Page Nine - Intelligence Unused (Copcast #124)

uA unit to deal please, 21 Sainsbury Avenue, concern for welfare, it’s graded as an emergency call" the radio crackled. George told his probationer to offer up for it since it seemed like a fairly straightforward job and something else for his portfolio. The probationer gave their call sign and they were assigned and committed. Whilst en-route George asked his probationer to obtain more details whilst he navigated through the traffic on blues and twos.

The update came through, "Child Abuse Team has had a call from a neighbour of number 21 who wishes to remain anonymous. States the 13 year old boy is being assaulted". The probationer asked if there were any previous calls to the address or warning markers. “Only a couple of domestics”, replied the controller.

They arrived and informed control then walked to the door. Listening to the door they heard nothing, no shouting or crying. They knocked and heard movement inside; "Who the eff is it?" came the reply. "Police!" George shouted.

The door opened and there stood a man with long wild blonde hair, no shirt and his chest covered in self-harm marks. His torso positively rippled with muscle. George’s heart sank; it was Charlie Lane, local drug dealer and general pain in the neck. Charlie had PNC warning markers for (and in no particular order): Mental Health, Suicidal, Weapons, Firearms, Drugs, Violent towards Police, Escaper, Cage Fighter and all round Grade-A psycho with little regard for the chief constable and his band of merry men.

The radio crackled again, "Is that someone going to 21 Sainsbury Avenue? That’s Charlie Lane’s address" called a concerned colleague. "He’s got warning markers you know". George thanked the officer and silently cursed the controller for doing such a poor job with the intelligence. Charlie wanted to know what they wanted. The probationer, completely oblivious to the radio traffic, tried talking to Charlie who wasn't listening; he just wanted them to foxtrot oscar.

George said to Charlie "Look, we’ve been called to check the welfare of a young lad living here, there are reports he’s been assaulted. We need to check him out". Charlie replied "Eff off" and tried to shut the door but somehow and without any conscious effort, George’s right foot had found its way in the door, stopping it from shutting. Charlie looked down at him and he felt his stomach tighten. "What the eff are you doing?" he demanded. Actually he said much more than that, but you get the drift.

"Whoa, easy tiger, let me check the kids and the we’ll go ". Charlie told them that with the help of the police all but one of his kids had been taken into care only two days previously. George thought “Nice work control, that little nugget of intel should have come from you, not him”. Eventually they persuaded Charlie to let them see the remaining lad, muttering something about a section 17 power of entry to preserve life. Charlie actually growled and called for his son, who came to the door, Charlie kissed him on the side of the head. They chatted to the lad and checked him for any signs of injury; he seemed fine and wandered off, at which point Charlie then lost it. He was very keen to show how much he worked out and asked if they wanted to come in and check the rest of the house, just for fun. They politely declined and left.

They reported to the Inspector and informed him that it appeared to be a malicious call from a neighbour, intent on causing Charlie and the police problems. George had checked the son and he appeared fine. The Inspector agreed with how they’d dealt with the incident.

George chalked this incident up as a perfect example of not only the importance of gathering intelligence, but also how dangerous it can be to not pass it on to the people that need it. In some cases it can literally be a matter of life or death.

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Page Eight - Burglar Captured (Copcast #123)

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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Page Seven - Parking Ticket (Copcast #122)

George went into work yesterday to see a female colleague somewhat miffed and perturbed. This was unusual given that she was one of the few officers in the nick that always had a positive attitude to work even at 7.05 on an early turn.

"What's up?" George asked.

"Got a bastard complaint" she replied without looking up from her emails.

No way, George couldn't imagine a scenario where she would get a complaint for anything, she was such a nice and considerate person. She eventually explained 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. George had to admit he'd been a little curt with someone if he thought they were (A) lying, (B) obstructive or (C) both. He know's it's not right but there are times when some people just won't pay attention otherwise.

