Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime.
May 24, 2007 by inspectorgadget
The other night we had some real grief. A clearly disturbed woman was on the line to one of our operators whilst attaching a rope to her neck, and attempting to hang herself from a tree in her garden.
We were getting this as a live commentary over the radio. My hands were shaking on the steering wheel. Thank the Lord I was on my own at this point.
Patrols went but couldn’t find the exact location in the dark. I requested an emergency live cell trace on the number (she was on a mobile) and the operator could hear a child in the background.
The whole of F Division night duty went to this call. And that’s not saying much. For what it’s worth, we were all there. She was found and the circumstances turned out not to be as first described. But that happens so often.
The fantastic ambulance crew helped while police officers arranged a mental health assessment. I then had to review a Police Protection Order for the child who had seen all this.
This call caused me (and everyone else) a lot of stress. During the search, when you can hear it all going on and you can’t seem to get there quick enough. And later over the child.
I know that I usually treat policing as a bit of a joke, or an opportunity to be cynical about the bureaucracy nonsense. Perhaps it’s a defence mechanism.
This was a major ‘wake up call’ for me. How do you ‘come down’ after that? There isn’t a government performance target or league table for it.
As they say; everybody’s got to learn sometime.
When is your book coming out Guv? Another cracking post that puts response work into perspective for all those who sleep under the protection we provide and happily criticise the manner in which we provide it… if i may be so bold as to paraphrase the legendary Colonel Nathan Jessop…
Sounds like an instance where the system worked effectively - albeit a tragic one - minus the ever looming spectre of government targets!?
Sad that people with genuine mental health problems just don’t get the help they need whereas drug addicts, well it’s lucky for them they end up as somebody’s pet project. Hope the child there didn’t see too much although somehow, I doubt thats the case. Hurry up & bring your book out! I need something good to read & my impatience is starting to make an appearance! Seriously though, will definitely be buying when it comes out, I have a feeling it’s going to be rather good
Don’t be too hard on yourself Guv, you have to be quite cynical otherwise you wouldn’t be able to do the job you do…Sometimes we all get a wake up call of sorts, but back to the drunks and druggies eh?? Excellent post again BTW
You may not get the recognition you deserve from bean counters, but your efforts do not go unnoticed by the rest of us. A job well done. Very well done.
I was first on scene at a stabbing a while ago. Treated the victim at the scene, held their hand in the ambulance and watched as they died in A&E. Then spent hours with the body seizing clothing and watching their family carry out an I.D.
Not so much as “Bit hairy the other night Bizzie, you O.K?” from supervision. We’re expected to cope and move on to the next job and, for the most part we do.
For the most part we do definately until you have something totally random that brings it back. I held a girls hand as she died and was looking in her eyes talking to her at my first motorway smash, after a really long debrief with my superb skipper i felt ok about it until a few weeks ago, some 7 years later, when a fight in a kebab shop of all places brought it back. It was only at that point i realised i never found out her name and its bothered me ever since.
I find that chatting to your workmates does the business - I think that the old attitude of ‘he’s soft’ has changed somewhat. I know it has in the ambulance game; when there is a dodgy job then it’s your workmates who will see you alright.
Playing computer games helps me - I noticed that I was getting really stressed recently, just because I hadn’t had a chance to do something utterly meaningless to let my mind settle. A couple of hours of gaming and my stress was lifted.
Like the other commenters have said, another excellently written post, thanks Inspector.
When will you stop saving people and concentrate on manipulating figures to prop up a corrupt system ?.
The smarm and charm merchants from ACPO read this and will not be amused.
You need a spell in performance review ,bud.
Having dealt with paramedics and officers in the services I think coffin humour is essential for your sanity.
I hope you’re doing ok.
I don’t know how we would manage without people like you who are willing to rush to scenes like this and deal with it all.
Thank you.
An excellent post on truly excellent blog.
Not a corgi in sight. woof woof. Apart from that, nowadays we got the call takers and the dispatchers leaving a delay between what is happenning in real time and the perception that it has happenned and we are not really sure exactly how old the info or updates are. When you got the updates being given over the radio following message updates being typed into the call record there is bound to be delays. Sometimes this delay is vital to avoid but with the system in place is going to be the case. Seems to be a bit strategic to me. Strategic is the new thing, apparently. A lot of people seem to be talking strategic.
