Unpublished Memoirs By David As A Cop is about David Dellit a Christian Police Officer working under a corrupt (and later imprisoned and now deceased) Police Commissioner. The writing of this book is prompted by the Holy Spirit, and has only begun in July 2025.
Copyright © 2025 by David Dellit
All rights reserved.
No part of "Unpublished Memoirs By David As A Cop" may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means -- electronic or mechanical -- including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
All rights reserved.
No part of "Unpublished Memoirs By David As A Cop" may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means -- electronic or mechanical -- including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Unpublished Memoirs By David As A Cop
Rough Manuscript
Unfinished
Unpublished
Unedited
Beginnings…
I am old now, but looking back over my life and all the different jobs I have done, the job that had the most profound impact on me, was being a Cop; there is nothing like it, nothing that comes anywhere near what it does to you as a person, how it challenges you, and how it changes you!
It was in 1982 when I first applied to join the Queensland Police Force (Australia), but I wasn’t successful. I hadn’t even got through half my high school education. I was told if I completed my high school that I would be accepted. So I went back as an adult and completed the final two Senior years of High School in nine and a half months and matriculated with scores to go to University and study Law, but I wanted to be a Cop, so I reapplied in 1983 and was successful, began in March I entered a training squad at the Queensland Police Academy in Oxley, Brisbane, Australia, and in late in 1989 I was medically retired with PTSD. This story tells what happen in this period of nearly seven years.
I had no idea of what lay ahead of me and what Police life would be like. I also had no idea that the Police Force I was entering was so corrupt that even my Commissioner of Police, Terry Lewis, would end up in prison convicted of Police corruption. Just like everyone else I knew, all I knew about being a Policeman was what I saw on TV or read about in the Newspapers or encounters with Police who gave me a speeding ticket or two – I had no idea at all, but I would soon know more than most.
I first spent six months basic training before graduating as a Police Officer. It was embarrassing because I had never been good at sports and was terrified of heights, and climbing over rope nets and eight foot high walls and balancing along high, narrow, and slippery tasks frightened me, and every time I landed on the mats from a Judo throw it jarred my neck and left me with a headache. But I became proficient at strangle holds and bringing colleagues to unconsciousness very quickly which I used often on the streets.
The lead trainer was a previous professional sportsman, and I think he hated me. There were some nice guys in our squad, but also some who turned to crime; one liked drugs, another liked underage girls, while another wanted to make money out of prostitution.
Requesting High Crime…
Call me a sucker for trouble, but I found policing very exciting and I couldn’t get enough of it. Soon after graduating from basic training at the Police Academy, I was assigned to stations to gain experience and complete my practical training. I heard of Police Stations, two in particular, I could not apply to because they were in high crime areas. To be considered for these stations I had to be interviewed to receive permission, and it was preferred that you be a bit older, married, and more mature. I was interviewed and received permission to transfer first to Inala Police Station and later to Woodridge Police Station, both considered at the time to be high crime areas. I found the work exciting and fun and often violent.
I worked my tail off and got lots of experience. A lot of police around me were struggling with stress and struggling to wind down and sleep, but the moment my head hit the pillow I would tell myself it was time to go to sleep, and sleep I would, like a baby; other police were amazed and envious.
Whiff of Corruption…
The first I ever came across tainted things, was from the very beginning.
Free Newspapers…
My first night duty shift ended with a visit to the local Courier Mail newspaper printers where we loaded the boot of the police car full of hundreds of free newspapers. We then delivered generous numbers of these free newspapers to the major police stations. Naturally, everyone connected to the delivery of Courier Mail newspapers could expect a blind eye if newspaper delivering vehicles offended the law by parking wrongly or being over the speed limit on their way to deliver to News Agents. No one wanted to be the bad guy who put free newspapers at risk.
Free Bread…
A large bakery delivered large numbers of loaves of bread from a local major bakery. In return it was expected that bread delivery vehicles would not receive parking and speeding fines. If there were any, it created a lot of fuss and risked our free bread so most officers tried to cooperate with the scheme.
Free Milk…
It was the same for milk. Favors for favors ran smoothly while I was in the Force, and no one wanted to rock the boat.
A New Suit…
There was a time when I stopped a driver in the Brisbane CBD who was over the speed limit. It turned out that he owned a city men’s clothing store, and he had the contract for the police uniforms. He immediately told me that what he had done wasn’t important and if I would stop writing his speeding Traffic Offence Notice (TON), he told me to come into his store and he would tailor make my police uniform to measure. I was silent and kept writing his speeding ticket, even though it sounded an attractive offer. He then told me on top of the tailor made police uniforms, he would tailor make to measure a new suit for me. I was silent and kept writing, even though I loved beautiful clothes and found his attempt to bribe me, tempting. He then told me on top of everything else, he would give me a complete wardrobe of tailor made to measure suits. I would have loved that, but I would have hated accepting the bribe and could never have enjoyed the clothes because of my guilt. He finally said words to the effect that it must be important, and I finished writing his ticket and gave it to him. Attempting to bribe a Police Officer was no small thing, but he was a very nice guy to the end, and I just remained silent and left it at his ticket.
A Swimming Pool…
Late at night I pulled over a driver who I found to be driving under the influence of alcohol. He owned an in-ground swimming pool and landscaping business, and said he would lose his business if he couldn’t drive. He pleaded with me and told me that if I let him go he would give me an in-ground pool. When that didn’t work he offered me his premium size pool and full landscaping (worth nearly as much as my home). I was tempted, because I knew my young daughter and her friends would love it, as would my wife, but how could I do that and not be guilt ridden every time I swam in it. He was a very nice guy throughout the whole process, which made it all the tougher to do my job.
Girls Will Be Girls…
A female driver who was driving drunk, tried to get me to let her go by offering me sex. She asked me if I could see anything I liked, and when I told her I couldn’t see anything I liked, she got upset and started beating into me, which added to her charges. And before entering the police watch house to be charged, she again began beating into me. I got the distinct impression that her offer of sex was not an offer, but an order, or else!
Nursing Saved Lives...
In Sydney before returning to Queensland I did about 15 months of the 3 year General Nursing course. This helped my policing. I remember working an arrest wagon in Brisbane City as a new policeman. A call came through of a drunk outside a hotel, so we attended expecting to arrest him and give him a bed for the night to sleep it off. The man was standing outside a hotel holding onto a parking sign to help him stay vertical. But there was something different about this guy. I tried to talk to him and he couldn't talk. I wanted his name but he didn't seem able to speak to me, and he eyes that seemed to be screaming "HELP ME". Something didn't add up, and I remembered finding a diabetic patient who I needed to turn in the middle of the night, and I found him unresponsive; he was slipping into a diabetic coma -- we saved his life and he thanked me the next morning. Perhaps God was giving me insight to join these things together, and as he swayed clinging desperately to his parking sign, I asked him if he was a diabetic. All he could do was nod in the affirmative. I helped him lie down on the footpath, radioed in for an ambulance and he was conveyed to the nearest Hospital Casualty instead of to the Brisbane City Watch-house where he would have fallen into a coma and died. Nursing in Casualty and emergency situations also helped me help abused children and babies and those overcome by drugs and alcohol.
The Girl Who Should Have Died...
In the middle of the night the Winton Police phone rang. It was a call informing me of a vehicle accident. I took a drive and about hour out of town I found a loaded semi-trailer had rolled over. The driver was dead, but he had two girls from Europe who were hitchhikers, and they were asleep in his sleeper cab when the truck turned over. One of the girls was dead under the load. He friend survived, but she was trapped by one leg and her trapped leg had sustained multiple fractures. She asked about her friend and I told her she was dead and she became hysterical. I felt very mean, but I became very angry with her and told her to stop being stupid or she would die to. I said that if she wanted to live she had to do everything I told her to do. I lay down beside her in the dark and we both looked at the beautiful huge sky that sparkled with brilliant stars. I got her to tell me about home, about her holiday, and about everything I could think of to keep her distracted and thinking about everything, anything, except her pain and dying -- I determined to stop her from being taken by the silent killer, shock. An ambulance was on its way, but we would have to wait -- and it felt like such a long wait. And the Flying Surgeon was on his way, but the nearest was at Townsville Base Hospital, and would be in Winton until after sunrise. She survived to get to Winton Hospital, and she survived to get to Townsville Base Hospital, where doctors asked her how she could be alive, she shouldn't be -- they said to her that someone saved her life. She spent about eight months in Townsville Hospital where she had surgery many times to save her leg. Her parents flew out from Europe to be with her. She was the girl who should have died, but she lived, and it was God who kept her alive, and it was God who helped me to help her live.
Why Does It Happen...
I noticed strange things happen when I was policing, things that on a balance of averages just don't have much chance of occurring considering probabilities.
* Like the police sergeant called to a fatal traffic accident and being first at the scene and it's his daughter and his two grand children and his daughter is pregnant with his third grandchild -- all died. He was never the same -- went from a nice guy to a very angry man. I did three weeks in a Scene of the Crime office to gain experience and I saw the photos ... I saw what changed that father and grandfather forever.
* I am beside a madman who is driving at high speed and crosses both sides of a four lane highway through a red light at a blind intersection. As I passed through I thought, my wife and daughter pass this way at this time, and then I see them pull out from the lights and slam on the brakes as we hurtle past at 120 kph. What are the chances of that?
Moment of Terror when Margaret expects to be shot...
Organised Police, Athlete, And TV Celebrity Child Sexual Abuse...
The Aborigine Who Couldn't Stop Running...
The Sleeping Drink Driver...
The Drunk Wants Help Starting His Car...
Police Motorcycle Course...
Corruption in the Outback…
Even when I transferred to Winton, the birthplace of QANTAS, and sheep shearing town about 1,600 kilometers North West of Brisbane, corruption was there too. It took the form of fueling the police vehicle at the local garage that had the department contract for supplying fuel. It was always offered by the garage attendant if we wanted to add any snacks or food or drinks to the bill, which was added made to look like fuel costs.
Because we issued driver licences at the Winton Police Station, there existed the opportunity to do the wrong thing; one Police Officer issued himself every type and class of driver licence available, without any of the qualifying requirements being satisfied.
Conduct Unbecoming a Police Officer…
Some Winton Police became involved in nude parties, and a photo of a nude police officer at a party was sent to the Police Commission, probably by a Winton resident disgruntled when the police officer also wanted to tidy up the behavior of others.
