Breaking Stereotypes

Here in Metrocity, we are very aware of diversity issues and as street Officers regularly take a moment to challenge stereotypes.
As part of this drive for equal inequality for all, a couple of younger female PCs have been doing the kind of thing that one would usually associate with males.


There are two entrances to our custody suite; the way in from the yard (where the naughty people are brought in from), which is a set of secure metal gates, easily opened from the outside to let people in but locked from the inside.
There is also a set of double doors, in an airlock format, that leads from the cells to the nick. They work together so that one can not be opened unless the other is closed - hence the airlock idea.

The two delightful young ladies mentioned above have been known to play a 'game,' where they will pass wind whilst in the airlock area, thereby trapping the odours between the doors for later people to enjoy.

See? Metropolitan Police: Breaking down barriers, challenging stereotypes.


**EDIT** I post this secure in the knowledge that even if the girls involved read this and realised who I was, they would have more potential for embarrassment than I would if they went public...

Police Racism

Recently I was sitting around the table with a few teammates, a Sergeant and an Inspector from another team. We were discussing the various jobs we had dealt with or were dealing with, when a probationer PC piped up about a shoplifting job he had ongoing.

He'd just picked up the CCTV from the shop, which was of the usual quality - nice to have, but nowhere near good enough for a conviction by itself.
He'd played it back and had spotted a black male going into and leaving the shop at the appropriate time, and the suspect that he had arrested at the scene and who was sitting in custody was a black male.
The officer said "The useful thing is, there aren't many black people in that area, only two come in during the whole time, so that makes things a bit easier to ID him."

A long intake of breath followed.

The young in service officer paused. "What?"

Whispered conversation between the Inspector and Sergeant, then the PC was invited out of the canteen to have a chat about his "potentially racist attitude."
How have we got to this point, where a young, naive but eager PC is excited about the prospect of arresting a suspect and he is spoken to about his potential racism?

Yes, the words may have been misconstrued if seen in an isolated sentence. Yes, someone that wasn't in the conversation may have misunderstood. But in the context of the conversation, it was a simple case of a young copper wanting to be able to charge a recidivist thief.

The really sad thing is that the Inspector involved didn't for a moment think that any racism was involved, and the same goes for the Sergeant. What they didn't want (understandably) was to be seen to be allowing racism.

It's hard to keep up sometimes.

Patience = Low

"Bravo X-ray two-two, Bravo X-ray two-two, an 'I' grade call now, Brixley High Street, PI Accident. Car versus motorbike."
"Received, show X-ray two two D-delta to your last - but we're running from the opposite end of the divsion"
"Received"

A two minute pause

"Bravo X-ray, show Bravo 2 to your last as well. We're clearing the last call and not too far"
"Received. Bravo X-ray two-two, can you cancel to your last? We've got another immediate grade call, this time at 27 Letsby Avenue for a confirmed sequential alarm."
"Bravo X-ray, we can, but we've just made our way through traffic away from that last location."
"Received, there's no one else - I'll send it through."

Another two minute pause.

"Bravo X-ray from Bravo 2 - sorry, we've had to 54 the vehicle with a flat tyre. Can you cancel us from the last?"
"Received. Bravo X-ray two-two, can you re-attend the Brixley High Street call please to the Persons Injured accident?"
"X-ray, received. We are nearly TOA on the other call though."
"Received, sorry to do this to you but there's no one else shown."

Three minutes pass.

"Bravo X-ray two-two, you can cancel to your last. LAS on scene and stating no injuries, drivers exchanging details and no obstruction."
"Received Bravo X-ray. We're going to stop for a break, my operator's started to feel sea sick with all this too-ing and fro-ing, and we're due refs."
"Um, X-ray two-two - can you just quickly deal with the other outstanding immediate call on your way back...?"

Yes. This is how I often spend my day. Although I dealt with quite a bit of self created incidents I came across direct, after twelve hours of rushing about today I actually resulted the grand total of one call.
A threats by text domestic from an ex-boyfriend's new partner.

What Now?