I think the mental side of the job goes vastly unnoticed by people in mgmt who have or should have gone through experiences and situations that are distressing and disturbing. I remember being second on scene at a probable fatal, with about 4 years in (thats 4 years at 15 hours a week on average. So less than a year of continuous service comparative to regulars) and helping to load the young lad who’s been struck while walking on the road into the ambulance, a real scoop and run given the proximity to the hospital. As the ambulance drove off mum arrived having been alerted by a neighbour. The section skipper asked me to drive her to the hospital and as I did so, she asked me if her son would die, had he said anything, was it his blood on me? I must have been 28/29 then, and I just couldnt think of anything to say that was consoling or useful. In my earpiece I could here the incident running and AIU making their way, I was turning my PR down fearful that she would hear the word ‘Fatal’ in probable fatal through my earpiece. Its one of the few times I felt the red mist descend on my driving. Not being standard, and just a basic, I’m not ashamed to say that I used the kit on the car to get where we needed to go and despite the overwhelming desire to drive flat out, listening to her and having to speak to her kept everything together and sensible and the blood on my shirt I think brought it home to me. I remember bringing her into the hospital to the relatives room and handing her over to one of the team there and going to just outside the resus area to watch their attempts to save the lad. The team were great and tried for some 30 minutes before they had to give up. Seeing mum come in and see ‘her baby’ in that state was sad. But as met county mounty says, the mind is odd. It wasn’t until I had kids (some 6 years later) and was tidying out old PNB’s and re-read the incident that it really hit me. What would happen if that were my son? I was in tears. And I don’t have to see this stuff 5 or 6 days a week, every week. As an aside, and this may sound a bit cheesy, but I remember being so proud to live somewhere where there were some 10 to 12 medical people, total strangers working so hard and with so much effort to save a stranger. Not everything is bad about the UK.
Nice post IG, know exactly where your coming from.
Only a few days ago I came on duty for nightshift only to have 5 separate reports of missing persons within the first 25 minutes of my shift. All female, all juvenile , all with some sort of issues, ADHD, alcohol, in care etc etc. Then not long after I had a 14 year old boy self harming with a knife which his pals took off him only for him to climb a bus shelter and threaten to throw himself off it, if no-one helped him, my cops managed to talk him down. Meanwhile another unit having attended the local hospital to arrest a nutter who had went berserk in the treatment area and fought with the guards decided to set fire to his T shift having concealed a lighter upon his person whilst enroute in the back of the Police van. Unfortunately he was still wearing it……..! So back to A&E he went with burns to arms and chest. It was a night of lunatics, never been so glad to see morning.
As for mental health issues! Today our valiant Social Work showed their skills once again. They went to section a male today who hadn’t been taking his medication and was causing concern. So they went to his house and told him they were going to section him, they then left, YES!! LEFT!! him at the house saying they were going to get the paperwork and come back. Guess what…….. yep he wasn’t there when they returned. So they called the Police and wanted to report him as a missing person!
My faith in social services and how we look after people in this country with mental health issues in general is zero!!! What hope with such incompitent fools running it!
Keep the faith Gadget. Well its what I keep trying to say to myself !
Phew! keep the comments coming - this is getting interesting!
I remember attending a fatal many, many years ago. A small child (about 4 years old, if I remember correctly) was riding his tiny little bicycle on the pavement outside his home. There was a massive lorry parked there, at the kerb. The lorry started up and drove off, just as the little lad fell off his bike, straight under the rear wheels.
I remember afterwards picking up the bike - which was slightly buckled - and remembering - my young daughter at the time, had an identical bike.
I’m afraid that I’m not as tough as I thought!
We had a ‘drivers room’ at the rear of our station, which was hardly ever used. This, I’m sure, was it’s purpose.
Dealt with a house fire recently. Mum too drunk to care, decides to cook chips for herself at 3am, leaves pan unattended, house goes up in smoke, she gets out, children do’nt. The thing that bothered me most was why the children were still in their school uniforms at 3am - odd the way the mind deals with these things.
I’m going to let this one run for a bit. I might ask the readers above for permission to publish some of this in my book.
At the risk of revealing my secret superhero identity, cos I’m sure not many incidents of this type occur…
My wake up, especially about the people I work with, happened when we went to a smelly call. No rush on this, the bloke was a long time dead.