Corrupt Police Christmas Party…
In the Brisbane suburb of Oxley, the District Police Station held a Christmas Party. I was asked if I was going, but declined. It was held at the premises of a towing and car holding and wreckers yard. Trampolines on the fences blocked the view of outsiders. On the top of a prime-mover flat top trailer, entertainment was provided by local prostitutes performing sex acts with Police.
Brisbane City Corruption…
There were three clubs in Brisbane City. They were illegal clubs, running illegal hours, offering illegal prostitution and gambling, and they were owned and run by organised crime and protected by police all the way up to the Police Commissioner Terry Lewis. A Queensland Police Badge shown at the door was all that was needed for free eats, free drinks, and free sex, as much as you want for as long as you want. Exposed by the media and investigated by a Royal Commission, prosecutions saw a number of Police receive prison terms, including the Police Commissioner himself.
King George Square Flasher...
From memory, it was the first arrest I ever made. I was fresh out of the Queensland Police Academy in Oxley. I was stationed at the City Station, which is where most new officers started at that time, and I was assigned to walking the beat through the Brisbane CBD. King George Square was on my way and on this glorious Spring day, with it being lunchtime and all the public servants out of their offices to eat their lunches, along came me, not having a clue of what was coming. There are shady trees with seats so those who chose to enjoy King George Square can do so in comfort. I saw two very pretty girls, no doubt young public servants, who had lunch boxes open on their laps, enjoying a friendly chat together. Suddenly an old man in their view whipped out his you know what, and proceeded to try and make mister floppy into a giant erection, without much success. This awful sight caused the girls to cringe terrified together. I just kept walking steadily, then the two girls looked up and saw me. They immediately pointed to the old man -- I nodded, their fear left, replaced by obvious relief. The moment the girls saw me and pointed at the old man, the old man saw me, and put his limp friend away and started walking away. I followed him as he left the Square and took stairs to a busy city street below. As much as what he did in front of the girls was probably their worst nightmare, the look on his face when he saw me was definitely his worst nightmare. I called on him to stop, he did. I arrested him and radioed City Police Station for a car to convey him and me to the Police Watch House where I charged him with committing an act of Gross Indecency (a greater charge than Willful Exposure under the Queensland Criminal Code -- if I am remembering correctly). The Training Sergeant who drove me to the Watch House asked me I was okay with the charge and whether I was sure I had the points to prove to sustain the charge if the old man fought it, and I said yes, and he said, okay. I was the first officer in my squad with a criminal arrest. Out of all the moments in time, I just happened to be right there at the right second. Arrests felt like they fell into my lap. I look back and expect there was not a chance involved, but God.
A few days later a man who worked at the Brisbane City Hall library located beside King George Square approached me, and some how seemed to know that I was the one who arrested the old man; maybe he too saw it happen. He told me that he saw the old man nearly every day and had many a conversation with him and he always seemed a really nice old guy. I guess the day the old man and I met, was not one of his 'nice old guy' days.
There was an expression that was pinned on me by the Sergeant and Officer in Charge of the Winton Police Station -- "Why does it always happen to you?" Because IT always happened to me! The junior detective of the two detectives in the Criminal Investigation Branch in Longreach Police District Headquarters, referred to me mockingly as, Detective Dellit, while I was in uniform, because I took all the criminal offence matters that occurred in or around Winton, when I was supposed to hand them on to the CIB in Longreach because there was not CIB in Winton. But crime happened everywhere I went and as it came I dealt with it. Sometimes the Detective in Charge of the Longreach CIB would phone me hearing I had a criminal matter and ask me if I was okay with it and when I would confirm I was okay, he was okay with it too!
Where's Winton...
In a sort of way, I went to Winton because I was ''naughty'. Before Winton, I was stationed at a Brisbane suburban Police Station. One night, assisting the arrest of a colleague's offender, I assaulted him. He complained, there was an independent inquiry, and I was interviewed by the Police Inspector in Charge of my Station. In the interview, I began with words to the effect: "Inspector, as you are already aware...." And the next words out of the Inspector's mouth, which didn't go on the record were, "Well if you're going to be like that, you're on your own." And that was all that was required to imply, infer, and suggest the Inspector had erred in his investigation of the matter of the alleged assault, and the inquiry was then as much or more concerned about my suggestion and investigated the Inspector. As a result, using other officers, the Inspector investigated me -- secretly and unofficially -- conducted false inquiries collecting false evidence from lying 'witnesses', and framed me, and threatened with charges and Court actions, etc. It had nothing at all to do with the assault I was being investigated for. It was all false. It was all created. So it was that the only choice I was given was to transfer out of the Station. I was told to attend an office in the city where I discussed choices. Wherever I was sent, would either be my choice, of my Inspector's choice, but it would be done quickly. I chose Winton, and I was off, because I had been "naughty". Clearly I was not the only one being naughty, but I had gone against the unwritten police code of never accusing or alleging anything against another officer. I had committed the big no-no, and so its hand was raised against me in any and every way legal or criminal. And me, my wife, and my daughter headed for Winton.
Turning A Blind Eye...
We would let an officer off if we caught them drink driving or speeding or in a single vehicle accident. But you could also push it over the line and then you would be arrested. I recall an officer who had trained in my squad. He was off-duty when he got noticed driving at high speed and the incident with officer on-duty quickly turned into a high speed pursuit. When the vehicles stopped, the officer from squad then began an physical fight with the on-duty officer. I had occasion to chat with the arresting officer who told me that he kept telling the off-duty officer to stop fighting him and he would let him go, but he didn't stop fighting him so he arrested and charged him with the offences. But usually, if an off-duty officer stopped and cooperated, they were let go for minor traffic offences -- not for crimes or criminal matters, but for minor traffic offences. I recall a few times I let officers go, and once I let a retired inspector off for drink driving. I'm sure it sounds terrible to outsiders, and it sure isn't good, but it was just the way it was -- a policeman needs every friend he can have and doesn't need more enemies.
At one time I was stationed near the Oxley Police Academy, and before the start of the academy day, cadets and probationary police in training who were running late would speed and get caught. So many were getting caught that a request was sent for trainees to be excused, but we didn't, instead returning the message that they comply with the speed limit, which is what we did when we were training.
Vulnerable Jobs...
I remember a few times knowing a job was coming up that would make me vulnerable. The sort of situation where there are shacks and camps where there is one way in, they can see you coming, but you can't see them, and where you have to park and walk the last of the way in, and on foot, all the way, they can see you but you can't see them. Great place to be ambushed. Never nice. You don't know if they or anyone is there when you arrive, but the circumstances are that they are not friendly and what you are coming for is not friendly. The curious thing is, my wife always knew when I was going to a dangerous job, usually know the day before, and start praying for me. A great woman.
A Bad Man...
Very early in my time policing, I was out in a car; there were four of us. A call came over. We were looking for a bad guy who wanted for murder if my memories serves me correctly, and the word was that he was not going to taken alive and he wanted to take some Police with him. We noticed a car stopped in a curious location as if waiting for something or someone, and the car fitted the description of the car being driven by this wanted man. We drove up behind it and three of us got out. There was a high graded section of earth beside the car of interest and I scrambled up on top of it to get an advantaged shooting position if it was the man who had plans to dispose of police. As was my way, I had my hammer drawn back on single action for a light touch to get my first shot away, but when my gun was like this, I never put a man in my sights -- always aiming about two foot above them -- because it was too easy to get a shot away accidentally, and I didn't want to shoot anyone innocent. But from my high location, I could see an old woman in the back seat knitting, and I thought this isn't the look for the guy we want -- she looked up from her knitting, saw me with my guy, looked down and went back to her knitting -- didn't appear to even miss a stitch. We all had our guns drawn and as the driver was asked to step out of his car -- and he sure matched the description of the guy we were looking for -- he saw the nearest policeman with a gun on him and as he turned he saw the other men and their guns drawn on him, and naturally he was concerned for his own safety. As we identified the driver he started breathing again after we explained. I still remember him saying, "I knew you had the wrong man, but I didn't know if you knew that."
Difficult To Arrest...
I recall across my time policing arresting three very pretty young registered nurses for minor drink driving offences. They were very difficult to arrest. They were beautiful, well behaved, didn't ask or expect to be let off, and apologized and were embarrassed taking up my time. Each of them may have made a perfectly wonderful wife, but I already had one. I did what I was supposed to do and performed my duty, but it was difficult.
Officer Down…
I recall a very nice young guy in The Job. He was fresh out of the academy and at City Station. He told me how scared his father was of losing him. His dad ran a number of his own successful men’s clothing stores in Brisbane and he was trying to ‘bribe’ his son to leave the Police Force and join him in his business. A couple of months later he came up to me and said he was resigning. He loved being a Policeman, but he said, my dad has made me “an offer I can’t refuse”. His dad said that if he would leave the Police force, he would make him manager of his own new store. He told me he couldn’t refuse that opportunity, so he was leaving the Police Force to take up his dad’s offer.
One of the nicest young men I had the honour of serving with was Brett Handran. He and I were together in the Juvenile Aid Bureau (JAB), in the City Office, and partnered on many shifts and did good work together. I met his father, Jim, who drove me and Brett home one wet night so I didn’t have to ride my motorcycle. Brett and Jim were on a first name basis, which was natural to them. Jim was Principal to one of the largest State High Schools in Queensland. Brett told me that his dad was terrified of losing him, and asked him many time to go teaching, but Brett explained to me that it seemed to easy a road to take, because his dad knew ‘everyone’ in the Education Department, and so did Brett. So Brett chose what he considered a greater challenge, the Police Force, where he had no dad to open all the doors for him.
I moved to another JAB office in the suburbs. I was working very hard, completed in eight and a half months the three years of work required to attain my detective’s designation, and began to present PTSD symptoms and required months of sick leave. On 29 June 1989 while I was on sick leave, I watched from where I lived, a TV News helicopter hovering for a few hours. That night as I sat with my wife and daughter, TV News reported the ambush and fatal shooting of Brett. I sobbed on my wife’s shoulder, saying I had to go back; she begged me not to. Brett was honored with a State Funeral. The Police Department wanted me to stay on, saying my PTSD was the result of work that was “too much too soon”, but I took a medical retirement. It changes things for you and your family when you lose a friend and colleague who pays the ultimate price for doing the same work you are doing.
