Page Thirty Three - Title (Copcast #148)

It was dark, about 2am and the strobing blue lights were flickering off houses and hedgerows accompanied by the yelp of sirens as George’s Response Car barreled along the road, he was concentrating so intently on his driving that his eyes felt like they were out on stalks. Ahead of him was his colleague Jock in another Response Car but unlike George’s car, this one was letting out a long eerie wail and its headlights were flashing alternately.

They were playing different tunes on their sirens as they ran in formation so that any other road users would have more warning that there were two cars and not one, it is every Response Driver’s nightmare being the follow car and having someone pull out in front of them, not expecting a second vehicle to be there.

Hence George’s intense concentration.

They had both answered a call from the Control Room at around the same time, it was an Emergency or ‘I-Call’ to a woman who was being beaten by her husband. She had managed to lock herself into a bedroom but her husband was trying to break down the door and apparently she had sounded hysterical on the phone. As Jock and George had driven toward the call from different parts of their ground they had converged on the single direct road to the tiny village the call had came from, several miles out into the sparsely populated, rural area of the county with little or no street-lighting.

There was a pair of red tail-lights in the distance and almost nothing else to see apart from a line of traffic islands with a lit bollard on each, to keep traffic travelling in opposite directions from colliding. The road was almost dead straight but it rose and fell in a series of dips as the two Police vehicles gained on the red tail-lights of the other car. The car appeared to be slowing and George saw Jock’s car pull out onto the offside and commit itself to an overtake.

“Oh dear” said George, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. He began to brake heavily as he realised that the car wasn’t slowing down enough to allow Jock to regain the nearside before he reached the traffic island. He was either going to have to brake hard and come back in behind the other car or stay offside past the traffic island.

Jock went offside of the bollard, just as a pair of headlights appeared out of the dip ahead of them. Jock’s car hit the oncoming vehicle head on. George fought his own car as he stood on the brakes, and it snaked and weaved to a standstill on smoking tyres, just short of the combined wreckage of two cars mangled into one tangled heap of metal. George’s heart was in his mouth as he and his operator clambered out and ran over to the cars, past glass, metal and wheels lying in the road. “Oh god, no” he kept repeating out loud before remembering to call in the incident on the radio. Then unbelievably Jock and his operator were standing with him, covered in white powder from the airbags, and helping the other driver out of what was left of his car. The car that Jock was trying to overtake never stopped.

Fortunately another unit was able to take the call to the woman being beaten by her husband while the rest of the team helped clear up the mess of Jock’s collision. The young lad innocently driving the car that Jock crashed into was admirably compensated with a replacement. Jock meantime became one of the loudest supporters of the message that it is far better to arrive safely a few seconds later than to not arrive at all. You’re no use to anyone if your incapacitated or dead.

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Page Thirty Two - Not a Catwalk (Copcast #147)

It cannot be denied that there are some people that find police officers in their uniforms a powerfully appealing image to behold. It is also true that there are some officers who are so enamoured of how well they look in all their kit that they walk around like fashion models on a catwalk.

In his role as tutor constable, George has become 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. Admittedly some of it is useful, like a decent torch or fixed penalty ticket folder, but some of it is not so useful like a 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 kit to start them off, all of it at the most economical price. Things like handcuff holders where the seams split and baton holders that lose your ASP in a foot chase. In short the job knows it will need to replace these items on a regular basis, because police officers will break them.

George will confess to having a number of items bought & paid for by him, including an adjustable cuff holder (for a leftie), a leather MAT belt and a decent adjustable baton holder. He is also the proud owner of a Garrity LED torch that he purchased in Walmart three years ago for $5.00 (including tax) whilst on vacation in Florida. It is still going strong and it sits nicely in a job issue baton holder. In addition to all this he owns a TAC vest to carry it all and has his POLSA 'Gucci' kit safely stored in his locker. All of George’s kit is engraved with his collar number as, hard to believe though it may be, there are some light fingered individuals out there who seem to think that re-assigning someone else’s kit is 'fair game' if it isn’t nailed down. George himself feels that they should have their fingers cut off, he bought his kit for practical reasons, it lasts and he relies on it.

