I was employed as a custody assistant by a security company called Olympic Security in their custodial services division with the sole purpose of manning the “Custody Bus” on behalf of Downshire County Constabulary.
The
“Custody Bus” is in fact a Mobile Police Station which in simple terms is a
Police station on wheels, basically it’s a 7.5 ton long wheel base truck, that
was previously used as a 14 cell prisoner transport vehicle, now converted into
a Mobile Police station.
The
“Bus” comprises a galley area, two interview rooms, the Sergeant’s office, or
bridge, four cells and a toilet.
You
entered the “Bus” by a door just behind the cab on the passenger side of the
vehicle and immediately on your left as you step inside was the galley which
had a hot water heater for making hot drinks, a microwave for heating prisoners
meals, a sink with cupboard beneath for storage and a fridge for keeping the
staffs sandwiches cool.
Straight
ahead and to the left was the small interview room equipped for full tape
interview and would seat three but normally it was used for finger printing and
for the officers to write up their notes.
The
seats had hinged tops and doubled up as storage lockers much like on a caravan.
Turning
90 degrees you would now be facing the rear of the vehicle looking down a short
corridor.
Behind
you in the corner was the property cupboard and on your left was a fold down
seat, where the prisoner could sit, on your right was the Sgt's Bridge, which
was kitted out with the usual office equipment as well as satellite
communication and CCTV monitors covering all the common areas.
Halfway
down the corridor on your right was the larger interview room also equipped for
full tape interviews and seating four people.
Going
to the end of the corridor and turning right took you into another which leads
to the back of the vehicle and an exit door.
On
your right there were three cells, very basic the prisoner could only sit on
the fitted chair and do nothing else, on the left was another cell and the
toilet.
The
toilet was fairly unremarkable and is again borrowed from the world of caravanning
with a toilet and a folding wash basin, if you needed to sit down it was best
to be facing the direction you required when entering as there was no room to
turn round once you were inside, also there was no handle on the inside so you
needed someone outside to let you out when you were done.
Now
all this sounds quite well thought out and, in some areas, quite hi-tech and
sophisticated, well nothing could be further from the truth.
Though
much of the design was indeed well conceived there was still much of the
finished article that just didn’t pass muster.
Ill-fitting
doors, leaky roof, damp under the floor covering, the locks didn’t lock, the
lights didn’t light, the heaters didn’t heat and because the electrics were so
inadequate you always needed to switch one thing off before switching something
else on, and it was a sweatbox in the summer and an icebox in winter.
Downshire
County Constabulary had two prisoner transports converted and in truth after 12
months use, you couldn’t have made one good one out of the two.
All
that being said, it was a very useful and effective tool when used in the right
situation and location.
There
were limitations to its use though as they can’t take drunks, because of a lack
of a drunk cell, or fighters as there was limited space to subdue them in, or
drunk drivers as there was no way to get an evidential breath test aboard the
bus.
The
“Bus” in order to be able to take on prisoners had to be manned by a Custody
Sergeant and in addition was crewed by either two or three Custody Assistants
depending on how much money “Olympic” wanted to squeeze out of the Police.
Sgt
Dick Lupus was the man who headed the project from conception up to and
including the abortion it became and he bore a striking resemblance to Capt.
Mainwaring from Dads Army without any of his humor.
He
was a miserable man to work with and the only thing to his credit was he kept
himself in his little office most of the time and would say less than a dozen
words to us in a ten hour shift.
But
if a female member of the public came within ten yards of the vehicle, he was outside
like he’d been shot from a gun.
If
it was one man or one of the long procession of eccentrics and nutters that
came knocking at the door he stayed in his little cupboard.
The
nutters weren’t of the dangerous variety just a little odd, for example on one
occasion when we were working in the Finchbottom Vale a man knocked on the door
and said,
“is
this a museum”? and walked away and that was fairly typical then an hour later
he came back and said
“In the land of the blind the one-eyed man
is king”
As
time went on, we saw less and less of Capt. Mainwaring as he was already eyeing
up his next promotion as he clambered up the greasy pole.
Our
regular Sgt was Tom Young and he was a top man who none of us could find fault
with.
We
had a few other Sgts that would be on board for specific operations or holiday
cover but more often than not, it was Tom.
