“Where Si, where is he?” I repeated as I screamed the car into the dark car park. A man who’d been sent to prison for 10 years for a horrific assault with a knife on his wife was out again, and he had smashed a glass fish tank over her head this time. She was in a bad way and he was on the run with a 12″ kitchen knife. He’s been seen by CCTV entering the car park but it’s dark, very dark, and my headlights are scanning across the car park. Adrenalin surges through my veins as Si and I prepare ourselves. I mumble under my breath and Si turns his head towards me. “He’s going to fight mate” I said, “He has a lot to get away for.”
What is it which makes policing so different to other occupations? What makes that something which runs through your veins and sends excitement through every pore when it’s most unexpected. It’s the feeling of wondering into the dark on your own with just your wits and your uniform as your primary protection shield. It’s the fact that you are one tiny part of a huge support network that will come rushing to your aid when called for, and that support is something that not only you know, but they out there know.