I did his door and found him hanging by a noose.
After we’d been there a little while, I noticed the CCTV camera wired to the video recorder.
Being me, I first wondered if any one had said anything they shouldn’t have, but then the penny dropped. It was a live suicide note from a manic depressive 25 year old.
We stood in total silence as we viewed the tape of the man hanging in the room next to us as he told us why he was done with this life.
Then we watched him take his own life.
I went to a job a few years ago where I had to “assist” two social workers section an ill man. This poor bloke was very ill. It was obvious from first sight. I had dealt with him before and was able to build up a bit of a rapport with him. After five minutes of me (I was on my own, police wise) speaking to him and explaining what was happening and why it was necessary one of the silly socials started saying loudly “RIGHT OFFICER. THAT’S IT. HE’S HAD ENOUGH TIME. I’M ORDERING YOU TO USE FORCE. COME ON” (WHO DID SHE THINK SHE WAS AND WHO, EXACTLY WAS SHE SPEAKING TO???!!!!).
Matey boy, un surprisingly, went ballistic, I pushed the silly’s out of the smelly flat and closed the door. Happyman is now bouncing off the walls in the living room and threatening to jump out the window if I come near him. I sat down amongst the filth (not a pun) on his sofa and said “WELL I DON’T FANCY YOURS MUCH MATE”. It was like pushing a button. Robert was my friend again. We had a chat about how the nurses would be better looking and about how the social workers would leave him and me alone if he spent a couple of nights down at the hospital. I gave the happy Robert a lift to the local secure facility. To this day he will wave at me if a drive past and is happy to stop and talk. He still hates social workers though.
It took most of a shift (getting there, waiting for them, transport to hossie getting back writing it up, the proper reports) . No one was hurt. No crimes were detected. No arrests were made. I must be a bad copper.
No doughnuts.
A few months ago I was crewed with my partner on nights and were driving along at about 0600hrs near to a roundabout junction on a major route. I saw a lad standing on the other side of the barrier with a mobile phone in his hand. I mentioned this to my partner, who drove past the lad again and suddenly you forget the fatigue (having been on a very busy 10 hour night) and the adrenaline kicks in. Call on the radio to the early turn dispatcher who takes a couple of seconds to absorb what was coming through.
No-one else responds except the duty inspector and sarge who race to the scene. Meanwhile it is getting busier and busier on the roads by now and matey is still in the same position crying and talking in to the mobile.
Unlike other potential suicide attemptees, this one is different, he is not holding on to the barrier and is close to the edge. His body langauge suggest to me that it is only a matter of time before he goes over.
Just in case he jumps we drive and close the southbound carriageway and divert traffic off a slip. My colleague then stays at this position coning and signing and I run back to the bridge. By now there is an HGV stopped with matey and I’m thinking, ‘Don’t say the wrong thing mate or he’ll go for sure’.
Meanwhile Insp and Sarge have arrived and parked their car near to the incident. They have not had the foresight to think about safety and very fast vehicles coming past the scene, so taking the initiative I get signs and cones out of the vehicle and try to divert traffic away from them. However, after a few near misses I manage to cone off the road and make the scene ’safe’.
My colleague has now returned having put closure on and I see the inspector and sarge struggling with the lad now who is hanging at the parapet……just.
They have got hold of his upper body but he is struggling with them and trying to go.
Over I run and without hesitation go over the barrier and hook one arm over the top and with the other arm grab hold of his jeans by the belt loops and pull like a demon possessed. He is too big to go through easily but I manage to grag hold of his leg and swing him in.
He is kicking and struggling to get free but we manage to pull him through the barrier.
Back up arrives and he is sectioned and put in a van.
Job done.
It was only a couple of days later that I got thinking that if I had lost grip it would have been me landing forty feet on to the tarmac instead of the lad!
Inspector suggested a commendation but guess what? Nothing. Not that it bother me anyway, I did it because it was my job and I did not consider the consequences too much until afterwards.
Commendations are given to all sorts of staff for detections and good case results.
You cannot measure the worth of that incident. It is not a detection or a tick in a box. I might have saved someones life and that gives me greater satisfaction than any commendation.
Thanks to you all. This has been a excellent read.
