George fears he’s getting on in years and his memory isn't what it used to be. He struggles with the names of people he’s seen around the nick for years and often finds himself having conversations with people who clearly know him and his family yet can’t recollect exactly how he knows them. George blames his badger-like greying side burns, years of shift work, not enough rest days and the constant onslaught of work. What is really worrying is that he can still recognise a burglar from 50 yards away in the dark with his back to him and even give you his date of birth. This can pay dividends when on patrol much to the jealousy of other police officers. He doesn't profess to be an expert 'thief taker' but he does know a ‘scrote’ when he sees one.
The other evening a call came in, “burglars making off from a scene”. Everyone turned out, burglars were always hot potatoes and everyone likes the sport of catching the little … scamps. The force chopper lifted-off, while a dog unit had to forgo refs and high tailed it in from across the other side of the division. There were about six local units scouring the streets and trying to establish pinch points, etc.
Reports came in that the males had split up and the informant was following one of them. Along with his trusty probationer, George was one of those six cars. They carried out an area search, it was dark and it was raining, his vehicle spotlights illuminated side alleys and the living rooms of residents oblivious to the chaos unfurling around them. Now, although he had lived and worked in the town for some years, this particular area was not one George was too familiar with and his probationer lived 39 miles away and had zero local knowledge. There was a map book in the car but of course the page they needed was missing and the radio was far too busy for them to admit they were lost and ask for directions. Don’t even ask about anything technical like SatNav.
There was another update, "Suspect is now walking towards Leicester Road down Jones Close”. George looked at the probationer and she could clearly see the "Where the hell is that?” look on his face. In desperation they turned into a side street and travelled about fifty yards before realising that the road was closed. Reluctantly they started to reverse then suddenly saw the road sign 'Jones Close'. George looked up in time to see two figures in the distance walking towards him. Brilliant they hadn't seen him.
Reversing quickly he parked up at the bottom of Jones Close where they got out and a few seconds later a male appeared, "Hello Mikey" said George. He had instantly recognised him from briefing and had even nicked him before. Mikey stopped, looked at George and said, "Alright, it’s a fair cop, you may as well nick me, I’m in breach of my curfew". George smiled at him just as another male walked around the corner. It was the informant who pointed at Mikey and gives them the thumbs up. George turned to Mikey, "Actually Mikey, my colleague here has something to say to you" his probationer then arrested him for burglary. He resigned himself to the handcuffs being placed on him. He had been running for about 25 minutes, which is hard work for a heroin user and he was grateful for a rest in a nice warm car followed by a police cell. Mikey was presented to custody, his clothing seized, finger prints and photographs taken before being put to bed all cosy in a cell. He ended up being charged and remanded in custody all weekend to appear at court. A good arrest is still a good arrest even if it’s completely by fluke and they were more than happy to take the glory.
George did make a mental note to spend more time in that part of the town to try and gain some better local knowledge of the area while spending more time on his DS, playing 'Brain Training'.
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