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Oh dear, what a To-Do
As I was walking home, I saw a chap lying on the ground in the small area in front of the church, next to the small wall that divides the church's territory from that of the petrol station. He was a young chap wearing a striped hoody, and I was worried for a moment - he could have been taken ill (or fallen over drunk, which needs to be treated the same way), because it's not the place a homeless person would curl up to sleep (too exposed to passers-by).
However, I then saw that he was moving slightly, appeared to be conscious, and was holding a cigarette. So I assumed that he was probably drunk, but just having a bit of a rest, and left him to it.
I was hardly any distance down the road - just at the far end of the petrol station, to be precise - when all hell broke loose behind me.
The guy had been set upon by a group - or, rather, gang - of six or so people, and was running: he belted into the forecourt, ran up to the back of it, managed to dodge back through them and get back to the door to the shop at the front of the forecourt, but I think the people in the station had hit the lock by then. The pack brought him down, and gave him a right kicking.
They then left him there and rapidly crossed the road and started heading up the side street opposite me. At this point I hauled out my mobile and dialled 999. (BTW, we're about thirty seconds into the whole event at this point in my description, and I freely admit that I was scared to let them see me on the phone as they were leaving the scene, which is why I didn't call until they had their backs to me and were heading off.)
As I'm on the phone, a young chap came rushing over the road (from where the mob had just gone) asking "Are you calling the Police?"
He didn't look like he was the kind of guy to be associated with the villains, but it was still a bit unnerving - I assured him that I was, but as we made our way back towards the victim, I hung back until he was out of earshot when the person on the other end of the phone asked for my address. (You can't be too careful.) I also turned around, to make sure my voice was projecting in the opposite direction.
This meant that I missed a most remarkable sight: the victim of this brutal assault sprang to his feet and rushed across the road, where he stood at the bottom of the side road his attackers had gone up, hurling abuse and inviting them to return.
Just after he did this, the first Police car arrived on the scene. They pulled into the forecourt by the door, and one of them had got out and was calling through the windows to the staff within. Simultaneously, the gang came back down the side road chasing after the victim.
I went belting up to the Police car (seriously, I haven't run that fast in yonks) and indicated where they should be by word and gesture ("That's the guy that got the kicking, and they're the one's that did it!") and they jumped back in the car, screeched round and out of the other entrance to the forecourt, and then jumped out of the car and started grabbing people. Luckily, a few more cars turned up at the same time, and (probably) everybody involved was apprehended... in front of, or on the forecourt of, the petrol station over the road
So then there are about five cars and a couple of vans, and a couple of coppers come over and are let into the petrol station. Ah yes, I forgot to mention something: one of the panes of toughened glass in one of the sliding doors had been smashed. Apparently the gang had used the victim's head to do that.
So me and the guy who'd asked me if I was calling the Police are standing by the entrance to the petrol station, when his Dad turns up - apparently he was waiting over the road for a lift from Dad when it all kicked off
Dad turns out to be an ex-army guy who talks much about how he'd deal with them. At this point I realise that some guy in a hoody is standing behind us on a slightly raised area, carefully observing the Police activity over the road.
Choosing a suitable moment in the discussion of what's gone on, I turn to him, saying "What about you mate - did you see what happened?"
He smiled faintly and shook his head, with an air of unjustified arrogance that confirmed my suspicions of him, then turned and left, going back past the church.
Shortly after, he returned (having apparently gone around the block) from the opposite direction, as part of a gang of hoody-wearing people who then besieged the petrol station, demanding that the door be opened so that they could make purchases. At best, I believe they were exploiting the situation in the hope of having a shoplifting spree while the staff were still unsettled. At worst... well, I dunno.
Anyway, at this point it seemed like most of the pushing, shoving and shouting had died down, so I told the other chap and his Dad that I was going to make myself known to the Police in case they wanted a statement, and headed over the road. I found a copper on the fringe (I wasn't going anywhere near the van) and told him that I'd made the - or, at least, a- 999 call.
He quickly took me a bit further away from the scene to have a chat, also bringing a colleague over, explaining that I was the one who'd "called it in" - it was just like The Bill
Unfortunately, it seems like I couldn't be of much assistance. I told them that one of them was shirtless and had short dark hair... they explained that they swap shirts after doing this kind of thing, to put the mockers on identification evidence from witnesses. Unless I could guarantee to be able to look at a face, and say that I'd seen that person committing an assault, I had no evidence to offer.