The
“Olympic” staff comprised of a pool of six Custody Assistants, three designated
on each vehicle, A & B and a Custody Supervisor.
Our
base of operations was at Tipping Down, where the County Police had their
vehicle depot for maintenance and repairs, and we had the use of one corner of
the yard.
There
was space for the two wagons, and we had a little shed where the drinks,
stationary, and such like were stored.
We
worked a 4 on 4 off system so when one crew was working the other one was on
rest days.
The
Custody Supervisor was Terry McGuire, a little man, ex-army, with two years’
experience of custody and a squeaky voice like Alan Ball.
I
still don’t quite understand how it was he got promoted to Supervisor because
he wasn’t equipped for the task.
He
had no administration skills whatsoever, he had no idea how to speak to people,
he would change a rest day to a deployment without consulting the individual
first and his computer skills left a lot to be desired, for example he would
email out the Rota’s to staff and forget to attach the Rota.
On
one occasion we had to drop one of the vehicles to the police HQ for the day so
that the Police Cadets could have use of it as part of their training.
So,
we arranged to meet at the yard that morning and I followed Terry in my car to
the HQ and waited for him to park the wagon, then I drove him back to the yard
to his car, we then make arrangement for the collection of the bus that
afternoon.
“I
will meet you here at five o’clock unless I hear from you” I said “Ok” he
squeaked back.
Having
heard nothing from him all day I duly drove back to the yard, with two of my
sons on board because they wanted to see where I worked, I drove into the yard
and made my way over to our corner and I said “the truck on the left is the one
I was working on yesterday and the other one is the one we dropped at HQ this
morning”
Then
it struck me that it should still have been at HQ.
I
picked up my mobile and dialed his number “hello” he squeaked
“Hi
Terry, its Harry here. I’m sitting in the yard looking at the wagon that’s
supposed to be at HQ” I said gruffly, there was a pause
“He,
He, He, sorry about that I forgot to call you”.
I
would like to say that it was an isolated example of his incompetence, but it
was not.
Countless
times he was supposed to meet us at deployments, but he didn’t turn up.
He
was also crap at disciplining people, mainly because he never did it because he
had no bottle, and on the one and only occasion that he was ordered by his boss,
he disciplined the wrong person and got shouted at, and when you shouted at him,
which I admit I did more than once he just stood there staring at his feet
shuffling uneasily like a naughty schoolboy.
His
sense of direction also left a lot to be desired, because he didn’t have one,
he was always getting lost even when he was going somewhere he’d been countless
times before in fact he was so bad he almost needed a Sat Nav to get from one
end of the bus to the other.
The
really funny thing about him was the way he responded to women.
When
we were on traffic operation we were very often deployed in layby’s and very
often we would have members of the public coming up to us with queries, mainly
for directions but not always and if it was a man he adopted his “we have more
important things to do than listen to you” stance but if it was a female of
child bearing age he was all over them like a rash.
It
was really funny if they wanted directions though because he couldn’t find his
arse with both hands and he had to come and ask us, which just made him look
silly.
When
WPC Karen Winters brought a prisoner to the bus he position himself in the
doorway of the small interview room directly behind her and played pocket pinball, with a very red face,
and if the prisoner was a man he acted all tough and talked down to them like
they were shit, but if it was a girl every other word was please and thank you
and he rubbed his gloved hands together like Uriah Heep.
The
crew on “Custody Bus” “A” comprised of Gary who was on the upper reaches of
middle age and was known to one and all as “Bogger” because of his tendency to
hang around ladies toilets, which was what got him chucked out the RAF.
Graham
was a young man who had only recently left the army, where he was a driver,
when he joined “Olympic”.
His
nick name was “pie man” because he ate everything in sight, he was always
eating, pies, crisps, the prisoner’s meals, anything he could get his hands on,
and he would stand next to you while you were eating just in case you left
something.
I
always thought he was asked to leave the army because they couldn’t afford to
feed him.
The
last man, whose age was somewhere in between the other two, was Steve, and we called
him “Mimi” because he was so keen, he volunteered for everything. “Me sir, Pick
me sir”.
He
was also a fully paid up, card carrying, happy clappy, cardigan wearing Christian who wanted to
counsel everyone and to give them comfort and his qualifications for this good
work being that he’d been an M.O.D. cook for twenty years.
