Jailbreak

Thin Lizzy sang: "Tonight there's going to be a jailbreak, somewhere in this town."

I'm going to take a stab in the dark here, and guess... the prison?


Meanwhile, an example of GOOD POLICING. And good protesting, come to that.

Keep Cool

That was the good news, as provided by an anonymous commenter. Thank you.


Now, go look HERE at Gadget's blog.
Most of the time I avoid any type of political comment on the Police. Gadget, Copperfield, Nightjack and many others have that covered in a more eloquent way than I could ever hope to do. In fact, you'll be pleased to know that due in part to my dimness, and also in part to my being knackered, it took me three attempts to spell "eloquent" just then.

However, Gadget's post above just infuriates me. A particularly brave officer is injured and the Chief Constable unable to comment as he is a serving officer.
As a serving Police Officer myself, there's obviously no way I'd suggest that people should email into the Police Force mentioned and take the Chief to task for what I see as pretty appalling behaviour on his part.

It's just what I'd do if I wasn't in the job.
But I am.
So I won't.

Watch the video again, it'll make you feel better.

House Clearance

Two thirty ay-em, and we're heading towards our divisional HQ for a spot of porcelain patrol.




It's been one of those nights, and neither of us have had a single break in eight and a half hours of work. Imagine the stress on our poor bladders.

Of course, as we drive through the darkened glistening wet streets, our control room put out the "suspects on premises" call about a quarter of a mile from our location.
And of course, muggins here answers up rather than go and take the desperately needed comfort break.

Forty minutes later, and we're still waiting for a dog unit to attend as they are tied up at a job on the other side of the Force. It's raining hard now, my stomach is tying itself in knots, and I'm standing alone in the dark on a containment on a warehouse waiting for the furry land sharks to come and bite the buggers who have been caught on scene by a security guards whilst helping themselves to the company computers.

I know my oppo is inside the security hut with the guard, watching the cameras.
I also heard the toilet flush not long after him going in there.
Bastard.

"BX23, BX201, BX24 and BX82 from Bravo X-ray. Dog unit is still dealing and unavailable. Bravo X-ray over."
A pause, then a resigned voice "Received."

Sod it. This is how bad decisions are made. I decide to go in and look for them ourselves.

Short story, we got both of them eventually. I had to run, and ripped my uniform trousers for the umpteenth time. I also got a smack from a confused probationer who had blundered into the building without a torch and mistaken my jacket saying "POLICE" as a black and white sweater with a "SWAG" bag.

Nevertheless. Two bodies in, one for me and my oppo.
First time I've ever stopped at a garage to use their bathroom with a prisoner on board...

Throughout the whole event, I kept replaying Solomon Burke singing "None of Us Are Free" through my head. At one point the rain drops hitting my hat started to sound in time to the song.
Nights do something funny to me like that.

Norn Iron - Again

I've been away from the computer a lot recently due to a very busy period of shifts and a couple of crown court cases. Added together it means I've had single figure days off in the last month or so.

No sympathy needed, as I got paid for some of it for once.



A quick post today - as many blogs will be saying, thoughts and prayers with our brothers and sisters in the PSNI at the moment, after THIS

Coming so soon after the attack on the army base, I just hope that this isn't a re-emergence of a greater threat in Northern Ireland to the security forces there.

Some of you may remember Belfast Peeler - he was one of my favourite (and in my opinion one of the best written) Police Blogs, until he was pushed towards making the decision to stop blogging.
I know that because of the way his blog was set up, he still receives any comments that are left on the site, even though they're not published.
Bearing that in mind, please take the time to pop over and leave a comment saying hello, passing on best wishes or condolences to someone who is now working in a more stressful Policing environment than most of us do.

Not a good time for the PSNI, nor the men and women of the British Armed Forces, home and away.

Off Nights

A bit of advice for those of you lacking the requisite brain cells to think for yourselves.
As I do after finishing Night Duty.

When returning home from a long weekend set of nights, and stumbling half dead around your home at 0700 hours, do not be tempted to do first aid on yourself.