So. Once again we have not enough officers on parade, once again we have no one to deal with the many outstanding jobs.

Once again we see victims calling for help and not getting it, or getting it too late. Witnesses not located and suspects not arrested.


Once again we see officers hurt, Doctors called to custody, injuries compared, visits to A&E for others.

A normal shift then.


Except I have an admission to make. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age, or maybe I'm just getting grumpy. But I can't accept that; seeing two female colleagues comparing bruising and cuts from another violent individual whilst typing up their notes in the writing room.
They're not going to report it - why should they? They're off in an hour, and have a set of case papers to do. What would be the point in tracking down a Sergeant then spending up to an hour filling in the appropriate injury on duty forms on top of their paperwork and their trip back to the nick they paraded from.

So once again the figures are adjusted to give the impression that we're not losing the fight for the streets.

Usually, we compare injuries, talk about the incidents and then moan about the frustratingly inadequate punishments at court - eg £50 for hospitalising a Police Officer attacked randomly on the street.

This then inevitably leads on to the "what's the point" conversation. No, we have no answers for that question. But someone (often me) always makes a mildly amusing comment, then we head back out and take the next 'Immediate' graded call.

I've run out of amusing comments though.

I don't think it's acceptable for us to be injured so often. "Police Officer injured in brawl" means little.
When it's your colleague, your boss, your acquaintance, your friend, your travelling companion, your confidente, your lover... suddenly it doesn't seem so palatable.

I don't take insults, calls, crimes, victims or suspects personally anymore. I have dealt with all manner of violent deaths and injuries, come home covered in blood on numerous occasions (some of it mine), delivered death messages and dealt with sobbing traumatised victims.
Then slept like the proverbial log.

But whenever an Officer is assaulted or injured, I take it personally. Every time, and the problem is that it's happening every shift now.



This is a more regular event than most politicians will ever admit.

WiFi

Quick question to all the intelligent and/or legal minded readers.

My phone is currently set to pick up WiFi signals automatically; there's regular places that I go with free WiFi access.

It's not unusual to see a car parked outside McDonalds on night duty for ten minutes whilst the driver checks their emails - the WiFi signal that McDonalds provides as a free service apparently stretches out to the car.

I remember recently a man getting nicked for parking outside someone's home address on a regular basis and hacking into their wireless internet access - but how does that compare to my phone? Quite a few times recently on crime scenes, hospital guards, constant watches etc, I've spent the time browsing the net.
On a couple of these occasions I've noticed when leaving the internet that I've actually been connected automatically to someone's private wireless access.

This is surprising in itself, simply because I'm shocked that there are still privately owned unsecured wireless networks around.

However, the point for me is this - am I committing an unwitting offence by doing this?

If so, exactly what..?

Express Yourself

Like many coppers, I often claim to be unshockable.
And then I am without fail proved wrong.

One of the things that was slightly disconcerting to me when I first started doing Gaoler duty was some of the cell dweller's activities once safely hidden away in their rooms.

Spitting, fighting, self harming, vandalism, peeing or defecating in unusual places - all expected and easily coped with.

However, some of our 'clients' partake in slightly different methods for passing the time.

A significant number of young adult males feel that whilst lying in the (CCTV viewed) cell awaiting questioning is a good time to indulge in some "self expression."

I think it's safe to say that whatever fantasies people may or may not have about Police Officers, seeing the reality of the urine stained, dirty, smelly, vomit ridden cells is not something that would turn most people on.

Of course, rattling the wicket on the door and reminding them that their cell is covered by CCTV as they approach the crucial moment is only fair.
Bizarrely, this only stops some of them.

As I said, I'm still shockable.

Steve's Room

Our Division, like all in the Met, used to have a custody area with cells in every nick.

Now, like most Boroughs, we have one full time custody area, one that is used for very occasional operations/building work/overflow for other Boroughs/Safeguard Operations, and then a couple that are locked up and the cells used for nothing more than storing old bicycles, confidential waste, pigeon nests and shady cigarette breaks.

"Steve" knew this.

