A new Police Commissioner has been appointed in London. Her name, Cressida Dick. The first woman to lead the Metropolitan Police. She led the re-investigation into the murder of Stephen Lawrence and did a damned good job of it by all accounts.
That's all very nice, but what does it mean to the officers on the ground?
Diddly squat. That's what.
It makes zero difference to the boys and girls who are rushing around and desperately holding onto London's sanity by their fingernails. In fact, if it hadn't been plastered all over the news, I wouldn't even have known we had a new Commissioner. I do remember that when Sir Hogan Howe took over the role he replaced a lot of the antiquated computers that simply didn't work. After that, nothing.
That isn't to say the Commissioner isn't doing anything useful. I'm sure they are. It just isn't noticeable from where I am sitting. To me it appears that the role of Commissioner has become a blur between that of a politician and a representative that goes to events to shake peoples' hands and tell them how well we are doing, but promising them we'll improve.
The face of The Met. An expensive face of The Met, at around £250,000 a year.
Sir Hogan Howe would publish a weekly diary of his activities to officers online. I always thought it sounded like that of an excited child that had been invited to a variety of VIP events. I am genuinely convinced he did a lot of good, and that Ma'am Dick will too, but whether or not they will help me or my colleagues in any way whatsoever is very unlikely.
Sir Hogan Howe arrested someone last year and the media went bananas. That same day Anonymous Bobby arrested two shoplifters and didn't even get a mention in the local newspaper. But then again, perhaps my face wasn't deemed as nice as that of Sir Bernard.
Anonymous Bobby
Showing posts with label police. Show all posts
Showing posts with label police. Show all posts
Monday, February 27, 2017
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
Can A Copper Have A Cuppa?
On the BBC today was a story about two police officers who had stopped off to get a cup of tea on their way to a call. Unbeknownst to the officers a female was deceased and hanging at the address they were due to attend.
The call had come from a concerned friend who had received a suicidal message from the female in question. The call was originally directed to the ambulance service but was also passed to the police, most likely due to their ability to force entry into an address if required.
Police call handlers graded the call using normal the police triage. It was graded 'S'. This is the second highest grading a call can receive ('I' grade being the highest) and gives officers up to one hour to arrive on the scene. Whilst the limit is an hour, officers should arrive as soon as possible. ('I' grade calls have a 14 minute limit).
Lack of police officer numbers and recent cuts means that the officers out on the street, namely the response units, are almost always en route to one call or another. Whether its an 'I', 'S' or 'E' grade. ('E' grades have a 72 hour limit, they are unofficially known as "E-ventually" calls). That means that over a 10 hour day officers are constantly on their way to one call, diverted to another of higher grading, stopping at something they have come across direct such as a damage only road collision etc etc. Hardly ever are they 'On Patrol' - or free for whatever call comes out.
So this beggars the question, is it really that unreasonable that these two officers stopped to grab two cups of tea from Mcdonald's, which they probably drank whilst en route? For if officers only ever went to the toilet, had a drink, or ate whilst they were 'On Patrol' they would never do any of the beforementioned necessities.
Had PC Tony Stephenson and PC Gavin Bateman not stopped to pick up the two teas, the female would still have been dead in her home. She had died before the original call was made.
A 2 day hearing is due around the conduct of these two officers next week, costing God only knows how much. All because they dared to stop to get a cup of tea, before making the 'S' grade within the allotted one hour time slot. At a time when the public needs every police officer possible out on the street protecting them, this seems like a waste of everybody's time.
Police officers eat, drink, smoke, urinate and defecate just like everyone else. They are not entitled to any official break and often manage a constant flow of calls and people needing help by stopping and doing these things whilst en route to lesser graded calls such as the one in question.
An unprecedented attack on police officers on the street from within, the public and the media continues, and now it seems that despite the difficult work we do, we aren't even entitled to the most Englsih of constitutions, a simple cup of tea.
Anonymous Bobby
The call had come from a concerned friend who had received a suicidal message from the female in question. The call was originally directed to the ambulance service but was also passed to the police, most likely due to their ability to force entry into an address if required.
Police call handlers graded the call using normal the police triage. It was graded 'S'. This is the second highest grading a call can receive ('I' grade being the highest) and gives officers up to one hour to arrive on the scene. Whilst the limit is an hour, officers should arrive as soon as possible. ('I' grade calls have a 14 minute limit).
Lack of police officer numbers and recent cuts means that the officers out on the street, namely the response units, are almost always en route to one call or another. Whether its an 'I', 'S' or 'E' grade. ('E' grades have a 72 hour limit, they are unofficially known as "E-ventually" calls). That means that over a 10 hour day officers are constantly on their way to one call, diverted to another of higher grading, stopping at something they have come across direct such as a damage only road collision etc etc. Hardly ever are they 'On Patrol' - or free for whatever call comes out.
So this beggars the question, is it really that unreasonable that these two officers stopped to grab two cups of tea from Mcdonald's, which they probably drank whilst en route? For if officers only ever went to the toilet, had a drink, or ate whilst they were 'On Patrol' they would never do any of the beforementioned necessities.
Had PC Tony Stephenson and PC Gavin Bateman not stopped to pick up the two teas, the female would still have been dead in her home. She had died before the original call was made.
A 2 day hearing is due around the conduct of these two officers next week, costing God only knows how much. All because they dared to stop to get a cup of tea, before making the 'S' grade within the allotted one hour time slot. At a time when the public needs every police officer possible out on the street protecting them, this seems like a waste of everybody's time.
Police officers eat, drink, smoke, urinate and defecate just like everyone else. They are not entitled to any official break and often manage a constant flow of calls and people needing help by stopping and doing these things whilst en route to lesser graded calls such as the one in question.
An unprecedented attack on police officers on the street from within, the public and the media continues, and now it seems that despite the difficult work we do, we aren't even entitled to the most Englsih of constitutions, a simple cup of tea.
Anonymous Bobby
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Anonymous Bobby and the Zombies
Police officers regularly kick peoples' doors in only to find them deceased inside. Sometimes they have been dead for a long time. I have detailed a few stories around this before.
But people aren't always as dead as you think they are.
Once, I was working with my colleague Ben when we attended such a call. Social Services had not seen their client for a few days and were concerned, there was no reply at her address and her neighbours hadn't seen her. (Note: It was Friday, rather than wait around to find out the result, social services just called the police, therefore passing on the responsibility, and went home).
Cue Anonymous Bobby and Ben. A few sharp kicks later and her front door lies in pieces on her floor. A putrid stench emanates from every room. It certainly smells like death in this flat.
I turn a corner and next to a fireplace, beside her bed, is the body of an old lady. Lying motionless, face down. It looks like she fell out of bed and died. She is utterly motionless. We begin the procedure we have gone through a thousand times. Suddenly a loud and sharp inhalation of breath from the female on the floor. Ben and I both fly 6 feet across the room in shock.
I'm always concerned that the Zombie apocalypse is just around the corner. Walk the streets of London at 5am on a Sunday morning and you will see what I mean. It's closer then you think! At that moment, when what we were convinced was a corpse came back to life, I thought the moment had finally come. Tasers went back into holsters and we calmed ourselves, knowing we would live to see another day.
The lady was alive but had been lying in her own juices for 3 days. We rendered her first aid and she survived and made a full recovery.
I expect the real zombie apocalypse any day now.
Anonymous Bobby
But people aren't always as dead as you think they are.
Once, I was working with my colleague Ben when we attended such a call. Social Services had not seen their client for a few days and were concerned, there was no reply at her address and her neighbours hadn't seen her. (Note: It was Friday, rather than wait around to find out the result, social services just called the police, therefore passing on the responsibility, and went home).
Cue Anonymous Bobby and Ben. A few sharp kicks later and her front door lies in pieces on her floor. A putrid stench emanates from every room. It certainly smells like death in this flat.
I turn a corner and next to a fireplace, beside her bed, is the body of an old lady. Lying motionless, face down. It looks like she fell out of bed and died. She is utterly motionless. We begin the procedure we have gone through a thousand times. Suddenly a loud and sharp inhalation of breath from the female on the floor. Ben and I both fly 6 feet across the room in shock.
I'm always concerned that the Zombie apocalypse is just around the corner. Walk the streets of London at 5am on a Sunday morning and you will see what I mean. It's closer then you think! At that moment, when what we were convinced was a corpse came back to life, I thought the moment had finally come. Tasers went back into holsters and we calmed ourselves, knowing we would live to see another day.
The lady was alive but had been lying in her own juices for 3 days. We rendered her first aid and she survived and made a full recovery.
I expect the real zombie apocalypse any day now.
Anonymous Bobby
Sunday, February 19, 2017
The Annual WPT Awards - Vote Now!
Today marks the beginning of the Anonymous Bobby Award Season. The WPT Award (or the Wasting Police Time Award) shall be decided by Anonymous Bobby's devoted readers.
Please feel free to vote for your choice of the following candidates by commenting below or visiting the official Anonymous Bobby Twitter page and voting on the poll at the top of the page (Twitter ID: @anonbobbyblog)
Nominee Number 1:
The dear old lady who called for Anonymous Bobby's services as she had inexplicably noticed a full garlic bulb on the roof of her conservatory. Fearing for her life she had called the police. Was it left there by vampire fearing burglars? Or troublesome French youths? This lady had all of her marbles, but just could not find a logical explanation as to how a garlic bulb had found its way onto the roof of her newly built conservatory. Patiently, Anonymous Bobby removed the bulb, however it was never forensically analysed. The mystery remains unsolved.