The Queensland Police Force has a tradition of honoring and remembering fallen Police Officers by naming their vessels after them, and the "Police Vessel Brett T Handran" is the largest in the Queensland Water Police Vessel fleet. R.I.P., my friend Brett T Handran; I miss you.
Before the murder of Brett, I was working too hard and struggling with a blood pressure of 240/150, and my GP give me 12 months to live. I kept going longer by using alcohol for medicinal purposes, swilling down three triple scotches before each shift. Obviously this had to end or I would.
Dreams and Miracles…
It shouldn’t happen to a Cop, because Cops are supposed to be level headed, realistic, and trained to deliver results even when the going gets tough. Dreams and miracles were not included in the training at the Police Academy. But while I was at the Woodridge Police Station I had a dream. I was with my police partner in a lounge room of a house talking with a young woman. A young man left the room quickly. Moments later the young man returned to the room and shot myself and my partner and one of us died. The dream was in colour and as clear as film on a big screen, and as I watch instructions were spoken, that when I see this occur, follow that man. It all seemed rather strange and I didn’t know what to make of it, but I couldn’t forget it, and about three months later, it was like the “film” I had seen in my dream, began to play for real. I did what the voice had told me in the dream, followed the man, and shut his plan down.
The Writing on the Wall…
While I was in Winton, West Queensland, an Aboriginal offender jumped bail, left town, and I had no information at all on where to find him. After the ambush dream came true, I wondered if I could pray and ask God where this guy was. So I seriously prayed and I prayed. After a few months, on the Police Station wall above my desk, there appeared what looked like a neon sign with a blue border and like light globes about the outside of it. In the middle was the name of a town, a town with only one Police Station, and a voice told me to call the Police Station. I didn’t call, because I didn’t believe it. But about two weeks later my curiosity go the better of me and I called. I was shocked when I asked if the name of the wanted man meant anything to the Policeman who answered the phone. He told me that he had been in the cells about two weeks before, but he didn’t know where he was now. And the Police Officer then asked me the million dollar question, “How did you know?” How indeed, and when I said it was a gut feeling, he said he wished he got gut feelings like that. I guess I could have told him the truth, but I didn’t want him to think I was insane.
I was shocked. What was God doing to me and why? At the time I was a member of the exclusive church of Christ (if you are not going to it you are not going to heaven), and they didn’t believe God did anything miraculous anymore, so God was shaking the very trust I had in the supposedly one true and perfect church, and showing what it believed and taught was not true. I didn’t like what was going on, but it was God, so I couldn’t do anything about it but go along with it. I shared with a few people what God was doing, but they couldn’t believe it. A few million people worldwide are members of that church, and I wasn’t a big influential name, so why was God doing this to me?
After about six or more weeks later of praying and asking God to tell me where this guy was at least a dozen or more times each day, the same sign appeared on the wall, but this time it showed the name of a small one Police Station town about 500 miles from the first. A voice told me to phone now, but again I hesitated and found it hard to believe when I thought about. A few moments later the voice sounded like it was shouting only a few inches from my ear, “PHONE NOW!” I scared me so much I was shaking as I grabbed the departmental phone book and phoned the named Police Station. The Policeman answered and I told him the name of the man I was looking for and asked him if the name meant anything to him. He said yes he is in the cells. He asked me how I knew and I did the same lame “gut feeling” idea, and he expressed the same wish that he could have the same gut feelings I was getting. I explained the warrant for failing to appear and arranged for a half way meet between his Police Station in the gulf country and Winton Police Station. At the Winton Police Station, being small, I was the Watch House Keeper and Police Prosecutor, besides performing General Duties around the town. When I brought the man from the Watch House to the Winton Magistrates Court, he asked me how I knew where he was, and I told him that I saw him when he was sitting in the cell, which was true, I did. He looked scared. I was scared too.
The Prayer…
If you're interested, the short prayer I was praying about 12 to 20 times each day, was something like this:
God, I don’t know if you still do this sort of thing – my church doesn’t think you do – but in case you do, I am in the justice business and you like justice, and I need your help to deliver justice. I cannot find this guy, and you know where he is. If my church is right and you don’t do this sort of thing any more, that’s okay I won’t hold it against you, but if you do and you will help me, I will greatly appreciate it.
Of course, the second time I began praying for God's help, I knew God did still do things like finding offenders so I didn't have to ask about that, instead, I apologized to God for not phoning and felt really bad for wasting his time, promised to phone immediately if he would do it again, and went back to praying 12 to 20 times a day.
I Became Violent...
As I look back on my time policing, I am ashamed to say it, but I became violent, and I liked it. I began very shy. I was terrified the first time I arrested anyone. Arresting someone is a very serious thing to do. I lived in a democracy, a land of freedom, but arresting someone took away their freedoms. It was also very serious legally for me, because I was then totally responsible for the safety of the person I arrested. Besides this, was the fact that legally, a person was not arrested by you if they were struggling against you and trying to escape, but were just in a state or resisting the arrest which was still underway. It was usually in the process of people resisting arrest that I was inclined to become angry and violent.
Awaiting My Opportunity To Kill Them...
During my time policing, on a few occasions I had given offenders more latitude than the law gives to avoid shooting anyone, but towards the end of my policing, I had changed on the inside and there was very angry rage within me, and I had decided that the next offender who gave me the legal right to shoot them, I wouldn't hesitate, I wouldn't give them a moment's chance, but I would instantly shoot them and kill them; I was hungrily awaiting my opportunity. I expect that this will probably sound terribly wicked and evil to people, and admitting this and sharing it is difficult, but it is the truth, and I know I have no excuse and I feel bad looking back on it, but it is what policing did to me.
I hated batons, because I hit myself twice on the head just lightly, and it hurt so much that I thought it was much too cruel to ever do to anyone, unless fighting for ones own life. Nevertheless, I usually carried a baton in the hidden baton sleeve down the right side of my police trousers, the opening of which was near the long-trousers/shorts pocket. I did use my baton twice when I was working alone. Both times I was working alone and both times the offenders were under arrest and refusing to climb into the back door of an arrest vehicle. I struck both offenders across the buttocks, which caused both to cooperate; I didn't have to strike them hard.
Strangle holds were valuable for quickly rendering a resisting offender unconscious, and I developed a method of cuffing them while unconscious, so they would awaken to find themselves cuffed behind the back. Strangle holds should not be mistaken for choke holds, which I never used, because they are dangerous as they can flatten your windpipe and kill. The strangle hold momentarily restricts and slows the blood flow to the brain causing rapid unconsciousness, and upon its release, a rapid return to consciousness; it is safe, harmless, and very effective at helping get the job done.
My handcuffs had a two step lock. The first turn locked the handcuffs from opening, and the second turn stopped the handcuffs from opening and from closing any tighter. I always double locked handcuffs, to prevent handcuffs from tightening and injuring the wrists of offenders. For my protection and for the protection of others, I always cuffed behind the back. I also worked out a way to cuff around the back and still use the seat belt for the offender's protection.
My favorite handgun was a Smith and Wesson 36 .38 revolver with a three inch barrel. It was small, light, easy to conceal, easy to run with, with practice it was accurate, and was no jamming. With the hammer drawn back and the trigger on single action, there was light weight required on the trigger to fire a shot. I also used a Ruger .357 Magnum stainless steel revolver, but I didn't find the size and weight easy to live with. I shot with either hand, accurately. Sadly, I carried a gun not just due to the risk imposed by criminals, but also by some Police!
The Gunner from Vietnam...
I went out one morning in Winton and I saw sheep on the edge of town being mauled by two pet dogs, which I followed to their home. The owner came out, I described to him what I saw. He said dogs that attack sheep have to be killed. I put his dogs into the back of the Police car and drove away. I collected a Sergeant of Police who was filling in for the Officer in Charge while he was away. I explained to him the situation and we drove the dogs to the rubbish tip that had a fire always burning to destroy meat matter. I intended to take the dogs to the edge of the fire pit before shooting and killing them, but they both broke away from me at speed. As the dogs were about 80 to 100 yards away, the Sergeant of Police said, well that's the end of that. I said, no its okay. Pulled my handgun, drew the hammer back for single actions, slowed my breathing, relaxed, aimed for the dog in the lead, shot him in the heart, killing him instantly. The other dog quickened his pace, I took the same approach, fired once for the heart, he leapt in the air, and I fired for his liver, killing him instantly. I was using hand loaded over-loads, which were a lot more than standard factory or departmental rounds, and not quite legal in every Police sense. The Sergeant of Police was the Firearms Training Officer for the Winton Police District. He said he was a gunner in the Vietnam War and he couldn't believe what he just saw. He added, I always said I would go up against any man, but I won't go up against you. My shooting accuracy was always was always a bit different -- I knew where my bullets went -- I think God gave me something; and, nursing provided me a better than average knowledge of where vital organs were. At the Police Range in Brisbane they downgraded my scores, saying if I ever shot and killed anyone, a Court would call my true scores and say I could shoot someone anywhere and avoid killing, but chose to deliberately shoot and kill them.
The Sergeant of Police was a really nice guy and while he was in Winton we traveled out to a country pub in the middle of nowhere to provide the entertainment; he brought his family, I brought mine, he was on guitar and vocals, I was on drums, and our payment was accommodation and food and drinks for us and our families for the weekend; the hotel was run by an old woman and the barmaids were her granddaughters -- they were all ladies.
I Can Smell Criminals...
I remember driving down a road in Winton and seeing a man sitting at the top of his stairs. I pulled over, got out the Police Car, walked to his front gate, called him down to me, and when he reached the front gate saying to him, "You're under arrest." I took him to the Winton Police Watch-house. On the way he said he didn't think he could be arrested like that, and I told him I could arrest him for anything I liked. The real problem was, I didn't know what he had done, so I had nothing to arrest him for. I arrested him on a Friday. I placed him in the padded call because it was summer and very hot. I gave him one slice of dry toast and one glass of water each day. On the Friday night the Sergeant of Police, the Officer In Charge of the Winton Police Station, phoned me and said I had a man in the cells, to which I agreed. He then asked me what he was in for, and I told him that he didn't want to know about him. And he said, I don't want to know about him. I said no, you don't want to know about him (sounds like a line or two out of a Star Wars movie, but it's true). Our conversation ended with him agreeing that he didn't want to know about him.
