .

It is not aimed at opportunist photographers who like to take pictures of our boys n gals in blue for their own gratification (whatever that may be). If someone walks up to me and asks if they can have their picture taken then I am normally happy to oblige. I get a lot of this with tourists and a lot of them just want to stand next to someone in a silly hat and bright yellow jacket. The young girls outside a nightclub at 2am always seem to be keen as well and who am I to stop them? If however, someone sticks their long range zoom lens in my face when I am busy or arresting someone I normally get a bit miffed and have to remind them of my right to seize anything that may be evidential to the offence I am arresting someone for. I am a fairly approachable guy, just not too happy about my face appearing on youtube with the tag 'police brutality' when all I've done is arrest someone who is clearly violent and a threat to others. Personal preservation is my number one priority!
The new 'act' won't change the way I work, although it will make me more aware of gangs of dodgy looking characters hanging around the back gates of the police station. They're definately not paparazzi then. Now I'm disappointed.

Not the best of days.

2009-02-04T22:10:00.000Z

Today I broke my hand. Not in a fight, not detaining anyone or rescuing anyone from a swirling river or anything, but by moving a damn wardrobe. The wardrobe stayed fixed until I exerted that extra 20% to get it moving then it turned on me with a stealth wardrobe ninja move and pinned my hand to the wall. Cue much shouting and cursing and three hours in A & E. Joy. Still most of the nurses and security staff I know, so it was all rather jolly and civilised. An appointment with the fracture clinic on Friday, then four weeks of light duties for me. Unfortunately all this could not have happened at a worse time, what with my impending house move. My mother in law even called to state that I will do anything to get out of lugging large pieces of furniture. Well, I think she's got me all wrong - I would much rather be able to function with my lead hand. I use it for many things, handcuffing people plays a very small part.

Oh, I also went to a funeral and the pet hamster died. My six year old doesn't know yet. I've had better days, no doubt tomorrow isn't going to be much better .

Cardboard cops used to deter thieves

2009-02-02T14:02:00.000Z

IT is one of the more unusual tools to be found in the police’s armoury in their efforts to tackle crime. But eight cut-outs of police officers are set to be deployed across Essex in a bid to deter and confuse would-be criminals. More here.

Now we have an agreement with the local gas station, which is owned by a major british oil production company. We pop in to grab a coffee / donut on our breaks and sit at one of the tables in full view of the public. We spend about 20 mins drinking our coffee / integrating with the community. Anyone foolish enough to try and make off for non payment (MOWP) will find a police car behind them very very quickly. The management at BP are very grateful and even provide us with a free (regular) coffee (we have to buy the donut) and we are more than grateful to provide them with a service. Another competitor recently withdrew their free coffee and as a result MOWP's rose dramatically, which is no surprise as officers are only human!

Cops have been doing this for as long as gas stations have existed. To replace them with a cardboard cut out is at best laughable and at worse a waste of tax payers money. The criminal thing is is that someone is employed in a whitehall office somewhere to dream up this stuff. And he is probably paid more than you or I.

Today, I have been bounced off walls, thrown on the floor, tied up, handcuffed, and hit several times with a metal baton, but I'm still smiling!

2009-01-29T22:27:00.000Z

Every year in our force, we have to have a defensive skills refresher. You would think that refreshers are not necessary as our job dictates we get hands on fairly regularly, however I am never ceased to be amazed at how wrong i do things on the street! Although every situation is different and handcuffing is sometimes opportunist at best, I find the whole relearning of things like quarter plus one searching a godsend. It is quite frightening at how lapse you can become when you are busy, bored, tired etc. The techniques that were drilled into us can prevent injury and potentially save lives. Over the two days we are retaught handcuffing, baton techniques, UDT's, CS deployment, limb restraints, cell entry / relocation, vehicle tactics, body searching, conflict resolution etc. Teaching is conducted by two front line public order instructors who between them have 37 years street experience. This is all bread and butter stuff, but I am so glad to receive this refresher. This also means I am allowed to patrol on the front line for another year!

He's dead I tell you.

2009-01-05T11:52:00.000Z

If you don't like gore or getting queasy, then do not read on....you have been warned!