Nominee Number 2:
A concerned, and time rich, citizen who called for Anonymous Bobby's help due to a raging neighbour dispute. He had lived next door to his neighbour for a few years and their relationship had always been friendly and amicable. Until one dark Summer's day when he awoke, drew back his curtains, and saw his worst nightmare. His neighbours had hooked their washing line over HIS fence post. It was visible from his garden as it recklessly strained at his fence post. This was, according to the man, blatant vandalism. Order was restored by Anonymous Bobby politely requesting the neighbour found another support for the offending washing line. This incident never made the national news.
Nominee Number 3:
A young, and probably strung out, chap who called the police stating a stranger was in his garden. Risking life and limb Anonymous Bobby flew to his aid. The stranger in his garden was a cat. A black cat. It wasn't a neighbour's cat and the young chap was convinced he had never seen the cat before. But that was not why he had called the police. It would be ridiculous to call the police as there is a cat you do not recognise in your garden. He admitted that. The reason he had called the police was that the cat was refusing to leave. No action was taken against the cat by Anonymous Bobby, however the strung out young chap was given strong words of advice.
All three have been scrupulously chosen from an extensive shortlist. Please register your vote now to ensure your worthy candidate receives all the recognition they truly deserve. Also, be sure to save the Anonymous Bobby Blog to your favourites in order to ensure you never miss an Anonymous Bobby blog.
Anonymous Bobby
Please feel free to vote for your choice of the following candidates by commenting below or visiting the official Anonymous Bobby Twitter page and voting on the poll at the top of the page (Twitter ID: @anonbobbyblog)
Nominee Number 1:
The dear old lady who called for Anonymous Bobby's services as she had inexplicably noticed a full garlic bulb on the roof of her conservatory. Fearing for her life she had called the police. Was it left there by vampire fearing burglars? Or troublesome French youths? This lady had all of her marbles, but just could not find a logical explanation as to how a garlic bulb had found its way onto the roof of her newly built conservatory. Patiently, Anonymous Bobby removed the bulb, however it was never forensically analysed. The mystery remains unsolved.
Nominee Number 2:
A concerned, and time rich, citizen who called for Anonymous Bobby's help due to a raging neighbour dispute. He had lived next door to his neighbour for a few years and their relationship had always been friendly and amicable. Until one dark Summer's day when he awoke, drew back his curtains, and saw his worst nightmare. His neighbours had hooked their washing line over HIS fence post. It was visible from his garden as it recklessly strained at his fence post. This was, according to the man, blatant vandalism. Order was restored by Anonymous Bobby politely requesting the neighbour found another support for the offending washing line. This incident never made the national news.
Nominee Number 3:
A young, and probably strung out, chap who called the police stating a stranger was in his garden. Risking life and limb Anonymous Bobby flew to his aid. The stranger in his garden was a cat. A black cat. It wasn't a neighbour's cat and the young chap was convinced he had never seen the cat before. But that was not why he had called the police. It would be ridiculous to call the police as there is a cat you do not recognise in your garden. He admitted that. The reason he had called the police was that the cat was refusing to leave. No action was taken against the cat by Anonymous Bobby, however the strung out young chap was given strong words of advice.
All three have been scrupulously chosen from an extensive shortlist. Please register your vote now to ensure your worthy candidate receives all the recognition they truly deserve. Also, be sure to save the Anonymous Bobby Blog to your favourites in order to ensure you never miss an Anonymous Bobby blog.
Anonymous Bobby
Sunday, February 12, 2017
A Question of Morailty
We, as an organisation, don't always get it right. A lot of the time I see decisions made with all the best intentions, but decisions that are morally or practically wrong. Often these decisions have been made through no malice, and often due to a willingness to please the public.
An example of this was one winter a few years ago. I was working central in London and had been tasked by senior officers to escort a council team around London who were looking for the unattended possessions, mainly bedding, of the homeless and were disposing of them.
A police escort was deemed necessary to quell any resistance that these poor homeless people may put up.
Now this task was approved by senior officers, but I believe it is quite clearly wrong. To collect the few blankets and items that bring warmth to the most vulnerable is an awful action to sanction. During a particularly harsh winter night the loss of such items, unexpectedly, could even lead to death.
I have been unfortunate enough to find a deceased homeless person down an alley during one of our harsh London winters. It isn't pleasant, and it shouldn't happen. I'll never forget the look of his frozen corpse, clutching a Thermos. So, to go and remove blankets and such items where they have been stashed for the night time was an inconceivable mission.
The decision to take these immoral actions were probably prompted and authorised due to a select, noisy, selection of the public who found the sight of the homeless repulsive. In an attempt to please these inconsiderate people, morality had been forgotten and an attempt to merely sweep the most vulnerable in our society away had commenced.
This is an example of us getting something wrong. We should be helping, not hindering, our most vulnerable people. It is, however, also an example of making the wrong decisions for no other reason than blindly attempting to please the most vocal citizens.
Suffice to say, and rather inexplicably, I didn't manage to find ANY blankets or possessions of the homeless that day. Not one shred of material.
Anonymous Bobby
An example of this was one winter a few years ago. I was working central in London and had been tasked by senior officers to escort a council team around London who were looking for the unattended possessions, mainly bedding, of the homeless and were disposing of them.
A police escort was deemed necessary to quell any resistance that these poor homeless people may put up.
Now this task was approved by senior officers, but I believe it is quite clearly wrong. To collect the few blankets and items that bring warmth to the most vulnerable is an awful action to sanction. During a particularly harsh winter night the loss of such items, unexpectedly, could even lead to death.
I have been unfortunate enough to find a deceased homeless person down an alley during one of our harsh London winters. It isn't pleasant, and it shouldn't happen. I'll never forget the look of his frozen corpse, clutching a Thermos. So, to go and remove blankets and such items where they have been stashed for the night time was an inconceivable mission.
The decision to take these immoral actions were probably prompted and authorised due to a select, noisy, selection of the public who found the sight of the homeless repulsive. In an attempt to please these inconsiderate people, morality had been forgotten and an attempt to merely sweep the most vulnerable in our society away had commenced.
This is an example of us getting something wrong. We should be helping, not hindering, our most vulnerable people. It is, however, also an example of making the wrong decisions for no other reason than blindly attempting to please the most vocal citizens.
Suffice to say, and rather inexplicably, I didn't manage to find ANY blankets or possessions of the homeless that day. Not one shred of material.
Anonymous Bobby
Friday, February 10, 2017
Anonymous Bobby, the "Legend" and the Prostitute
Sunday mornings are a curious time on London's streets. The excesses of the previous night often spill over and those that do not know when to stop are regularly mopped up (necessarily so, in most cases) by police officers. If you enjoy a calm Sunday morning, listening to birdsong and reading the Telegraph, then do not become a police officer in London.
It was one such morning when a call came in to a young lad who had woken up to find a confused woman in his flat. This woman was disorientated and probably suffering some mental health or dependence issues. He originally called for an ambulance but due to the suspicious circumstances around the incident, the police were dispatched also. This is how I came to be involved.
Upon arrival at the address, a flat share with three bedrooms and three different tenants, I was greeted by a disheveled yet magnanimous fellow aged about 20 years old. I'm not one to place people in such categories, but I would describe him as somewhat 'posh'. Cockily he strutted up to my colleague and I. He went on to explain that he had been out drinking the night before and, although his memory was hazy, he believed he had possibly picked the female up on his way home. All suspicions, including his own, was that this female was a prostitute (Or a 'Tom' in police jargon).
He told the story as if he were speaking to his mates and he was proud of how 'out of it' he had been. It was all a funny story to share with his friends.
Indeed, his flatmates soon joined us in the living room of the flat and he cockily divulged himself in the story of what he described as "Lad antics" the night before.
Sick of this self-proclaimed "legend" I went to check the female was ok. She was on the ambulance having some routine checks. I hopped aboard and instantly my heart filled with glee. I knew this young lady. I had encountered her before. There was obviously one detail that our "legend" forgot from his romantic encounter.
With a new spring in my step I went back to the living room. I was looking forward to it already.
AB: "Right then, we'll overlook that we all suspect you to have picked up a prostitute last night as there isn't any concrete evidence to suggest what happened. She seems OK, the ambulance will take her wherever she needs to go. There is nothing further for police to do here so we are going to go."
I headed for the door. Without batting an eye the "legend" turned back to his friends and continued to relay the intimate acts of the night before to them, whilst in hysterics. Columbo-style, I turned at the front door.
AB: "Oh, just one more thing. That lady, isn't exactly a lady. She's a transgender prostitute. And she also has hepatitus C, so get yourself checked out. Good day".
The smugness leaked from his face as I turned and left him to swallow the new information. It remains one of the most satisfying moments I have experienced as a police officer.
Anonymous Bobby.
It was one such morning when a call came in to a young lad who had woken up to find a confused woman in his flat. This woman was disorientated and probably suffering some mental health or dependence issues. He originally called for an ambulance but due to the suspicious circumstances around the incident, the police were dispatched also. This is how I came to be involved.
Upon arrival at the address, a flat share with three bedrooms and three different tenants, I was greeted by a disheveled yet magnanimous fellow aged about 20 years old. I'm not one to place people in such categories, but I would describe him as somewhat 'posh'. Cockily he strutted up to my colleague and I. He went on to explain that he had been out drinking the night before and, although his memory was hazy, he believed he had possibly picked the female up on his way home. All suspicions, including his own, was that this female was a prostitute (Or a 'Tom' in police jargon).
He told the story as if he were speaking to his mates and he was proud of how 'out of it' he had been. It was all a funny story to share with his friends.
Indeed, his flatmates soon joined us in the living room of the flat and he cockily divulged himself in the story of what he described as "Lad antics" the night before.