On Monday morning before Court was in Session, I went to his cell, roughly escorted him down to the Police Office, told him I knew all about him and what he had done (which I didn't), and told him I needed to hear it from him, and I picked up a pad of paper and pen and said, "Now give this pen something to write!" He was an escapee from the Emu Park Prison in Victoria, which was two States away. So extradition arrangements were made for a Victorian Police Detective escort to ensure he arrived safely 'home'. I knew he had done something, I just needed to break him, but of course what I did was illegal and for that I feel genuinely guilty and bad, but to catch criminals, sometimes I did things that were criminal.
Woodridge Neighbor Dispute and the little dog
The Winton Outback Festival...
The Messenger of Death...
Questioning Suspects...
Sadly, I often strayed from the law and into unlawful methods when it came to getting the truth from offenders I questioned. I was not perfect and often asked God to forgive me. Myself and partner working plain clothes were handed two break and enter offender from uniform officers. The uniform officers already had found them committing the offence, and all we had to do was question them, prepare the case, and prosecute it through the Court. First, we had to establish the true and correct names and addresses for these guys, because they would be released on their on their own recognizance to appear in Court, but if they gave false names and addresses, we would never see them again. The female officer and I chose one offender each. I knew my offender gave me a false name and address, same as the female officer's offender. After the third time the back of my offender's head hit the concrete wall of the interview room, he told me his correct name and address, and he appeared in court and pleaded guilty and was convicted and justice was served. The female officer accepted the false name and address of her offender and he failed to appear in Court and was never heard of or seen again. The manner in which I gained the correct name and address of my offender was described by my partner this way: "I've never seen a more disgusting display of unnecessary violence in my life." Clearly, my way of policing was not approved by everyone, and I didn't like it either, but I didn't know a better way to make the system work and get justice for victims, clean up crime, and giving deterrents to criminals through having them convicted. Before I started to get serious, I did tell him that once he told me the truth and what I wanted to know, that I would be a gentleman again and everything would be pleasant, and I was true to my word and treated him nicely during the interview, charging, and watch-house process. I know what I did sounds bad, and what I did is an unlawful common assault, but I do not believe letting criminals walk free is good for society. And I can say this, that never did I use any force when I was Policing, that permanently injured or maimed anyone.
There were also unintended comical times during questioning -- like the occasion I had eaten a combination of foods that didn't agree with me. The other officer was performing the interviewing of the offender and I was seated quietly in the small interview room, witnessing. I felt a rising pressure of flatulence coming on and I was trying not to explode. I managed to be completely silent, discrete, and dignified, but the most horrific smell filled the interview room, and a moment later my partner jumped to his feet, slammed his pen down on the table, and with a disgusted look on his face he shouted, "Dellit, that's not even human", and stormed out of the interview room, returning when the air had cleared. Meanwhile, I waited in the completely uncomfortable silence from both me and the offender. And yes, upon the return of the interviewing officer, the offender confessed to everything.
Interviewing and Preparing Court Cases...
Sadly, I often erred and fell below the strict legal standards that required perfection. I was not perfect and often asked God to forgive me. Laws and points-to-prove were not always exactly right at the time, and "correction and improvement" afterwards. What may have been said or done may have been difficult to remember exactly. I did my best, but when it came to writing up my notes, what is written up may not be quite the way it happened exactly. The offence had been committed, but if I needed to, I would "help" my evidence support the charges so the offender could not get out of it if it went to Court. I do not remember a single occasion being sworn into the witness box "To tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God", and not feeling guilty and apologizing and asking God to understand and forgive me because I was faulty, I couldn't do better, I couldn't be perfect as the law required.
Kindness & Protection For Victims of Crime...
A frightened old lady was being stalked by a man. She had no family to help her, and she lived alone in an old house on a large corner block beside a main road -- all of which made it difficult for locals to notice or hear anything. This man was arriving at her home and thumping on her doors and demanding that she let him in or he would kick the down down. The harmless and defenseless old lady, invited my partner and me around so she could tell us what was happening to her. While we were with her she made a cup of tea and we sat at her kitchen table sipping her tea and listening to her tale. The offender was belligerent, confident, as large as life, and he was actually there outside the property, standing beside the front gate, and gave us a grin of "you can't touch me, I know the law", as we walked in. Sadly, matters of this kind often begin this way, but end in forced entry and vicious assaults and/or rape.
I took a vow that I swore to God -- all Queensland Police Force Officers do -- to serve without favor or affection, but when needed by victims, I broke my vow and served with both favor and affection, apologizing to God and asking his forgiveness. In the case of the old lady, while the other officer remained with the old lady in her kitchen, a paid a visit to her "friend" at her front gate. I told him that I was placing the woman under my personal protection and every time I found him back anywhere near her property, I would arrest him and put him behind bars. He told me I could't do that, and I told him to just watch me. I went back inside and shared a nice time with my partner and the old lady, reassuring her that we would take care of her, keep an eye on her, and drop back to check on her, which we did. I must have convinced the man troubling her because he never came back to trouble her again and she was never troubled by anyone else. It always felt good to stand with the good and protect them from the bad, even if I had to go beyond the law to do it.
I did the same thing to a young man in the city who had raped a pretty young girl and he caused her fear to have sex with her any time he pleased; she was too scared and vulnerable to witness against him; she had no support of family. At the time I was on the beat in the city, heard what happened, found the young man. Told him I didn't like what he had done and every time I saw him I would arrest him. He had a defiant look on his face as he asked what I would arrest him for. The look on his face changed when I said I would make it up at the time. He believed me, because a couple of days afterwards two came up to me laughing about a young guy who ran into them, literally, and and pointed at in the distance and kept running. They found it funny he was so terrified. It's a good feeling deep down when you can terrify bad people so good people don't have to be terrified.
I remember a very extreme and rare case of a woman needing protection. She and her husband had three teenage girls. The husband/dad would regularly rape her in front of the girls, but there were also a number of other men who lived in the street who also regularly raped her in front of the girls. Due to the extremely violent situation, we arrived in three Police vehicles ensuring we had the man power to ensure her protection and safe extraction. We arrived when the woman was home alone; her husband at the hotel drinking. She said her husband would find out we were there, because there was always at least one of the other men watching. We encouraged her to come with us and we would take her to safety, but she didn't think anywhere would be safe for her and the girls, and she was scared that if she did anything it would make it worse and she would be killed. Out of about 1,000 domestic situations I encountered, this was the saddest and most extreme, and she was most like right -- there was nothing in place to protect anyone for years from such a horrible situation. I felt like taking them under my wing and giving them a better life, but I already had my own to look after.
While Experiencing Scene of Crime Work, I came across another unusually sad case of domestic violence. The wife was being raped by her husband in front of their children, and while reporting the violence, she added as if it were almost an afterthought, that she also didn't like her husband forcing her to submit to sex with their German Shepherd, again in front of their children; the husband was imprisoned.
Domestic Violence...
As already mentioned, there are serious cases of domestic violence where females are the victims, but contrary to what is commonly believed, after attending about 1,000 incidents of domestic violence, I found that women were usually as much or more to blame than men, and if everyone would learn to never drink alcohol if it makes them aggressive, and to shut their mouths, there would be little trouble at home for Police to deal with. Obviously, on average, women are far more vulnerable in a physical conflict against men, because they are usually no match for a man and mostly come off second best. Also, women can be the champions when it comes to playing the victim and screaming blue murder and some women love to shove, slap, and punch men. Sometimes I had women beat into their husbands the moment I arrived, because then they presumably felt brave and protected to be violent against their husband without consequences. I often reminded women, that whoever was making the most noise would be arrested first, which usually quietened a lot of bad and aggravating behavior. Drunken violence in the home brings unhappiness to marriages and families, leaving every impacted individual the poorer for it. In the vast majority of cases, if those involved in domestic violence stop drinking alcohol and never speak insulting words and leave the home the moment it appears people are becoming angry, there will be very little domestic violence. Usually, both men and women who do the wrong thing and engage in domestic violence, also have the choice to do the right thing and avoid domestic violence. When attempting the peaceful resolution of a domestic violence or potential domestic violence situation, it is essential to be unbiased, so you do not risk adding to what has already aggravated the situation. You must quickly assess the behavior of each individual, give advice, and leave no one feeling unfairly dealt with, because otherwise you could cause greater violence to flare up after you leave. If everyone can be calm and friendly toward each other before you leave, you have done something good for everyone involved. If only everyone could also be instantly sober before you leave, that would help greatly!
The Three Good Prostitutes...
Close into Brisbane city I came across three prostitutes with big hearts. Each had taken in about a dozen pretty young vulnerable girls who had no family support or protection, and these prostitutes were providing them safety, accommodation, and food. What they were doing attracted police attention because local residence noticed the number of girls. I checked on the girls to make sure they were okay, and I chatted with the prostitutes to establish that it was above board. One of them in particular stood out because of her sincere concern for the well being of the girls. I noticed she was different, but she also said I was different to other cops. She told me about her fears for the children and what they were trying to do for them, fear of Police and organized crime. We exchanged contact details so she could phone me if she needed my help. For a variety of reasons, kids can find themselves with no family or no family they can stay with, and there are not many options provided by government services that appeal. These three women were helping to fill in the gaps and spaces in society that vulnerable people often fall through, gaps and spaces they may never ever be able to completely return from. God bless them all.
Armies...
In Woodridge, I knew of three houses that contained about 12 to 15 teenage boys. We called them "armies" because they could potentially bring big trouble to society, but they were not street fighting gangs and nor were they criminal gangs. They were young guys with nowhere else to stay, no family to live with, and no options and choices left. Each of these three homes had no connection to the others, had one man, usually the father of one or more of the boys, and often the man was a tradesman making good money so he could feed and secure them all. There were no women or girls at any of these three homes. I had occasion to visit them. The "dads" were normal dads and the collection of boys came about from circumstances where they came home with one of their sons, and they had nowhere else to stay. It's sad, but God bless these men for helping these boys through a difficult time in their lives, and keeping them from crime. Often the house rules set by the "dads" were super simple and strictly applied: no fighting and no crime. Keep the rules and you can stay, you can be safe, and you can eat as much as you like.
Police Wives' Destroyed...