As I couldn't swear to any faces, I'd apparently done as much as I could by making the call.
(Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying this is a bad thing, as a Daily Mail reader might. Rules of evidence are of primary importance, and I'd much rather that the Police decide, on the spot, that there's no point taking a statement from me as it won't contribute anything of value to the investigation. Just a few years ago a Police sergeant wasted nearly an hour of both our lives taking a statement that we both knew would be of no value in any possible prosecution for the crime I'd witnessed, but which had to be taken anyway as a matter of formal procedure. He would have preferred to be doing something useful, and I would have preferred to be asleep. The officers tonight were courteous and considerate, and as soon as they were sure they didn't need me any more, they thanked me and sent me on my way. They even apologised for the fact that my chips had got cold - and that was the fault of the criminals, not them.)
Oh, the other chap and his Dad also turned up to talk to them. Although he'd had a good view from over the road, and they'd walked past him as they were leaving, he also reckoned that he couldn't be certain of identifying any of them. (I reckon his Dad had given him some sensible advice before they crossed over the road to talk to the Police - that or he's got Alzheimers at the age of twenty. Either way, I think he's a decent chap for sticking around and being concerned about what happened; he could have just cleared off.)
So, who knows what the harvest will be. One wonders if it's one of those situations where the victim would rather keep quiet and the lot of them will sort it out in their own way.
It probably means that I'll become a marked man for having called the Police - or it may be that they'll just treat me with contempt, steal my car, burgle my flat, and piss on my cornflakes, but not actually assault me. Or it might even be that they don't care, and I need never think of any of it again.
Ah well, it's one way of "building a safer community", if you like mission statements
I wonder what Saturday night will bring.
EDIT: I'd forgotten that I'd taken my camera out tonight until it was too late...Comment
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Well done NF
Most people these days don't have the balls. They just scuttle off in the opposite direction.Confusion is a natural state of beingComment
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Originally posted by NickFitz View PostOh dear, what a To-Do
As I was walking home, I saw a chap lying on the ground in the small area in front of the church, next to the small wall that divides the church's territory from that of the petrol station. He was a young chap wearing a striped hoody, and I was worried for a moment - he could have been taken ill (or fallen over drunk, which needs to be treated the same way), because it's not the place a homeless person would curl up to sleep (too exposed to passers-by).
However, I then saw that he was moving slightly, appeared to be conscious, and was holding a cigarette. So I assumed that he was probably drunk, but just having a bit of a rest, and left him to it.
I was hardly any distance down the road - just at the far end of the petrol station, to be precise - when all hell broke loose behind me.
The guy had been set upon by a group - or, rather, gang - of six or so people, and was running: he belted into the forecourt, ran up to the back of it, managed to dodge back through them and get back to the door to the shop at the front of the forecourt, but I think the people in the station had hit the lock by then. The pack brought him down, and gave him a right kicking.
They then left him there and rapidly crossed the road and started heading up the side street opposite me. At this point I hauled out my mobile and dialled 999. (BTW, we're about thirty seconds into the whole event at this point in my description, and I freely admit that I was scared to let them see me on the phone as they were leaving the scene, which is why I didn't call until they had their backs to me and were heading off.)
As I'm on the phone, a young chap came rushing over the road (from where the mob had just gone) asking "Are you calling the Police?"
He didn't look like he was the kind of guy to be associated with the villains, but it was still a bit unnerving - I assured him that I was, but as we made our way back towards the victim, I hung back until he was out of earshot when the person on the other end of the phone asked for my address. (You can't be too careful.) I also turned around, to make sure my voice was projecting in the opposite direction.
This meant that I missed a most remarkable sight: the victim of this brutal assault sprang to his feet and rushed across the road, where he stood at the bottom of the side road his attackers had gone up, hurling abuse and inviting them to return.
Just after he did this, the first Police car arrived on the scene. They pulled into the forecourt by the door, and one of them had got out and was calling through the windows to the staff within. Simultaneously, the gang came back down the side road chasing after the victim.