Sick of this self-proclaimed "legend" I went to check the female was ok. She was on the ambulance having some routine checks. I hopped aboard and instantly my heart filled with glee. I knew this young lady. I had encountered her before. There was obviously one detail that our "legend" forgot from his romantic encounter.
With a new spring in my step I went back to the living room. I was looking forward to it already.
AB: "Right then, we'll overlook that we all suspect you to have picked up a prostitute last night as there isn't any concrete evidence to suggest what happened. She seems OK, the ambulance will take her wherever she needs to go. There is nothing further for police to do here so we are going to go."
I headed for the door. Without batting an eye the "legend" turned back to his friends and continued to relay the intimate acts of the night before to them, whilst in hysterics. Columbo-style, I turned at the front door.
AB: "Oh, just one more thing. That lady, isn't exactly a lady. She's a transgender prostitute. And she also has hepatitus C, so get yourself checked out. Good day".
The smugness leaked from his face as I turned and left him to swallow the new information. It remains one of the most satisfying moments I have experienced as a police officer.
Anonymous Bobby.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
Anonymous Bobby and Domestic Incidents
Ask any police officer and they will tell you, we deal with a LOT of domestic incidents.
Sometimes things get out of hand, and we are called. We all argue with our loved ones and sometimes things can get a bit ridiculous. However, there does appear to be a lot of people incapable of holding a relationship without constant police assistance.
The nature of domestics means that any domestic related incident leads to a report taking up valuable police time. I've personally been to a domestic whereby the husband has called us because his wife has hidden his Xbox and he wanted to play with it. The compulsory paperwork that follows takes around 30 minutes. The majority of the time, it is people as pathetic as the example I have just outlined calling us.
I always tell people, if police are frequently being called to you and your partner, perhaps it isn't working. This seems like ridiculous and alien advice to some people.
One incident I'll always remember was a French couple. The wife had called us as her husband was angry and throwing things around their home. Unfortunately neither spoke a word of English so we were trying to communicate through an interpreter over the phone. Suddenly the husband attacks. With vengeance in his eyes he lunges at myself and my colleague. We roll around on the floor with him to get him restrained. Meanwhile his wife has armed herself with a handbag and is swinging it viciously at my colleague and I. In the background a rather bewildered interpreter could be heard on the phone asking if we needed his assistance any further. All good fun and a comical scene to reflect on, except that the couple had children and they were distraught.
If I had a pound for every person who had called police to get their partner removed from their home, only to let them back in the next day and call us again, I would be rich enough to never don that foresaken uniform ever again.
Reflecting on the man and his Xbox, another call I once went to comes to mind. A neighbour had called us to a loud disturbance in the flat opposite her own. Upon our arrival, sure enough, hysterical shouting and crashing could be heard inside. A loud bang on the door from us and the flat fell silent. Footsteps gingerly approached the front door from inside and it opened. A young chap wearing a headset poked his head around the door, looking bemused. As it turned out he had been rigorously defending a fortification on Call of Duty on his Xbox and had probably got a little carried away with his role.
It's not really a laughing matter, though. I've also seen domestics that have led to murder, rape, serious assaults and abuse. Understandable then that a bloke taking Call of Duty so seriously is actually appreciated as a little light relief.
Anonymous Bobby
Sometimes things get out of hand, and we are called. We all argue with our loved ones and sometimes things can get a bit ridiculous. However, there does appear to be a lot of people incapable of holding a relationship without constant police assistance.
The nature of domestics means that any domestic related incident leads to a report taking up valuable police time. I've personally been to a domestic whereby the husband has called us because his wife has hidden his Xbox and he wanted to play with it. The compulsory paperwork that follows takes around 30 minutes. The majority of the time, it is people as pathetic as the example I have just outlined calling us.
I always tell people, if police are frequently being called to you and your partner, perhaps it isn't working. This seems like ridiculous and alien advice to some people.
One incident I'll always remember was a French couple. The wife had called us as her husband was angry and throwing things around their home. Unfortunately neither spoke a word of English so we were trying to communicate through an interpreter over the phone. Suddenly the husband attacks. With vengeance in his eyes he lunges at myself and my colleague. We roll around on the floor with him to get him restrained. Meanwhile his wife has armed herself with a handbag and is swinging it viciously at my colleague and I. In the background a rather bewildered interpreter could be heard on the phone asking if we needed his assistance any further. All good fun and a comical scene to reflect on, except that the couple had children and they were distraught.
If I had a pound for every person who had called police to get their partner removed from their home, only to let them back in the next day and call us again, I would be rich enough to never don that foresaken uniform ever again.
Reflecting on the man and his Xbox, another call I once went to comes to mind. A neighbour had called us to a loud disturbance in the flat opposite her own. Upon our arrival, sure enough, hysterical shouting and crashing could be heard inside. A loud bang on the door from us and the flat fell silent. Footsteps gingerly approached the front door from inside and it opened. A young chap wearing a headset poked his head around the door, looking bemused. As it turned out he had been rigorously defending a fortification on Call of Duty on his Xbox and had probably got a little carried away with his role.
It's not really a laughing matter, though. I've also seen domestics that have led to murder, rape, serious assaults and abuse. Understandable then that a bloke taking Call of Duty so seriously is actually appreciated as a little light relief.
Anonymous Bobby
Friday, February 3, 2017
A Ceasefire in the War on Drugs
People are going to take drugs. Not everybody, but a good proportion of people. Some will take drugs recreationally, some will become addicted. Some will dip in and out of drug use, some will spiral into a depraved world and hectic lifestyle. Some people will never try an illegal drug. Some people will try them all.
The above is probably going to remain true no matter what approach we take to drug use. The fact is we need to start focusing our resources on harm reduction and assistance for those that drug use affects so negatively.
As always, I don't have the answers. But I do know that what we are currently doing does not work. We criminalise ordinary people, and sometimes sick people, for drug use or possession. Licensed venues such as clubs are terrified of working with police as police licensing teams rule with an iron rod and if the clubs admit drug use in their venues then they are closed, temporarily or sometimes indefinitely.
Legalisation is not necessarily the answer. But a redirection of funds and resources, such as man power, into education, prevention, and intervention would, in my opinion, be a start. That's all very broad I understand, but it's better than locking people up for taking drugs.
Some people like to get fucked up, for a myriad of reasons (Good heavens! Excuse my French). First and foremost we need to focus on making sure it is done as safely as possible. Persecuting people leads to an aura of "unapproachability". We have been arresting people for using drugs for decades, and it is still happening. So perhaps, whilst keeping a principle of illegality, we lower the stick slightly and raise the carrot.
From a policing point of view all resources should be directed towards those who prey on the vulnerable and sell narcotics, and those who manufacture them. An incredible amount of man hours are wasted while officers deal with people whom have been stopped with £10 worth of cannabis. As a society we gain nothing from this. It costs a fortune, it takes police off the streets for unnecessarily long amounts of time, and it criminalises (albeit sometimes in a very minor way) somebody for doing something that so many of us have done (Hands up! Who's smoked a joint before?! You're nicked!).
As I said, I don't have the answers. We do, however, need a cataclysmic shift in the way we deal with drug use in London, and the UK. I'm not pro-drug. I'm anti criminalisation for minor drug possession. I'm pro harm reduction.
Your sons and daughters, as with mine, are quite likely to try drugs at some point. No matter how much we try, it is likely to happen. If they were to be caught, would you want them thrown in a cell or taught the realities and consequences of their actions? Before being safely deposited back to yourselves, of course. It all sounds a little 'la-de-da' I know. I'm not a 'la-de-da' person generally, but the above is a typical example of the pointlessness of criminalising people.
As for prison, drug users often tell me that it is the opposite that a drug addict needs. Drugs are, apparently, widely available and if you think that prison will get people clean, you are very wrong. Addicts should be provided with safe environments to take hard drugs, with clean needles and medical staff on site. This has been implemented in several countries, and very successfully too. Whilst they are there, counsellors work their magic and gently prod and probe to get each person ready for recovery.
It's a difficult subject and nobody knows exactly what will work and what won't. Those that dabble in drugs are generally little nuisance to society, and those that become addled with addiction are a gigantic peck of bother! Those that are addicted should be 'treated' rather than 'punished'.
Please feel free to comment below to let me know your own stance on drug policies.
Anonymous Bobby
The above is probably going to remain true no matter what approach we take to drug use. The fact is we need to start focusing our resources on harm reduction and assistance for those that drug use affects so negatively.
As always, I don't have the answers. But I do know that what we are currently doing does not work. We criminalise ordinary people, and sometimes sick people, for drug use or possession. Licensed venues such as clubs are terrified of working with police as police licensing teams rule with an iron rod and if the clubs admit drug use in their venues then they are closed, temporarily or sometimes indefinitely.
Legalisation is not necessarily the answer. But a redirection of funds and resources, such as man power, into education, prevention, and intervention would, in my opinion, be a start. That's all very broad I understand, but it's better than locking people up for taking drugs.
Some people like to get fucked up, for a myriad of reasons (Good heavens! Excuse my French). First and foremost we need to focus on making sure it is done as safely as possible. Persecuting people leads to an aura of "unapproachability". We have been arresting people for using drugs for decades, and it is still happening. So perhaps, whilst keeping a principle of illegality, we lower the stick slightly and raise the carrot.
From a policing point of view all resources should be directed towards those who prey on the vulnerable and sell narcotics, and those who manufacture them. An incredible amount of man hours are wasted while officers deal with people whom have been stopped with £10 worth of cannabis. As a society we gain nothing from this. It costs a fortune, it takes police off the streets for unnecessarily long amounts of time, and it criminalises (albeit sometimes in a very minor way) somebody for doing something that so many of us have done (Hands up! Who's smoked a joint before?! You're nicked!).