Pirellibelli I agree commendations are now found in Cornflakes packs. An officer at my nick was awarded one for a simple arrest off duty simply because the arrest led to 542 detections.
Some of you may recognise what incident I am referring to, especially if you were at the recent fed conference.
Dear Insp Gadget,
I’ve been reading and enjoing the blog for some time. It and the posts above have left me with renewed respect for the abilities you all have. Also reminded me of something that happended a couple of years ago.
One of my neighbours is in her 50’s and would be best described as vulnerable. Daughter, early 20’s (not resident) is a crack addicted prostitiute. Whenver she turns up, problems ensue.
The grand finale occurred one night when we arrived home to find 3 officers on the landing of our floor and the neighbours’ door kicked in. Turns out Mum is away for the weekend, and in the 12 hours since she left, daughter has managed to turn her flat into a crack den/knocking shop. Someone has called the police, who have had to force entry. Daughter has crawled out of the window on to the roof ( a wet, slated apex, 4 storeys above a cobbled street) and is refusing to come down, and threatening to jump. All goes quiet.
30 minutes later, an officer knocks on our door to take our details for future reference. I see another officer leading the girl, now in tears and wrapped up in his coat, out to the van.
In that half hour, those officers averted what could have been an horrific death and were the first step in getting her sectioned and treated.
They didn’t get a commendation, they probably went back out to mop up the drunks. After all, it was nearly 2am on a Friday.
The only way to come down after a job like that is to have your mates round you. The thing is, the higher up the ladder you go the harder that can become I suppose?
I don’t know about you, but any job is all the worse if there’s kiddies involved?
Excellent post though. And thanks for the link.
My only mate is the station cat! I’m an Inspector after all!! Keep ‘em coming.
A few months ago I was on nights when I, with my colleague, had to attend a report of an attempted suicide. On arrival I saw a lady who had slashed her wrists numerous times. The cause for her deep distress was that her son had died in an horrific car accident. While we were we dealing with her she kept playing the some song that was her son’s favourite. That song haunts me still and I do not like listening to it. Never mind the Monday morning bean counters would never understand that would they.
Guv, you must have recognised that these are the times when people like you and I earn our extra few bob!
reminds me of the blog I wrote at christmas about counselling, and I did mine on line.
Just telling someone who cares, means a lot. No one (except your mates) really cares at the station, because they weren’t there, or they had their own trauma elsewhere, or they just couldn’t give a toss cos it didn’t tick a detection box!
We all have these tales… and a dozens more besides. You did a clever thing here and made people talk about them in a place where they can feel free to express themselves.
Nice work! as usual.
Inspector Gadget? You have no mates as well? I think you have lots of freinds…..
Don’t be too hard on the pony-tailed, sandal wearing, herbal tea drinking social workers. I see them day in, day out as a CPN and most of them are okay doing a job (particularly if this involves removing children from families) which often goes unappreciated. True I have seen some idiots but then you get a few bad apples in the police, NHS etc. As for JOCKtheCOP’s comments at 11.43pm, what a howler. First comes the bed. There’s no point in sectioning someone if there’s no bed. So that overrides everything. Then make sure you obviously bring the bloody paperwork with you!!!!
hum on the subject of commendations you don’t have to actually put yourself on the line, or risk yourself for the sake of others. You actually need to criticise your employers. See link over at mine.
Thing is, if we did this job for the reward and recognition, well, we’d be idiots. The good stories you read about are invariably despite government targets and objectives, not because of it.
Had a similar call to your post not so long ago. Someone backing onto a park could see someone stringing themselves up on a tree in the park. There was only myself and a double crewed car who went to the opposite side of the park. It was eerie, about 2am in the morning, my searchlight (bought myself, the job issue torch I have is a 2 AA battery penlight….) casting strange moving shadows as I searched through the woods trying to find this bloke, and doing a good job of scaring the crap out of myself every so often. Didn’t help when bloke suddenly emerged out of bushes, rope in hand. He was too pissed to be able to do the knot properly, had seen me coming and given up. Managed to talk him back out of the park and back over the 6 foot metal railings once I got my heart rate back to a rate where I could talk legibly again. First ever assault I got was from a mentally disturbed chap, although thankfully he didn’t have the hammer by the time I was around.
There’s a hundred stories anyone who’s been on response team could tell. Covered in so much of someone elses blood I had to simply throw the uniform away was the result of another encounter with a mentally unstable chap I just posted about.
