Page Forty Seven - It's Just Routine Guv' (Copcast #162)

A hunch is all it takes, there's no logical reason why a one particular vehicle attracts the attention of an alert copper while another doesn't. It may be something obvious like a minor moving traffic offence or just their manner of driving. Sometimes though you just 'know' something isn't right and pulling over a vehicle for a driving documents check can reap rewards and make for a good collar.

Last week George was on mobile patrol with another probationer. Not much was going on, so he decided that it was a good opportunity for Jeremy, the probationer, to practice a much needed bit of traffic process for his development. A short while later his attention was drawn to a black Ford Fiesta a couple cars ahead of them. There was nothing particularly interesting about it, if anything it looked in good order. George relayed the index plate to Jeremy and he ran it through PNC, the Police National Computer. The MOT had expired so it was worthy of a stop. Just before he did though, George asked Jeremy to check Intel to see if there was anything interesting about the vehicle. You never know, it may have been used by a known drug dealer.

Intel suggested that the occupants of the vehicle had been seen recently by a member of the public showing off a black handgun. Interesting, to say the least, the Intel had come anonymously from a concerned member of the public via Crimestoppers. George called up the Control Room and asked for some backup as he wanted to stop the vehicle safely. An ARV (Armed Response Vehicle) offered up and advised they were going to put the stop in due to the Intel. As frustrating as this felt, George knew it was the correct procedure and he really didn't want a gun pointing in his face, real or not.

The ARV quickly caught up and tailed the suspect vehicle while George had to drop back. His role was to stop traffic behind him at a safe distance in order that the ARV could put in a safe, hard stop. A few moments later the Fiesta stopped at traffic lights, the ARV boys jumped out, guns drawn and barked out orders at the occupants of the Fiesta to "get the EFF out of the car". Two bemused eighteen year olds were unceremoniously forced to the floor with their hands spread as far as they could, under the muzzles of a pair of MP5s. George watched as the ARV crew searched the men, then the car. An officer indicated that he found something in the driver's seat back and held it up so that George could see that it was indeed a black handgun. A few tense moments passed, then the ARV officer proudly announced he had secured a water pistol. It was unloaded into the gutter, proved and 'made safe'.

With no identifiable witness or victim of an incident involving the gun, there were no offences so the pistol was 'seized' for destruction and the driver and his mate were given some very stern words of advice, oh and of course a ticket for the expired MOT. If nothing else it is very unlikely that either of them will ever think that waving a replica gun around in public, even a water pistol, is an entertaining past time after finding themselves on the business end of the real thing and the ARV got a workout after a mundane day patrolling in Sleepy Hollow. George had to admit his adrenaline had been pumping too ... and Jeremy the probationer was positively speechless.

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Page Forty - Dipped Copper (Copcast #155)

It was mid-December when George’s team celebrated Christmas together by gathering at a pub before going on to a restaurant. They chose one of the small rural towns on the edge of their constabulary where there was a pleasant little inn only two or three doors away from the local police station.

The mood of the team was extremely buoyant, not only were they celebrating the beginning of the festive season and looking forward to all the excesses and fun of Christmas with their families, but also a recent successful operation. As the result of hours of scanning CCTV recordings, surveillance operations, statement taking and an enormous amount of written work, the team had managed to arrest, charge and convict a prolific local pickpocket. The sentence had been announced that day and the dipper had begun a custodial term that would see him behind bars through Christmas and well into the New Year.

Everyone was in high spirits and congratulating themselves on their eagle-eyed detective prowess and boasting about their highly developed policing skills, when their Duty Officer, Inspector Brigstock, joined them. Mr Brigstock was keen to show off his latest acquisition that he told everyone was an early Christmas to himself, a brand new iPhone which at that time had finally just been released in the UK. Having spent several minutes guiding his audience through the myriad of functions available on the device while being at great pains to prove to the assembled team that he wasn’t the technological dullard that many had accused him of being in the past.

Following the demonstration the drinking began in earnest then on to the meal where the gathering continued to revel in their recent success. Some of George’s colleagues went so far as to suggest that any thieves around the Kenton area would think twice before daring to pick anyone’s pockets while the top team were on the plot. After three or four hours consuming copious amounts of food and beer, George and a couple of the others decided it was time to make their way to their respective homes.

“Hold on boys,” cried Inspector Brigstock, laughing aloud, “I’ll call a cab for you on my new iPhone, wait while I find the blessed thing.” He then fumbled through his pockets, then patted them down, then searched his pockets again, a look of dismay spreading over his face.

“Bloody hell, it’s been nicked. Some bugger’s picked my pockets and had my blasted phone away,” he howled. There was silence from the team.

George had to bite on his tongue to prevent him from making the obvious comment that had just entered his thoughts, despite the disruptive effects of the alcohol he had consumed. He realised the irony of the situation, that not only had his Senior Officer been the victim of a pickpocket but also that he had been surrounded by police officers that had been congratulating themselves for their thief-taking abilities and only two doors away from a police station.

 

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Page Thirty Eight - Watching the Detectives (Copcast #153)

George thought to himself “If I were ever to write this as a story, no one would believe me. They’d say I made it up”.

The day had started so well, his team was in early and was all in plain clothes and the covert radios were all working, that in itself was a minor miracle. The unmarked cars had all been arranged and parked in the yard and the battered old plumber’s van with the dark windows was out in the street. George had given the briefing, grateful that one of his team mates was so handy with Powerpoint and it had been so complete there hadn’t been any questions. Everyone knew what they were supposed to do and where they were going to do it.