As I said, I don't have the answers. We do, however, need a cataclysmic shift in the way we deal with drug use in London, and the UK. I'm not pro-drug. I'm anti criminalisation for minor drug possession. I'm pro harm reduction.
Your sons and daughters, as with mine, are quite likely to try drugs at some point. No matter how much we try, it is likely to happen. If they were to be caught, would you want them thrown in a cell or taught the realities and consequences of their actions? Before being safely deposited back to yourselves, of course. It all sounds a little 'la-de-da' I know. I'm not a 'la-de-da' person generally, but the above is a typical example of the pointlessness of criminalising people.
As for prison, drug users often tell me that it is the opposite that a drug addict needs. Drugs are, apparently, widely available and if you think that prison will get people clean, you are very wrong. Addicts should be provided with safe environments to take hard drugs, with clean needles and medical staff on site. This has been implemented in several countries, and very successfully too. Whilst they are there, counsellors work their magic and gently prod and probe to get each person ready for recovery.
It's a difficult subject and nobody knows exactly what will work and what won't. Those that dabble in drugs are generally little nuisance to society, and those that become addled with addiction are a gigantic peck of bother! Those that are addicted should be 'treated' rather than 'punished'.
Please feel free to comment below to let me know your own stance on drug policies.
Anonymous Bobby
Thursday, February 2, 2017
Anonymous Bobby and the Naked Man
Being a police officer in London one is regularly surprised with how many people one encounters entirely in the buff. It really is more common than you would ever believe.
It was a brisk Sunday morning, approaching 0730 hours and I was on patrol with David (the same David I was working with in 'The Swinging Man' blog). The birds were singing away and David and I were discussing what to get for breakfast. The radio, rather rudely in my opinion, interrupted us and informed us that an elderly lady had called stating there was a naked man stood outside her house. David and I gave each other a knowing look and accepted the call.
Minutes later we were pulling into the quiet cul-de-sac. Sure enough a young man, probably aged about 25 years, was stood outside a detached bungalow, completely naked, and standing in a pose as if he were a footballer in a defensive wall, defending a free kick.
I exited the vehicle and approached. "You alright mate?" I asked. "Do I look alright?" he retorted. He had me there. It was a stupid question, but how does one engage with a male stood stark bollock naked on a fine morning in suburban London?
David and I were hesitant with him. The circumstances would suggest he was having a mental health breakdown. As I approached I saw that he had several large burns on his body. I could make out the exact pattern of the heat pad of an iron on his skin. This told me everything I needed to know in an instant. He had been kidnapped, held against his will and tortured. Most likely for information, money or recrimination.
The old lady who had called us brought out a blanket and wrapped it around the poor chap and we took him to hospital. As it turned out, and unsurprisingly, he was not particularly fond of the police and did not want to enthrall us with the tale of his undoing. He was incredibly well known to police and known to associate with violent gangs. He had been kidnapped from another part of London the previous night by a rival gang.
There isn't too much you can do but record an incident like that, without any cooperation and not knowing the full circumstances of what has occurred.
What was worse was that David and I had completely gone off the idea of breakfast.
Anonymous Bobby
It was a brisk Sunday morning, approaching 0730 hours and I was on patrol with David (the same David I was working with in 'The Swinging Man' blog). The birds were singing away and David and I were discussing what to get for breakfast. The radio, rather rudely in my opinion, interrupted us and informed us that an elderly lady had called stating there was a naked man stood outside her house. David and I gave each other a knowing look and accepted the call.
Minutes later we were pulling into the quiet cul-de-sac. Sure enough a young man, probably aged about 25 years, was stood outside a detached bungalow, completely naked, and standing in a pose as if he were a footballer in a defensive wall, defending a free kick.
I exited the vehicle and approached. "You alright mate?" I asked. "Do I look alright?" he retorted. He had me there. It was a stupid question, but how does one engage with a male stood stark bollock naked on a fine morning in suburban London?
David and I were hesitant with him. The circumstances would suggest he was having a mental health breakdown. As I approached I saw that he had several large burns on his body. I could make out the exact pattern of the heat pad of an iron on his skin. This told me everything I needed to know in an instant. He had been kidnapped, held against his will and tortured. Most likely for information, money or recrimination.
The old lady who had called us brought out a blanket and wrapped it around the poor chap and we took him to hospital. As it turned out, and unsurprisingly, he was not particularly fond of the police and did not want to enthrall us with the tale of his undoing. He was incredibly well known to police and known to associate with violent gangs. He had been kidnapped from another part of London the previous night by a rival gang.
There isn't too much you can do but record an incident like that, without any cooperation and not knowing the full circumstances of what has occurred.
What was worse was that David and I had completely gone off the idea of breakfast.
Anonymous Bobby
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Where It All Began For Anonymous Bobby
Everybody remembers their first arrest. I was fortunate, you could say, as mine was slightly more exciting than the average body for shoplifting or similar.
It was a cold December night and I had been on response team for only a few days. I was working with two very experienced PC's, who have probably been retired for a long time now. Other officers on our team were chasing a young lad who had been robbing other youths at knife point. The suspect was making off through the rear gardens of addresses near where we were situated.
I was so new that speeding through London's streets with blue lights flashing and sirens wailing was still exciting. It was dark so the blue lights reflected on the street signs and were almost blinding. As we approached where the young man was being chased he darted across the road in front of us and into an estate on our left.
I flew out of the vehicle and gave chase. To get into the estate I had to hurdle a small fence about 2 feet in height. I did this successfully, however the grass on the other side was icy and I promptly fell 'arse over tit' on the other side. Undeterred I got to my feet and continued to chase (I was a much younger man back then). I gained ground, he was young but had already been running for several minutes and was beginning to tire. I reached out and my hand brushed his hood which flapped behind him in the wind. I was so close as he jumped down 4 or 5 stairs into a stairway in the block of flats. I followed. I obviously hadn't learned my lesson. The concrete was solid ice as I landed and I repeated my inelegant fall from a few moments earlier.
It is testament to the folly of youth, excitement and an eagerness to please that moments after my second fall I caught up with the young man and tackled him to the floor with an interception that even the most hardened rugby player would have been proud of.
I arrested him for possession of a bladed article and robbery. He cried all the way to custody. The skin on my knees took weeks to heal.
It's sad to say but I'll be completely honest with you. If that same incident occurred tomoroow I wouldn't even bother giving chase. I don't know what happened to the lad but I'm sure it was a pathetic slap on the wrist. The grief, writing and hassle that follows such an arrest makes it not worthwhile in the first place, to anybody. It is a likely estimation that the harshest punishment laid out because of the above situation was to my poor knees. On the plus side, I had obviously impressed my colleagues. As we returned to the station, for the first time, one of them offered to make me a cup of tea. I had been accepted.
Anonymous Bobby
It was a cold December night and I had been on response team for only a few days. I was working with two very experienced PC's, who have probably been retired for a long time now. Other officers on our team were chasing a young lad who had been robbing other youths at knife point. The suspect was making off through the rear gardens of addresses near where we were situated.
I was so new that speeding through London's streets with blue lights flashing and sirens wailing was still exciting. It was dark so the blue lights reflected on the street signs and were almost blinding. As we approached where the young man was being chased he darted across the road in front of us and into an estate on our left.
I flew out of the vehicle and gave chase. To get into the estate I had to hurdle a small fence about 2 feet in height. I did this successfully, however the grass on the other side was icy and I promptly fell 'arse over tit' on the other side. Undeterred I got to my feet and continued to chase (I was a much younger man back then). I gained ground, he was young but had already been running for several minutes and was beginning to tire. I reached out and my hand brushed his hood which flapped behind him in the wind. I was so close as he jumped down 4 or 5 stairs into a stairway in the block of flats. I followed. I obviously hadn't learned my lesson. The concrete was solid ice as I landed and I repeated my inelegant fall from a few moments earlier.
It is testament to the folly of youth, excitement and an eagerness to please that moments after my second fall I caught up with the young man and tackled him to the floor with an interception that even the most hardened rugby player would have been proud of.
I arrested him for possession of a bladed article and robbery. He cried all the way to custody. The skin on my knees took weeks to heal.
It's sad to say but I'll be completely honest with you. If that same incident occurred tomoroow I wouldn't even bother giving chase. I don't know what happened to the lad but I'm sure it was a pathetic slap on the wrist. The grief, writing and hassle that follows such an arrest makes it not worthwhile in the first place, to anybody. It is a likely estimation that the harshest punishment laid out because of the above situation was to my poor knees. On the plus side, I had obviously impressed my colleagues. As we returned to the station, for the first time, one of them offered to make me a cup of tea. I had been accepted.
Anonymous Bobby
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Trump vs. May - A Police Officer's Perspective
This is a blog about the experiences of a police officer in London. Sometimes it will inevitably dip into political issues but I will avoid doing so where possible.
Now in true Met Police fashion I shall contradict all of the above.
It's difficult to talk about anything without referencing Donald Trump at the moment. I'm not going to talk about his immigration policies or anything else which is grabbing headlines at the moment. I want to discuss his attitude towards the men and women of the American police services.
Trump and Mike Pence have both been very vocal in their support of police officers in America. They have shown both gratitude and respect for the work done by police services and spoken about maintaining police officer conditions and numbers.
In contrast, whilst Home Secretary, Theresa May led an unprecedented attack on police services, and police officers alike. She became a Wicked Witch type figure amongst police officers. She oversaw pension cuts, pay freezes, benefits being slashed, and officer numbers dwindling to a point of workloads putting unbearable strain on those remaining.