Steve had spent some of his youth fighting, and had been in the cells back in the day. He liked to tell us he'd been in the cells in every nick in the local Borough, at some point in his past.
He'd then joined the army and 'made good.' Unfortunately, on demob things went wrong for Steve, and although he never went his old path of fighting in the street, Steve became a sad, sad sight. Bedraggled, homeless, and often drunk - he's been on the streets longer than some coppers have been alive.

In fact, some coppers have joined the job, worked their thirty, and retired, and Steve has still been there. I've no doubt that a few coppers on their retirement bunged him a few quid.

No trouble, and no convictions since before joining the army. A perfect Gent, albeit a smelly drunken one.

As I said, Steve knew about our spare custody.
Station Officers throughout the years have been woken up on a winter's night, from an 0100 hours day dream to find the spectacle of Steve in the front office, usually clutching a gift of some sort. Yesterday's paper was a favourite.
Experienced officers knew him, knew to simply open the door and usher him into the spare custody area, where he'd crawl up in a ball after thanking the officer profusely, and settle down to a long and well deserved sleep in the warm.

The early turn officer would be briefed and would shake him awake with a cuppa soup, and offer him a shower. Steve would repay the kindness by cleaning up anything he could, and cleaning the tea club mugs.
An impressive and well received gesture, especially well received by the probationer currently running the tea club.

As far as I can tell, Steve never mentioned his hidey hole to his fellow homeless people, most of whom he seemed to treat with a dismissive attitude. For him, they were there because they'd failed. He'd made a lifestyle choice.

Of course, as CCTV throughout the cells became more prevalant, eventually even the spare custody area got some. As did the station office area. Steve got older, and suddenly the idea of taking an alcoholic elderly man into the cell area unsupervised on a semi regular basis became unattractive.

The relief Inspectors made the difficult decision, and two or three years ago Steve was thenceforth barred from the nick.

I am glad to this day I was not the station officer on duty who had to tell him; I think it would have been heartbreaking to see his hopeful face clutching an out of date newspaper, changing to confusion as the news sunk in.

This time last year, Steve was found lying in a doorway by the Ambulance Service, on a bitter November night. The ambos were on the way back from a job, and recognised the huddled shape so stopped to say 'Hello.'
Of course, as I'm sure you've guessed, on their approach they realised that there was no point in saying hello.

Later, I turned up to say Goodbye, as did most of the patrols on duty. For many of us, Steve was the first experience we'd had as probationers of the local drunks, always willing, and regularly used as an experience of searching people you may not want to search.

Steve outlived a homeless person's life expectancy, and no one would have betted on him getting a telegram from the Queen, but that didn't stop a few of us on our relief (and I'm guessing in all the other teams) sitting round and wondering if he'd have been alive if he hadn't been barred from our nick.

Who exactly was helped by our Risk Averse policy?

Things That Have Annoyed Me Recently (part 3)

Recently, in Custody.
I had arrested a woman in her late forties who had been rather silly - she was not known to Police before and basically had been caught doing something that she knew was wrong in a moment of stupidity.


We all deal with this kind of person occasionally, someone who has thus far led relatively blameless lives and suddenly they come to the attention of Police.

No, before you ask, this was not a figures arrest. In fact, there was no detection involved in this one...

We had brought her in, and the woman was obviously terrified. Unlike our usual, regular customers she felt shame at being arrested and obviously didn't want to be with us.
She also told the Custody Sergeant she suffered from claustrophobia.

Now, as any copper will no doubt attest, a huge amount of the clientelle we get in our cells will claim they have claustrophobia, or any other condition they can think of to get released, bailed, or just to wind up the coppers.

This woman was obviously not playing the system, so after a brief chat with the Custody Sergeant (and an even briefer trip to the cell door, discovering she quietly having palpatations) we brought her out of the cell and sat her on one of the metal seats opposite the Sergeant's desk, where the Skippers could keep an eye on her.

I was writing my arrest notes when our borough commander walked in, on one of his rare trips to see the troops in custody. As he went up to annoy the custody sergeants, I thought it prudent to make myself busy so decided to get the kettle on and brew up for the Sergeants.