Up the arse with detections and arrest targets for priority crimes.
off topic relates to disturbed animals rather than disturbed persons-
I was sent out to an arson in a small village whilst on nights, on arrival the owner stated that he had seen three boys run off towards the woods. I took the torch and ran off towards the woods with my oppo in tow. It was pitch black and we kept stopping to see if the boys were hiding close by and tried not to use the torch to much. Suddenly we heard rustling and movement behind us, i turned flashed the torch and all I got back was the light reflecting off of two eyes about 6ft tall. I thought and said to my oppo “What the f***s that?”. It then disappeared as we walked in the opposite direction I still couldnt figure out what the hell it was.
Then to our front loud movement and heavy breathing, I didnt want to shine the torch, but had to.
The next thing I saw made me the most scared I have ever been, about 15ft away, standing at least 6ft tall with massive antlers was some sort of stag and it looked pissed! We ran and Im sure that either I or my oppo broke wind as we ran.
Its the funniest and most scary job that Ive ever been to.
I usually enjoy a quiet smoke out the back of the Nick after a job like that. Mind you my Force are banning smoking on all their premises, even outside the Nicks out of the public gaze. Officers will have to don a civvy jacket and smoke in the street from now on, using official breaktimes of course. Yep the average smoking patrol officer’s got time for that havn’t they? I think not. Also the Public will never be able to spot its a Police Officer in a civvy jacket. Dear o Dear!
Whilst enroute to an immediate call on a very busy Saturday night (Can’t say what made it different from other Saturday night shifts, as that would give me away to those who know me, but trust me when I say it was the busiest Saturday night I have ever worked), I happened to notice a male with a blood soaked towel wrapped around his wrist and blood running like a tap onto the ground, from the wound. I stopped to help and the male immediately threatened to stab me and my colleague amongst other things, if we went anywhere near him. I’m standing there listening to him but just looking at all the blood running off the ends of his fingers onto the ground. He was swiftly put on his ass, where he struggled for a short time and then his blood presure dropped and he almost passed out and stopped fighting. The wrist wound was one of the most horrific I have ever seen and first aid was given, whilst back up and an ambulance was called.
We were advised that no ambulance was available, the nearest one was over 20 miles away, due to demand on this ’special’ Saturday night.
The skipper turned up with a couple of others and after 20 minutes and still no ambulance, the skipper had to scream into the radio “GET ME AN AMBULANCE NOW OR THIS MAN IS GOING TO DIE” as by this time he was completely unconcious and had lost a HUGE amount of blood. An ambulance was diverted from some drunk who had fallen over and when our guy was ‘wired up’ it was revealed that he was practically dead. After fine work by the paramedics, the male was stabilised and taken to hospital.
Enquiries revealed that the male had had a domesic argument and punched a window through, severing an artery (I think, but can’t exactly remember as I don’t think he would have lasted that long if he had). He left his house and walked out into the street, where we then saw him. The bedroom was covered in blood, the landing and stairs were covered, along with the kitchen where he had gone to get the towel.
I went straight to the hospital as I thought he was going to die. It was quickly established that his chances of survival were good so I left the hospital and went straight to another immediate, then another, then another and I ended up having a collar, which took me to the end of the shift and 2 hours past finishing time. I went home completely shattered and took my well earned rest days.
Guess what I had waiting for me when I got back to work…….no not a congratulations, not a pat on the back, not a letter of thanks off the guy whos life I had helped to save.
A snotty Email sent to my Inspector, informing him that I hadn’t submitted a domestic report and that the damage to the window hadn’t been crimed. The bean counters wanted answers! They were lucky to be in another station on that morning, or i’d have been covered in blood again!
I did get a Divisional commendation in the end, off a super who didn’t know anything about the case and just read out verbatim what it said on the commendation, which had been prepared by the skipper. No fancy presentation, just me and him in his office. It completely devalued the commendation as he was just going through the motions. I don’t even know where it is any more.
It does actually help writing it all out!!!!!!!
Un PC you are very correct when you say we all have stories that stick with us!
My own personal haunting comes from a few years back when I was a Sergeant. I was working nightshift on Xmas eve and the clubs had just emptied their contents on a cold Xmas morning around back of 3am. Control contacted me and asked that I attend a serious RTA on back road leading into the city.