One can criticise Trump for a multitude of reasons. It isn't difficult to do. But one thing he has brought that I find refreshing is his attitude towards police. He understands that the thin blue line is what stands between his success and total chaos. May, on the other hand, appears to treat the police like the enemy. Rarely, if ever, does she come out and voice support for the work being done. Only in UK government can an incident like 'Plebgate' occur. An undercurrent of disdain and distrust appears to run between officers and politicians, in both directions admittedly.
There are always lessons to be learned, in every situation.
I'm not coming out in favour of Trump and Pence, but it's easy to dismiss him completely when in fact our own leaders could learn a little something about protecting the people that protect them every single day. So take note, Mrs May, Trump's policies may be causing you no end of grief, but you have something to learn from him nonetheless.
As for the police in America, I'm sure they are happy to have a President who supports them so wholeheartedly. I would imagine that many of the men and women of the United States' police are driving around with 'Make America Great Again' bumper stickers on the back of their vehicles.
Anonymous Bobby
Now in true Met Police fashion I shall contradict all of the above.
It's difficult to talk about anything without referencing Donald Trump at the moment. I'm not going to talk about his immigration policies or anything else which is grabbing headlines at the moment. I want to discuss his attitude towards the men and women of the American police services.
Trump and Mike Pence have both been very vocal in their support of police officers in America. They have shown both gratitude and respect for the work done by police services and spoken about maintaining police officer conditions and numbers.
In contrast, whilst Home Secretary, Theresa May led an unprecedented attack on police services, and police officers alike. She became a Wicked Witch type figure amongst police officers. She oversaw pension cuts, pay freezes, benefits being slashed, and officer numbers dwindling to a point of workloads putting unbearable strain on those remaining.
One can criticise Trump for a multitude of reasons. It isn't difficult to do. But one thing he has brought that I find refreshing is his attitude towards police. He understands that the thin blue line is what stands between his success and total chaos. May, on the other hand, appears to treat the police like the enemy. Rarely, if ever, does she come out and voice support for the work being done. Only in UK government can an incident like 'Plebgate' occur. An undercurrent of disdain and distrust appears to run between officers and politicians, in both directions admittedly.
There are always lessons to be learned, in every situation.
I'm not coming out in favour of Trump and Pence, but it's easy to dismiss him completely when in fact our own leaders could learn a little something about protecting the people that protect them every single day. So take note, Mrs May, Trump's policies may be causing you no end of grief, but you have something to learn from him nonetheless.
As for the police in America, I'm sure they are happy to have a President who supports them so wholeheartedly. I would imagine that many of the men and women of the United States' police are driving around with 'Make America Great Again' bumper stickers on the back of their vehicles.
Anonymous Bobby
Monday, January 30, 2017
Don't Be Fooled By Crime Figures
Just a quick note today on crime figures and how they are so easily manipulated.
For years money and resources have been stripped back from your police services. This has, apparently, coincided with a dramatic fall in police crime figures. So you are saving money and crime is falling? Wrong. Police crime figures are easily manipulated and I shall I tell you how here.
About the same time as money was ripped from police services in the UK, the police stopped reporting fraud. If you fall victim to fraud you will most likely be told to report this matter via a third party called Action Fraud. A catchy name but this means that these frauds are not recorded as crimes by the police. This has led to a massive drop in reported crime.
This deception is never outlined when senior officers proudly gloat about a fall in reported crime.
I will never forget an incident whereby I found myself working at a prestigious music event. I was on my break and I heard an officer call up on the radio saying he had been approached by a female whose purse had been stolen from her bag. Now the Metropolitan Police, and the organisers of the event, wanted the event to appear as crime free as possible and knew that all crimes reported at the event would be scrutinised. As quick as a flash a senior officer came onto the radio and said that if the female had not seen anyone take her purse from her bag then she had simply lost it and there was therefore no crime to report. Another way crime figures are manipulated. Go into any police front office and say you have had your purse stolen. You will be asked if you saw anyone take it and if you say no, it will be reported as lost.
Now, imagine you live in a block of flats. You return home after a hard day at work only to find that you have been burgled. Amid your dismay your neighbour comes out and says that they too have been burgled. These are two separate crimes, are they not? I know of many instances where, to satisfy crime figure demands, they are placed on the same crime report. Meaning that, statistically, only one crime has taken place.
So don't be fooled. Police crime figures can be manipulated very easily to satisfy whomever wishes to manipulate them, and for whatever reason. The blurred line separating policing from politics can be hard to distinguish sometimes.
Anonymous Bobby
For years money and resources have been stripped back from your police services. This has, apparently, coincided with a dramatic fall in police crime figures. So you are saving money and crime is falling? Wrong. Police crime figures are easily manipulated and I shall I tell you how here.
About the same time as money was ripped from police services in the UK, the police stopped reporting fraud. If you fall victim to fraud you will most likely be told to report this matter via a third party called Action Fraud. A catchy name but this means that these frauds are not recorded as crimes by the police. This has led to a massive drop in reported crime.
This deception is never outlined when senior officers proudly gloat about a fall in reported crime.
I will never forget an incident whereby I found myself working at a prestigious music event. I was on my break and I heard an officer call up on the radio saying he had been approached by a female whose purse had been stolen from her bag. Now the Metropolitan Police, and the organisers of the event, wanted the event to appear as crime free as possible and knew that all crimes reported at the event would be scrutinised. As quick as a flash a senior officer came onto the radio and said that if the female had not seen anyone take her purse from her bag then she had simply lost it and there was therefore no crime to report. Another way crime figures are manipulated. Go into any police front office and say you have had your purse stolen. You will be asked if you saw anyone take it and if you say no, it will be reported as lost.
Now, imagine you live in a block of flats. You return home after a hard day at work only to find that you have been burgled. Amid your dismay your neighbour comes out and says that they too have been burgled. These are two separate crimes, are they not? I know of many instances where, to satisfy crime figure demands, they are placed on the same crime report. Meaning that, statistically, only one crime has taken place.
So don't be fooled. Police crime figures can be manipulated very easily to satisfy whomever wishes to manipulate them, and for whatever reason. The blurred line separating policing from politics can be hard to distinguish sometimes.
Anonymous Bobby
Sunday, January 29, 2017
Police Jargon 3
The latest in my series of blogs explaining the unique language of police officers in London
Mong - An idiot. Somebody incapable of living their life without constant supervision.
Wiping Your Feet On The Way Out - A reference to somebody's home which is disgustingly dirty.
Doughnuts - A punishment. Any indiscretion could lead an officer to be required to buy doughnuts for his entire team. An officer may walk in late and be greeted by shouts of "Doughnuts!".
Soon Be Christmas - A term said when things are bad. As in "Never mind, it'll soon be Christmas".
Death Message - The task of attending someone's next of kin to inform them that their loved one is deceased.
Tit Hat - The large helmet traditionally associated with British police officers.
MetCab - The process of using a police vehicle in order to get home, usually when drunk. The drunk party would not drive but get a colleague to drive them home in a police car.
Over the Side - Somebody is 'over the side' if they are are cheating on their partner.
Bosh - To bosh something is to get rid of it in the easiest way possible. For example an incident may be 'boshed' by simply convincing all relevant parties that no further action is required. This is also known as Putting something in a box.
Met Bundle - The somewhat chaotic bundle of bodies that often ensues when trying to restrain somebody. Also known as a Roll Around.
Doing Somebody's Legs - Stitching somebody up.
Job's Fucked - A reference to how 'The Job' has detereorated to a point that nothing works. It is fucked.
Anonymous Bobby
Mong - An idiot. Somebody incapable of living their life without constant supervision.
Wiping Your Feet On The Way Out - A reference to somebody's home which is disgustingly dirty.
Doughnuts - A punishment. Any indiscretion could lead an officer to be required to buy doughnuts for his entire team. An officer may walk in late and be greeted by shouts of "Doughnuts!".
Soon Be Christmas - A term said when things are bad. As in "Never mind, it'll soon be Christmas".
Death Message - The task of attending someone's next of kin to inform them that their loved one is deceased.
Tit Hat - The large helmet traditionally associated with British police officers.
MetCab - The process of using a police vehicle in order to get home, usually when drunk. The drunk party would not drive but get a colleague to drive them home in a police car.
Over the Side - Somebody is 'over the side' if they are are cheating on their partner.
Bosh - To bosh something is to get rid of it in the easiest way possible. For example an incident may be 'boshed' by simply convincing all relevant parties that no further action is required. This is also known as Putting something in a box.
Met Bundle - The somewhat chaotic bundle of bodies that often ensues when trying to restrain somebody. Also known as a Roll Around.
Doing Somebody's Legs - Stitching somebody up.
Job's Fucked - A reference to how 'The Job' has detereorated to a point that nothing works. It is fucked.
Anonymous Bobby
Friday, January 27, 2017
Operation Minstead
Operation Minstead refers to the investigation into the prolific burglar/rapist that had plagued London's elderly community for decades. He had acquired the nickname 'The Nightstalker'.
Since the 1980s there had been many similar offences. Late at night a suspect would remove a pane of glass in the window of an elderly person. It was always an elderly person whom lived alone. Items were carefully moved to one side and the perpetrator took his time to cut telephone wires (and in later years place mobile phones on top of kitchen cabinets). Credit cards and cash were taken before he would gently sit on the bed of the elderly person. He would then commit rape and sexual assaults on his terrified victims. He targeted both male and female victims aged around 80 years.
His crimes took place over 20 years and are believed to number in the hundreds. Many victims are believed to have been too ashamed to have come forward. Many died before plucking up the courage to come forward. Some, having reported the matter, died soon after the offence, having never been the same since the awful intrusion.