Ok, picture the scene. It's new years eve and we get a call to a 'concern for welfare'. A known drug user hasn't been seen by his family for three weeks and despite living in the same town, his family had not bothered to call on at the address over Christmas. Anyway we are asked to check it out, so we do. I am company with a 19 year old probationer who has less than five weeks street experience.Upon arrival I can see that the window to the front of the kitchen is slightly open. I walk up to it and get a waft of that smell that no-one forgets. Not looking good for Dave the druggy so far.I knock on the door. "Dave, you in? it's the police". No answer. I can hear the TV, so someone has been in there / still in there. I knock louder. "Dave, come on, open the door, we just want to check you are ok". I know by now that Dave is dead and probably has been for some time. His body is behind the front door somewhere, and the heating it probably on as it is -1 degrees outside. Preparing myself for the worst, I then call up control "Um, VR01, we a T/A, TV and lights are on, there is a suspicious smell coming from the window, it doesn't look good. I'm going to force entry". We have to inform control that we are going to force entry in case Dave is a heavy sleeper and put the door in, causing damage, therefore enabling him to sue the police. This isn't going to be a problem here.Anyway, I call up for a 'rammit', or 'enforcer'. I call it a big red key that needs to be held in two hands.My probationer, clearly being driven on adrenaline and keen to see her first corpse, gently pushes the door and it swings open. Not locked. Hmmm. The smell is particularly potent, a quick search finds Dave on his back in the bedroom, completely naked. He has been gone a while, it really isn't very pretty and he is a funny shade of green. My colleague's enthusiasm starts to ebb, but she is not perturbed. I tell her to look around, to see if there is anything suspicious. "What about Dave" she replies. I tell her that Dave is dead and he isn't going anywhere just yet. Anyway, back windows are also open and the rear patio is unlocked. Dave lives on the top floor of an apartment block, with no access to the rear. I call up the inspector, just to cover my arse. He turns up, walks about with his clipboard and declares that there are no suspicious circumstances. Dave is a known druggie, was insulin dependant and had no food or meds in the apartment. Chances are he had a fix and returned to his apartment and then had a 'hypo', putting him in a coma, never to wake up. The ambulance crew turn up and attach things to the body to look for signs of life. A ridiculous spectacle, given Dave's condition, but they have to do it 'by the book' too in order to declare death 'properly'. I felt like shouting "He's dead I tell you". But I don't, they know the score too.The inspector tells me to check the back of the body 'just in case'. Yeah, Ok, I now know he is playing games with my probationer and me. If I roll Dave over, some of him is not going to move with him, given his condition. There is no sign of blood anywhere, no weapon, no sign of a struggle. If there is anything suspicious about this death, then only the coroner is going to find it. Then my probationer says, in front of the inspector "shall we get on and search him then?". Great. Everyone else leaves, knowing what is coming next. I take a lungful of clean air, then help with a quick roll of Dave. My probationer starts to gag as she takes a too-close-a-look at what is left of Dave's back (she obviously breathed in). Dave gets placed back on the floor and I exit very quickly so I could start to breath again. A very good learning point for the probationer, one she will never forget that's for sure! Anyway the undertakers eventually arrive wearing full oversuits and carrying a triple body bag. One of them shakes my probationers hand on the way out, telling her she was very brave and she done remarkably well for her first dead body. I have to agree, at only 19 she is made of stern stuff and I suspect she will go onto great things.

All in all a very sad affair, no-one to check on him and to die alone in squalor. Makes you pretty thankful for what you've got. I certainly was more thankful when celebrating the new year later.

Now THAT was a good day at work....

2008-12-21T10:49:00.000Z

A MAN who handcuffed and kidnapped girls while pretending to be a police officer has been jailed for 18 months. More here.It's jobs like this that remind me why I love the job I do. Sentencing a bit soft though....

Bah, humbug.

2008-12-10T12:23:00.000Z

It must be the time of year and all the doom and gloom that's being caste at the moment, but I am decidedly grumpy at the moment. My normal jolly disposition has turned into one of melancholy and to be honest I am beginning to wind myself up, as I am fed up with my own whining! I have to apologise in advance if I am getting you 'down'. If you are easily 'brought down' then probably best not to read on and go find another thread that is at least half interesting and where you don't have to listen to a limey/pom/brit whinge....

Still here then? OK, well you were warned. Police officers can whine and whinge for their country. We are extremely good at it, if it was an art form and could be framed we would be worth millions. How many times do we attend jobs and listen to the incredulous crap that spews from some members of the public? How many times are we lied to (badly), how many excuses do we have to listen to, how many times have we been reminded who pays our wages (because most of our 'customers' pay taxes, right?), how many times have you been asked if you've got a search warrant ('no, I thought I would just chance knocking on your door and losing the job at court'), how many times has a druggie asked to use the toilet before you search them (incredible isn't it how they can hold their bladders and seem to forget all about the toilet after you've found a wrap of class A in their shorts)? The list goes on and it is no wonder that perfectly amiable police officers turn a little cynical, become suspicious of everyone and everything. I haven't been in the job that long, but I have already developed a deep mistrust of pretty much anything & anyone ever says to me. For example; 'PC, we've got an easy job for you to attend / prisoner to deal with / arrest to make' is something I hear fairly frequently by certain Sergeants in my station. Now, we all know that these 'easy jobs' never, ever are. Don't get me wrong I get paid to do a job so irrespective of how rubbish it is I will still do it, but I get frustrated at the lengths sergeants will go to to deliver me a sh** sandwich. Why can't they just be honest, I will still do the job, I may even be happier that they have told me up front how rubbish the job is. At least I won't feel betrayed! Anyway, I have put this down to poor management, a lack of integrity and human nature. When / if I ever get stripes on my shoulder, I hope that I do not resort to these tactics and I can be perfectly straight with my troops, trust is everything.