For those of you not in the job, Custody Sergeants run on tea. Without tea on a fifteen minute cycle they will not, and in fact can not function.
FACT.

I made a list of who was drinking what, and as I went past the huddled, shivering nervous woman I had arrested, I took pity and said "Tea love?"
She shook her head, and I contined on to the kitchen area.
Follwed by the Borough Commander.

Great.

Expecting a chat about the borough's "basket of ten," or possibly a bollocking for taking the prisoner out of the cell, I was surprised at the topic of conversation he chose.

A ten minute lecture on the inappropriateness of calling a female prisoner "love."
A promise that this would be mentioned to my team inspector.
And a threat that if said prisoner made a complaint against me, the borough commander would have no choice but to give evidence on her behalf due to the blatant and flagrantly open way I had chosen to use this "wholly inappropriate term in a public, CCTV recorded arena."

He then disappeared off - one of the Custody Sergeants told me later that as I was boiling the kettle (and boiling up inside) our wonderful leader went up to said suspect and offered her his apologies.

As I came back with the teas, the boss was gone from the custody area. I sat down next to the woman, and gave her a tea - yes, she had said no, but she needed a little kindness.
"You OK love?"
She smiled wanly as she took the cup.
"I'm OK, thanks for this. But who was the idiot in the hat who came in?"

'Nuff said.

Knife Crime

This post will probably make me unpopular with the public and the Police equally, but knife crime is in the news so much at the moment it seems daft to leave it alone.

There has recently been a 75 strong anti-knife crime unit set up by the Met to help out, and good luck to them. I do have to wonder where the seventy five officers came from though, and whether another desperately short team is now even more desperate.

On our response teams, we can also prevent knife crime. Until our numbers were so sorely depleted, we used to put out Q-cars, a plainclothes unmarked car, every night duty and some day shifts. I haven't seen one put out by our team in months.
CID and the Robbery Squad also used to go out hunting, but their hours and staff have been reduced to the point where CID especially are struggling to keep up with their workload that is already on their plate when they come in. Sometimes our night duty CID cover is one lone officer, and I don't expect him to start scouring the street for knife carrying feral gangs alone.

We struggle on our response team to put out the numbers and get to the calls, as I have talked about recently. This means that proactive patrolling, although the most enjoyable part of policing, is rarely if ever done.

But we know where the knives are. Any street copper who has worked years in the same area knows where the gangs hang out, where the knives are carried, and who regularly carries them.

Although this is unfashionable, some officers are scared. Not all of us, all the time - but scared we sometimes are.
When we approach these groups, there can be more of them in one place than every single officer in the division. And some, if not most of those officers will of course be dealing with other things. So we know that if it comes down to a real violent situation, in the short term we will lose.
We still approach them, and still get assaulted of course, but it does put you in a thoughtful mind sometimes. Sometimes the control room will not even let you approach groups if you put up you're going to go after them.
We're scared of complaints - we're told we're harassing people. This we are, but that is because, as I said, we know where these knives are - but turn up in a marked Police vehicle with officers in uniform, and most people will have plenty of time to ditch or hide their weapons before our approach.
Often we use stop search as a deterrent, as a nuisance rather than a finding exercise.

When we get lucky, and get someone who is armed and arrest them, we hit the next problem. There will be no handover team if it is weekend, evening, or night (and the handover teams are so busy that often they can't take the jobs on during the day).
So that is probably you and another officer off the road for the rest of the shift. Plus any further enquiries you many need to make before the court case. I am assuming they are charged.

This means that whilst you are sat inside dealing with your body, you cannot deal with the constant, frantic calls that are being put out. Knife fights, serious assaults, domestics, serious car accidents, pub fights, sudden deaths... all are coming out over the radio and you can not assist with any of them.
Neither can your colleagues. They are either tucked up with arrests of their own, or already at or on the way to calls. There are ALWAYs calls outstanding, some hours old.

