Its a few days before Christmas.

Dave, as I’ll call him, an only son has come back on home leave. He’s in the Army.  He has been looking forward to coming home for months. A chance to relax, unwind and to have some quality time with his family and friends. He’s 18 years old and is looking forward to time with his family after a tour abroad and some beer with his mates.

He meets up with his best friend who I will call Steve. They go out for a couple of bevvies, meet up with some more friends and over the night and the talk of foreign places, catch up what they have been up to and keep no count of what they drink, why should they ?

Steve plans on leaving his motor bike in the pub car-park and walk home with Dave, who will be staying at his parents nearby. It gets late, too late and somehow the decision is made for the both of them to ride home on the bike.

Don’t know who made it, no one will ever know, but its too late to change it.

The tree at the roadside, on the bend, never even flinched.

The bike ?

Well, that was left in bits all across the road. Amongst the bits were two dials that gave up their secrets. They gave the road speed and the engine revs at the time the bike, Dave and Steve met the tree.

The people who can work these things out gave about 70 mph. Some of us tried to help them, to help the bendy-toy like bodies and the mess inside the helmets. They still groaned for help but nobody, anywhere, could have helped.

Some of us preserved the scene but we were unable to preserve their lives whilst the ambulance crew told us what we already knew. Others busied themselves with directing the passers by out of the way and towards the detours around the scene.

Then some of us had to go to visit the homes of these unfortunate lads, just young boys out for a great time.

The parents of Dave knew exactly. They knew that we brought bad news, even before their doorbell rang.

Parents can sense things, read your body language.

Just exactly how do you tell someone that their only son, who had come home for Christmas, was not coming home for Christmas ?

How on earth do you try to share their dread to try to make it easier for them, or perhaps easier for yourself ?

You can’t, no training can prepare you for this moment.

Are you the parents of Dave ? etc etc etc. You know and they know. You know that deep down inside they know what you know, not the exact details but that you hold a horrible secret.  But they still hope that you have somehow made a mistake, a terrible,terrible mistake.  Perhaps they have not heard you properly, in their personal moment of momentary denial that they have not heard you correctly, that this is some sort of a nasty dream.

But it is not.

Your mouth is dry, you got that funny thing fluttering in your stomach, you try not to stutter or mumble and get your message across clearly, concisely, as humbly and respectfully as possible. In their eyes are the questions that they simply do not know how to begin to ask you out loud. Someone has to go with them, luckily not me. No more awkward questions and no more awkward silences.

The parents of Steve wondered what trouble he had got himself into this time and couldn’t see the signs, too quick defending their son against all comers and thought there had been some form of conspiracy. Another case of mistaken identity or the wrong crowd he had got in with.

There had been no conspiracy. No wrong crowd. Not this time.

Only some terrible, terrible news. Then they were quiet.

We leave them to their grief. Here we are necessary trespassers but only for a short time.

Whilst we were left with protecting the scene for a closer examination the following day it dawned on me.

At 3 o’clock in early hours of a cold and frosty December night a new picture emerged that no-one had seen before.

A tyre mark, illuminated by the frost that ran for an awful distance around the bend, that bend, nearer and nearer towards that damned tree. Clear and vivid as though it had been painted onto the road.

No-one else had seen it, just me.

Closer and closer until it also met the same tree. Again the tree never even flinched. It all came back again, more vivid than before.

People moaned because the road was closed, how inconvenient for them. But they would probably enjoy their Christmas. They would be the lucky ones. I never slept for 3 days, never slept properly for weeks but I did have a Christmas, of sorts.

Like the birth of your child, the laugh of your loved one or the thoughts that make you smile, somethings you never, ever forget.  There are darker, helpless moments when you realise just how insignificant and useless you really are and how little you are able to change. no matter how hard you try

We never found out who was driving or who was pillion.

We only knew that two families would have a miserable Christmas. Lots of friends of the two families would be full of sadness. This would be a Christmas to remember, but for all the wrong reasons.

We just put it down to another life experience that helps us to deal with the next life experience in the hope we make a better job of it next time.

The bosses say to you, ‘be professional’.  But they never tell you about this.

Nobody tells you about this.

Four American Police Officers were shot during an incident  at a coffee shop in Parkland, near Tacoma, South of Seattle, according to the Seattle Times.