As some of you may know, I am also a tutor constable. This means taking new recruits out fresh from the training school and showing them the ropes. I like this part of the job, but I must admit that I am getting a little tired of going through the basics, 'this is a statement, they need to sign it here and here', 'this is how you submit CCTV footage', 'yes, you press that little on the side to talk into your radio. You can talk into it you know, it is permitted'. I normally take great pleasure in nursing new recruits from day one to seeing them join shift ten weeks later, a much more confident young officer, however at this precise moment I can't help but feeling a little bored. I think I need a new role and have made some tentative enquiries with our tactical team, who are responsible for targetting local drug gangs etc. I will keep you updated how this goes, but I could just be feeling pre-crimbo blues. Sorry for the whinge and if you are still here, then well done for making it through to the end of my blog!

On a final note, I just want to wish you and your families a very happy Christmas and safe 2009. Let's be careful out there!

Not feeling terribly fulfilled.

2008-12-01T11:18:00.000Z

I criminalised a teenager this week and I don't feel great about it. My Sergeant, my inspector and all my colleagues agree that the action taken was 'ridiculous but inevitable'.

Picture this: a 17 year old girl leaves home to find her way in life. A little young perhaps, but she is fed up with her controlling mother who refuses to let her grow up. She arranges to stay at her aunt's and just needs a few things from her mother's place. So, along with a friend, she attends her mum's house to find that her mum has locked her out and that she has dumped all of her clothes, CD's, personal possesions. The girl loses the plot and kicks the front door and makes various threats, mum panics and calls police. I attend and speak to all parties....girl wants her stuff, mum wants her to come home under her terms. Anyway a DV1 is completed (domestic violence form), words of advice to the girl to go away and contact her mother when she is calmer are heeded and mum tells me all her woes. I give her advice, she tells me that she doesn't want to make a complaint as she doesn't want to 'criminalise' her daughter, who has never been in trouble before. Anyway, I tell the mother not to disclose any offences to me or I may have to take action. This seems to work, so I return to the police station to finalise the paperwork.
The next day I receive an email. 'Mrs W now wants to make a complaint, she has spoken to her father who thinks that arresting the girl would do her good'. 'Ps the incident has been crimed as sctn 4a public order'. Brilliant. Now that means I have to return and obtain a statement, carry out house to house etc. First things first, I would speak to the mother to find out exactly what's going on. Mum then tells me that since her phone call to the police station she has had yet another change of mind and no longer wishes to prosecute. Sighing inwardly I inform her that in order to get the incident classed as 'no offence' I would need a brief statement from her, stating that she no longer wanted to prosecute, it would irrepairably destroy their already strained relationship, she wasn't under any duress, etc. Having obtained this I submitted the crime report as 'no offence', with a full scribe as to why a prosecution wasn't in the public interest.

Three days later it bounced back with a note from CIMU stating 'the crime report has been rejected, you have to deal with this matter positively as per policy'. I spoke to my Sergeant, she referred me to the inspector who stated it was crazy but we had no choice to arrest this girl and put her through the criminal justice system as it was 'unethical' given what was detailed on the incident log (threats made) to not act even though it was going nowhere. So against the wishes of the 'victim', I invited her into the police station on a voluntary basis and ended up carrying out an interview under caution and issuing a reprimand as she made full admissions. I didn't arrest her, merely 'reported' her after interview, so at least that cushioned the blow. Her DNA, photo and fingerprints were now 'ours' and she was in the system. She wants to work with children but a CRB check will show the reprimand, so that isn't going to happen for a while. The mother isn't happy and is probably going to complain and I'm not happy because criminalising teenagers for being just a bit gobby isn't what I joined up for. I haven't worked out how much man hours this job has taken up, but I reckon we are looking at least 48 hours. At least the command team are happy with a detection on the table. All helps the targets.

So, all in all a completely unrewarding experience which has further reinforced my belief that common sense policing is long gone. Ps turns out Mum was lying to me. Her daughter's stuff is in the loft, not dumped as she stated. I can feel a wasting police time fixed penalty ticket brewing.

Taking personal pride in my work

2008-11-07T21:59:00.000Z

Every job has them. The shirkers, the lazy ones, those who make a career out looking of busy. The police service is no different, in fact in some departments it is positively encouraged. After all, we are part of the civil service! Personally, I struggle with this. One thing I cannot do is remain silent on the radio whilst the controller desperately tries to find units to cover a job. In fact I often get criticised for calling up for jobs as I often stitch myself up in the process! However, I am a firm believer that I joined up to provide a service and if I am free from any commitments I will respond to incidents as necessary, after all a job is a job. This is quite often to my detriment, ending up with getting off work late or picking up work that I will have to investigate. But isn't this why we joined up? Am I missing something? I am becoming increasingly fed up with some officers not responding when they are 'free' but 'committed with a statement' or are driving around still 'attached' to the last job although they dealt with it some time ago, or drinking too much tea in the canteen...the list goes on. Needless to say it is the minority of officers who do this, however I quite often get the feeling that it is a growing trend with some of the younger officers now on shift who are picking up some bad habits...