Sadly, with the amount of corruption in the 1980's in the Queensland Police Force, came a lot of fear on the part of the main beneficiaries of the corruption. If those who had the most to lose felt threatened by you, your wife may find herself approached by Police while shopping. An un-purchased item would be found in her bag -- slipped into her bag by Police -- that belonged to a store she had previous been shopping in and had since left. She would be questioned concerning the shop theft, charged, placed before the Court, prosecuted and convicted. The Police would also ensure press coverage so it would be well publicized. Her husband and his wife would lose credibility, and any matter the Police Officer husband could claim against Police would seem like a malicious smear and not genuine. These wives may have their own careers impacted by now being "criminals", and their friends would never believe it was the Police and that their friend was innocent. It often did so much harm to Police families that marriages and homes fell apart. I still recall photos of shattered, embarrassed wives spread across the front page of News Papers as they left Court as a convicted criminal, and no matter whatever way they may try to explain their innocence and Police corruption to their friends, there would always be some remaining doubt left in their friends, because the truth seemed a stretch from reality. I recall a Police Sergeant at the Woodridge Police Station who was a friend of the Police Commissioner and knew about all the corruption but was not involved, telling me that one day he walking into the Commissioners Office, pulled his hand gun out and slammed it down on his desk in front of him and said that he -- the Commissioner -- had nothing to fear and promised that he -- the Police Sergeant -- would never divulge anything he knew and never give evidence against him, but if his wife was ever arrested for shoplifting, that the next time he would see the revolver would be when it blows his f*&^ing brains out. He told me the Police Commissioner nodded silently that he understood; the Police Sergeant's wife was not arrested. It was a stressful time for all Police Officers who knew about the corruption, particular those who knew and were married like I was. After the Police Commissioners conviction, all Police wives convicted of shop stealing, should have been publicly declared innocent by the Queensland Government -- with as much front page publicity that their convictions received -- to try to right the wrong, to attempt to officially remove their disgrace, but to my knowledge the need for justice for these innocent women was never addressed.
Hatred For Taxi Drivers...
Racist Cops...
There were great cops, but some hated Aboriginals and Asians.
Drugs & Corruption & Money...
Myself and partner were driving on dirt tracks through bushland out the back of Woodridge. We were looking out for suspicious characters. There was drug dealing going on the area. Suddenly there was a VW Beetle and moment it saw us a chase was on as they took off and something was thrown from their window. They stopped. We searched them and the vehicle and found drugs. Took them back to the Woodridge Police Station. I was my drug arrest. Curiously, there was a very kind and helpful officer at the Station who the moment he heard I had drug offenders, wanted to help. In fact he wanted to help so badly that he wanted to perform the interrogation, arrest, charge, and guaranteed my name and the name of my partner would be on the brief of evidence as arresting officers. I thought, why not. The two friendly officers took our two suspects into the interview room and there was a lot of noise of slamming and crashing and banging, but then in stead of the expected confessions, arrests, charges, the two kind and friendly officers explained they had the cooperation of the drug dealers who were providing names and details of their drug clients, and this bought them their freedom.
Around Woodridge he carried a fancier than usual wooden batten which had rounded bulbs on it. He would talk to groups of young guys and ask them which bulge on his batten they wanted over their head, and give them the choice of 'this one or this one' as he pointed to them. He was becoming a little too much.
A few years later this friendly and helpful officer was stationed at a key tourist location on the Great Barrier Reef, liked to unofficially borrow fully automatic police department firearms and have some fun in the bush with them. The problem for him with this was that he attracted attention with the machine gun fire, while at the same time doing criminal acts. He was known to drug dealers in the area by the nickname 'god', because no drugs moved or were bought or sold without his permission and knowledge, and without corrupt payments to him. His machine gun fun got him noticed and got him caught and he spent about seven years behind bars. A very foolish man who threw away his career for crime only to learn the lesson personally that if you do the crime you do the time. He was quite a nice guy, but he was over confident, thought he was smarter than he was, while being sillier than he thought he was, and power can go to your head and you can get proud and arrogant and the next thing you may start thinking is that you can do anything and get away with it ... there was a lot of that going on in the State at the time, all the way up to the Commissioner.
Child Protection...
I came across many children abused, neglected, who simply needed love but were not going to get it. Young children with battered and bruised faces who clung too scared to let go of abusive parents, terrified of what the future held for them; so often a love/hate relationship, loving them because they were parents, hating the ill-treatment, the pain, and the injuries they suffered.
Besides serving with the Juvenile Aid Bureau which brought me into contact with many children who needed help, love, and protection, the needs of neglected and ill treated children were everywhere and were a part of General Duties in Uniform. I met Amanda Nixon from the Brisbane office of Children's Services while I was stationed in Winton. She asked me to be the Children's Services representative for Winton, and said that any decision I made concerning children, she would back, and in combination together, the Court would back, and I could simply inform her of every decision, after the event. Residence in Winton would "quietly" phone and tell me of children who needed protection, contacting in a timely manner so I could act immediately and catch the parent in the act of offending. I broke into the back of a house to find a young baby alone and crawling about amongst dog poop, and as I walked out with the child in my arms I passed the mother returning from the hotel, telling her, "You've lost your baby". It was a busy time, but deeply satisfying protecting the defenseless who were too young to even speak.
In the JAB in Brisbane city office I recall finding a young boy who his mother said in his face, "What have you brought him here for. I don't want him." He was devastated and silently sagged; it was so sad. I had occasion to reunite many child-runaways from unhappy homes, trying to help parents and children to cope, to understand, to do better, and to love. Missing Persons was next door to city JAB and I was asked to relieve there for three weeks and after the three weeks I was asked to remain with them, which I declined. While there a highly paid executive when missing. He went over the Gap in Sydney. I visited his wife and two little children. It was so sad. So many people needed so much help to cope with life, and wrecked lives needed so much love; the young widow's dad was there when I arrived and said he didn't know Police did this sort of thing. I felt sad and I felt guilty, because I wished I had been quicker. Many children would runaway from home and be so vulnerable while they were missing. I remember a very sad teenage girl who I found hiding in bushland out the back of a sporting field and she had adopted a stray dog in her travels; she went home to parents with more loving, kindly, and understanding hearts, along with her new dog. More love is needed for the healing of more hearts and sometimes I felt so inadequate because it seemed like the whole world needed adopting.
The Moonlight State...
I don't know why, but Police told me things; they seemed to trust me with secrets, maybe because I was a bit older than others starting out, but probably it was God orchestrating things far more than I was aware of at the time. Like the day I was driving down the highway with a Sergeant of Police from the Woodridge Police Station when he stated to talk. The first thing he did was stitch off the Police radio, telling me to never trust the Police radios. He went on to tell me things about the State, the Police Force, Politics, and let me know what was going on and high it went. He was a personal friend of Police Commissioner Terry Lewis. I was didn't know personally, but Police told me the name of an Italian crime family in Brisbane who were running the unlawful gaming and prostitution clubs in Brisbane and I knew they were protected. Police could go to these clubs, wear another jacket, present their badge, and everything was free. I considered going to a Judge or to the Press concerning the corruption, but if I did, to stay alive, I would have to change my identity and spend the rest of my life living under protection, and I didn't know of a marriage or family that stayed together living that type of life. I had a good marriage, a happy family, and wanted to keep it, and besides, I didn't know who I could trust, and when you don't know who to trust, it is safer to not trust anyone. But the corruption was so obvious and so wide spread that it couldn't go on forever, and on 11 May 1987, The Moonlight State (https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3370228/) aired on the Four Corners Television Program, blowing wide open Queensland Police corruption, and leading to the judicial Fitzgerald Inquiry investigation into Queensland Police corruption. There were more than 100 convictions including Police Commissioner Terry Lewis who served prison time. It also brought down the Queensland State Government. One day I was asked about it at church, and I said that I deserved the same -- not that I was corrupt -- but I was doing things as a Police Officer that were unlawful, and I was not willing to make myself look perfect and innocent, when I was not. The Queensland Police Force was like a machine, like an assembly line, and the further you went along that assembly line, the more you were liable to compromise, and little by little, excuse more and more compromise, until there was less and less difference between you and your offenders. The whole system has to change, and sure, it is easy to see what has to change and how and why, but I doubt if it will ever change, because no one is likely to like that either. I am human, the Police Force was human, and the Courts and the Law are human, and that means it is not perfect because we humans are not perfect -- none of us; the perfect Policeman was probably never a Policeman, or never really did much in the way of Policing. Nevertheless, I am very sorry and regret everything that I did that I should not have done, and I am very sorry and regret everything I didn't do that I should have done, but most of the time I was doing my best considering who I am as a person, and I couldn't do much better.
My Wife's Experiences:
I remember arriving home from a shift at about 1:30 am and going to the bathroom where I washed the blood out of my handcuffs. As I was doing so, my wife woke and came into the bathroom and saw all the blood in the bathroom basin and said, "Who did you bash this time?" I was taken aback more than a little, because I was not in the bashing business, but somehow she got that idea; perhaps from movies. What had happened was a domestic situation where an irate husband had punched and broken the front window of his own home and cut himself, after his wife was too frightened to let him into the house. He wasn't very happy when my partner and I arrested him to let him cool off for the night; there was no bashing, there never was any bashing of anyone by me.
One night I was very late home because I tried to save a man from gassing himself in his car. The man died, I was gassed trying to rescue him, and the ambulance summoned for him, took me to hospital. I was hours later than expected and most of the night was over when I got home. I found my wife sleeping blissfully, and when she heard about my night, she was concerned because she hadn't known; I asked Police not to contact her so she would not get a phone call from Police which would immediately make her fear the worst.
There was a time when two dogs were fighting out the back of where we lived. I was very annoyed because there were so many stray dogs, and I got my handgun and said I was going to shoot both of them, but when I went to rush out the back door my wife grabbed hold of me and grabbed hold of my handgun pleading with me not to. I cooled off and the dogs sorted out their troubles without any help from me.
My Child's Experiences:
When your dad is a policeman it can impact your child more than you know. I remember one night I was late home and my wife was tucking our daughter into bed. That evening I was expected to be home before she went to bed, and when her mum let her know I would be coming home soon, she hung her head sadly and said, "No, my daddy isn't ever coming home. A bad man has killed him." As parents we were stunned at her fearing and expecting such things would happen and didn't know what could have led to her saying that, and were careful to not talk about things that may make her worry. Years later when I lost my friend, it was obvious that not everyone gets home.
Rough Manuscript
Unfinished
Unpublished
Unedited
Beginnings…
I am old now, but looking back over my life and all the different jobs I have done, the job that had the most profound impact on me, was being a Cop; there is nothing like it, nothing that comes anywhere near what it does to you as a person, how it challenges you, and how it changes you!