The four officers were killed at about 8:15 a.m. by a scruffy-looking man who walked into a coffee shop and opened fire. The officers — three men and one woman — were found dead by deputies who arrived at Forza Coffee at 11401 Steele St. S., said Pierce County Sheriff’s spokesman Ed Troyer.

Troyer said the investigation into the shootings indicate that the gunman “flat-out executed” two of the officers. One officer then stood up, tried to go for the gunman and was shot, Troyer said.

The fourth officer was involved in some kind of struggle with the gunman.

RIP

Response have taken one of the Britannia Estate’s ex-residents in for a short spell of  B & B on the queen.  They have found out his new abode and are in the process of sorting out the relevant consents to carry out a search. After a while they arrive but do not have the necessary trade to sort out what is preventing them from gaining access to begin the search.  They leave a spotter and return to base to await for the cavalry to arrive.

Its Thursday lates, at the nick where I used to work before my transition into all things canine. The nick where there was once a bar. The psychological scars from the inflatable sheep  still remain.

I am shocked. Lates used to parade about twenty-five, now there are just……………..three.  Four if you include the spotter left outside the address. Where have they gone ?

Well I know that one went to the dog section.  I know at least two got promoted.

The rest ?

Now on the targeting squads, presumably,  so the CTCC  can be seen to hit its targets and concentrate on the frequent offenders in an effort to try to reduce whatever the chosen crime is this month.

We have the necessary brief and then set out to return to join the spotter.

I put the key in the door to be greeted by some teeth on the inside and a great deal of space behind. They want to make sure there is only one target. Either me or my oppo. I called heads and got the noose. As we entered, the savagery from within beat a hasty retreat to the safety of  what I can only describe as……………something that was once a kitchen. A device underneath a lot of other stuff showed evidence that it may have once been a cooker. What I consider to be a fridge will be left for a long dark and windswept night.

This dog is scared at the arrival of strangers. Probably aggravated by the faces squashed at the windows that suddenly retreated as its barks and growls grew more savage.

Within a few seconds the beast is my friend and on a lead. It growls as response enter so I praise it and reassure it that everything will be OK.  There is food in the place, food for the dog that is. There is a bowl of water on the floor. There are dog chews, toys and some reasonably good quality bedding.

The resident from the Britannia Estate may treat himself like shite but at least he looks after his dog. That is about the only small relief I can find.

The search is a success and I await the arrival of ‘a mate’ who will take care of the dog.  The dog clearly knows ‘a mate’ so he must be a regular visitor.  

After retrieving my lead we all head back to base. I speak to someone else I recognise from my time there. I can catch up with stories of where everyone has gone, who is still here and who has moved. Most of the few faces I see I do not recognise.

I am still trying to work out how they can cope in a City nick with 4 & 1 on lates when we used to often struggle with 25 & 3 & 1.  I didn’t know that crime had reduced that much.

Clearly there is a bigger picture out there somewhere in the CTCC.

The reason a dog has so many friends is that he wags his tail instead of his tongue. -Anonymous

There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face. -Ben Williams

A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself. -Josh Billings

The average dog is a nicer person than the average person. -Andy Rooney

Anybody who doesn’t know what soap tastes like never washed a dog. – Franklin Jones

If your dog is fat, you aren’t getting enough exercise -Unknown

My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to $3.00 a can. That’s almost $21.00 in dog money. -Joe Weinstein

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you; that is the principal difference between a dog and a man. – Mark Twain

Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole. -Roger Caras

If you think dogs can’t count, try putting three dog biscuits in your pocket and then give him only two of them. -Phil Pastoret

Thanks Theo

Message from Cumbria Constabulary Chief Constable Craig Mackey:

“It is with deep sadness that I can confirm that the body found on a beach at Allonby this afternoon is that of our friend and colleague PC Bill Barker.

“Over the last few days Cumbria has faced some of the most severe weather conditions ever and Bill was amongst the hundreds of officers and staff dedicated to rescuing local people and ensuring the safety of our communities. He was directing motorists safely off Northside Bridge, saving lives, when the tragic incident occurred.

” Bill was a wonderful police officer and a real family man. He leaves behind a wife and four children in their home in Egremont- two boys and two girls – aged between 8 and 16. He was due to to celebrate his 45th birthday tomorrow. Bill is a hero who died saving the lives of others and our thoughts are with his family at this devastating time. He was a much loved friend, colleague and an inspiration to everyone he knew – he will be sadly missed.