Take yesterday for example, I was on 'enquiries' collecting CCTV from the local council offices at about 3.30pm. A call comes in over my radio that a burglary needed to be attended (all burglaries are treated as a priority and have to be responded to in an hour). Anyway, its not in my area but I can hear the controller desperately calling up for a unit. Cue tumbleweed. No one responds, not even a Sergeant to say no units were available. After a few minutes the controller starts going through call signs, asking for their status. The pressure is on and I can sense the controller is getting very frustrated. I then call up and state that there should be 'late turn' officers (the next shift) coming on in about 30 minutes, can this be deferred until then? After all I was off duty in less than an hour. There were no suspects on scene and the victim was at his neighbours keeping out of the way in order to avoid contaminating evidence. The answer I got was that the incident could not wait for late turn as it had to be attended within the hour (its a government target). This was followed up by a request for my status. Do'h! I then told the controller I was on enquiries but if they had absolutely no one else to go, I could attend until a late turn unit could get there to take over. Well that was it, I was now 'attached' and 'committed'. Twenty minutes later i got to the address to discover that the victim had discovered the burglary at 8am but had only just decided to report it! Just to add insult to injury about twenty minutes after I got to the address a 'decamp' came over the radio, two males had abandoned a stolen vehicle and had 'made off'. Funny how the troops become available then, eh? I'm not surprised, I know the score. I could have kept quiet, not stitched myself up. But I didn't, I can't help it. I guess it's the fact I am still 'keen' and not demoralised enough to resort to hiding when jobs come in. In fact I like to think I take personal pride in my work, even though I can be my own worst enemy! For information I got off two hours late as, guess what, the late turn were now 'committed' with the 'decamp'! Still, the overtime always helps....I think my biggest worry is that one day an officer will need assistance and that everyone will be too busy looking busy to potentially save a colleague's life. This is an issue the command team need to address without delay.

Just to take the edge off this ever so common occurrence, I was in work at 6am today to execute a drugs warrant. We got to wear our civvy clothes (with stab vests and radio's on which really didnt give us away as old bill) and put the door in at a drug dealers flat / den. At 6.30 am the door went in after we used our big red 'key'. Three arrested for drugs offences and a quantity of suspected class 'A' drugs were found. We used the red key as the only people to knock at this address at this time of day would be drugs dealers, bailiffs or pissed off drug dealers. Unlikely they would have opened the door if we had knocked quietly. A good job, it certainly helped to put the day before to the back of my mind!

The CPS - Criminal Protection Service??

2008-10-30T10:02:00.000Z

I received a court update yesterday. Someone who I had arrested for an assault was found guilty at court and received a suspended sentence. Actually, it was an extension to an existing suspended sentence. Yes, you read correctly....AN EXTENSION. Now, correct me if I'm wrong but if someone goes to court and they receive a suspended sentence then this should be a warning / deterrent to them - 'if you screw up again for any reason you will be back before the court and you will go to prison to serve the term that was suspended'. This disposal method is supposed to be a deterrent, giving leniency to the defendant - a second chance of you like. However the guy i arrested committed a serious assault, knocked three teeth out of an unsuspecting night clubber who had the audacity to bump into him on a busy, dark dance floor. The victim received extensive dental rework, a fractured eye socket, multiple bruising and now a life long fear of going out to nightclubs. To his credit, the defendant put his hands up to it in the dock and pleaded guilty. He was already 'serving' a suspended sentence, so the correct disposal method should have been straight to jail, do not pass go, do not collect £200 etc. But he received a six month suspended sentence for 18 months, a massive increase on the original 3 month / one year sentence he received not 6 months ago. An appeal is out of the question now, the crown prosecution service did not seem at all bothered about the result and from appearances didn't even question it. I have sent a strongly worded email to the CPS management but I fear all I will get is a flowery worded reply using big words and case law that I will not understand. Perhaps there was some plea bargaining going on, but I wasn't there (wasn't called) so I have no idea. IMO, there are two main issues here (1) what does this tell the victim in this instance about how much the CPS / police support him? (2) the message to the defendant is that the Criminal Justice System is weak, there is no room in our prisons and therefore you can carry on assaulting complete strangers without any real fear of repercussions. I don't normally get worked up over things like this, my job is to get the suspects into the dock, the court have their job to do once i have achieved that. However, in my opinion on this occasion the criminal justice system has let everybody down, with the exception of the defendant who was probably quite happy to get home and unpack the overnight bag he no doubt had packed before going to court.