If you are, remember that the paste you are looking for in the medicine cabinet to soothe the cuts and scratches on your face is in fact Germolene - NOT Vicks Vapour Rub.

One is significantly more pleasant than the other to apply to your injuries.

That is all.

Assault PC

As an aside to my last post - I wasn't exaggerating.

Good on him for stepping up. I would be interested to know if the many witnesses helped the brave officer who had got involved, despite having no officer safety kit or way of getting back up.

I would also be interested to know if he'll be so keen to get involved next time...

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.

UDI

Chatting to a Nurse at the local Hospital last week, I encountered a new term.


We had been dealing with yet another violent idiot that needed help but was refusing to accept it - for an example, have a look here at Kingmagic's post.
Basically, take that scene and transplant it into a busy London Hospital rather than a busy A&E anywhere else in the country.

Our suspect/victim/patient had been spotted having an altercation with a number of drunks in a local town centre. On our arrival, realising he was the target of our attentions, he scoffed all of his copious drugs supply rather than get nicked.

Cue a fight, followed by a roll around, followed by another fight, this time drug fuelled as his gear kicked in.
Of course, he refused medical attention. However we (unfortunately) have a duty of care, so LAS turned up and the not-so willing volunteer was transported up in the back of the Ambulance to the hospital, cuffed and stuffed and attended on by four knackered coppers.

And of course a chipper ambo crew.
Ambo: 1 "Name and date of birth please?"
Patient: "Fuck you, fuck you, I'll fucking have ya!"
Ambo 2: "We'll take that as declined."
Ambo 1: "Right. Doctor's name?"
Patient: "I'll fuckin' take ya, get these cuffs off! AAAGH!"
Ambo 1: "Ok. I'll take that as declined again."
Ambo 2: "Officers, would you mind awfully keeping the noise down? I'm trying to listen to the football results and frankly you're all making a bloody racket back there."

So, into the Hospital. Still kicking off, our man was cuffed with one hand on to each of the trolley rails he has been moved on to. Of course, he got a private room whilst the seventy year old pensioner outside continued to wait, but hey ho. Nurses and all staff were very helpful as always - security were also called to assist if necessary. This is always a very kind gesture, but the combined age of the two frail security guards there is similar to the age of three retired coppers.

Wonder of wonders, a Doctor was pushed forward. But wait, why were the two nurses and the staff nurse grinning? Ah yes, a new attendee Doctor.

"Can you take one of the cuffs off please?"
(Snigger snigger from the nurses)

Five minutes later, after a brief struggle, blood and medical liquids over the doctor, and a couple of extra injuries for all concerned all round, we stepped outside to chat and chill. Sedatives were issued pretty quickly after the very brief initial examination by the Doctor.

I knew one of the nurses quite well, and noticed a large bruise on her arm.
"You OK? Did he get you on the arm? If so he'll be coming in for that"
She blinked, and looked at her arm: "This? No, its fine. It's just a UDI."
"UDI?"
She stared at me for a second - "Yes - an Unidentified Drinking Injury."


Incidentally, yet another time where my boots are caked in blood, as are my trousers. However, we have to buy our own boots and we have been told due to budget restraints we are not allowed to order any uniform until the next financial year.
Wonder if I'll get in trouble for turning up for parade in my boxer shorts?

Criminal Protection Service

I am so angry that I am struggling to write clearly. I recently received a result from the court, for a case that we were waiting to give evidence in at Crown Court.

The case was one where there had been a large scale public order in the High Street. Three people had been abused, then the same three (entirely innocent) people assaulted, by one very horrible person.
Police had arrived and quickly arrested the person, who had whilst waiting for the Police to arrive called as many mates as possible.

CCTV control room had been watching, and luckily called urgent assistance on behalf of the officers who were struggling to control their detainee whilst keep an eye on the growing crowd.