Operation Minstead was the operation set up by the Metropolitan Police in order to catch The Nightstalker. It spanned decades and many officers deemed The Nightstalker too good at his crimes to ever be caught. He was, once, chased for a mile having just committed an offence by a lone police officer, but he was lost in a car park.
Police had descriptions of their man from several victims and CCTV of him withdrawing money from a cashpoint (ATM) using a victim's stolen credit card. They also had his DNA. But none of the DNA matched that which was held on the National DNA database.
The Nightstalker was caught a couple of years ago. By then, police knew the model of car he was using and 'old fashioned police work' (hundreds of police out at night looking for a man matching The Nightstalker's description in the model of car involved) they stopped him with his implements having recently committed one of his trademark crimes.
His DNA matched that left at several of the crime scenes.
His name was Delroy Grant, 53 years of age. He was a mini cab driver who spent the day caring for his wife who suffered from multiple sclerosis. Neighbours described him as a gentleman. His was mild mannered and obsessively clean and tidy. He tried to blame the crimes on his son, but that simply did not add up.
He was never found guilty of all his crimes because so many victims had either died, or not come forward. The Crown Prosecution Service picked 29 of the strongest cases against Grant and he was convicted of them. He was sentenced to a minimum 27 years. Meaning he could be freed aged 80, the average age of his victims.
Anonymous Bobby
Since the 1980s there had been many similar offences. Late at night a suspect would remove a pane of glass in the window of an elderly person. It was always an elderly person whom lived alone. Items were carefully moved to one side and the perpetrator took his time to cut telephone wires (and in later years place mobile phones on top of kitchen cabinets). Credit cards and cash were taken before he would gently sit on the bed of the elderly person. He would then commit rape and sexual assaults on his terrified victims. He targeted both male and female victims aged around 80 years.
His crimes took place over 20 years and are believed to number in the hundreds. Many victims are believed to have been too ashamed to have come forward. Many died before plucking up the courage to come forward. Some, having reported the matter, died soon after the offence, having never been the same since the awful intrusion.
Operation Minstead was the operation set up by the Metropolitan Police in order to catch The Nightstalker. It spanned decades and many officers deemed The Nightstalker too good at his crimes to ever be caught. He was, once, chased for a mile having just committed an offence by a lone police officer, but he was lost in a car park.
Police had descriptions of their man from several victims and CCTV of him withdrawing money from a cashpoint (ATM) using a victim's stolen credit card. They also had his DNA. But none of the DNA matched that which was held on the National DNA database.
The Nightstalker was caught a couple of years ago. By then, police knew the model of car he was using and 'old fashioned police work' (hundreds of police out at night looking for a man matching The Nightstalker's description in the model of car involved) they stopped him with his implements having recently committed one of his trademark crimes.
His DNA matched that left at several of the crime scenes.
His name was Delroy Grant, 53 years of age. He was a mini cab driver who spent the day caring for his wife who suffered from multiple sclerosis. Neighbours described him as a gentleman. His was mild mannered and obsessively clean and tidy. He tried to blame the crimes on his son, but that simply did not add up.
He was never found guilty of all his crimes because so many victims had either died, or not come forward. The Crown Prosecution Service picked 29 of the strongest cases against Grant and he was convicted of them. He was sentenced to a minimum 27 years. Meaning he could be freed aged 80, the average age of his victims.
Anonymous Bobby
Thursday, January 26, 2017
You Can't Save Them All
We've all seen the movies where somebody is dragged from the sea, or found collapsed, and our hero gets straight down and starts doing CPR. Shortly afterwards the poor suffering victim will splutter back to life and thank their new found hero.
I've had some success when it comes to CPR and lives have been saved. But it is not how the movies or television depict it.
Effective compressions on a person's chest are likely to break the ribs. One is required to compress about a third of the way into the person's torso. Imagine feeling the ribs crack beneath your hands as you push down. Then with each compression you can feel the broken bones inside the chest cavity.
I have been reliably informed by a doctor that CPR does not actually bring anybody back to life, it merely keeps the body alive. Compressions keep the blood moving around the body and therefore supplying it with oxygen, and rescue breaths into the victim's mouth keeps oxygen in the blood.
So you never actually bring someone back to life with CPR, you merely keep them alive.
It's not a glamorous task either. I would like to flatter myself by telling you stories of a poor, dying damsel in distress, images of me ripping my shirt open to reveal a six pack glistening in the sun while I run towards her in slow motion, before kneeling to bring her back to life with a few sensual compressions and a lingering kiss/rescue breath.
You'll be glad to know that the story I shall share is much more realistic, and a lot more gory.
A homeless man had jumped from a hostel window, falling from the second floor to the street below. As he had jumped his head had moved backwards and he descended as if lying flat on his back in bed. He landed this way and did not move. His head was flat on the pavement.
A fall from the second floor is most survivable. It is generally accepted that a fall from the 4th floor or higher will ultimately guarantee death. However, if you hit your head you could die from falling from a standing position.
Anyway, I was the first to reach this man. His facial expression told me he was dead. But there were onlookers. As I knelt beside him I started to see a grayish, clear liquid seep from the back of his head. I began chest compressions. Police officers are told that even if they know a person is dead, try CPR, their family may be looking on and just need to see someone trying to save their loved ones. Equally the public report feeling helpless and seeing somebody take action reassures them. Apparently.
That didn't matter though, I thought I had a good chance of saving this man.
CPR is a curious task. You become completely enveloped by the rhythm and strength of what you are doing. Making sure you do 30 compressions to 2 breaths (luckily I had a mask to help deliver the rescue breaths). I have always found that I become somewhat detached from my environment when conducting CPR. And that is how I found myself that day. It wasn't until I felt myself being dragged away by a paramedic concerned that I had completely lost the plot that I snapped back to reality.
The paramedic told me the male was gone. He turned the body slightly and I saw the man's brains dripping from the back of his head, which had taken the full force of the impact with the pavement.
I was covered in juices and blood. But, you can't save them all.
Anonymous Bobby
I've had some success when it comes to CPR and lives have been saved. But it is not how the movies or television depict it.
Effective compressions on a person's chest are likely to break the ribs. One is required to compress about a third of the way into the person's torso. Imagine feeling the ribs crack beneath your hands as you push down. Then with each compression you can feel the broken bones inside the chest cavity.
I have been reliably informed by a doctor that CPR does not actually bring anybody back to life, it merely keeps the body alive. Compressions keep the blood moving around the body and therefore supplying it with oxygen, and rescue breaths into the victim's mouth keeps oxygen in the blood.
So you never actually bring someone back to life with CPR, you merely keep them alive.
It's not a glamorous task either. I would like to flatter myself by telling you stories of a poor, dying damsel in distress, images of me ripping my shirt open to reveal a six pack glistening in the sun while I run towards her in slow motion, before kneeling to bring her back to life with a few sensual compressions and a lingering kiss/rescue breath.
You'll be glad to know that the story I shall share is much more realistic, and a lot more gory.
A homeless man had jumped from a hostel window, falling from the second floor to the street below. As he had jumped his head had moved backwards and he descended as if lying flat on his back in bed. He landed this way and did not move. His head was flat on the pavement.
A fall from the second floor is most survivable. It is generally accepted that a fall from the 4th floor or higher will ultimately guarantee death. However, if you hit your head you could die from falling from a standing position.
Anyway, I was the first to reach this man. His facial expression told me he was dead. But there were onlookers. As I knelt beside him I started to see a grayish, clear liquid seep from the back of his head. I began chest compressions. Police officers are told that even if they know a person is dead, try CPR, their family may be looking on and just need to see someone trying to save their loved ones. Equally the public report feeling helpless and seeing somebody take action reassures them. Apparently.
That didn't matter though, I thought I had a good chance of saving this man.
CPR is a curious task. You become completely enveloped by the rhythm and strength of what you are doing. Making sure you do 30 compressions to 2 breaths (luckily I had a mask to help deliver the rescue breaths). I have always found that I become somewhat detached from my environment when conducting CPR. And that is how I found myself that day. It wasn't until I felt myself being dragged away by a paramedic concerned that I had completely lost the plot that I snapped back to reality.
The paramedic told me the male was gone. He turned the body slightly and I saw the man's brains dripping from the back of his head, which had taken the full force of the impact with the pavement.
I was covered in juices and blood. But, you can't save them all.
Anonymous Bobby
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
We Need to Talk About Knife Crime
When I woke up this morning I did what most people do nowadays. I reached for my phone. Browsing the news I saw the Headline: 'Teenager Stabbed to Death in London'. Again.
So another young man has had his life prematurely ended due to knife crime in London. A 15 year old boy, yards from his school in Kensal Green.
I've seen the effects of knife crime. On several occasions I have been the first person to arrive at somebody who has been stabbed and administered the essential first aid required. I've looked down at a 15 year old boy dead in the street, having been stabbed to death, knowing that no amount of first aid will help him. I've collected the parents of a youth and driven them to hospital on blue lights as their child fights for their life.
Why this boy from Kensal Green was stabbed to death is not yet clear. In truth it is often puzzling why young people choose to stab others to death. Often, the stabbings that occur are in the leg, arm or buttocks. This is because the perpetrators believe it to be less life threatening. Not because they don't want to kill, but because they do not want the punishment and extensive investigations that follow a murder. Murders are VERY rarely unsolved in London these days.
Ask yourself, why do young people carry knives? Ask them and the answer is often self protection. That's a cop out, frankly. In the simplest terms it is idiocy. There are plenty of people who make it their life's goal to inform these young people of the dangers of carrying a knife and committing street crime. The truth is that in their juvenile, immature minds they think it is clever. When I was a teenager I thought I had the world sussed. I thought I knew more than anybody else and that I was always right. Maybe you did too? These teenagers are no different. There is a reason that these victims are not generally 30/40 years old, having been stabbed coming out of work by a fellow adult.
