That age-old dilemma
One of the perennial questions that crops up when you’re applying to be a copper is what would you do if you had to nick a mate or a family member?
It’s one of those questions you think you know the answer to but hope it will never happen. I can’t imagine the sinking feeling going to a drunken knife-wielding shoplifter who’s kicking off only to arrive at Asda to find it’s your own gran.
Some years ago I was on patrol with a probationer. We were driving through the town minding our own business when we saw a car heading towards us, it swerved into our lane &n collided with the car ahead of us. It did no more than reverse off the victim’s front offside wing & continue its journey. It was around midnight so the instant thought was either the driver was drunk or the motor was nicked.
The circumstances were such that we could tell the victim was unlikely to be injured, so shouting for him to remain & that we or another patrol would be back soon, I swung the patrol car round & high-tailed it after the suspect vehicle.
It didn’t take long to catch him up & it was pretty apparent he was pissed. We followed him for a mile or so, blue lights & headlamps flashing to no avail until he pulled into a cul-de-sac – in which he happened to live.
Fearing a decamp, I jumped out of my patrol car & ran to the driver’s door wrenching it open. I had nothing to fear; the driver was so drunk he could barely stand.
I grabbed him by the shoulder to pull him out of the car when it suddenly hit me. I knew the driver & I knew him really well.
It was Dave, the lad I had grown up with, who lived next door. It was all the more surprising since we were many miles from our home town, unbeknown to either of us I had been posted there Dave had moved there.
Dave was born in the house when I was two or three & we grew up as next door neighbours. His parents were Aunty Margaret & Uncle Peter; all our close neighbours were known as aunty or uncle, none of this kids calling adults by their first names lark back then.
Dave & I played football, his dad took us fishing, my dad took us sailing. I moved away when I joined the police & Dave went off to do engineering like his dad.
So here we were in a dark cul-de-sac, me an officer of he law & him an attempted fugitive from it.
He looked up around the time I was double checking it was actually Dave. “Hello , 200, I think Ive been a bit naughty.” I think my reply went on the lines of “Dave, what the fuck are you doing?”
I called the probationer over & directed him to say the magic words & we put Dave in the patrol car &Â carted him off to jail (well, the local nick).
Dave didn’t appear to hold any grudges & openly admitted it was his own sorry fault. It hadn’t been his first brush with the law he was lucky not to get a custodial.
His mum didn’t take it very well, which was really awkward for my folks. Aunty Margaret blanked them whenever she saw my folks, uncle Peter would only speak to them when Margaret wasnt present.
Whenever I go see the family, I get the same treatment, to this day & the event was in the early 90s. They’ve lived next to each other for nearly 50 years & no longer speak because of an incident that even dave moved on from, very sad.
I saw Dave last week when I visited my parents. He was coming out of his folks’ house with his kids as I was coming out of mine, with mine. We had a good old chat & caught up with what we were both doing. The funny thing is that we both live in the same town but have never bumped into each other.
His parents never came out.
Crime Analyst (Steve - Ex West Mids) says:
Good post 200.
Even in these days of risk aversity, I’m sure a lot of the public live under a misconception that its a boys club mentality where mates can be “sorted”. “Aw c’mon, you must have let a few mates slip through the net” some would say. If only they knew how difficult it is to face up to a mate who’s crossed the line.
In my teenage years I hung around with a gang who were “cool”. Either because I was chicken or I like to think because my moral compass was working properly, I used to make my excuses and cry off later in the night when they’d go off and do robbing stuff that was beyond my understanding of acceptable fun. My dad was a stickler for “be home by 10 and don’t bring any trouble home with you”.
Years later, I was office PC one night when the old gang leader was brought in by the CID. “Do something!” he pleaded when he saw me. “sorry mate, you made your bed …. ”
He had by now graduated from nicking pedal cycles and robbing garden sheds to dealing drugs, nicking motors and screwing houses.
I can’t say I lost a minutes sleep over him and his chosen path. A few years later he was stabbed to death in a pub brawl over drugs on a sink estate, leaving a girlfriend and six kids in their seventh floor council flat.
At the time I cursed my dad for insisting I was home when my mates could all stop out later. Bless the old bugger for keeping me on the right track.
February 7th, 2010 at 12:39 pm
Tony F says:
It’s a funny old world, for sure. This is one of the very good reasons that in the military, one was usually posted on promotion.
February 7th, 2010 at 1:08 pm
pc hawkeye says:
Without fear or favour. That’s why so many of my neighbours have points on their licences and don’t speak to me anymore, but that’s their problem , not mine, especialy the guy from round the corner who didn’t learn the first time he met me.
I served in my home town and derived some pleasure escorting the school bully to a Young Offenders Institution, but was suprised one day to see an old school classmate walk into the nick one morning, ”Hello Dave, what are you doing here?” says I. ”Answering my bail says he.” Mr bright boy left school with honours and got a job in the bank in town. Openned an account in a false name and proceeded to drip feed it with little amounts from nearly every account at his branch.
February 7th, 2010 at 9:19 pm