It turned out that his 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 anywhere. Given the circumstances and the urgency of the call (the male was trying to get out of holding room and being held down by staff) George's colleague spotted a parking space near the entrance. You can imagine her thoughts now 'Ideal, get the car close, don't want to drag a prisoner across the car park'. So she parked up and ran in with her partner. They did the business, cuffed the prisoner and took him out to the car since by then he was 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. An informal resolution at it's best although it is still recorded on her personal record. The Inspector contacted the officer by email and reminded her in future to only park in a disabled bay if it absolutely unavoidable.

George's colleague was understandably annoyed over this, but he told her not to take it to heart. She had made a decision at the time that was justified. She was answering an emergency call, a shoplifter was violent and possibly assaulting a member of staff. She had travelled three miles to the store on blues and twos in an effort to get to the incident before anyone got seriously hurt and she had chosen to park at the nearest point to store for the sake of officer and public safety.

Now, thanks to a member of the public who felt it was more important for a police officer to not park in a disabled parking space George's colleague had been chastised by email by an Inspector, she was now a demoralised and very grumpy partner.

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Page Six - Juvenile Domestic Caution (Copcast #121)

George criminalised a teenager this week and he doesn't feel great about it. His Sergeant, his inspector and all his colleagues agree that the action taken was 'ridiculous but inevitable'.

Picture this; a 17 year old girl left home to find her way in life. A little young perhaps, but she was fed up with her controlling mother who refused to let her grow up. She arranged to stay at her aunt's and just needed a few things from her mother's place so along with a friend, she attended her mum's house only to find that her mum had locked her out and had dumped all of her clothes, CD's and personal possesions. The girl lost the plot and kicked the front door and made various threats, mum panicked and called the police.

George attended and spoke to all parties concerned and discovered that the girl just wanted her stuff but mum wanted her to come home under her terms. No one had been injured, nothing had been damaged, there had just been a lot of shouting and tears. Anyway a domestic violence form was completed and the girl heeded words of advice given to her to go away and contact her mother when she is calmer.

Mum then poured out all her woes to George explaining 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. George suggested she leave things at that for the time being and wait until everyone had calmed down before speaking to her daughter again. George returned to the police station to finalise the ream of resulting paperwork.

The next day George received an email; 'Mum 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 section 4a of the Public Order Act'.

Brilliant. Now that meant George had to return and obtain a statement and carry out house to house enquiries etc. First things first, he spoke to the mother to find out exactly what was going on. Mum told George that since her phone call to the police station she'd had yet another change of heart and no longer wanted to prosecute her daughter. Sighing inwardly George informed her that in order to get the incident classed as 'no offence' he would need a brief statement from her, stating that she no longer wanted to prosecute because that would irrepairably destroy their already strained relationship and she wasn't under any duress, etc. Having obtained this he submitted the crime report as 'no offence', with a full screed as to why a prosecution wasn't in the public interest.

Three days later the crime report was bounced back with a note from the Crime Management Office stating 'the crime report has been rejected, you have to deal with this matter positively as per policy'. George spoke to his Sergeant who referred him to the Inspector who in turn said it was crazy but they had no choice but to arrest the girl and put her through the criminal justice system. It's police policy to prosecute any apparent offender in a case of domestic violence regardless of whether the victim wants them prosecuted.

So against the wishes of the 'victim', George invited the girl into the police station on a voluntary basis and interviewed her under caution then issued her a reprimand after she fully admitted what had happened. Although George didn't arrest her the reprimmand is recorded as a conviction and she had her DNA and fingerprints taken. The girl wants to work with children but that isn't going to happen for a while because the reprimand will show up on a Criminal Records check.

George isn't happy because criminalising teenagers for being just a bit gobby isn't what I joined up for. All in all a completely unrewarding experience which has further reinforced his belief that common sense is a difficult quality to find today.

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Page Five - Care in the Community (Copcast #120)

For some years in the UK there has been a policy to introduce people suffering mental health issues back into the community and remove them from institutions, so that they can lead more normal lives than they would if they were shut away in a hospital. The system relies on selecting the patients who will benefit from living in the community and providing them with appropriate support in the form of accomodation, visiting healthcare workers and properly prescribed treatment. Unfortunately, there are times when insufficient resources are available or patients refuse to be treated and it is then that the police that are called upon to deal with them.