Quite how
he thought twenty years of lobbing pie, chips, and peas across the counter at
ungrateful recipients qualified him for his good works I don’t know, I never
quite grasped his logic.
So,
he was always left to look after the prisoners needs, physical and spiritual,
while the others played cards.
He
thought he was doing something really worthwhile and helping people less
fortunate then himself, they just thought he was a twat.
On
“Bus” “B” we had Ray, totally laid back, liked a laugh, liked his football, and
liked women, the latter so much so he married five of them.
Next
was Kenny nicknamed “Morse” because of his occasional stuttering, he only did
it when he was either nervous or he was in close proximity to WPC Winters, and finally
myself, Bob, 6ft 4”, 18 stones, mild mannered, middle aged, and married, known
simply as “Big Fella”.
We
stayed mainly on our designated vehicle but there was some crossover for
sickness, holiday cover or swapped shifts.
Also,
on larger operations both vehicles were deployed and parked back to back to
double capacity and double crews.
Our
shift always began at the yard where we would prep the vehicle, this involved filling
the water tank, emptying the toilet, emptying bins, sweeping out, mopping out,
restocking drinks, stationary etc. and the normal vehicle inspection, tyres, lights,
oil and so on, then we would head off to the deployment, wherever that might be,
we very rarely knew until the day where we were going.
Once
we arrived at the location, we fired up the on-board generator, deployed the
satellite, wound down the stabilizer legs and then made the drinks, and then we
just waited.
We
did crosswords, sudoku’s, read, listened to the radio, played cards, or dosed
off.
Oh,
and dealt with the local eccentrics, when on “Abbeyvale” turf we had a retired Assistant
Chief Constable from the met who now spent his days walking the dog and
annoying people.
He
obviously spent some time on the net because he always had some pearl of wisdom
to impart.
He
would walk briskly up to his unsuspecting victim and say something like
“A theory is better than an explanation” or
“All great discoveries are made by mistake” or “Nobody notices when things go
right” then he would march briskly off again.
Such
was the exiting world of mobile custody.
I
had to cover on the “A” vehicle for a few days and we were sitting, Gary and I,
at the roadside one afternoon in a layby close to the Finchbottom Expressway,
it was a really hot day and I said
“God
you can really smell the piss from those bushes today”
Gary
didn’t say anything he just carried on reading his paper, so I went back to my
crossword.
Ten
minutes later Gary said, “do you want a drink?”
“Coffee
please” I replied, and he got out the cab, then I realized I couldn’t smell the
piss anymore.
Ray
and I were driving through Sharpington one morning, approaching a particularly
ill designed roundabout, when we heard a siren as we turned onto the roundabout
we caught site of a paramedic car on the nearside, Ray slowed down in order
that it could pass us and it duly did, so Ray accelerated towards our exit,
when the car turned across the front of us heading for the exit on our right,
so we hit it broadside.
The
fact that a collision occurred between a Police vehicle and an Ambulance
attracted another six vehicles from the emergency services, which tied us up
for about an hour and a half, then we had to get the vehicle lights replaced
which took another two hours which meant we were only on deployment for three
hours that day.
We
were used on a wide range of deployments, such as events where large crowds
were expected such as horse race meetings, football matches and open-air
concerts.
The
football was a bit of a drag but racing and the concerts were ok especially if
it was a nice day because there was always something nice to look at, if you
get my meaning.
We
also supported the drug search team who used passive and active dogs in the
cues inside and outside nightclubs this was not a good deployment as we didn’t
finish until 3am and there was always an endless stream of drunks going by and
we took bets on how many times we would be mooned by some drunken slapper.
We
worked with the drug dogs at prisons and detention centers and we also worked
with the team that served warrants at the crack of dawn.
But
Mobile custody was typically used as part of the ANPR team and 9 out of 10
deployments were with them, ANPR stands for Automatic Number Plate Recognition.
The
team consisted of the ANPR van equipped with four cameras and an operator, one
Vauxhall Vectra police car and four or five police motorbikes.
The
van would be parked on either a central reservation of a dual carriage way or
at the side of an “A” road with a camera aimed at each carriageway covering the
traffic in both directions.
The
bikes and car would be positioned at either end of the designated stretch of
road as stoppers.