In my experience some victims are not always as innocent as they are portrayed by family and the press after a murder. I know of several instances where the victim has led a gang and crime fuelled life before succumbing to murder by a rival or enemy. Even as a youth we should collectively highlight any errors or misjudgments these juveniles make which cause them to be killed. To deter others from such choices. Nobody deserves to be murdered, at all, but it is a fact that some choices can increase the likelihood of such violence happening to you. Of course many victims are completely innocent. But I have experienced several cases where the victims lifestyle has led to their inexcusable murder.
I have also met one or two incredible parents of murdered youths. They rally their communities and campaign, as more should do, to stop knife crime and gang culture on the streets of London. These people should be heralded.
Somewhere along the line someone will blame the police. It is inevitable. There is a long line of people who are responsible for such acts before you get to the police, with the perpetrator at the front of the queue.
I don't have any answers, I'm afraid. Knives are readily available and if a youth truly wants to carry one, or worse use one, then it is hard to stop them. Stop and search is constantly criticised and clearly unpopular, so how else do the police get knives off the street?
Yesterday a 15 year old boy was murdered on the streets of London. This is a tragedy. At least one family is going to be ripped apart because of some bad decisions and a horrendous act. Tell a youth what to do and they are likely to do the opposite. Because they know best. Just like you and I did.
Anonymous Bobby
So another young man has had his life prematurely ended due to knife crime in London. A 15 year old boy, yards from his school in Kensal Green.
I've seen the effects of knife crime. On several occasions I have been the first person to arrive at somebody who has been stabbed and administered the essential first aid required. I've looked down at a 15 year old boy dead in the street, having been stabbed to death, knowing that no amount of first aid will help him. I've collected the parents of a youth and driven them to hospital on blue lights as their child fights for their life.
Why this boy from Kensal Green was stabbed to death is not yet clear. In truth it is often puzzling why young people choose to stab others to death. Often, the stabbings that occur are in the leg, arm or buttocks. This is because the perpetrators believe it to be less life threatening. Not because they don't want to kill, but because they do not want the punishment and extensive investigations that follow a murder. Murders are VERY rarely unsolved in London these days.
Ask yourself, why do young people carry knives? Ask them and the answer is often self protection. That's a cop out, frankly. In the simplest terms it is idiocy. There are plenty of people who make it their life's goal to inform these young people of the dangers of carrying a knife and committing street crime. The truth is that in their juvenile, immature minds they think it is clever. When I was a teenager I thought I had the world sussed. I thought I knew more than anybody else and that I was always right. Maybe you did too? These teenagers are no different. There is a reason that these victims are not generally 30/40 years old, having been stabbed coming out of work by a fellow adult.
In my experience some victims are not always as innocent as they are portrayed by family and the press after a murder. I know of several instances where the victim has led a gang and crime fuelled life before succumbing to murder by a rival or enemy. Even as a youth we should collectively highlight any errors or misjudgments these juveniles make which cause them to be killed. To deter others from such choices. Nobody deserves to be murdered, at all, but it is a fact that some choices can increase the likelihood of such violence happening to you. Of course many victims are completely innocent. But I have experienced several cases where the victims lifestyle has led to their inexcusable murder.
I have also met one or two incredible parents of murdered youths. They rally their communities and campaign, as more should do, to stop knife crime and gang culture on the streets of London. These people should be heralded.
Somewhere along the line someone will blame the police. It is inevitable. There is a long line of people who are responsible for such acts before you get to the police, with the perpetrator at the front of the queue.
I don't have any answers, I'm afraid. Knives are readily available and if a youth truly wants to carry one, or worse use one, then it is hard to stop them. Stop and search is constantly criticised and clearly unpopular, so how else do the police get knives off the street?
Yesterday a 15 year old boy was murdered on the streets of London. This is a tragedy. At least one family is going to be ripped apart because of some bad decisions and a horrendous act. Tell a youth what to do and they are likely to do the opposite. Because they know best. Just like you and I did.
Anonymous Bobby
Monday, January 23, 2017
A Professional Relationship with Death
Being a police officer for so long, on the front line of crime in the UK, has caused me to develop a strong relationship with death. I almost consider death a colleague with whom I work hand in hand.
I've spent more time than I care to think about around death. I have seen many dead bodies. Normally lying in the same position as when they took their final breath. I have broken the news to the loved ones of people who have passed too many times. The task of delivering such news is called a 'death message' and despite the various horrendous tasks police officers undertake, this is often considered the least desirable. It is certainly my least favourite item to deal with.
I've seen people die. I've heard the infamous 'death rattle'.
After a while I became familiar with death and the circumstances that surround it. I suppose it is a defence mechanism that I now consider death a colleague.
The most apparent and immediate consequence of death's presence is the smell. To describe it as a smell is actually misleading. However 'smell' is the closest and easiest description for the atmosphere in a place where death has been at work. In actual fact you do not even need to breath to be completely enveloped by the aroma and stale air that follows death. For those uninitiated in the ways of death, the best description of this 'smell' is to compare it to the smell of cannabis. Once a person is familiar with the smell of cannabis they recognise it easily, and do not tend to mistake it with anything else. It is such a distinctive smell, completley unique, that once a person knows the smell, they always recognise it. The same is to be said about the smell of death. The smell can linger in your throat or on your clothes for days like no other smell I have ever encountered.
Long ago a colleague and I forced our way into a flat where a man had not been seen for weeks. Before the door was open we knew he was dead inside, and had been so for a while. We could smell death. Sure enough, the man lay on his bed and the smell was absolutely horrendous. He was a white man but his skin had turned completely black. He had been there for weeks. I looked down to his stomach, which appeared to be moving. It was. A mass of maggots had turned his stomach into a living, moving lump of decaying flesh. My colleague pushed me into the room and held the door shut so I couldn't escape. Dark humour such as that is difficult to understand but a way that police officers deal with such horror.
There is another case where a woman was found sat in her armchair. Her television was on. She had obviously been there for months and had largely melted away into her carpet. On her lap was a TV guide which had rotted along with her. It was late December. The TV guide was just about eligible and open to the previous Christmas Eve, over a year ago.
More often we find the elderly relatively 'fresh' in their homes. Once there was an elderly chap who had died in the night at home. His flat was adorned with anniversary cards between himself and his wife. Pictures of his wife were everywhere and it was obvious that he missed her dearly. She had died a few years before. Before the undertakers took the man away I removed a coin from his wallet with an inscription on the back from his wife (he had obviously carried it around with him for most of his life). I placed it in his pocket to accompany him on his final journey. (Please note that we are required to search people's homes and wallets etc for high value items and large quantities of cash so that they are not left unattended and vulnerable, I was not leafing through his wallet out of curiosity!).
People tend to be curious about death. I have seen enough to satisfy any curiosity that I may have had. The curse is that when those close to you die, you know exactly what they looked like as they lay waiting to be found.
Anonymous Bobby
I've spent more time than I care to think about around death. I have seen many dead bodies. Normally lying in the same position as when they took their final breath. I have broken the news to the loved ones of people who have passed too many times. The task of delivering such news is called a 'death message' and despite the various horrendous tasks police officers undertake, this is often considered the least desirable. It is certainly my least favourite item to deal with.
I've seen people die. I've heard the infamous 'death rattle'.
After a while I became familiar with death and the circumstances that surround it. I suppose it is a defence mechanism that I now consider death a colleague.
The most apparent and immediate consequence of death's presence is the smell. To describe it as a smell is actually misleading. However 'smell' is the closest and easiest description for the atmosphere in a place where death has been at work. In actual fact you do not even need to breath to be completely enveloped by the aroma and stale air that follows death. For those uninitiated in the ways of death, the best description of this 'smell' is to compare it to the smell of cannabis. Once a person is familiar with the smell of cannabis they recognise it easily, and do not tend to mistake it with anything else. It is such a distinctive smell, completley unique, that once a person knows the smell, they always recognise it. The same is to be said about the smell of death. The smell can linger in your throat or on your clothes for days like no other smell I have ever encountered.
Long ago a colleague and I forced our way into a flat where a man had not been seen for weeks. Before the door was open we knew he was dead inside, and had been so for a while. We could smell death. Sure enough, the man lay on his bed and the smell was absolutely horrendous. He was a white man but his skin had turned completely black. He had been there for weeks. I looked down to his stomach, which appeared to be moving. It was. A mass of maggots had turned his stomach into a living, moving lump of decaying flesh. My colleague pushed me into the room and held the door shut so I couldn't escape. Dark humour such as that is difficult to understand but a way that police officers deal with such horror.
There is another case where a woman was found sat in her armchair. Her television was on. She had obviously been there for months and had largely melted away into her carpet. On her lap was a TV guide which had rotted along with her. It was late December. The TV guide was just about eligible and open to the previous Christmas Eve, over a year ago.
More often we find the elderly relatively 'fresh' in their homes. Once there was an elderly chap who had died in the night at home. His flat was adorned with anniversary cards between himself and his wife. Pictures of his wife were everywhere and it was obvious that he missed her dearly. She had died a few years before. Before the undertakers took the man away I removed a coin from his wallet with an inscription on the back from his wife (he had obviously carried it around with him for most of his life). I placed it in his pocket to accompany him on his final journey. (Please note that we are required to search people's homes and wallets etc for high value items and large quantities of cash so that they are not left unattended and vulnerable, I was not leafing through his wallet out of curiosity!).
People tend to be curious about death. I have seen enough to satisfy any curiosity that I may have had. The curse is that when those close to you die, you know exactly what they looked like as they lay waiting to be found.