Social networking - the pitfalls?

2008-10-07T10:18:00.000+01:00

One has to be careful in these current turbulent times. That's what the email said. My force has adopted an anti 'mywasteofspace-facebook' campaign, bombarding officers with emails and intranet articles stating that they could face disciplinary charges or even dismissal if they continue to post photos of themselves in uniform, in front of the county's most wanted photo board, at a job, etc etc. Whilst I agree to a point, putting themselves in potential danger and discrediting the service is a big no-no, I also can't help but feel that someone upstairs is getting a bit paranoid. I police a busy town, people see me in my uniform when I am walking or driving about on patrol. These people have the potential to recognise me when I am out of uniform, which has happened to me more than once. When you are out shopping with your family and bump into one of your 'regulars' and receive a chirpy 'alright copper?', it can be a surprise. I have met people at parties who have said they have seen me about, knowing I'm a cop before I've started to lie to them about my vocation.I don't get it, why are the powers that be so worried? Is it the prospect of potential 'test-purchasers' being compromised (you dont work the same town or even the same part of the county as a TP, for obvious reasons), is the risk that restricted and classified information will be 'accidently' shown to world wide web if you are stupid enough to allow your photo to be taken in the office in front of said most wanted board, or is it just another way of trying to reign in officers social activities?Lets remember that 'mywasteofspace-facebook' like many others is a social networking site, you generally have to invite friends to view your info / photos / etc etc. Moreover the local thuggery will have to know where to look to find you! It is unlikely that one of your 'regulars' will be looking at your photo unless you are dumb enough to invite him in the first place! My point is that hundreds of people see me during my day to day work, those who I have had reason to speak to may well remember me. These are not my friends and are therefore unlikely to see me on 'mywasteofspace-facebook'. I think someone needs to run themselves a bath and chill out a bit.

When common sense isn't very common

2008-10-04T15:05:00.000+01:00

As an 'investigator', I take my work seriously. I collate and review evidence, carry out house to house enquiries, review CCTV, speak to witnesses, etc etc. I don't prophese that I know everything and am always willing to learn from others, who may have a different perspective than me or from experience have dealt with crimes differently. Anyway when I have enough evidence I make an arrest, deal with the suspect in custody and if charged then great, if no further action (NFA) then so be it. I like to think I've done my best with the information / evidence I have.In my division we have a new department. It's called CIMU, or Criminal Investigation Management Unit. It was set up to help officers deal with protracted enquiries or probationers with little experience who may need to be 'shown' a new line of enquiry. It has its place I'm sure, and the rule from above is that 'all' probationers must attend CIMU in the first instance in order that they can assess the crime and give 'advice' and 'direction' on what to do next. This sticks in the throat a little bit, but I can see where it can help the new ones.Last week my probationer and I attended an incident whereby two females were fighting outside a karate club. We got the call and attended the address of one of the females, who called the job in first. I told my probationer to keep an open mind, it may not be as it first appears. My probationer obtained a statement from a hysterical victim, took photos of her injuries and gave all the necessary advice. Whilst we were there we were told by control that the other female had also called in. Unfortunately we were committed so could not attend the address and there were no other units available. The female was advised to go to hospital and police would attend as soon as possible. Nobody attended her address over the next two days.Anyway to cut a long story short, my probationer spoke to a lot of witnesses over the next few days and it turns out our 'aggrieved' was actually the aggressor, having abused the 'suspect' (the 2nd female) just before violently attacking her in front of her children as young as 8. Armed with this information my probationer attended CIMU, confident that our 'victim' was actually the suspect. After a brief discussion, the officer in CIMU stated that we had to treat the original caller as the victim, despite what 5 other witnesses had said and put down in a statement. Not being very impressed by this I spoke to my Sergeant, stating that common sense had to prevail, just because the suspect had managed to call police first by ten minutes this somehow makes her the victim, surely we need to speak to all parties and then make a decision??? My Sergeant sighed and huffed and agreed it was crazy, but we had to follow 'policy'. So now we have to arrest the real victim and question her knowing that the whole job is going to be NFA due to the witness testimonies putting her as the innocent party. What a complete waste of time, not to mention money and the distress of putting an innocent person through the whole arrest and custody procedure! wonder morale is an all time low - our discretion and authority as constables is fast being eroded away due to the bureacratic policies that the service has adopted to ensure that they meet government targets. I love my job but some days I just wonder WTF is it all about? My probationer is dealing with the real victim tonight, will update asap.

Time to dust off the gym membership card.