It was in 1982 when I first applied to join the Queensland Police Force (Australia), but I wasn’t successful. I hadn’t even got through half my high school education. I was told if I completed my high school that I would be accepted. So I went back as an adult and completed the final two Senior years of High School in nine and a half months and matriculated with scores to go to University and study Law, but I wanted to be a Cop, so I reapplied in 1983 and was successful, began in March I entered a training squad at the Queensland Police Academy in Oxley, Brisbane, Australia, and in late in 1989 I was medically retired with PTSD. This story tells what happen in this period of nearly seven years.
I had no idea of what lay ahead of me and what Police life would be like. I also had no idea that the Police Force I was entering was so corrupt that even my Commissioner of Police, Terry Lewis, would end up in prison convicted of Police corruption. Just like everyone else I knew, all I knew about being a Policeman was what I saw on TV or read about in the Newspapers or encounters with Police who gave me a speeding ticket or two – I had no idea at all, but I would soon know more than most.
I first spent six months basic training before graduating as a Police Officer. It was embarrassing because I had never been good at sports and was terrified of heights, and climbing over rope nets and eight foot high walls and balancing along high, narrow, and slippery tasks frightened me, and every time I landed on the mats from a Judo throw it jarred my neck and left me with a headache. But I became proficient at strangle holds and bringing colleagues to unconsciousness very quickly which I used often on the streets.
The lead trainer was a previous professional sportsman, and I think he hated me. There were some nice guys in our squad, but also some who turned to crime; one liked drugs, another liked underage girls, while another wanted to make money out of prostitution.
Requesting High Crime…
Call me a sucker for trouble, but I found policing very exciting and I couldn’t get enough of it. Soon after graduating from basic training at the Police Academy, I was assigned to stations to gain experience and complete my practical training. I heard of Police Stations, two in particular, I could not apply to because they were in high crime areas. To be considered for these stations I had to be interviewed to receive permission, and it was preferred that you be a bit older, married, and more mature. I was interviewed and received permission to transfer first to Inala Police Station and later to Woodridge Police Station, both considered at the time to be high crime areas. I found the work exciting and fun and often violent.
I worked my tail off and got lots of experience. A lot of police around me were struggling with stress and struggling to wind down and sleep, but the moment my head hit the pillow I would tell myself it was time to go to sleep, and sleep I would, like a baby; other police were amazed and envious.
Whiff of Corruption…
The first I ever came across tainted things, was from the very beginning.
Free Newspapers…
My first night duty shift ended with a visit to the local Courier Mail newspaper printers where we loaded the boot of the police car full of hundreds of free newspapers. We then delivered generous numbers of these free newspapers to the major police stations. Naturally, everyone connected to the delivery of Courier Mail newspapers could expect a blind eye if newspaper delivering vehicles offended the law by parking wrongly or being over the speed limit on their way to deliver to News Agents. No one wanted to be the bad guy who put free newspapers at risk.
Free Bread…
A large bakery delivered large numbers of loaves of bread from a local major bakery. In return it was expected that bread delivery vehicles would not receive parking and speeding fines. If there were any, it created a lot of fuss and risked our free bread so most officers tried to cooperate with the scheme.
Free Milk…
It was the same for milk. Favors for favors ran smoothly while I was in the Force, and no one wanted to rock the boat.
A New Suit…
There was a time when I stopped a driver in the Brisbane CBD who was over the speed limit. It turned out that he owned a city men’s clothing store, and he had the contract for the police uniforms. He immediately told me that what he had done wasn’t important and if I would stop writing his speeding Traffic Offence Notice (TON), he told me to come into his store and he would tailor make my police uniform to measure. I was silent and kept writing his speeding ticket, even though it sounded an attractive offer. He then told me on top of the tailor made police uniforms, he would tailor make to measure a new suit for me. I was silent and kept writing, even though I loved beautiful clothes and found his attempt to bribe me, tempting. He then told me on top of everything else, he would give me a complete wardrobe of tailor made to measure suits. I would have loved that, but I would have hated accepting the bribe and could never have enjoyed the clothes because of my guilt. He finally said words to the effect that it must be important, and I finished writing his ticket and gave it to him. Attempting to bribe a Police Officer was no small thing, but he was a very nice guy to the end, and I just remained silent and left it at his ticket.
A Swimming Pool…
Late at night I pulled over a driver who I found to be driving under the influence of alcohol. He owned an in-ground swimming pool and landscaping business, and said he would lose his business if he couldn’t drive. He pleaded with me and told me that if I let him go he would give me an in-ground pool. When that didn’t work he offered me his premium size pool and full landscaping (worth nearly as much as my home). I was tempted, because I knew my young daughter and her friends would love it, as would my wife, but how could I do that and not be guilt ridden every time I swam in it. He was a very nice guy throughout the whole process, which made it all the tougher to do my job.
Girls Will Be Girls…
A female driver who was driving drunk, tried to get me to let her go by offering me sex. She asked me if I could see anything I liked, and when I told her I couldn’t see anything I liked, she got upset and started beating into me, which added to her charges. And before entering the police watch house to be charged, she again began beating into me. I got the distinct impression that her offer of sex was not an offer, but an order, or else!
Nursing Saved Lives...
In Sydney before returning to Queensland I did about 15 months of the 3 year General Nursing course. This helped my policing. I remember working an arrest wagon in Brisbane City as a new policeman. A call came through of a drunk outside a hotel, so we attended expecting to arrest him and give him a bed for the night to sleep it off. The man was standing outside a hotel holding onto a parking sign to help him stay vertical. But there was something different about this guy. I tried to talk to him and he couldn't talk. I wanted his name but he didn't seem able to speak to me, and he eyes that seemed to be screaming "HELP ME". Something didn't add up, and I remembered finding a diabetic patient who I needed to turn in the middle of the night, and I found him unresponsive; he was slipping into a diabetic coma -- we saved his life and he thanked me the next morning. Perhaps God was giving me insight to join these things together, and as he swayed clinging desperately to his parking sign, I asked him if he was a diabetic. All he could do was nod in the affirmative. I helped him lie down on the footpath, radioed in for an ambulance and he was conveyed to the nearest Hospital Casualty instead of to the Brisbane City Watch-house where he would have fallen into a coma and died. Nursing in Casualty and emergency situations also helped me help abused children and babies and those overcome by drugs and alcohol.
The Girl Who Should Have Died...
In the middle of the night the Winton Police phone rang. It was a call informing me of a vehicle accident. I took a drive and about hour out of town I found a loaded semi-trailer had rolled over. The driver was dead, but he had two girls from Europe who were hitchhikers, and they were asleep in his sleeper cab when the truck turned over. One of the girls was dead under the load. He friend survived, but she was trapped by one leg and her trapped leg had sustained multiple fractures. She asked about her friend and I told her she was dead and she became hysterical. I felt very mean, but I became very angry with her and told her to stop being stupid or she would die to. I said that if she wanted to live she had to do everything I told her to do. I lay down beside her in the dark and we both looked at the beautiful huge sky that sparkled with brilliant stars. I got her to tell me about home, about her holiday, and about everything I could think of to keep her distracted and thinking about everything, anything, except her pain and dying -- I determined to stop her from being taken by the silent killer, shock. An ambulance was on its way, but we would have to wait -- and it felt like such a long wait. And the Flying Surgeon was on his way, but the nearest was at Townsville Base Hospital, and would be in Winton until after sunrise. She survived to get to Winton Hospital, and she survived to get to Townsville Base Hospital, where doctors asked her how she could be alive, she shouldn't be -- they said to her that someone saved her life. She spent about eight months in Townsville Hospital where she had surgery many times to save her leg. Her parents flew out from Europe to be with her. She was the girl who should have died, but she lived, and it was God who kept her alive, and it was God who helped me to help her live.
Why Does It Happen...
I noticed strange things happen when I was policing, things that on a balance of averages just don't have much chance of occurring considering probabilities.
* Like the police sergeant called to a fatal traffic accident and being first at the scene and it's his daughter and his two grand children and his daughter is pregnant with his third grandchild -- all died. He was never the same -- went from a nice guy to a very angry man. I did three weeks in a Scene of the Crime office to gain experience and I saw the photos ... I saw what changed that father and grandfather forever.
* I am beside a madman who is driving at high speed and crosses both sides of a four lane highway through a red light at a blind intersection. As I passed through I thought, my wife and daughter pass this way at this time, and then I see them pull out from the lights and slam on the brakes as we hurtle past at 120 kph. What are the chances of that?
Moment of Terror when Margaret expects to be shot...
Organised Police, Athlete, And TV Celebrity Child Sexual Abuse...
The Aborigine Who Couldn't Stop Running...
The Sleeping Drink Driver...
The Drunk Wants Help Starting His Car...
Police Motorcycle Course...
Corruption in the Outback…
Even when I transferred to Winton, the birthplace of QANTAS, and sheep shearing town about 1,600 kilometers North West of Brisbane, corruption was there too. It took the form of fueling the police vehicle at the local garage that had the department contract for supplying fuel. It was always offered by the garage attendant if we wanted to add any snacks or food or drinks to the bill, which was added made to look like fuel costs.
Because we issued driver licences at the Winton Police Station, there existed the opportunity to do the wrong thing; one Police Officer issued himself every type and class of driver licence available, without any of the qualifying requirements being satisfied.
Conduct Unbecoming a Police Officer…
Some Winton Police became involved in nude parties, and a photo of a nude police officer at a party was sent to the Police Commission, probably by a Winton resident disgruntled when the police officer also wanted to tidy up the behavior of others.
Corrupt Police Christmas Party…
In the Brisbane suburb of Oxley, the District Police Station held a Christmas Party. I was asked if I was going, but declined. It was held at the premises of a towing and car holding and wreckers yard. Trampolines on the fences blocked the view of outsiders. On the top of a prime-mover flat top trailer, entertainment was provided by local prostitutes performing sex acts with Police.
Brisbane City Corruption…
There were three clubs in Brisbane City. They were illegal clubs, running illegal hours, offering illegal prostitution and gambling, and they were owned and run by organised crime and protected by police all the way up to the Police Commissioner Terry Lewis. A Queensland Police Badge shown at the door was all that was needed for free eats, free drinks, and free sex, as much as you want for as long as you want. Exposed by the media and investigated by a Royal Commission, prosecutions saw a number of Police receive prison terms, including the Police Commissioner himself.