Anyone who questions whether this system of 'care in the community' works need only spend a Night Duty with the officers on a response relief. They don't blame anyone, they often just feel they're the wrong tool to use.

George comes into contact with those suffering from mental health problems on a fairly frequent basis. Take last night, he attended a call from someone stating that they are receiving 'disgusting' text messages. The controller stated that the caller was 'rambling' and 'not making much sense'. George told his probationer that he knew the address was an apartment complex where the Social Services placed patients who were being treated 'in the community' and told her to be alert.

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

The conversation went something like:

"What's going on Steven?"

"It's them dirty bastards, sending me text messages about me mum"
"Have you still got them on your phone Steven?"
"Deleted them. Didn't want to look at them. They get me angry"
"Okay … what do you want us to do?"
"Stop them sending me them texts"
"Who is it? Do you know who's sending them?"
"No ... I just told you …. I deleted them. Take my phone and catch them"
"Okay Steven but if we take your phone, there's no evidence on it"
"Catch them or I'll use my knives. I'll stab anyone coming through my door"

At this point, the mood changed from 'slightly concerned' to 'absolutely bricking' it. George looked at the 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). George grabbed the probationer by the arm and pulled her towards the door. Steven stopped and looked at them.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Leaving" replied George.

Steven began to throw things around his room as they dived out the door. "Leaving?" he shouted. "What are you going to do about my texts?". George muttered something about calling police again when he got another one, or calling into the police station then scuttled down the stairs followed by a torrent of abuse, not all of it directed at him or anyone in particular.

They got outside and made rapid updates to Control and had warning markers placed on the address. Then they hightailed it out of there and began the long process of liaising with Social Services and the Mental Health Practitioners to ensure a long term solution to Steven's problems

It is force policy to now wear ballistic vests at all times outside the police station. For once George was glad he adhered to force orders.

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Page Four - Hot Fuzz Re-Enacted (Copcast #119)

A town on the outskirts of George's division had been hit by burglaries all with a similar M.O. - access through the rear; a tidy search; games consoles and small electrical equipment being taken; and all at a similar time of day.

He was given an unmarked car, a spreadsheet detailing the crime hot-spots and a partner from the burglary squad, Tony who had about 22 years of 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. Their brief was to drive around the hot-spots and 'stop check' anyone who looked like they are up to no good. They were also informed by the Duty Officer that if they actually arrested someone on suspicion of burglary then the Command Team would love them.

About halfway through the shift, Tone was spotting from the passenger side of the vehicle and the only stops they'd had were a paperboy and a couple of youths on their way into school. It was turning into a long day.

As the car turned into an estate, George spotted two youths wearing dark hoodies walk down an alley that cut through a row of terraced houses. Now in George's book if they were wearing hoodies, particularly dark ones, the only thing that was missing was a confession. He shouted at Tone “There!” at the same time pointing towards the direction of the alleyway. Both youths were now out of sight.

“Whah?” replied Tone, his conversation with himself about detections suddenly cut short.

“Two white lads wearing hoodies, down that alley" barked George. Tone said they were probably just more kids on there way to school but George told him that something didn’t feel right. Tone groaned as George then came up with a cunning plan. “You go down the alley, I'll drive to the other side and make my way round to you”. Surprisingly Tone got out of the vehicle, brushed off the sandwich crumbs and made his way to the alleyway while George scooted off to the far end of the block of terraced houses.

At this point George was thinking of bringing in more units, perhaps a dog van to secure the area and even maybe the force helicopter, he wanted to shout into the radio "Suspects on" or "Suspects making off" but remembered that these kids hadn’t actually done anything yet and he really didn’t want to get too much of a ribbing if it was all for nothing.

George got out of the car and made his way to the right hand side of the block trying to raise Tone on the radio but there was no answer. He had no idea if he had the youths, or if he was lying in a crumpled heap having been happy slapped. George climbed a 6 foot garden fence and peered over the top, “Tone” he hissed. Nothing.