2008-09-22T09:37:00.000+01:00

OK, I am officially back on a diet. Reports came in last Friday of a fight in the local cinema, police attended and they then put up an assistance call....so, we turned out in the caged van a la A team style. As the van pulled up in front of the cinema i had the door open and was out before it stopped, running into the foyer, up three flights of stairs, followed (albeit slowly) by two probationers (younger and fitter than me, what's all that about?). Anyway having slowed down to 'establish' what was going on, I found a male and a female handcuffed and leg strapped lying face down on the floor. The cinema was mobbed and we had a huge audience, no doubt better entertainment than some of the movies being shown....anyway myself and another officer escorted the struggling male prisoner down the stairs, with his arms so far up his back he could probably kiss his elbows (Well I was much shorter than him). We then took him to the police station where he was checked into his en-suite room.
It wasn't until an hour later that we went to check the CCTV. It shows me dashing into the foyer, running up the first two flights of stairs, slowing down considerably at the third but managing to maintain compusure when I finally reached the suspects and officers! The CCTV footage is not flattering and although I'm not vain (well not much) I decided there and then losing a few pounds and getting back on the treadmill is in order!

Should I be nervous?

2008-09-08T10:03:00.000+01:00

In the UK it's fair to say we do not have the level of gun crime that is experienced in other parts of the world. This is primarily down to gun laws and perhaps the 'reluctance' of the common criminal to tool up with a firearm. Police officers do not carry firearms, other than CS gas, we have specialist units that patrol the county and if a firearms incident comes in they are deployed. The down side to this is that armed response may be some distance away or already committed. This leaves local police in an awkward position.
Take last week for example, reports came in of two males walking the streets of the town I police brazingly walking around with what looked like to be automatic handguns. CCTV operators were tracking them and confirmed they were armed, local units were told to vacate the area. Armed response were then called in. They were deployed from the ARV centre about 20 miles away. RVP's had to hastily set up, covert units set up to cover choke points, helicopter scrambled etc. This took so much time. Meanwhile two males were walking up to innocent people and robbing them at gunpoint. Six people were robbed and had their lives changed forever. Local units were ordered to stay away. How frustrating is this for a police officer? We joined to protect and serve, in the meantime our hands are tied by 'health and safety'. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to blunder into a firefight, in fact guns really really scare me. However I can't help but feel that as a citizen I would not be getting the best service from the police. In the end both males were apprehended by ARV and dog units, some 30 minutes after the initial call, however the whole incident had the potential to be really nasty.
I ended up taking a witness statement from one of the victims and he told me in no uncertain terms that he felt betrayed and ultimately let down by the police. As he was being robbed he was aware that he had walked past a marked police vehicle only 5 minutes before. This vehicle was obviously sitting up trying to stay out of the way. To a degree I have to agree with him.
Although I do not condone the routine arming of police officers, more units need to be readily available in the local area. Each sector should have at least two ARV's, with support if necessary from central ARV centre. Firearms incidents in our area are up 30% on last year and it is a trend that will only grow. The Met Police have operation trident, which seems to work. We need a similar set up with the blaggers and robbers starting to come out to the suburbs for rich(er) pickings. They know our ARV's are stretched and are willing to take the risk, knowing the chances of getting caught are slim.The only good point out of last night was the five hours overtime I accrued, unfortunately the down side is that I have only had three hours sleep before the next shift!

A Pumbaa moment

2008-09-08T09:52:00.000+01:00

I thought I would share this with you, it made me and my colleagues laugh but there is a risk you 'had to be there' to appreciate the moment. Sorry.

I was called to a drunk male in the street yesterday, there had been reports he had been abusive and threatening to staff at a local bar. Anyway myself and my sgt spotted a male matching the description sitting on a wall near to the bar. I got out and spoke to him and quickly formed the opinion he was extremely intoxicated. Given the report from the bar there was no way I was going to let this guy just go home and sleep it off.....no doubt he would have just caused trouble at the next bar he went to. A quick computer check revealed that he was violent to police and was an alcoholic, so i decided to nick him for drunk and disorderly. As i put the handcuffs on him he tried to fight me but was quickly put on his ass and there he stayed until a caged van turned to take him to the police station. All the way back to custody we were verbally abused, threatened etc, you know the normal thing.

Anyway I sit him in the holding area waiting to be booked in. He continues to abuse me, calling me every expletive known to man. It's all water off a ducks back and I said to him "LOOK MATE, THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN CALL ME THAT I HAVEN'T HEARD BEFORE, SO WHY DONT YOU SAVE YOUR BREATH". At that he looked me straight in the eye and said "LOOK AT YOU, YOU F***** WARTHOG, STRUTTING ABOUT LIKE YOU OWN THE JUNGLE!". Surprised, I then replied "WELL. I'M GOING TO HAVE YOU GIVE YOU THAT, I'VE NOT HEARD THAT ONE BEFORE...". At that my colleagues broke down in fits of laughter, the prisoner became perplexed and clearly had no retort. Anyway he continued to be violent and was taken to a cell and strip searched. By the time I returned to my office to write up my statement there was a picture of pumbaa from disney attached to my work tray, with my name written underneath it....Great, another nickname - makes a change from 'Doctor Death' I suppose! I think I need to get down the gym to work off some of those extra pounds....

