Page 127 - Once a copper 10 03 2020

making my stomach turn. What did it for me was the sight of a toddler in
soiled nappy and filthy baby clothes crawling on the floor. This was the
middle of the day and open cans of beer were strewn about the place and
roll up cigarettes burning in the ashtray. The wallpaper was hanging off the
walls, yet there was a massive state of the art tv screen and music system in
the corner. I resisted an overwhelming temptation to scream my frustration at
them, deciding instead to call in the appropriate social agencies. The result
was that the baby was taken into care until the family cleaned up the house
and satisfied the social services that the child would no longer be at risk. Until
the next time.

Sadly, I found this depressingly commonplace. The 12-year-old boy in that
environment had little or no chance of making adulthood without losing
many of his teenage years in a young offenders’ institute. I found myself
debating that maybe it would be the best place for him.

One case, whilst not the ‘Crime of the century’ was to bring me a sense of
satisfaction.

I attended a fish and chip shop in Lambeth Road on my patch, where I met
the owner who was most upset to report that two brand new Raleigh pedal
cycles belonging to his young daughters had been stolen from the garage.
Having taken details with time to spare, I made a few house-to-house
enquiries. Rarely do these enquiries bear fruit in Kingstanding, especially
about something as minor as theft of pedal cycles, however, on this
occasion, I struck lucky.

A brother and sister I will call Bonnie and Clyde had upset the locals so much
with their arrogant, rude conduct, that their names were thrown into the pot
more than once. I needed more than mere speculation and gossip, a slither
of evidence was required to supply me with ‘reasonable suspicion’ to take it
further.

Nosey neighbours are a God-send to police enquiries and I stumbled upon
an elderly lady ‘curtain-twitcher’ whose suspicions were aroused. ‘I saw
Bonnie and Clyde riding two new bikes earlier and thought they must have
pinched them. They’re a scruffy pair of so-n-so’s and their mother looks like
she should be teaching them to pinch soap not bikes’. She even knew where
they lived, telling me I wouldn’t miss the house as the front garden looked like
a scrap metal merchants’ yard. That was enough for me.

My mate worked the adjacent beat and I called up asking for his location.
He was within a few minutes’ walk and he agreed to meet up with me. We
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both headed off to the home of Bonnie and Clyde and sure enough, the
front garden was a dead-giveaway.