As always, everyone was miles away, but by luck I was one of the first units to arrive. By that point about two hundred people were gathered, and suffice to say they were not making it easy for us. I attempted to help contain the original prisoner whilst other officers tried to control the crowd - whilst doing so, I was assualted seriously and methodically by the detainee and other people as were two other officers. I can't tell you the exact details, but we were assaulted in a series of interesting and unusual ways, resulting in bruising AND bleeding.

I also got a mouth and face full of saliva for my troubles.

Straight to hospital for me at the time, and the other officers.
Life-long physical scars for me on my chest and arms.

Detainee charged with Assault Occasioning Actual Bodily Harm x3, common assault x2, Section 4 public order act and affray.

I was actually looking forward to court, I wanted the jurors to hear my long and very detailed statement, and the other officer's evidence, and see the CCTV of both the incident and the later goings on in custody.

Instead, I got an email "You are de-warned for court, the suspect has plead guilty."
Shame, but a good result.

But no... I did some digging recently. The CPS, ever mindful of their figures and desperate to avoid a costly trial (which always has a chance of failing) instead plea-bargained the suspect to take a guilty plea for common assault and public order.
No prison sentence, and a fine of less than £500.

I know I've felt let down before with court cases, and frustrated by the CPS. But this is a new low for me. With eight Police officer witnesses, three independant witnesses, clear and accurate CCTV evidence of the whole incident from two cameras, CCTV in custody of continued fighting, and medical statements of our injuries plus photos taken and exhibited of the injuries, one would think that it was enough for a trial.

I WANTED my day in court.
Instead I sit here looking at my scars and bubbling over in anger, and frustration. This post is meant as nothing more than a cathartic release for me, and I know I can't acheive anything by it. But really, what is the point? After getting blood and saliva in my eyes and mouth, and physically scarred, seeing my mates getting a kicking and being caused open, bleeding wounds - I have to wonder why on earth we all still go in to work?

I don't even know where to start with this, but if a private prosecution is possible I will be spending my own money to do it, on principle.

It's just beyond depressing that I have to resort to that.

On Using My Asp

So far in my career I have used my asp only once in anger, outside of a public order situation.

Of course, I have used it to smash windows, search shrubbery, and poke sleeping colleagues, and have drawn it and racked it many times in readiness, but the truth is that in most of the one on one violent situations I have been in I have not had the time or the space to draw and use it.

I might have been justified in using it, but picture the scene - Police are fighting in a very thin hallway with a suspect for a domestic. He's drunk, possibly on crack and used a knife on his victim which we think he still has. He also has a long history of violence against Police. Only one person can get to him at a time - but the last thing you want is him getting away further into the house where he can arm up, have time to get his weapon out and/or barricade himself in with the victim.

So one by one, coppers try and fight him, and an asp would knock out the Police Officers before it did any harm to the suspect. Even if there was room to draw and rack it.

So although I think it's a useful piece of kit, I think most members of public would be surprised how little it is used.

The scenario described above is a common one; the area I work in has a lot of blocks of flats and housing estates with the horrible thing corridors.

Just before going on annual leave I went to yet another shout the same as above. Police had attended the address and were talking to the victim when the suspect came back. One of the officers on scene had time to call for urgent assistance, and it was immediately obvious that there was a "large disturbance in background" as our reports like to say.

We were all making our way, but of course most of us were on the opposite side of the division. Nevertheless, I was the second responding unit to arrive on scene, to find the situation as above, with lots of screaming and shouting and a Detective from a neighbouring nick sitting outside the front door bleeding and calling for more help on the radio; CID had luckily been in the area doing enquiries and actually had radios turned on, so ended up assisting.

We charged in and I stretched around to try and get a hand on part of the wriggling and fighting suspect in order to try and drag him out to try and control the situation. My crewmate ran out and I found out later smashed a window to climb in the house in order to tackle the suspect from the other side of the corridor.

One of the initial officers, injured and by this point no doubt exhausted, drew his CS and sprayed it.
This was very effective, much more than an asp would be.

On the Police Officers anyway.

As we finally dragged the suspect out, with tears rolling down our faces and coughing, ripped uniforms and two injured officers in tow, the suspect still had time to attempt to headbutt two officers, and to kick a sergeant who had arrived on scene. Not a good idea, incidentally.