A couple of minutes of searching passed and then he heard an almighty racket accompanied by the top of Tone’s head appearing over the fence about 100 yards away. A triumphant Tone got to the top of the fence and gave a big grin and a thumbs up looking pretty pleased with himself, he obviously hadn’t done anything quite so physical for a while.

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 George ran to his location and found him nursing the back of his leg and a split in his trousers. The fence was wrecked, it obviously couldn't take much weight, particularly Tone’s. After checking out the properties, establishing that all was in order he helped a limping and cursing Tone get to their unmarked Vauxhall Vectra.

During the drive back Tony was very quiet and almost grumpy, George felt awkward and a little guilty. Tony now had to face the embarrassment of walking into the police station with a split pair of trousers and George didn't relish the thought of writing a duty report justifying the fence damage to the Inspector who would no doubt want an inquisition into how the damage occurred.

On the way back to the police station they spotted the two lads again, this time in company with their mums and en-route to the local junior school. Oh the excitement and glamour of plain clothes work.

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Page Three - Ejected from School (Copcast #118)

George prepared himself for another tour of duty, he just needed a quick roll call before he 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

He was posted to a remote outpost at the far flung edge of the county (known as the 'Outer Rim'). So fully armed with his appointments, he headed off to the 'shires' with his probationer to show them country folk how the urban coppers play.

Everything was 'Q' until two hours before they were due to knock off (the word Quiet is never to be used while on duty). Then they got a call to attend a high school to help eject a student who had been refusing to leave. Now in his day it was fairly difficult to get kids to stay in school and a student refusing to leave was a new one on George, so with a degree of curiosity he attended the scene.

Upon arrival in the class, after having to sign in (their uniforms and body armour obviously not totally convincing) they saw the lad sitting in the corner, doodling on a PC. Everything looked calm, but appearances can be deceiving and Kenny was 16, well built, about 6' tall and had a mean scowl. The teacher in charge (using the term loosely) explained that young Kenny had told her to EFF off, called her colleague a fat SEE and had tried to start a fight with one of the other kids. She asked them to eject him as he had also threatened to kick her face in if she went near him.

George politely asked the lad to leave, stating that if he didn't he would leave them no choice and they would have to arrest him to prevent a breach of the peace. His reply was eloquent. 'EFF off Copper'. Quickly establishing that he hadn't built up a rapport he let his much younger, bigger and fitter probationer reason with him. Not fazed by this change of tact, the lad looked up and said 'Right, your turn is it? EFF off copper'.

See where this was going? Kenny eventually explained he was annoyed because the 'Fat Cow' refused to give him access to Google. George noticed the lad had been doodling with a photo of 'Fat Cow' on his PC and using MS Paint, was making reference to her sexual preferences.

In the end after a few more pleas and warnings not to swear, the probationer nicked him to prevent a 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 the probationer and they 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 misjudged the gap between two parked cars resulting in Kenny going over the top of his handlebars, with the rest of his bike landing on top of him and the cars.

Kenny was unhurt, but his pride was dented and his wheel bent. His legal guardian turned up and threw the bike in the back of the car and took Kenny away amid much swearing and gnashing of teeth.

George was left wondering if the world had really changed so much since he was at school

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Page Two - Sudden Death (Copcast #117)

Okay, picture the scene, it was New Years Eve and police had received a call to a 'concern for welfare'. A known drug user hadn't been seen by his family for three weeks and despite living in the same town, they had not bothered to call at the address over Christmas. George was asked to check it out accompanied by a 19-year-old probationer with less than five weeks street experience.

Upon arrival they could see that the window to the front of the kitchen was slightly open and walking up to it got a waft of that smell that no one forgets. Not looking good for the missing drug user so far.

They knocked on the door and called out "Anybody in? It's the police". No answer. They could hear the TV, so someone had been or was still in there and they knocked again, louder. "Come on mate, open the door, we just want to check you are ok". They knew by then that he must be dead and probably had been for some time. His body would be behind the front door somewhere and the heating was probably on as it was below freezing outside. Preparing himself for the worst, George then called up the station on his radio "Um, Control, we’re on scene, 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".