King George Square Flasher...
From memory, it was the first arrest I ever made. I was fresh out of the Queensland Police Academy in Oxley. I was stationed at the City Station, which is where most new officers started at that time, and I was assigned to walking the beat through the Brisbane CBD. King George Square was on my way and on this glorious Spring day, with it being lunchtime and all the public servants out of their offices to eat their lunches, along came me, not having a clue of what was coming. There are shady trees with seats so those who chose to enjoy King George Square can do so in comfort. I saw two very pretty girls, no doubt young public servants, who had lunch boxes open on their laps, enjoying a friendly chat together. Suddenly an old man in their view whipped out his you know what, and proceeded to try and make mister floppy into a giant erection, without much success. This awful sight caused the girls to cringe terrified together. I just kept walking steadily, then the two girls looked up and saw me. They immediately pointed to the old man -- I nodded, their fear left, replaced by obvious relief. The moment the girls saw me and pointed at the old man, the old man saw me, and put his limp friend away and started walking away. I followed him as he left the Square and took stairs to a busy city street below. As much as what he did in front of the girls was probably their worst nightmare, the look on his face when he saw me was definitely his worst nightmare. I called on him to stop, he did. I arrested him and radioed City Police Station for a car to convey him and me to the Police Watch House where I charged him with committing an act of Gross Indecency (a greater charge than Willful Exposure under the Queensland Criminal Code -- if I am remembering correctly). The Training Sergeant who drove me to the Watch House asked me I was okay with the charge and whether I was sure I had the points to prove to sustain the charge if the old man fought it, and I said yes, and he said, okay. I was the first officer in my squad with a criminal arrest. Out of all the moments in time, I just happened to be right there at the right second. Arrests felt like they fell into my lap. I look back and expect there was not a chance involved, but God.
A few days later a man who worked at the Brisbane City Hall library located beside King George Square approached me, and some how seemed to know that I was the one who arrested the old man; maybe he too saw it happen. He told me that he saw the old man nearly every day and had many a conversation with him and he always seemed a really nice old guy. I guess the day the old man and I met, was not one of his 'nice old guy' days.
There was an expression that was pinned on me by the Sergeant and Officer in Charge of the Winton Police Station -- "Why does it always happen to you?" Because IT always happened to me! The junior detective of the two detectives in the Criminal Investigation Branch in Longreach Police District Headquarters, referred to me mockingly as, Detective Dellit, while I was in uniform, because I took all the criminal offence matters that occurred in or around Winton, when I was supposed to hand them on to the CIB in Longreach because there was not CIB in Winton. But crime happened everywhere I went and as it came I dealt with it. Sometimes the Detective in Charge of the Longreach CIB would phone me hearing I had a criminal matter and ask me if I was okay with it and when I would confirm I was okay, he was okay with it too!
Where's Winton...
In a sort of way, I went to Winton because I was ''naughty'. Before Winton, I was stationed at a Brisbane suburban Police Station. One night, assisting the arrest of a colleague's offender, I assaulted him. He complained, there was an independent inquiry, and I was interviewed by the Police Inspector in Charge of my Station. In the interview, I began with words to the effect: "Inspector, as you are already aware...." And the next words out of the Inspector's mouth, which didn't go on the record were, "Well if you're going to be like that, you're on your own." And that was all that was required to imply, infer, and suggest the Inspector had erred in his investigation of the matter of the alleged assault, and the inquiry was then as much or more concerned about my suggestion and investigated the Inspector. As a result, using other officers, the Inspector investigated me -- secretly and unofficially -- conducted false inquiries collecting false evidence from lying 'witnesses', and framed me, and threatened with charges and Court actions, etc. It had nothing at all to do with the assault I was being investigated for. It was all false. It was all created. So it was that the only choice I was given was to transfer out of the Station. I was told to attend an office in the city where I discussed choices. Wherever I was sent, would either be my choice, of my Inspector's choice, but it would be done quickly. I chose Winton, and I was off, because I had been "naughty". Clearly I was not the only one being naughty, but I had gone against the unwritten police code of never accusing or alleging anything against another officer. I had committed the big no-no, and so its hand was raised against me in any and every way legal or criminal. And me, my wife, and my daughter headed for Winton.
Turning A Blind Eye...
We would let an officer off if we caught them drink driving or speeding or in a single vehicle accident. But you could also push it over the line and then you would be arrested. I recall an officer who had trained in my squad. He was off-duty when he got noticed driving at high speed and the incident with officer on-duty quickly turned into a high speed pursuit. When the vehicles stopped, the officer from squad then began an physical fight with the on-duty officer. I had occasion to chat with the arresting officer who told me that he kept telling the off-duty officer to stop fighting him and he would let him go, but he didn't stop fighting him so he arrested and charged him with the offences. But usually, if an off-duty officer stopped and cooperated, they were let go for minor traffic offences -- not for crimes or criminal matters, but for minor traffic offences. I recall a few times I let officers go, and once I let a retired inspector off for drink driving. I'm sure it sounds terrible to outsiders, and it sure isn't good, but it was just the way it was -- a policeman needs every friend he can have and doesn't need more enemies.
At one time I was stationed near the Oxley Police Academy, and before the start of the academy day, cadets and probationary police in training who were running late would speed and get caught. So many were getting caught that a request was sent for trainees to be excused, but we didn't, instead returning the message that they comply with the speed limit, which is what we did when we were training.
Vulnerable Jobs...
I remember a few times knowing a job was coming up that would make me vulnerable. The sort of situation where there are shacks and camps where there is one way in, they can see you coming, but you can't see them, and where you have to park and walk the last of the way in, and on foot, all the way, they can see you but you can't see them. Great place to be ambushed. Never nice. You don't know if they or anyone is there when you arrive, but the circumstances are that they are not friendly and what you are coming for is not friendly. The curious thing is, my wife always knew when I was going to a dangerous job, usually know the day before, and start praying for me. A great woman.
A Bad Man...
Very early in my time policing, I was out in a car; there were four of us. A call came over. We were looking for a bad guy who wanted for murder if my memories serves me correctly, and the word was that he was not going to taken alive and he wanted to take some Police with him. We noticed a car stopped in a curious location as if waiting for something or someone, and the car fitted the description of the car being driven by this wanted man. We drove up behind it and three of us got out. There was a high graded section of earth beside the car of interest and I scrambled up on top of it to get an advantaged shooting position if it was the man who had plans to dispose of police. As was my way, I had my hammer drawn back on single action for a light touch to get my first shot away, but when my gun was like this, I never put a man in my sights -- always aiming about two foot above them -- because it was too easy to get a shot away accidentally, and I didn't want to shoot anyone innocent. But from my high location, I could see an old woman in the back seat knitting, and I thought this isn't the look for the guy we want -- she looked up from her knitting, saw me with my guy, looked down and went back to her knitting -- didn't appear to even miss a stitch. We all had our guns drawn and as the driver was asked to step out of his car -- and he sure matched the description of the guy we were looking for -- he saw the nearest policeman with a gun on him and as he turned he saw the other men and their guns drawn on him, and naturally he was concerned for his own safety. As we identified the driver he started breathing again after we explained. I still remember him saying, "I knew you had the wrong man, but I didn't know if you knew that."
Difficult To Arrest...
I recall across my time policing arresting three very pretty young registered nurses for minor drink driving offences. They were very difficult to arrest. They were beautiful, well behaved, didn't ask or expect to be let off, and apologized and were embarrassed taking up my time. Each of them may have made a perfectly wonderful wife, but I already had one. I did what I was supposed to do and performed my duty, but it was difficult.
Officer Down…
I recall a very nice young guy in The Job. He was fresh out of the academy and at City Station. He told me how scared his father was of losing him. His dad ran a number of his own successful men’s clothing stores in Brisbane and he was trying to ‘bribe’ his son to leave the Police Force and join him in his business. A couple of months later he came up to me and said he was resigning. He loved being a Policeman, but he said, my dad has made me “an offer I can’t refuse”. His dad said that if he would leave the Police force, he would make him manager of his own new store. He told me he couldn’t refuse that opportunity, so he was leaving the Police Force to take up his dad’s offer.
One of the nicest young men I had the honour of serving with was Brett Handran. He and I were together in the Juvenile Aid Bureau (JAB), in the City Office, and partnered on many shifts and did good work together. I met his father, Jim, who drove me and Brett home one wet night so I didn’t have to ride my motorcycle. Brett and Jim were on a first name basis, which was natural to them. Jim was Principal to one of the largest State High Schools in Queensland. Brett told me that his dad was terrified of losing him, and asked him many time to go teaching, but Brett explained to me that it seemed to easy a road to take, because his dad knew ‘everyone’ in the Education Department, and so did Brett. So Brett chose what he considered a greater challenge, the Police Force, where he had no dad to open all the doors for him.
I moved to another JAB office in the suburbs. I was working very hard, completed in eight and a half months the three years of work required to attain my detective’s designation, and began to present PTSD symptoms and required months of sick leave. On 29 June 1989 while I was on sick leave, I watched from where I lived, a TV News helicopter hovering for a few hours. That night as I sat with my wife and daughter, TV News reported the ambush and fatal shooting of Brett. I sobbed on my wife’s shoulder, saying I had to go back; she begged me not to. Brett was honored with a State Funeral. The Police Department wanted me to stay on, saying my PTSD was the result of work that was “too much too soon”, but I took a medical retirement. It changes things for you and your family when you lose a friend and colleague who pays the ultimate price for doing the same work you are doing.
The Queensland Police Force has a tradition of honoring and remembering fallen Police Officers by naming their vessels after them, and the "Police Vessel Brett T Handran" is the largest in the Queensland Water Police Vessel fleet. R.I.P., my friend Brett T Handran; I miss you.
Before the murder of Brett, I was working too hard and struggling with a blood pressure of 240/150, and my GP give me 12 months to live. I kept going longer by using alcohol for medicinal purposes, swilling down three triple scotches before each shift. Obviously this had to end or I would.