I arrived to find a taxi (or what was left of it) had been smashed up against a wall having been hit broadside by a single decker private coach. The taxi had just dropped off a fare at a nearby village and he was rushing back into the centre hoping to get one last fare before he knocked off duty. Unfortunately in his haste he had come round a corner at speed on the wrong side saw the bus coming in the opposite direction, lost control and skidded sideways whereby the bus hit him head on.
When I arrived my guys were trying to do what they could to help the driver and cordon of the road waiting for the ambulance and fire brigade to arrive. Thankfully the coach was empty and the coach driver unhurt if you dont include psychologically he was a jibbering wreck!! I couldnt even make out the type of car it was so badly smashed, when I looked in it was bizarre, the driver from the waist up looked unhurt but you just had to look below to see everyone south was mush and the only thing keeping him alive was the impromptu tournique of the engine and bulkhead wrapped around him. He tried to speak and he looked at us with staring eyes, we did our best to comfort him but sadly within a few minutes in the silence of the night as it always is in these circumstances he slipped away with us around him.
It took us awhile to work out who he was as it wasn’t even his taxi as he was driving it as a favour for another operator. Finally when we had what we needed the dreaded question came out ‘who’s gonna tell his wife?’ There was total silence before all the guys turned at once and just stared at me, I knew I hadn’t any choice, I wouldn’t have dreamed of asking any of them to do it, so I told one of my older cops to grab his hat and come with me.
Shortly after on a cold morning in a quite average street in the city I stood before a mundane door and with a fist heavy as lead and my stomach in my shoes I knocked on its frame. After awhile a light came on, followed by footsteps and the door opened to reveal a bleary eyed lady wearing a hastily adorned dressing gown. As all coppers do I asked to come inside and we were taken into the lounge. I could see the panic in her eyes already and so I made her sit down, I took her hand and I told her as quickly and as plainly as I could that her husband had tragically been killed in an accident. There’s never any point in flowering it up or pussy footing, it only makes it worse. Tell them like it is and do what you can its the best policy.
At first I thought she hadn’t taken it in or understood me. She never flinched, it was like she was staring right through me, then I just saw her eyes begin to well up and she looked straight into my eyes if not my soul and almost stuttered ‘what am I going to tell our little girl ? She’s only 4 and sleeping upstairs.’
I felt someone had punched me in the stomach and just held her. We did what little we could for her and I confess I almost lost it myself as I gripped her before the mask went back on that we coppers do to make out we are always in control when its far from the truth, She also asked me if he had suffered and I defy anyone to have done otherwise but I lied and told her no he had been killed instantly and would have felt no pain. I got my troops to bring her parents round and helped with all the arrangements as much as possible before we finally left.
The rest of that night I have to say is a bit of a blur but when I finally got off duty that morning and drove home, I wearily walked into my house to be met by my wife and daughter getting up for xmas morning with big smiles on their faces and I am ashamed to say I just remember thinking thank god it wasn’t me and felt tears falling off my cheeks as I couldnt help thinking that one little girl wasn’t going to see her dad when she got up to open her presents. I dont think I will ever be able to forget that night, maybe I shouldn’t expect too!
No bosses ever asked if I was ok or did I need to speak to anyone in the coming days or since, I guess they were all too busy thinking about their xmas turkeys!
ps Gadget I know exactly where your coming from re the cat ! Sure mine only visits cause he knows he will get something to eat…….!
In reply to why do we bother, you have hit the nail on the head. You can be up to your neck in blood and guts and the only thing you get from the f******* in the bean counting department is an email giving you a bollocking for forgetting to submit some form of paperwork. The sad thing is that no one gives a f*** about the paperwork because its only purpose is to sustain a bean counting team.
Sergeant Simon from a fellow Sergeant, I agree with you. I saw your link also….
come on down the big 500……………getting closer by the hour, congratulations for your efforts and keep it up. Less than 8000 needed.
Its the morale and the spirit that keep you going and make the effort to make the job work. The good will between those at the sharp end, you know on the streets, help a great deal in this. But do we really help ourselves ? Everyone has their own set of performance targets and performance indicators based on whatever the management can find to measure or what ever is suggested by someone employed to look at things from a business perspective. It misses the point. Better to do one thing properly than do 6 things half done. OK if the resources are there but simply not likely.