I'm just a poo-magnet, me.

2008-08-30T19:22:00.000+01:00

Having travelled 400 miles to visit my mum you would have thought that I could leave work far behind.....unfortunately not. Last Wednesday I took the kids to a local theme park to distract them from the rubbish weather and not being able to partake in any surfing. Anyway whilst waiting for son # 1 to go on the karts I witnessed an assault and just had to get involved. Anyway it turns out that an estranged ex partner had travelled from Nottingham to see her kids, who where in the custody of their father. He had thought, quite legitamately, that he would be safe from his stalking, deranged ex partner if he took his kids to a county on the other side of the country. She thought otherwise and tracked him to this humble little theme park and so a confrontation enused. Whilst waiting in the queue I witnessed ex partner laugh hysterically, try to kick and punch the father of her children, his new partner trying to restrain her and keep them separate, him then trying to keep his cool and shield the kids from being assaulted while everybody else walked on by....the ex then hit the floor having been pushed away by Dad and he then made his getaway with the kids safely under his wing. At first I thought it was just high spirits but it very quickly became obvious it was much more serious (and weird). So, ensuring my kids safety, i sauntered over in my bermuda shorts and produced my badge. Suddenly everyone was talking to me, security turned up and the ex was blurting out her life history and telling me how the father had previously forced his own child to eat his own faeces and was not worthy of being a parent. I checked out the extensive self harm marks and clear signs of mental health issues and decided that I was going to have to be brutally honest, direct to the point and not listen to the ranting of this woman if i had any chance of getting away and enjoying the rest of my day. I told her she had to leave now or there would be a good chance she would be arrested, as would probably the father of her children. She grinned at me, nodding and then tried to negotiate. 'If I could just have the kids tomorrow to take them horse riding', she began......not wishing to become embroiled in this, I became more direct, the security guard and manager of the site kept telling her my idea was sound. Go home. Or it could get nasty. Anyway after 15 minutes she agreed to a refund and left with security. 'Job done and no paperwork' I thought ....rather naively. Two days later i get a call from the local cops, she and the ex husband had been arrested that night after tracking them down in the local mcdonalds. They had got my name and contact details from the security guard and could i provide a statement? sighing inwardly I replied 'yes'. Still, at least I might get a recall to duty payment.

Just like any other burglary?

2008-08-23T08:18:00.000+01:00

It's fair to say I've been to a few burglaries. They range from 'tidy - you - would - never -know - anyone - had - been - the - house' affairs, to complete devastation where you have to console the home owner after they have discovered a leaving present from the burglar in their bed. The mind of the common criminal / scumbag never ceases to amaze me.
Anyway yesterday I was called to a burglary. The guy had returned from working abroad to find his house had been broken into via the back window. The window had been jemmied open and there were a number of footprints on the window sill etc. 'Lovely', I thought. Some evidence. I called in scenes of crimes (SOCO) whilst I 'preserved' the scene (it's what we do in the UK, SOCO's are the experts, wooden tops, or bobbies, do the scene pres). Anyway SOCO turned up and I gave him a guided tour. It had been a relatively tidy search, a few books opened, tables moved. A computer jewellry and other stuff had been taken, as well as a substantial amount of cash. Anyway SOCO managed to lift some finger prints and footprint impressions so not a complete waste of time for him. Hey, you never know right? Anyway I then got back to taking details from the victim.

"So just to confirm sir, you had £20,000 in a plastic bag tucked away behind the kitchen cupboard?"
"Yes officer"
"Do you have any other money in the house"
"Yes officer"
"Have you checked it?"
"Yes officer, its still there"
"When was the last time you saw the money?"
"Before I went away, in January"
"January? does anyone else know you have this kind of money stashed away?"
"No officer, nobody"
"who else lives here?"
"Nobody, oh only my son every now and then. He's in the army but stays here when on leave"
"Does he know about your money?"
"No officer, but he wouldn't take it, he's my son"
"Right. But you've already told me he has sold your motorcycle without your permission whilst you have been working in South America. Does your son have money problems?"
"Officer he is my son, he wouldnt do such a thing. I help him pay his debts, he only has to ask"
"Right....."

I'm waiting for SOCO results and I am willing to bet that all of the fingerprints on the jars etc that had to be moved to get to the money belong to the son. You can imagine it now - son comes home, gets hungry, starts looking around for food, finds a mysterious plastic bag at the back of the cupboard. Ho ho ho. Is it christmas?

For the record the son has gone back to his unit early before Dad arrived home. Dad is finding hard to contact him on his mobile phone. CSI I ain't!

I feel touched.

2008-08-18T12:06:00.000+01:00

Police are not generally liked very much, but to prove that someone does love me, here is a picture of a present given to me by my cat.