If
a vehicle went passed the van the camera would read the number plate and
simultaneously check that number on various databases.
If
the car had no tax, no insurance, no registered owner, had been used in a
crime, or was linked to a crime, an alarm sounded, a different alarm depending
on the seriousness of the offence, and one of the stoppers would pull the
vehicle over, then if the driver or a passenger had committed an arrestable
offence they were taken to the “Custody Bus”.
All
though many of our deployments were in layby's not all of our locations were
bleak or baron there were some nice ones as well.
One
in particular was by what was known locally as the pleasure gardens which was
by the river in the car park of a café, the site was popular with dog walkers
and there was a very well equipped play area for parents to bring the kids and
they had the café for drinks and ice creams.
There
was also a proper toilet block which meant we didn’t need to struggle with the
one on board and we could get a hot meal in the café, that is until the day
disaster struck.
I
had taken a day's leave and returned to duty on what was the second consecutive
day at the pleasure gardens to find we could no longer safely use the café.
This
was nothing to do with public safety, the building was not unsafe nor was it a
public health hazard, the reason was that one of the ANPR team the night before
had foolishly arrested the café owner for driving while disqualified.
We
could now not safely purchase a burger or sandwich just in case there might be
an addition ingredient in the relish.
When the
prisoner or detained person arrived at Mobile Custody they were seated in front
of the Sgt while the arresting officer, who stands on the prisoner’s
right between them and the exit, relates the circumstances of the alleged
offence and subsequent arrest.
Once that
has been done the prisoner gives his name which is checked on PNC
(Police National Computer).
The
PNC check gave invaluable information such as patterns of behavior whether they
could be violent of suicidal or just troublemakers.
If
there is any doubt that the prisoner is giving false details, he is taken
directly to a static Custody center where they can be “live scanned”.
Live
scan is a system where the prisoner places his/her hand on the glass screen
where it is scanned and compared to the fingerprint data base which in seconds
gives the prisoners true identity.
Normally
the threat of live scan is sufficient for the prisoner to co-operate and give
the correct details.
Once
all the details have been taken and the Sgt is satisfied that a crime has been committed,
he says to the prisoner “I am authorizing your detention for the purposes of
gathering evidence by questioning about the alleged offence”
The
prisoner emptied his pockets and was searched by the custody assistant who
stands on the prisoners left wearing ill-fitting blue latex gloves.
On
a midget like Terry McGuire they reached halfway up his forearms like Marigold
kitchen gloves but on me because I have hands like shovels they didn’t reach my
wrists and the fingers only reached my knuckles it looked like I had webbed
fingers.
If
it was a female prisoner, they have to be searched by a WPC and there was
always a female officer available.
Once
all the property had been taken from the prisoner, including all jewelry and
their belt, it was all placed in a property bag, sealed and locked in the
property cupboard, and then they were taken to a cell and offered refreshments.
After
five or ten minutes the prisoner was taken from the cell to an interview room
and interviewed on tape by the arresting officer.
After
interview they were returned to a cell while the investigation continued, all
the time they were in the cell they were constantly monitored to see that all
was well.
When
all the checks had been made the prisoner was taken from his cell and had there
photo taken at the end of the corridor complete with a hand written card
containing there name, date of birth, date of arrest and custody number, then they
were taken to the smaller interview room for fingerprinting and DNA sample,
unless they had been arrested before and were DNA confirmed.
Fingerprinting
in the little interview room wasn’t easy at the best of times but was virtually
impossible if your prisoner was uncooperative.
One
day the PNC check revealed that the prisoner had a history of playing up and
didn’t like having his prints taken.
“There’s
a warning about this one” Sgt Young said.
“What
for Serge?” I asked
“Doesn’t
like being printed” he replied
Terry
piped up “No problem I’ll do him I know how to handle troublemakers”
He
set up the fingerprinting kit in readiness and squeaked out an order to fetch
the prisoner.
I
duly retrieved the prisoner and motioned him up the corridor.
“This
should be fun” he whispered to me and winked.
He
had obviously overheard Terry bragging about how he could handle him.
He
walked up the corridor and entered the little room and Terry followed him in
and closed the door.
I
filled Tom Young in on what the prisoner had said, and he made sure everyone on
the team, who was not otherwise engaged reported to the “bus”.
