Page 225 - Once a copper 10 03 2020
P. 225

“SIR JOSIAH MASON”


               Suddenly, it was as if every uniform and CID officer from
               Erdington appeared out nowhere. They emerged from
               their hiding places, some on foot who had secreted
               themselves behind bushes, the patrol cars I’d cursed
               earlier, even the 2-10 DS and his team turned up.

               “Still having it Bennett?” I hear them shout through their
               guffaws at my expense.

               That night and for months afterwards I was subject to a
               tirade of what I thought was their cruel jokes…
               “Anything good from Joe lately?”                                  Figure 97 The Sir Josiah Mason
                                                                                 Statue, Chester Road, Erdington
               I’d been victim of blags back in my days in uniform,
               but this was in a different league. This was all part of the blagging that served
               as a humorous and harmless release from the stresses of everyday police-
               work.

               This time I was the victim, but in months and years to come I would often be
               on the giving side of it.

               It wasn’t the last time I was to fall foul of the ‘blagging’ culture as you will
               hear later, but I learned quickly that to be a victim and take it graciously,
               strangely earns your stripes of colleague respect, in some unfathomable way
               builds character, and wins countless trusted friends.

               My time for informants came soon afterwards.

               Ginger the sahbut
               Remember the passenger in the stolen car from Orphanage Road?


               One day I was clearing paperwork in the CID office when I got a call from
               the front office that a young man was asking for me.
               When I got downstairs, in the public area of the reception Ginger was
               standing there with a broad grin on his face. “Hello Mr Bennett how are you?”
               he asked “It’s DC Bennett to you now” I said matching his grin. He asked if we
               could go for a walk around the block as he didn’t want to be seen by his
               mates inside the nick.


               I put my jacket on and we set off from the station, sticking to side roads. He
               told me he had been nicked a couple of times in the months that had
               elapsed since we first met. His cases were all being brought together for a
               total sentence to be imposed. He went on to ask if there was anything I could
               do to put in a good word to the court to hopefully lessen his sentence.  In                        Page225
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