Whenever a new bunch of students arrive on the Training Unit the Sergeant ceremoniously strips them of their newly bought kit, when and only when they are released onto shift they allowed to wear their non-job issue stuff and then only with their new Sergeant’s approval. One new student however recently took exception to this, declaring that he would use both his two new torches as the job ones were, in his words, 'sh***'. George shrugged and said “Okay Jason, whatever”.

One of Jason’s new torches was an LED light that clipped onto his stab vest. It was very good at its job, Jason could write tickets in the dark (as opposed to writing them out in a dry, warm police car) and made him look a bit like Robocop. George quietly wondered how long it would stay attached to Jason’s stab vest though. He didn't have to wait long to find out, a few days later they attended an officer assistance call, two officers were struggling with a drunken male whilst his mates were trying to set him free. Jason jumped into the fray, pushing them back and giving them warnings to move on. One lad had to be pushed more than the others and the officers all ended up piling on top of him leading to a short scuffle. The drunken lads were nicked for drunk & disorderly, the van arrived and both were taken away.

George checked on Jason and pointed out 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 produced his other equally expensive LED torch that apparently harnessed the power of seven suns, to aid his search for the first LED light, only to find it had a cracked case and refused to work.

George lent him his. Jason found the missing light under a bench some 20 feet away, the lens destroyed and the clip cracked; apparently it had been trodden on during the scuffle. With some angst Jason threw George’s $5.00 (including tax) torch back at him and his vest torch in the nearest bin. Teddy and pram parted company in spectacular style as the former was tossed in a far corner with extreme prejudice. Of course Jason’s experience is one George now shares with all new students and happily unlike him, most of them get the message.

 

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Page Thirty One - Be Vewy, Vewy Qwiet (Copcast #146)

"Unit to deal please, suspects on, 14 Richmond street".

Suspects on. Those two words in a radio message, guaranteed to make all police officers ears twitch. The thrill of the chase, you can't beat it. George called up “Mike14, show me en-route, ETA three minutes". He 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. His 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 them and they had a clear path, in his mirror George could see two other units behind them in the distance, neither were response drivers and they were doing their best to make way through the traffic. He could also hear a dog unit call up, offering their services and realised they were after his quarry, but he was absolutely determined that no one was going to get to his prey before him. They arrived on scene in just under the three minutes, the dog unit arrived 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 and the dog was now very excited, barking and circling around close to one of them.

"Police dog! Come out or the dog comes in!" shouted the dog handler, there was no reply from inside the unfinished building. The dog unit went in and came back out five minutes later, "No trace on the ground floor, I can't get the dog up to the first floor because the staircase isn’t finished". George went in and could see that the loft hatch was hanging down. They 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" said the dog handler.

George and his probationer, who was now dragging a Dragon Lamp a Public Order shield and a NATO helmet behind him, climbed up to the next floor and then heard a noise from the loft. By now other units had arrived and one of them came back with a stepladder. Being the biggest and most experienced everyone decided George was going up first. If Billy burglar was up there, the sight of him dressed up as Darth Vader with baton, NATO helmet and shield might make him think twice about playing up.

Again they called "Police dog! Come out or the dog comes up!" Still no response so George squeezed through the hatch and gingerly searched the loft with the Dragon Lamp. Nothing. He shouted again, this time he saw the loft insulation twitch in a corner. George crept over toward where he saw the movement feeling rather like Elmer Fudd, the words “Stay vewy vewy qwiet” going over and over in his head he went. He heard his probationer struggling through the loft hatch, following behind him. He gave the insulation a prod with his baton and felt something hard. A firmer prod and something squealed. Got him, “dat sqwewy wabbid” in the form of 'Billy Burglar' was unceremoniously hauled up by his tee shirt. No older than 15 years, covered in dust and fiber from the loft insulation he was directed to the loft hatch where he was arrested by George for burglary before anybody else could say the magic words.

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