We ain’t selling stuff. We are providing a service. To let business styles dictate so much of what goes on and try to hide behind accountability when we are pushed to the limit is deplorable. To set targets between departments at the same time suggesting we are all on the same side is misleading but follows the same trend as governments so far as spin and promoting the brand are concerned. One departments targets will be another departments beating stick and their performance will suffer when the numbers are crunched and spat out in the form of tables, or pie charts or coloured graphs that are fixed to notice boards all over the place.
As for cats………………..everyroom is a bedroom.
Again good work,
I have been to about 10 suicides in the last 20 years and it is the worst part of the job.
One guy had previously severly slashed himself up and was only saved by the paramedics and the skill of the surgeons.He was released from hospital a surgical ward never sectioned he wouldn’t go voluntarily and went home, 20 odd years (old top class degree type).So when we go he has slit his wrists length ways both arms and stabbed his stomach after buying butchers knives. Somehow the paramedics keep him going and the surgeons again save him. My probationer a 43 year old guy was fantastic with the family throughout.Three weeks later the male ( this was as soon as he was able) goes to the toilets and drinks bleach and jumps out of the first floor window and sadly doesn’t make it this time.We were all called to coroners court a few months later and it turns out that despite his families attempts with all the agencies he was never actually a patient under the mental health act. As far as it got was being asked to be a voluntary patient which he refused.The coroner was so angry with the psychiatrists and social workers, but this was at least 5 years ago and I don’t see any change.The guy was from a decent family no record or anything.Yet 3 miles away is a ‘childrens home’ which contains 7 out of our 10 worst offenders ( PPOs) this is like a 5 star hotel and their food is provided by the same catering firm who supply the local TV channel, all of whom have designated key workers, have unlimited sums available on legal aid.There are some sorry stories in that place don’t get me wrong but unless you fall into a specific pigeon hole, i.e recidavist drug taker the states pockets are zipped tightly up.
Its always a shame when the police are the ones who have to deal with mental health issues. I have been threatened myself by someone who had issues and they were dealt with by the police after having been failed by the local mental health team……Great blog, great post, keep it up Gadget.
Why bother (except for the child)?
A decade or so ago I was directed to a scene where a middle aged male was threatening to jump from a 20 storey building. His reason for wanting to go were quite persuasive, and a huge audience was below waiting for him to go (sick, I know, but who knows what turns people on these days).
The specialists were there trying to “empathise” with him. I was in a hurry and said that while I appreciated his reasons, he was taking up Police time that could be better allocated elsewhere, so could he get things over as soon as possible, and not make a spectacle of himself; in other words, could he do it sooner rather than later, please.
He got really upset at that (as did the specialists) and came back from the edge to make a (substantiated) complaint about my attitude.
As I said, why bother?
I stopped the guy from jumping, but at cost to my career.
So I say, if someone wants to go, then let them.
Just make sure that they don’t hurt anyone else, too much.
And as for survivors of suicide attempts, they should never be allowed to have any opportunity to hurt anyone with their efforts.
That means no access to vehicles and no access to children.
Anything less puts too much risk on society.
The guy I mentioned above finally did do away with himself…
…very messily. His two daughters (9 and 11) were in the car as well.
No-one survived.
Jones
It’s reassuring to hear some of you youngsters telling it like it is. I retired from the job in 1993. But even before I retired I would get flashbacks. That’s what they call it when you relive an unpleasant experience. Some I can talk about, others - well, one day perhaps. The kids burning alive in the stolen car. The old boy who died in the bath and was only discovered because the neighbours were fed up with the moaning noises from next door. The thing is, it doesn’t stop when you retire, it just gets more frequent and sometimes more intense. The thing is, I know that it is a sort of “healthy” reaction to the mental and physical ravages that emergency service personnel face throughout their working lives. I am often asked if I miss the Job. No. I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I was quite content to do it – as a job, of course – but what a relief when I finally left.