RTC's.

2008-08-16T08:23:00.000+01:00

RTC's (or road traffic collisions - 'accident' implies someone is to blame and we don't want to hurt anyone's feelings) are a strange thing and guaranteed to get your adrenaline going. Thing is you never know what to expect. Reports of a 'non-injury' RTC can actually be 'four vehicles involved, persons trapped, fire on scene, ambulance working on injured' when you get there. You see it's all down to the way the 999 call is received and translated at the control room. This happened to me once. A 'non injury' RTC that had turned into Dante's inferno when I arrived. Never ever under estimate an RTC! On the flip side a 'persons trapped, fire en-route' RTC quite often turns out to be both drivers having a cup of tea brought out by the neighbours by the time we get there. All very British.

Anyway, yesterday I attended the latter yesterday and it was all very civilised. Both parties were okay, one was a learner driver who had developed a technical fault in her car and produced a plume of smoke from her vehicle, the other was a pregnant female who thought that driving through said plume of smoke would clearly not have any dire consequences. Anyway pregnant lady had ploughed into the side of the learner driver whilst driving through the smoke. Both were ok and the road was closed for about two hours whilst I went through the paperwork, breathalysed all parties and enjoyed a cup of tea in the sunshine brought out by the neighbours. Nobody was hurt, insurance details exchanged and everybody was allowed to go on their way. Minus their cars of course, which were duly recovered. In theory I could have reported the pregnant driver for careless driving (she failed to stop when her vision was obstructed) but that really would have been very anal of me. But if I was a traffic officer.....

The Grim Reaper.

2008-08-14T16:38:00.000+01:00

Today has been a busy day. As per normal, started off with a briefing. Most officers with a bit of time in tend to have an answer to the Sergeant's question "What have you got on today?". I already had my answer ready - 'statement to take', 'arrest to attempt', 'enquiries to follow up with the bank' etc etc. You get the idea. Unfortunately for me, my probationer was asked first and she replied with a completely innocent "oh, nothing planned". This opened the door for the Sergeant and meant that we were possibly going to get (a) stitched up with a prisoner or (b) stitched up with a task that no-one on night turn had managed to do. Fortunately it was neither A or B, but we were ordered to 'man up' another part of the division that was woefully short on available officers. Happy with this, I practically skipped to my locker, kitted up, checked out the car and got ready for a bit of pro-active policing.

First job? sudden death of a 90 year old female. The family were on scene as were paramedics. Seemed all very straight forward, no suspicious circumstances on the incident log. However upon arrival, I was greeted by my wife's friend, who was the grandaughter. This put a whole new perspective on things for me. I don't mind dealing with death, I've got used to it. In fact I've become worryingly oblivious to it. This is my fourth sudden death in under four weeks, so is it any surprise? However I have never had to deal with someone who I know. It's easier not knowing anyone, you can remain detached and not become emotionally involved. Having put my best professional hat on, it was all i could do not to throw my arms around her and console her. It's what I wanted to do, but you have to remain professional. But I have to admit she got a more compassionate service from me than any other sudden death I have been to. The grandaughter asked me if we could put a dress on her grandmother as she was found wearing just her underwear. She was a dignified lady in life, so who was I to say no? A lot of police officers would have said no, spouting on about not disturbing the body for the coroner etc. I'm only human, so I was more than happy to do it. Just don't tell anyone, I could get into trouble in this crazy bureacracy I work in. In the police we deal with death in a set manner, calling in the big guns if there are suspicious circumstances. None of that here, just a little more emotional for me than normal. For my probationer, however, this was only her second sudden death and found the whole episode much more traumatic. Bless her cotton socks. Anyway, we got through it, treated the deceased and family with respect and hightailed out of there after the undertakers had left with the deceased. Then went back to the nick to 'finalise' paperwork and for a much needed cup of tea.

The next job was a burglary. Male had been stopped by the victim outside her house. He had in his possesion her TV in her push chair. She screamed, he ran. The chase was on. Well it would have been if there were any units available and we weren't dragged kicking and screaming from one part of the division to the other (I can't use blue lights due to limited training facilities in my force). Twenty minutes later we arrived after doing an area search, the suspect long gone having melted into the suburban jungle. Seems every other police officer in the division was too busy completing paperwork, in meetings or dealing with prisoners. Funny how nobody wants to know unless there are confirmed 'suspects on' (the police station is about two miles from the victims house but we had to travel eight miles as the only available unit). Anyway we arrived, preserved the scene for scene of crimes (SOCO), circulated a description to no-one in particular (all in the nick remember), took a statement, completed a home office approved burglary pack, consoled the victim and requested SOCO, who turned up and showed little or no interest. After apologising for not being able to respond within 3 minutes for the sixth time we left and went back to the nick to 'finalise' paperwork (and more tea). Then it was home time.