I went belting up to the Police car (seriously, I haven't run that fast in yonks) and indicated where they should be by word and gesture ("That's the guy that got the kicking, and they're the one's that did it!") and they jumped back in the car, screeched round and out of the other entrance to the forecourt, and then jumped out of the car and started grabbing people. Luckily, a few more cars turned up at the same time, and (probably) everybody involved was apprehended... in front of, or on the forecourt of, the petrol station over the road
So then there are about five cars and a couple of vans, and a couple of coppers come over and are let into the petrol station. Ah yes, I forgot to mention something: one of the panes of toughened glass in one of the sliding doors had been smashed. Apparently the gang had used the victim's head to do that.
So me and the guy who'd asked me if I was calling the Police are standing by the entrance to the petrol station, when his Dad turns up - apparently he was waiting over the road for a lift from Dad when it all kicked off
Dad turns out to be an ex-army guy who talks much about how he'd deal with them. At this point I realise that some guy in a hoody is standing behind us on a slightly raised area, carefully observing the Police activity over the road.
Choosing a suitable moment in the discussion of what's gone on, I turn to him, saying "What about you mate - did you see what happened?"
He smiled faintly and shook his head, with an air of unjustified arrogance that confirmed my suspicions of him, then turned and left, going back past the church.
Shortly after, he returned (having apparently gone around the block) from the opposite direction, as part of a gang of hoody-wearing people who then besieged the petrol station, demanding that the door be opened so that they could make purchases. At best, I believe they were exploiting the situation in the hope of having a shoplifting spree while the staff were still unsettled. At worst... well, I dunno.
Anyway, at this point it seemed like most of the pushing, shoving and shouting had died down, so I told the other chap and his Dad that I was going to make myself known to the Police in case they wanted a statement, and headed over the road. I found a copper on the fringe (I wasn't going anywhere near the van) and told him that I'd made the - or, at least, a- 999 call.
He quickly took me a bit further away from the scene to have a chat, also bringing a colleague over, explaining that I was the one who'd "called it in" - it was just like The Bill
Unfortunately, it seems like I couldn't be of much assistance. I told them that one of them was shirtless and had short dark hair... they explained that they swap shirts after doing this kind of thing, to put the mockers on identification evidence from witnesses. Unless I could guarantee to be able to look at a face, and say that I'd seen that person committing an assault, I had no evidence to offer.
As I couldn't swear to any faces, I'd apparently done as much as I could by making the call.
(Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying this is a bad thing, as a Daily Mail reader might. Rules of evidence are of primary importance, and I'd much rather that the Police decide, on the spot, that there's no point taking a statement from me as it won't contribute anything of value to the investigation. Just a few years ago a Police sergeant wasted nearly an hour of both our lives taking a statement that we both knew would be of no value in any possible prosecution for the crime I'd witnessed, but which had to be taken anyway as a matter of formal procedure. He would have preferred to be doing something useful, and I would have preferred to be asleep. The officers tonight were courteous and considerate, and as soon as they were sure they didn't need me any more, they thanked me and sent me on my way. They even apologised for the fact that my chips had got cold - and that was the fault of the criminals, not them.)
Oh, the other chap and his Dad also turned up to talk to them. Although he'd had a good view from over the road, and they'd walked past him as they were leaving, he also reckoned that he couldn't be certain of identifying any of them. (I reckon his Dad had given him some sensible advice before they crossed over the road to talk to the Police - that or he's got Alzheimers at the age of twenty. Either way, I think he's a decent chap for sticking around and being concerned about what happened; he could have just cleared off.)
So, who knows what the harvest will be. One wonders if it's one of those situations where the victim would rather keep quiet and the lot of them will sort it out in their own way.
It probably means that I'll become a marked man for having called the Police - or it may be that they'll just treat me with contempt, steal my car, burgle my flat, and piss on my cornflakes, but not actually assault me. Or it might even be that they don't care, and I need never think of any of it again.
Ah well, it's one way of "building a safer community", if you like mission statements
I wonder what Saturday night will bring.
EDIT: I'd forgotten that I'd taken my camera out tonight until it was too late...
I wonder why the chap shouted after his attackers? I wonder why the trouble started in the first place?Comment
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Originally posted by Diver View PostWell done NF
Most people these days don't have the balls. They just scuttle off in the opposite direction.
morning allComment
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Confusion is a natural state of beingComment
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