Risking it all, for justice?

'So sir, what happened?'

'I was stood looking at the dvds, when I heard some shouting. Somebody shouting what I thought was 'Stop him!', so I turned around and saw this guy running towards me.'

'What happened next?'

'Well I looked passed him and saw two dudes from Asda and a security guy chasing him.'

'Then?'

'I thought he'd done a runner after nicking something, so I jumped on the guy. Didn't really think about it to be honest, I just did it, now I think about it maybe I shouldn't have, should leave it to you coppers who are trained to fight these dick heads.'

'You'd be suprised chap, i'm all mouth, no trousers. Just ask my girlfriend, she's still waiting for that necklace I promised her at Christmas, she kicks my ass all the time.'

When the curtain falls, it's time to get off the stage. When the time arrives, it's time to take action, or is it? When this happens, you understand why people just don't want to get involved.

It's only words.....

When ever you are confronted by a situation where you may need to use force, chasing a man with an iron bar, or maybe a twelve year old boy, who just happens to be six foot three, you always think of this, afterwards.

You've never seen so many cops before, you counted at least twelve, all in one place, at one time, it was like a buffet. Short cops, tall cops, young cops, old cops, good looking cops, not so good looking cops, male cops and female cops.

In the centre of all these cops, the reason why they are all there, is a man, about six foot, with a beard and his son. You have no idea why every cop and his dog has congregated, but you're there anyway. The man is showing all the warning signs of violence, clenching his fists, foaming at the mouth, and as you watch from the front, you know he's going to blow, you feel it is a certainty.

But suddenly out steps an Officer from the crowd, he talks to the man, asking him politely to calm down, he shows him respect, he remains calm throughout the situation. Moments later the man is, in return, calm, he's no longer a threat. The man is then arrested by the Officer, and you and your collegue are selected to transport the man to the custody suite.

This constable, who stepped to the front of the group, who dealt with the situation with skill and complete professionalism, you have been crewed with him on a few occasions and you can say this, is most likely the best Cop you have ever had the pleasure of working with.

But sometimes, words are not enough, with the changing climate of policing today, it's no wonder that this can happen, and the criminal who did it, will most likely be out of jail in a few years, no justice.

Not for the faint hearted......

‘Don’t you ever think you’ll die?’
'I'm more likely to die from your dirty looks when I say something sarcastic.'
'You don't fool me you know.'
‘You’ll come to my funeral right? And say something nice?’
‘It’s a dangerous job.’
‘I’ll remember that next time I’m filling in a crime report.’
‘Don’t joke.’
‘It’s what I do best.’
‘I thought that was charm.’
‘Both.’
‘Be careful.’
‘Yes ma’am.’

If there is one thing you arn't, it's heroic. You would run, not into the fire, but towards the water, you'd rush towards safety, not into danger, to rescue those trapped in the dangerous. You'd ignore screams for help, to concentrate on your own survival, you would stand there, like a stone statue, when action was required to save something dear.

Police Constable Richard Gray had a wife, two grown up sons, he had been commended five times for bravery, rescued a man from certain death, served in the armed forces, in Northern Ireland and sworn an oath to queen and country.

This Officer bravely entered a house, to save, to rescue, to protect, and for that he paid the ultimate price. For this act, of courage, of spirit, of bravery, of self sacrifice, he will never be forgotten, he will always be remembered.

'A man has honor if he holds himself to an ideal of conduct though it is inconvenient, unprofitable, or dangerous to do so.'

Walter Lippmann

Trying not to remember, but remembering never to forget......

You arrive outside the house, your colleague pressers the 'reset' button, the blue lights turn off, people are congregating outside, as you step out of the car curtains twitch as people want to see what's going on.

You make your way over to the scene, and your collegue makes his way to the house across the street, where apparently the offender lives. The young woman who has just been burgled, in broad daylight, while she was in the house, is forcing back tears, so you make a joke to try your best to lighten the situation:

'I am a real copper ma'am, i'm not a stripper, you're safe now.'

You usher her into the house, so she can sit down, you wait for your collegue to arrive. As you sit there on the sofa, taking down information about what has happened, she starts to cry, weaping openly, with her neighbours standing next to her. She sobs, through the tears she tells you about the invaluable posessions that have been stolen, not the expensive television, that can be replaced, but her mother's jewelley, her wedding ring, presents from her family and mementos of trips she went on as a child.

She looks at you, as if you know what to do, as if you know how to sort it out, how to help her. You look up to your collegue, who continues to take details, and you know the only thing you can do is ask one of her neighbours:

'Can you get a drink of water for her please, thank you.'

Sometimes when you go to bed at night you see the face of this woman, crying, sobbing, weaping infront of you, but for some reason, you can't think of her name, you just can't.

You lay there, trying to remember her name, one day it will come back to you, you will remember, but for now you don't, and for that you are deeply ashamed, deeply.

'You ask me who was murdered on this day six months ago? I wouldn't know. Not their names, anyway. I tend not to forget the faces.'

ADA David McNorris, Boomtown.