As the suspect was pushed into the waiting van and the doors shut, the extractor fan was switched on, and it was immediately obvious that the suspect was recovering from the CS exposure quicker than we were.

London Ambulance attended and cleared away the injured officers to a local hospital, whilst half of the shift trekked back to custody to try and get changed/write notes/wash off the CS crystals. And of course the officer who had sprayed the CS got a little ribbing from his red-eyed colleagues.

I'm not saying I don't want CS or an Asp, but I think it's easy to feel brave with a kit belt on. Knowing their limitations is probably more useful than knowing their possibilities.

I mentioned this to a skipper who had arrived at custody to assist with the welcoming committee for the suspect. He turned to me, and said "Area, you're not a bad copper, but I wouldn't trust you to explore the limits of a wet paper bag without hurting yourself."
Good point, well made.

Beach

For the past two weeks I have been hundreds of miles away from the Big Smoke, sunning myself on the beach and topping up my sunburn.

During this time I have acheived zero detections, I have dealt with no domestics, arrested no one, put on no crime reports and managed not to get sworn at, spat at or assaulted.


Of course I am looking forward to going back to work...

Fin.

Punk in Drublic

It was a dark, stormy night, and all good people were in bed. Naughty people were out to play though, and causing us to get wet repeatedly. Non Police readers may remember the days of school uniform getting wet and the trousers drying against your skin, a lovely feeling... We have the same type of trousers in the Police.

We took a call off our division, to assist an area that had run out of units to send, a request from the London Ambulance Service for our assistance with a drunk patient. When we turned up on scene it turned out that the division we had been sent to assist had in fact mustered up two units to attend, who arrived on scene at the same time as us, but hey ho.

LAS quickly explained that they had been called to two drunk females, who had become abusive.


Both girls were easy to spot - fifty feet up the road, staggering about in dirty t-shirts, soaking wet, with one of them shouting "Filth! Filth! Filth!" repeatedly. LAS stated that she may have taken more than just alcohol.

We approached the girl shouting, to have a word. Six coppers, and she did not want us anywhere near us. Her face snarled up in hate, and she let out a barrage of abuse. As one of the local officers approached her, she hit him in the chest and pushed him into the road.

Ah. I could sense that a subtle approach was going to be needed here.

Another copper pushed the girl away, and tried to talk to her. She stormed off about ten paces, then just as quickly turned back, and pushed at the first officer she saw and swung a fist at the next. As she did this she kept up a barrage of abuse, screaming like a banshee "Cunts, you fucking cunts, fuck off!"

Her friend did the "leave it Shelly, it's not worth it" routine, but to no avail.

I think we could safely assume she did not want LAS assistance.

The barrage of abuse kept up, some of it quite inventive. She kept pushing the two closest officers, who kept cool and kept marching her up the road until her friend grabbed her by the hand and pulled her away.


The thing is - how have we come to this? How have we come to the point where you can get away with shouting "Cunt" repeatedly at a Police Officer without any punishment? In the met we are told that a Police Officer can NOT be a victim of minor public order offences, which in effect means that it's open season to abuse coppers, unless there are other members of public around to be offended. CPS will not even run with a public order offence against a copper in my division. Apparently it's our jobs to be abused.

Assault Police? Well, no... Although the pushing and shoving, and the misguided punch fell into this category, again, CPS drop so many assault police charges, we all knew that there was no way they'd run with an assault police by a small built girl against six, burly, male coppers.

Besides, I could hear on the radio that all our units were getting tucked up, and it was looking again like my car would be the only one on the streets covering a population of well over a quarter of a million. The neighbouring division's radio was screaming out as well, with top graded calls stacking up.


As we all walked back to the cars, there was no satisfied smile, no feeling of jobs well done; shamefaced again at being unable to fight back against the idiots on the streets, knowing that we had done the right thing for keeping us available to try and keep a lid on the incidents that were coming out, but also knowing that the right thing was far from the way it should be.