They had to inform the Control Room that they were going to force entry in case the missing drug user was just a really heavy sleeper and having put the door in, causing damage to it in the process, he was then able to sue the police. That probably wasn't going to be a problem here though.

George called up for a 'Rammit' or 'Enforcer' otherwise known as a 'big red key' that needs to be held in two hands.

The probationer, clearly being driven on adrenaline and keen to see her first corpse, pushed the door and it swung open. Not locked, perhaps he should have checked before calling for the big red lump of metal. Hmmm, the smell was particularly potent, a quick search found the missing individual on his back in the bedroom, completely naked. He had been gone a while, it really wasn't very pretty and he was a funny shade of green, the probationer's enthusiasm started to ebb, but she was not perturbed. George told her to look around to see if there was anything suspicious. "What about him" she replied. He told her that the man was dead and he wasn't going anywhere just yet and anyway, the back windows were also open and the rear patio was unlocked. The place was on the top floor of an apartment block with no access to the rear but they called up the inspector anyway, just to cover their … prospects. The guv’nor turned up, walked about with his clipboard and declared that there were no suspicious circumstances. The deceased 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 turned up and attached sensors to the body to look for signs of life. A ridiculous spectacle, given his condition, but they had to do it 'by the book' too in order to declare death 'properly'. George felt like shouting "He's dead, dead I tell you" but didn't, they all knew the score.

The inspector then told them to check the back of the body 'just in case'. Yeah okay, they now knew he was playing games with them. If they rolled the body over, given his condition some of him was not going to move with the rest of him. There was no sign of blood anywhere, no weapon and no sign of a struggle. If there was anything suspicious about this death, then only the coroner was going to find it. Then the probationer said, in front of the inspector "shall we get on and search him then?" Great, everyone else left, knowing what is coming next. They took a lungful of clean air then helped each other with a quick roll of the late drug user. The probationer started to gag as she took a too-close-a-look at what was left of the corpse's back (she obviously breathed in). The body was placed back on the floor and George exited very quickly so he could start to breath again.

A very good learning point for the probationer, one she will never forget that's for sure! The undertakers eventually arrived wearing full oversuits and carrying a triple body bag. One of them shook the probationer’s hand on the way out, telling her she was very brave and she’d done remarkably well for her first dead body. George has to agree; at only 19 she is made of stern stuff and he suspects she will go on to great things.

All in all a very sad affair, no-one to check on him and left to die alone in squalor around the Christmas period. Makes you pretty thankful for what you've got. George was certainly more thankful when celebrating the New Year later that day.

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Page One - Another Burglary (Copcast #116)

This is an account from a typical day of a typical police officer serving in the UK. For the sake of his blushes we’ll call him George, he may not be a saint but it’s as good a name as any to use as get closer to St George’s day when we’ll be soberly celebrating the patron saint of England.

It's fair to say that George has been to a few burglaries. They range from 'tidy - you - would - never -know - anyone - had - been – in - 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. How the minds of the common criminal / scumbag works never ceases to amaze ...

Anyway, George was called to report a burglary where 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 windowsill etc. 'Lovely', he thought. ‘Some evidence’ and called in scenes of crimes (SOCO) whilst he 'preserved' the scene (it's what we do in the UK, SOCO's are the experts – the equivalent of Gil Grissom and co, while the wooden tops or bobbies, do the scene preservation and initial investigation).

The SOCO turned up and George gave him a guided tour of what 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. The SOCO managed to lift some fingerprints and footprint impressions so not a complete waste of time for him. Hey, you never know right? Anyway George 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 he’s 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’s my son, he wouldn’t do such a thing. I help him pay his debts, he only has to ask"

"Right …"

He’s waiting for SOCO results and George is 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 went back to his unit early before Dad arrived home and Dad is finding it hard to contact him on his mobile phone. CSI he isn’t, but George reckons he might just've cracked this case for detectives in CID. It’s surprising how people generally still find it almost impossible to believe the worst of their closest relatives, especially parents of their children, despite the most overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

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