Don't misunderstand me - my colleagues and I want to arrest people carrying weapons. We want to drag self created arrests in, and do more than just respond to calls. But we don't have the time and resources, and until a more efficient way of dealing with arrests is put into place, this is not going to change.

Like most Police bloggers, I don't think we need more police officers per se. What we need is those officers out on the streets, providing a visible presence, and getting in the way of the persistant criminals. And we need to be helped to do our jobs, rather than constantly hindered in the execution of our duty.

If that happens, then simple - knife crime, and many other types of crime, will fall.


EDIT - the link to the news story where the photo above came from is here. It is a scary set of photos, showing incredibly brave, unarmed officers dealing with an armed, angry, dangerous individual with mental health problems.

Night Duty

Leap in the car, seats still warm from the day shift's crew.
Blat to call. Nick someone.

Drag arrest into custody, too drunk to deal, start notes - urgent assistance to a pub fight, so turf out again.

Fight in the street.

Back to custody to finish my notes from earlier.

Urgent assistance to another pub, diverted to that.
Foot chase after wanted male, caught and cuffed.

Head back to custody to finish my notes from earlier.

Come across fight direct in the street. Call for more units.
Another arrest in.

Back to custody. My operator is booking in this arrest, so I can get my notes done from earlier.

Stabbing in the streets after a gang fight, Inspector turfs everyone out.

Desperate search for victim, followed by desperate wait for ambulance.

Area search for suspect, no luck.

Head back to custody to finish my notes from (now much) earlier.

Operator has finished booking his arrest in. Too drunk to deal. Inspector sees us - units are tucked up on the crime scene, there are "I" immediate calls outstanding. Back on the street. Now. No refs this shift, sorry lads, you know how it is.

Domestic. Take a statement then back to do a crime report, the other unit attending has the arrest.

Back out - can't do my arrest notes from earlier, as there are now only two units for the whole division covering a busy weekend night shift.

Call for assistance from Traffic officers who have come across a large scale street disturbance, running battles with naughty people.

Head back to custody to finish my arrest notes from earlier. Fourteen hours and twenty two calls after starting my shift, when the rest of the team has left and gone home, I walk into custody and hand over the notes to the custody sergeant, who looks over at me.
"Ah Area - good, if you're still here, your man is fit to be dealt with in just under an hour. You can deal with it..."


I still love this job!

Off The Wall

My last post was basically about "challenging stereotypes." Yes, I've had the diversity training as well.

This is something I like to do, or more accurately, I like to make people re-think what they think about me, especially the non-job people I meet as I go about my day to day tasks at work.

Hence why I like to have a laugh; I like people to see the human side of Policing, it's great to see people's reaction when they see a Policeman behaving in a way that they wouldn't necessarily expect.

On the flip side, it also means people underestimate me. And this is very useful, as when I change from big, friendly and slightly dopy copper and snarl into actual action, it takes people by surprise.


I was surprised recently, taken aback by someone else at work. I was in our custody area, waiting for a colleague who had asked me to wait with her prisoner. I was chatting to a defence solicitor. This is frowned on in some police circles, as they are THE ENEMY. Personally I think anyone who is cynical enough to be a copper should at least appreciate the level of cynicism required to be a defence brief.

One thing had led to another, resulting in the Defence Solicitor giving me an impromptu lesson in how to Moonwalk, as per Michael Jackson in his hey day.
I have to admit that perhaps I wasn't completely successful, but I tried.

Unfortunately, my practise was interrupted by a Custody Sergeant, a notoriously grumpy bugger who works as a permanent nights Custody Officer, and actually seems to enjoy it.

He called me over to the Custody desk, and tilted his head to the side. "Area, what in the name of God do you think you are doing? We have to at least pretend to have a semblance of respect in our own Police Stations."
"Sorry Sarge." (Defence Solicitors are THE ENEMY).

The Sergeant hitched his belt over his ample waistline, and leant over the desk towards me. "Besides," he continued in a quieter voice, "You'll never do it properly in boots. You need shoes cut below the ankle; not trainers, something with a hard sole is best."
"Er, thanks Sarge."