Gadget, if you are writing some of these, may I tell you about one of mine? Back in about 1980, I was a skipper at a London Overspill New Town. It was 9.15am early turn and I’d just had my refs. Because it was Court day, I didn’t have many blokes to spare but I knew a day skipper would be on at 10. So like a fool I asked what was going. The controller gave me a telex (a sort of stone age email) – basically there had been a fatal RTA in Spain, three girls in a taxi on the way to the airport, coming home after working for a few months, hoping to surprise the folks back home with an early and unexpected return. Oh well, I thought. Goes with the stripes and the salary I suppose. I reached across the controller and asked for a WPC NBO ( a sort of neighbourhood beat officer) to meet me at where she was, I need her to help me with a couple of jobs.
I grabbed an area car and went off to meet her. When I had picked her up, I gave her the clipboard with the telex and said “We’re off to the first one – they shouldn’t be expecting it but just in case someone tries to phone from Spain …” But the WPC had gone awfully quiet. “Wassup?” She was absolutely weeping. Apparently they were all from the same gym club and were expecting a party in a few days time. So how the f*** was I to know? Actually, she was OK after a fashion, because she knew the parents as well, and insisted on helping deliver the agonies.
Cut a long story short, it took four hours to deliver them all. One of the Mums was at work in a cigarette factory, and we went to the personnel office (I found that was often the best way to get a discreet message delivered) but not this time. Message over the Tannoy “Mrs. XXX to the personnel office please, to receive a police message” I COULD NOT F******* BELIEVE IT! Mrs. XXX was being dragged into the personnel office by her friends, who had twigged what was happening. My knees went weak, my guts turned to stone. I don’t know to this day how I said it, but I felt that the world had stopped. We put her in the area car with the WPC (her daughter’s friend, remember) and I drove them home, all dramatically with blue lights and not slowly. I needed that for my sanity. We left her with neighbours and Doctor, waiting for her husband (who had been told by another Police Officer). Then we went on to the last one…
I always felt that the pain and injury from crimes and RTAs, whilst real, agonising and also subject of flashbacks was not caused by me and my job was to deal with it professionally and humanely. It was their pain. But agony messages, well I was the one who delivered that pain, and it takes a damn long time to heal.
I’m coming to the end of a second career now, as a college lecturer in psychology. I know why my emotions are shot to pieces. I know about PTSD and all that. Bean counters … oh, forget it, they’re not worth the type space. I can also say, those who can unburden it on your mates, do it. It’s called social support. Counselling’s OK, but that’s often forced on you. No, talk to your mates. Guess what, they will know exactly what you mean because they’re in the same boat.
I went to a suicide as a newly promoted skipper. Bloke recently released from prison hung himself from about 3 feet off the ground, never could fathom how he got up the courage to go to his knees. After a while the family started to arrive and I had decisions to make, do I try and stop several large and upset brothers getting in to the house? After a while this proved to be pointless as did trying to get them to stop touching the body (the manuals never tell you what to do in situations like this). Anyways, shows you the strange values of certain sections of our wonderful society as one brothers insisted on give the corpse a cigarette.
Another excellent post; and congratulations to your shift and the ambulance crew on your actions. Ever since I joined the Police I personally felt my main aim was to protect life, which I know is never mentioned in various force goals, mission statements and other related crap. It is a very sad reflection that your actions in ensuring the safety of the woman and her child, don’t merit a ‘tick in the box’.
… and according to the statistics you and your team did NO work that night. Did you get any detections from this, sanctioned or otherwise? Any TICs?? Well then.
Seriously, glad you’re out there sticking up for the little people (we PCs and the genuine victims in society!)
PS - congrats in getting on the recent Guardian Guide blogs of note (not last Saturday’s but the week before).
One of my favourite “oldies” that always sends a shiver up my spine. I danced to this at Pontins with my first girlfriend.
First Barry White, now The Korgi’s…..
Will there be a Gadget compilation CD in time for Christmas?
Recently called to A & E to assist with a female with mental health problems. She had spent the entire afternoon and evening alternately being restrained by hospital porters and attempting to take her own life.
Hospital staff had completed her physical treatment and wanted her gone (don’t blame them) so they called out the ‘on call’ mental health assessor.
He said, ‘I have no where to put her, can you arrest her and take her into custody’?
It would be me needing hospital treatment if I had presented this women to the custody sergeant at 01:00 on a sunday morning when all the cells are full.
When we politely declined his request he managed to find her a place, unfortunately it was in the next county but he didn’t have any suitable transport and the hospital said that they wouldn’t provide any so…. Yes, you’ve guessed, we took her!