“His friends say he loved being a Police officer and, a passionate biker, he was part of the Constabulary’s dedicated Roads Policing Unit. He was a sterling officer and had won a number of awards throughout his 25 year service with Cumbria Constabulary.

“Whilst this is an extremely difficult time for everyone involved in the rescue operation, our officers and staff continue to work valiently to ensure the public remains safe.”

PC Barker’s wife, Hazel, has offered the following moving tribute:

“How do you put into words how you feel about somebody you are so proud of? Bill was my best friend, my forever friend, and an amazing dad. Even when he was exhausted from work he would always take time out for the kids.

“I have the comfort of knowing that Bill died doing the job he loved and the fact that he was helping others is just typical Bill.

“I’d now ask that the media respect the family’s privacy at this time and leave us to grieve in peace.”

Anyone who wishes to pay tribute to Bill can do so online by logging on to www.facebook.com/cumbriapolice.

The above photograph is of PC Bill Barker receiving a long service and good conduct medal after 22 years service. This award was presented to him by Chief Constable Craig Mackey.

The PR crackled into life all of a sudden. The call was obviously urgent and any unit available was wanted to make for the edge of the Britannia Estate. The doctor’s surgery above the community centre had got unwanted visitors. They had been seen to climb across the roof before forcing a window and gaining entry.

As the eyes of the world watched from behind the safety of twitching curtains, the responders made their way, swiftly and as silently as a diesel police vehicle could possibly be. About half a mile away one of the intruders heard the distant diesel throb as it tried, unsuccessfully, to gain the element of surprise. After a shout, the spotter hurried out of the window, across the roof, dropped into the car park and was lost into the night. Egress from window onto the roof would be in the text on the crime.

It was possible the other did not hear the warning shout, nor heard the diesel throb as it got noisily ever closer. But closer it got until it was too late.

We were there. In all our good guy glory. One to the front, another towards the side with a good view across the car park. The dog support into the shadows at the back, by the edge of the roof to the window chosen by the intruders.

Keys are on the way, about 20 minutes. By this time we have bodies on the roof outside the window, we have containment and we have a dog ready to go in as soon as the keys have opened up and knocked off the alarm. The ringing noise of the alarm, despite the audible delay, has stopped but the ringing from being too close continues in my head.

We are in, the door is covered and my boy sets off in search of the quarry. In the same way that he would search out a tasty morsel for dinner, he begins his search, the hunt is on for the intruder.

Slowly and systematically, room by room, the building is knocked off. Closer to the far end of the building I follow. I have interest in a couple of places. We have success, we have some tools, a torch, a jacket, hat and gloves. We have the tools of the trade but, we want more. The urgency in the dog becomes heightened as he moves from corridor into room after room and then back again. He could be close.

In a room I begin to hear low gutteral growls followed by shaking and ragging of something that has clearly pissed the dog off. I move towards the sound, the growls and noises get louder. I enter the room and in my torchlight I see that my dog has got a really nasty offender. He must have threatened or kicked out at the dog and the dog has done his stuff. I call him back. He drops the suspect and returns. I see the pathetic, lifeless form of the suspect on the floor. His coat is torn but it seemed to be well-worn anyway.

I put the dog in the down and approach the suspect. I pick him up and replace him into the large box that contained all the rest of the cuddly toys in the child’s playbox in the waiting area. I will tell the key-holder about this later on. The other toys might need counselling having witnessed the savagery of the attack on their friend.

I carry on the search until I find what we really came for. Squashed under the sink base unit. I think he thought we had already found his mate. He was compliant and almost relieved to be under the supervision of response.

You can never trust a teddy.

 Are you bored, or fed up with the latest meeting or seemingly pointless conference. When you need that extra little diversion to break the tedium of listening to jobsworths talking bullshit to justify their existence instead of getting on with a real and meaningful job, then opt for bullshit bingo.

Listen to the endless, spouting jargon and trendy buzz phrases. Tune your ear into the latest corporate claptrap and meaningless word juggling and mark off each of the words/phrases on the grid until you get a line down, across or even better, go for that full house. When completed stand up and shout “Bullshit” to the amazement of the rest of the people attending. Better still, copy off several sheets and pass them around and then see who wins.

RPU meeting on TPAC policy. You couldn’t make it up.

You just have to see this. Thanks to Kendl for spotting this one.

Theft of a poppy collection box recorded on CCTC. Good detail and clear video evidence  for a change.