The mission was actually fairly simple, Billy the burglar had been released from prison two weeks earlier and since then wouldn’t you know it, burglaries had sprung up all over the area. An operation had been planned and authority for Directed Surveillance had been authorised without any hesitation at all, another minor miracle. All they had to do was to plot up around Billy’s home covering every likely route out and, as soon as he emerged, follow him. As soon as he did something naughty like climb up a drainpipe of a house that wasn’t his, the team would be all over him and he’d be arrested for an attempted burglary. If all went well he’d also put his hands up to most of the recent spate of break-ins as well and George’s team would be able to add a list of Clear-Ups to their tally.

All that would remain would be to agree on a suitable venue for the medal presentation ceremonies.

Even though it was still early, the sun hadn’t even begun to lighten the horizon, George and the team were in good spirits. The unmarked vehicles were crewed and driven away in ones and twos then finally the rusty old plumber’s van lumbered off with George at the wheel. As everyone called in one after the other to say they were in position, George turned the heavy van into Billy’s street, the only thing that could go wrong now would be that he wouldn’t be able to park within sight of Billy’s front door and so not be able to see him leave.

George’s jaw dropped as he pulled to a halt in front of the young lad wearing a day-glo vest. Behind him there were dozens of people milling around under the bright glare of powerful floodlights. Television cameras on trolleys rolled along the pavement and thick power cables crisscrossed the road.

“Sorry mate,” called up the lad in yellow vest, “We’re filming an episode of The Beat and it’s going to take all day I’m afraid. You’ll have to find another route around.” George looked up again and realised that there were at least a dozen people wearing police uniforms wandering around and there were three marked police vehicles. The TV Company was recording an episode of their weekly Police drama series outside the front door of the area’s most prolific burglar.

Realising that the team was more likely to be able to carry out covert surveillance of the street if they went back to the police station and changed into their uniforms and brought back a couple of marked response cars, George sighed and picked up the radio.

Keying the tansmit button he said “Listen up everyone, you’re not going to believe this, but ...”

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Page Twenty Five - Trojan Alarm (Copcast Episode 140)

The Area Car Mike 1 and a response car Mike 21 crewed by George and his latest probationer had taken a call to a Personal Attack Alarm that had been set off at a house in a large suburban residential area. As the two cars flew through early evening traffic with blue lights flashing and their sirens playing different tunes to each other, so that other drivers would realise there were two cars running, not just one, the crews were receiving updates.

One such update sent chills through both crews, the address was a listed Operation Trident location, the occupants were somehow at risk from attackers with firearms, A Trojan Armed Response Unit was already tasked and running to join them as were the Duty Officer, Inspector Brigstock and a skipper to act as scene controller.

The Area Car and Response Cars arrived on scene having run silent for the last quarter of a mile and the crews deployed to create a discrete cordon and to keep the house under observation without being seen. After a few minutes, during which George had realised he was watching the wrong house and finally crawled into a position to see the right one, the Trojans arrived followed soon after by the inspector and sergeant along with a dog van and a couple of other Response Cars.

At the rendezvous point Inspector Brigstock eyed the unusually all-female Trojan team as they swaggered over toward him, “I take it you're armed then?” he muttered. It was the turn of the armed response officers to look at the Duty Officer in less enthusiastically, although to their credit they refrained from voicing an answer.

After a swift briefing during which they were filled in with the latest intelligence on the address that the Control Room had managed to gather together for them, everyone was deployed. A Trojan assisted by a pair of local officers were able to get into the back garden unseen and cover the rear of the house while the remainder gathered at the front door. The area was kept secure with road closures out of sight of the house.

Eventually everyone was in place and ready, the front door was opened with the aid of the Enforcer Ram and the entry team flooded through the door, securing each room as they went, quickly reaching the kitchen where they found … two CID Detectives sitting at the table with the occupier enjoying a nice cup of tea.

Apparently the Personal Attack Alarm had been playing up and the two detectives had come down to check it, not realising they had set it off during their fiddling. The guv'nor launched into a lecture about the use of Personal Radios and the value of actually turning them on so that their users could be aware of what was happening around them in the outside world and possibly even preventing situations like this one. After which everyone, including George trooped back out of the house for a debrief back at the station.

Sadly the day's catalogue of disasters was not yet complete for George, as the queue of officers returning to their cars turned the corner of the house, most of them noticed the enormous puddle in the road beside the kerb left by the previous night's rain. George didn't. Caught in his own little world for a moment he failed to notice the car that drove through the deepest part of the puddle just as he walked past it. He did not miss the curtain of water that the car created, nor did the water miss him.

George stood stunned, drenched literally from head to foot while his colleagues including Inspector Brigstock gathered around him. Standing in a spreading pool of water he turned to his guv'nor with arms stretched wide, seemingly trying to invoke some kind of divine intervention and cried, “I don’t believe it!”

It took several minutes for Mr Brigstock to stagger to his car, despite the assistance of his Sergeant. The two were laughing so hard they actually looked like a pair of drunks on their way home from an evening of drunken revelry. In fact it was several minutes before either of them were able to stop laughing long enough for the tears in their eyes to clear and allow them to drive from the scene.

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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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