Anonymous Bobby
Saturday, January 21, 2017
The Man Who Cut His Nose Off To Spite His Face
People do bizarre and unexplicable things.
There was a man who was wanted by police. He knew police were looking for him and so he took a knife and stabbed himself. Whether or not he intended to die I do not know. How he thought this would help if he did not intend to die, is also beyond me. Sadly, in this case it appears that he would have been better off if he had died.
His injuries were extensive and he suffered a stroke moments after self harming.
The stroke was catastrophic and he was left unable to communicate and was left, for want of a better word, a vegetable. He was only a young man and he had drawn his life to a partially premature end. Doctors would later predict that the man would not recover to his former self.
It's hard to understand how or why a person may take such drastic action. The offence for which he was wanted was relatively minor and he had not suffered any serious mental health problems prior to the incident. His family were left to pick up the pieces for the rest of his life because of one ridiculous and emotional outburst.
As a police officer I find myself regularly surrounded by such tragedy. It is most difficult to rationalise people's actions in one's mind. It is also difficult to explain to people the effect being around such events has on me. What am I supposed to tell my wife when I get home after each shift? I, like most police officers with 'non-job' wives, simply say nothing.
Anonymous Bobby
There was a man who was wanted by police. He knew police were looking for him and so he took a knife and stabbed himself. Whether or not he intended to die I do not know. How he thought this would help if he did not intend to die, is also beyond me. Sadly, in this case it appears that he would have been better off if he had died.
His injuries were extensive and he suffered a stroke moments after self harming.
The stroke was catastrophic and he was left unable to communicate and was left, for want of a better word, a vegetable. He was only a young man and he had drawn his life to a partially premature end. Doctors would later predict that the man would not recover to his former self.
It's hard to understand how or why a person may take such drastic action. The offence for which he was wanted was relatively minor and he had not suffered any serious mental health problems prior to the incident. His family were left to pick up the pieces for the rest of his life because of one ridiculous and emotional outburst.
As a police officer I find myself regularly surrounded by such tragedy. It is most difficult to rationalise people's actions in one's mind. It is also difficult to explain to people the effect being around such events has on me. What am I supposed to tell my wife when I get home after each shift? I, like most police officers with 'non-job' wives, simply say nothing.
Anonymous Bobby
Friday, January 20, 2017
Police Jargon 2
The second in Anonymous Bobby's Police Jargon series....
The Job - 'The Job' is a general way of referring to the police as a whole. For example:
John: "See that bloke over there?"
Boris: "Yeah, isnt't he in The Job?"
John: "Yeah he works in Croydon."
In some instances it is shortened to simply 'Job'. For example:
John: "That bloke is Job."
or
John: "I hate that bloke he is always talking Job" (indicating that he is always talking about the police and his occupation).
Jobfit - This is a term used to describe a person of either sex who is considered sexually attractive but only when compared to other police officers. In the general population they may be of average looks, whereas compared to other police officers, and the limited selection available, they would be classed as 'Jobfit'.
Sack of Shit - Refers to anybody he looks untidy. He "looks like a sack of shit".
Weary - Anything or anybody who makes things unnecessarily difficult. A call somebody is dealing with may be weary, meaning it is complicated and likely to be protracted. Or an officer may be considered weary for doing things to the letter of the law or taking too long to complete tasks.
PC Rain - Considered by all to be the most effective police officer the world has ever seen. PC Rain is simply, the rain. It is a reference to the tendency of crime to significantly diminish whilst it is raining.
Refs - Short for refreshments. Used to describe a break. "I'm going for refs now" or "What have you got for refs?"
Q - Police officers are a superstitious bunch. It is widely considered that using the word 'quiet' in any form will bring a sudden increase in crime and calls. Rather than risk saying 'quiet' officers say 'Q'. For example:
John: "It's really Q tonight isn't it?"
Boris: "Yeah, I haven't seen it this Q for a long time".
Old Sweat - An officer of considerable experience.
A Microwave - The opposite of an old sweat. Somebody who has been in The Job for less than 3 or 4 years and already thinks they know it all.
John: "That bloke has been in The Job for 5 minutes and he thinks he's done".
Hence, microwave.
Job Pissed - Somebody who loves The Job and lets it define them. They may work all of their days off and all the overtime they can get their hands. They will continuously 'talk job'.
A Doris - A female.
iPoo - An iPoo is caused by a sudden and desperate need to defecate. If such need is so desperate that the officer requires his blue lights and siren to get to the nearest washroom, then it is deemed an iPoo.
Anonymous Bobby
The Job - 'The Job' is a general way of referring to the police as a whole. For example:
John: "See that bloke over there?"
Boris: "Yeah, isnt't he in The Job?"
John: "Yeah he works in Croydon."
In some instances it is shortened to simply 'Job'. For example:
John: "That bloke is Job."
or
John: "I hate that bloke he is always talking Job" (indicating that he is always talking about the police and his occupation).
Jobfit - This is a term used to describe a person of either sex who is considered sexually attractive but only when compared to other police officers. In the general population they may be of average looks, whereas compared to other police officers, and the limited selection available, they would be classed as 'Jobfit'.
Sack of Shit - Refers to anybody he looks untidy. He "looks like a sack of shit".
Weary - Anything or anybody who makes things unnecessarily difficult. A call somebody is dealing with may be weary, meaning it is complicated and likely to be protracted. Or an officer may be considered weary for doing things to the letter of the law or taking too long to complete tasks.
PC Rain - Considered by all to be the most effective police officer the world has ever seen. PC Rain is simply, the rain. It is a reference to the tendency of crime to significantly diminish whilst it is raining.
Refs - Short for refreshments. Used to describe a break. "I'm going for refs now" or "What have you got for refs?"
Q - Police officers are a superstitious bunch. It is widely considered that using the word 'quiet' in any form will bring a sudden increase in crime and calls. Rather than risk saying 'quiet' officers say 'Q'. For example:
John: "It's really Q tonight isn't it?"
Boris: "Yeah, I haven't seen it this Q for a long time".
Old Sweat - An officer of considerable experience.
A Microwave - The opposite of an old sweat. Somebody who has been in The Job for less than 3 or 4 years and already thinks they know it all.
John: "That bloke has been in The Job for 5 minutes and he thinks he's done".
Hence, microwave.
Job Pissed - Somebody who loves The Job and lets it define them. They may work all of their days off and all the overtime they can get their hands. They will continuously 'talk job'.
A Doris - A female.
iPoo - An iPoo is caused by a sudden and desperate need to defecate. If such need is so desperate that the officer requires his blue lights and siren to get to the nearest washroom, then it is deemed an iPoo.
Anonymous Bobby
Thursday, January 19, 2017
The Murder/Suicide
It was late 2012. A man had been found dead in his home. It was clearly suspicious yet nobody had pieced together exactly what had happened. Our radios came to life once more and informed us that there was a fire in a large detached house. We raced to the scene.
Upon arriving I noticed a large house completely ablaze. The London Fire Brigade (LFB) were arriving at the same time as us. A neighbour ran toward us screaming that their was a man trapped inside. A few of us entered the house, with LFB, and dragged a screaming man out of the house.
He was badly burnt all over. I could smell his burning flesh. He was still conscious and begging us to let him die. I'll never forget the way his white skin had burnt away revealing the muscle underneath. We applied burn packs to help the wounds but the male had to be restrained as he tried to pull them off. Flames were still licking up the windows in the house as the LFB tackled the enormous fire. Luckily, there were no other houses around the property which could have been effected. The LFB did a fabulous job that day. We didn't know that the male was trying to kill himself. We thought the fumes had caused him to become delirious. I was with him, with a large team of firemen, paramedics and police for about 30 minutes as we restrained this badly burned man so that he could be appropriately treated.
He died from his injuries later that day.
As it turned out, the male had recently broken up with his partner and that morning had travelled to his home and stabbed him to death. He had then gone to his own home. He had poured petrol everywhere, sat on his sofa and set fire to his house.
People often think of suicide as selfish. I don't. These people are in crisis and desperate and need help. Nobody will ever know exactly what that young man was thinking that day (he was only 23). Whatever he was thinking was not normal and he destroyed two young lives in a matter of hours. He also gave me something to think about, as well as a lot of other Emergency Responders.
Anonymous Bobby
Upon arriving I noticed a large house completely ablaze. The London Fire Brigade (LFB) were arriving at the same time as us. A neighbour ran toward us screaming that their was a man trapped inside. A few of us entered the house, with LFB, and dragged a screaming man out of the house.
He was badly burnt all over. I could smell his burning flesh. He was still conscious and begging us to let him die. I'll never forget the way his white skin had burnt away revealing the muscle underneath. We applied burn packs to help the wounds but the male had to be restrained as he tried to pull them off. Flames were still licking up the windows in the house as the LFB tackled the enormous fire. Luckily, there were no other houses around the property which could have been effected. The LFB did a fabulous job that day. We didn't know that the male was trying to kill himself. We thought the fumes had caused him to become delirious. I was with him, with a large team of firemen, paramedics and police for about 30 minutes as we restrained this badly burned man so that he could be appropriately treated.
He died from his injuries later that day.
As it turned out, the male had recently broken up with his partner and that morning had travelled to his home and stabbed him to death. He had then gone to his own home. He had poured petrol everywhere, sat on his sofa and set fire to his house.
People often think of suicide as selfish. I don't. These people are in crisis and desperate and need help. Nobody will ever know exactly what that young man was thinking that day (he was only 23). Whatever he was thinking was not normal and he destroyed two young lives in a matter of hours. He also gave me something to think about, as well as a lot of other Emergency Responders.
Anonymous Bobby
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