I
could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t expecting trouble, there were six
of us crammed on the bus, me, Tom Young, Ray, Karen and Kenny, when the door
opened and the prisoner walked out smiling.
“Take
him back to his cell” he said squeakily.
I
did as I was asked and walked back up the corridor to find Terry explaining to
the assembled group.
“I
told you I knew how to take care of troublemakers you just have to show them
whose boss”
He
then proudly turned on his heels and stepped back into the little room and we saw
the back of his pristine white shirt had ten or more large black hand prints
and written in 4” high letters across the yolk of his shirt was the word TWAT.
We
were all biting our lips not to laugh and then Karen let out a snigger and
Terry turned round.
“What’s
the matter?”
“Nothing”
Tom said “Nothing at all” as we all rushed to get off the bus so we could fall
about laughing.
One
day we were working ANPR on the bypass when one of the stoppers had a “make
off”.
What
happened was the bike pulled over a suspected disqualified driver and as soon
as the officer dismounted and took off his helmet the car made off, it later
turned out the driver was wanted on warrant as well.
A
pursuit followed and the rest of the team set up a trap to use the stinger but
because you have to have an inspector or above to approve deployment of the
stinger by the time permission came through the driver had already passed the
trap, but then he took a wrong turn and came past the custody bus doing 60 in a
30 but the road we were on dead ended at the abattoir.
The
driver decamped the vehicle and ran into the abattoir and was soon detained but
not before he went headfirst into a pile of cow shit.
There
was some delay before we got to see him as none of the area cars wanted to take
him because of the smell and what was dripping off him.
When
he eventually arrived at Mobile Custody I was outside waiting when the van
pulled up and the first sight I got of him was from the back and all I could
see was a white t-shirt and blue jeans then he turned around and he was covered
from head to toe in shit and straw.
We
didn’t keep him on board for long and we set a new record for booking and
processing that day, 18 minutes from the time he set foot on board to when he
was transferred to court, mind you the smell he brought with him lingered for
days.
Ray
was driving and I was on the phone getting direction for the deployment that
day when Ray’s phone started ringing.
He
had a hands-free earpiece in, but the wire got caught in his seat belt and the earpiece
fell out so he unplugged it and put the phone to his ear.
Just
then a disgruntled member of the public overtook us and then dropped back, only
to appear again alongside us this time aiming his camera phone at Ray before
speeding off.
When
we arrived at the deployment we set up and Sgt Young fired up his PC.
Ten
minutes later Tom Young stepped off the vehicle and came over to us.
“Consider
yourself bollocked Raymond” he said
“Why
what have I done?” Ray asked
“A public-spirited
member of public emailed a photo of you driving while using your mobile, to the
Chief Constable” Tom explained.
“Bastard”
Ray responded.
I
worked with a good bunch of people, police and civvies and met a lot of others
on various ops and there were some complete bastards as well, in fact the Police
officers I worked with were the same mix of saints, sinners, happy go luckies,
manic depressives, faithful spouses, womanizers, hetro’s, gays’s, single’s,
divorsee’s, crumpet hounds and letches, as in every other walk of life.
I
met WPC Anna Cooper on an op in “Northchapel” and she was a really nice girl
and looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth then I found out her nick
name was Anaglypta because you could always have her against the wall.
PC
Dick Scholes said that when he was living in the section house, he only ever
had sex with a WPC if he was too tired to wank.
The
first time I met him he was holding court over a mixed group of Police of all
ranks, Superintendent and below, and civilians, I later found out he called his
sessions with an audience “Tales from a hairy chimp” for reasons best no to someone other than me
because he didn’t have a hair on his head.
Anyway,
when I first met him, he was just coming to the end of a joke.
“Because
your brother wanted a mountain bike” and as I found to be the usual
outcome his audience fell about crying with laughter.
We
did have some good laughs on that job and when we had a lot of customers it was
quite interesting work.
The
down side was you could easily go three 10 hour shifts in a row without even
the sniff of a prisoner and ten hours can seem like an eternity when you’re sat
on the roadside even on a bright summer day it’s even longer on a cold dark
winter’s night.
There
are only so many sudoku’s you can do and only so many books you can read before
your thoughts turn to new horizons.