That showed me - it was the Sergeant's way of reminding me he hadn't been born a seventeen stone Custody Sergeant.

Cha'mone!

Drink Drive, Sarge. Sorry.

This is not a funny post; those looking for a funny post should like at my "Skippers and Magic" post - that is also true, but I have been told that it is apparently funny.

This is just good advice.


When I pull you over, after you have left a night club at stupid-o-clock in the morning.

When you have stalled the car in front of me, twice, whilst I am parked up at a junction filling out some paperwork.

When your lights remain stubbornly off in the middle of the night, despite other cars trying to attract your attention.

When it takes me nearly two full minutes of driving behind you with all the warning equipment on to finally attract your attention.

When you try and switch seats with your passenger, and then end up fighting with them as they are not happy to take the grief that is rightfully coming your way...

...I have some advice for you.

When I approach the car, do not call me "Oshcifer" and "Darling" alternately. Neither helps your cause.

When I ask your name, do not start your reply with: "Er... Hang on..."

When you have failed the breath test, do not call the three men in the back of the car out to "sort him out boys!" I may be single crewed, but I am not stupid. CCTV is watching me, and I already have units running to me.

If you are going to do the above - don't put the child locks on. It just cramps your style. Believe me. And your three, big, gangsta wannabes will find it hard to look tough whilst failing to get out of the car.

Do not reply to the custody sergeant's question of "What is your name?" with a vacant look, then "Er..."

If you do end up giving the above reply, do not give a name and birth date that is different from the one that you originally gave me. This WILL end up as yet another charge for you.

Do not offer to "Blow" the Custody Sergeant rather than blow into the station breath machine. He will not find it funny. In fact, he is gay. And obviously so. No matter how short your skirt is, you are not on a winner here.


And finally, and most importantly...

Do NOT flirt outrageously with every male in the Police Station with the intention of being released. Do not stroke the officer's arms with a wink. Do not start to slowly unbutton your top, one by one, as you are waiting to be fingerprinted.

The entertainment for us is very nice, thank you. However, it will not work, you will not be released because of your actions.

More crucially, when you turn up to court in your suit and sensible skirt, with your nice parents in tow, once they (and the whole of the court) have seen the custody CCTV, you will really wish that you had just kept quiet.


Trust me on this.

Scrambled Egg

In Custody. Dealing with an arrest too boring to give the details of.

It was office hours, so there was a chance I may be able to hand over the arrest to a specialist investigation team - or failing that, a poor frustrated probationer who has been ordered to work on the Prisoner Processing Team.

It also meant that there were members of the Senior Management Team on duty. This means they can walk up to you whilst you are trying to negotiate with a drunken prisoner for his draw strings from his tracksuit bottoms, and ask you what you think of the current "divisional priorities." Or even ask you what they are.

I was attempting to write my notes, when an officer with silver and gold spread liberally on his shoulders approached me. A space cleared around me, as other coppers made good their escape. The custody sergeant started to type frantically and buried his head towards the computer screen.

I was on my own.

Senior Officer: "Hello there, er... what have you got in today?"
Area: "An arrest sir."
SO: "Ah good, with a detection I hope?"
Area: "No sir, I'm afraid not."
SO: "Ok, well there is a push on them at the moment, we are all being measured on our personal performance when it comes to getting arrests and detections."
(WE are not being measured on our personal performance for that. I am being measured on my personal performance.)
SO: "What's that on your shirt, on the radio loop?"
Area: "A tie pin sir, a charity one."
SO: "Well, that may be so, but you shouldn't wear it - any personal statement like that can cause offence to other groups."
Area: "It's an NSPCC tie pin sir - who will it cause offence to? Paedophiles? I thought we wanted to make their lives uncomfortable?"
Custody Sergeant (in emergency live saving mode): "Er, Area, can you get your prisoner out of the cell, I need to talk to him urgently. Now, Area."

The tie pin has gone now, but not for the guvnor - I broke it in a fight with a drunken wife of a man we'd arrested for beating her up, a week later.