Dreams and Miracles…
It shouldn’t happen to a Cop, because Cops are supposed to be level headed, realistic, and trained to deliver results even when the going gets tough. Dreams and miracles were not included in the training at the Police Academy. But while I was at the Woodridge Police Station I had a dream. I was with my police partner in a lounge room of a house talking with a young woman. A young man left the room quickly. Moments later the young man returned to the room and shot myself and my partner and one of us died. The dream was in colour and as clear as film on a big screen, and as I watch instructions were spoken, that when I see this occur, follow that man. It all seemed rather strange and I didn’t know what to make of it, but I couldn’t forget it, and about three months later, it was like the “film” I had seen in my dream, began to play for real. I did what the voice had told me in the dream, followed the man, and shut his plan down.
The Writing on the Wall…
While I was in Winton, West Queensland, an Aboriginal offender jumped bail, left town, and I had no information at all on where to find him. After the ambush dream came true, I wondered if I could pray and ask God where this guy was. So I seriously prayed and I prayed. After a few months, on the Police Station wall above my desk, there appeared what looked like a neon sign with a blue border and like light globes about the outside of it. In the middle was the name of a town, a town with only one Police Station, and a voice told me to call the Police Station. I didn’t call, because I didn’t believe it. But about two weeks later my curiosity go the better of me and I called. I was shocked when I asked if the name of the wanted man meant anything to the Policeman who answered the phone. He told me that he had been in the cells about two weeks before, but he didn’t know where he was now. And the Police Officer then asked me the million dollar question, “How did you know?” How indeed, and when I said it was a gut feeling, he said he wished he got gut feelings like that. I guess I could have told him the truth, but I didn’t want him to think I was insane.
I was shocked. What was God doing to me and why? At the time I was a member of the exclusive church of Christ (if you are not going to it you are not going to heaven), and they didn’t believe God did anything miraculous anymore, so God was shaking the very trust I had in the supposedly one true and perfect church, and showing what it believed and taught was not true. I didn’t like what was going on, but it was God, so I couldn’t do anything about it but go along with it. I shared with a few people what God was doing, but they couldn’t believe it. A few million people worldwide are members of that church, and I wasn’t a big influential name, so why was God doing this to me?
After about six or more weeks later of praying and asking God to tell me where this guy was at least a dozen or more times each day, the same sign appeared on the wall, but this time it showed the name of a small one Police Station town about 500 miles from the first. A voice told me to phone now, but again I hesitated and found it hard to believe when I thought about. A few moments later the voice sounded like it was shouting only a few inches from my ear, “PHONE NOW!” I scared me so much I was shaking as I grabbed the departmental phone book and phoned the named Police Station. The Policeman answered and I told him the name of the man I was looking for and asked him if the name meant anything to him. He said yes he is in the cells. He asked me how I knew and I did the same lame “gut feeling” idea, and he expressed the same wish that he could have the same gut feelings I was getting. I explained the warrant for failing to appear and arranged for a half way meet between his Police Station in the gulf country and Winton Police Station. At the Winton Police Station, being small, I was the Watch House Keeper and Police Prosecutor, besides performing General Duties around the town. When I brought the man from the Watch House to the Winton Magistrates Court, he asked me how I knew where he was, and I told him that I saw him when he was sitting in the cell, which was true, I did. He looked scared. I was scared too.
The Prayer…
If you're interested, the short prayer I was praying about 12 to 20 times each day, was something like this:
God, I don’t know if you still do this sort of thing – my church doesn’t think you do – but in case you do, I am in the justice business and you like justice, and I need your help to deliver justice. I cannot find this guy, and you know where he is. If my church is right and you don’t do this sort of thing any more, that’s okay I won’t hold it against you, but if you do and you will help me, I will greatly appreciate it.
Of course, the second time I began praying for God's help, I knew God did still do things like finding offenders so I didn't have to ask about that, instead, I apologized to God for not phoning and felt really bad for wasting his time, promised to phone immediately if he would do it again, and went back to praying 12 to 20 times a day.
I Became Violent...
As I look back on my time policing, I am ashamed to say it, but I became violent, and I liked it. I began very shy. I was terrified the first time I arrested anyone. Arresting someone is a very serious thing to do. I lived in a democracy, a land of freedom, but arresting someone took away their freedoms. It was also very serious legally for me, because I was then totally responsible for the safety of the person I arrested. Besides this, was the fact that legally, a person was not arrested by you if they were struggling against you and trying to escape, but were just in a state or resisting the arrest which was still underway. It was usually in the process of people resisting arrest that I was inclined to become angry and violent.
Awaiting My Opportunity To Kill Them...
During my time policing, on a few occasions I had given offenders more latitude than the law gives to avoid shooting anyone, but towards the end of my policing, I had changed on the inside and there was very angry rage within me, and I had decided that the next offender who gave me the legal right to shoot them, I wouldn't hesitate, I wouldn't give them a moment's chance, but I would instantly shoot them and kill them; I was hungrily awaiting my opportunity. I expect that this will probably sound terribly wicked and evil to people, and admitting this and sharing it is difficult, but it is the truth, and I know I have no excuse and I feel bad looking back on it, but it is what policing did to me.
I hated batons, because I hit myself twice on the head just lightly, and it hurt so much that I thought it was much too cruel to ever do to anyone, unless fighting for ones own life. Nevertheless, I usually carried a baton in the hidden baton sleeve down the right side of my police trousers, the opening of which was near the long-trousers/shorts pocket. I did use my baton twice when I was working alone. Both times I was working alone and both times the offenders were under arrest and refusing to climb into the back door of an arrest vehicle. I struck both offenders across the buttocks, which caused both to cooperate; I didn't have to strike them hard.
Strangle holds were valuable for quickly rendering a resisting offender unconscious, and I developed a method of cuffing them while unconscious, so they would awaken to find themselves cuffed behind the back. Strangle holds should not be mistaken for choke holds, which I never used, because they are dangerous as they can flatten your windpipe and kill. The strangle hold momentarily restricts and slows the blood flow to the brain causing rapid unconsciousness, and upon its release, a rapid return to consciousness; it is safe, harmless, and very effective at helping get the job done.
My handcuffs had a two step lock. The first turn locked the handcuffs from opening, and the second turn stopped the handcuffs from opening and from closing any tighter. I always double locked handcuffs, to prevent handcuffs from tightening and injuring the wrists of offenders. For my protection and for the protection of others, I always cuffed behind the back. I also worked out a way to cuff around the back and still use the seat belt for the offender's protection.
My favorite handgun was a Smith and Wesson 36 .38 revolver with a three inch barrel. It was small, light, easy to conceal, easy to run with, with practice it was accurate, and was no jamming. With the hammer drawn back and the trigger on single action, there was light weight required on the trigger to fire a shot. I also used a Ruger .357 Magnum stainless steel revolver, but I didn't find the size and weight easy to live with. I shot with either hand, accurately. Sadly, I carried a gun not just due to the risk imposed by criminals, but also by some Police!
The Gunner from Vietnam...
I went out one morning in Winton and I saw sheep on the edge of town being mauled by two pet dogs, which I followed to their home. The owner came out, I described to him what I saw. He said dogs that attack sheep have to be killed. I put his dogs into the back of the Police car and drove away. I collected a Sergeant of Police who was filling in for the Officer in Charge while he was away. I explained to him the situation and we drove the dogs to the rubbish tip that had a fire always burning to destroy meat matter. I intended to take the dogs to the edge of the fire pit before shooting and killing them, but they both broke away from me at speed. As the dogs were about 80 to 100 yards away, the Sergeant of Police said, well that's the end of that. I said, no its okay. Pulled my handgun, drew the hammer back for single actions, slowed my breathing, relaxed, aimed for the dog in the lead, shot him in the heart, killing him instantly. The other dog quickened his pace, I took the same approach, fired once for the heart, he leapt in the air, and I fired for his liver, killing him instantly. I was using hand loaded over-loads, which were a lot more than standard factory or departmental rounds, and not quite legal in every Police sense. The Sergeant of Police was the Firearms Training Officer for the Winton Police District. He said he was a gunner in the Vietnam War and he couldn't believe what he just saw. He added, I always said I would go up against any man, but I won't go up against you. My shooting accuracy was always was always a bit different -- I knew where my bullets went -- I think God gave me something; and, nursing provided me a better than average knowledge of where vital organs were. At the Police Range in Brisbane they downgraded my scores, saying if I ever shot and killed anyone, a Court would call my true scores and say I could shoot someone anywhere and avoid killing, but chose to deliberately shoot and kill them.
The Sergeant of Police was a really nice guy and while he was in Winton we traveled out to a country pub in the middle of nowhere to provide the entertainment; he brought his family, I brought mine, he was on guitar and vocals, I was on drums, and our payment was accommodation and food and drinks for us and our families for the weekend; the hotel was run by an old woman and the barmaids were her granddaughters -- they were all ladies.
I Can Smell Criminals...
I remember driving down a road in Winton and seeing a man sitting at the top of his stairs. I pulled over, got out the Police Car, walked to his front gate, called him down to me, and when he reached the front gate saying to him, "You're under arrest." I took him to the Winton Police Watch-house. On the way he said he didn't think he could be arrested like that, and I told him I could arrest him for anything I liked. The real problem was, I didn't know what he had done, so I had nothing to arrest him for. I arrested him on a Friday. I placed him in the padded call because it was summer and very hot. I gave him one slice of dry toast and one glass of water each day. On the Friday night the Sergeant of Police, the Officer In Charge of the Winton Police Station, phoned me and said I had a man in the cells, to which I agreed. He then asked me what he was in for, and I told him that he didn't want to know about him. And he said, I don't want to know about him. I said no, you don't want to know about him (sounds like a line or two out of a Star Wars movie, but it's true). Our conversation ended with him agreeing that he didn't want to know about him.
On Monday morning before Court was in Session, I went to his cell, roughly escorted him down to the Police Office, told him I knew all about him and what he had done (which I didn't), and told him I needed to hear it from him, and I picked up a pad of paper and pen and said, "Now give this pen something to write!" He was an escapee from the Emu Park Prison in Victoria, which was two States away. So extradition arrangements were made for a Victorian Police Detective escort to ensure he arrived safely 'home'. I knew he had done something, I just needed to break him, but of course what I did was illegal and for that I feel genuinely guilty and bad, but to catch criminals, sometimes I did things that were criminal.
Woodridge Neighbor Dispute and the little dog
The Winton Outback Festival...
The Messenger of Death...
Questioning Suspects...
Sadly, I often strayed from the law and into unlawful methods when it came to getting the truth from offenders I questioned. I was not perfect and often asked God to forgive me. Myself and partner working plain clothes were handed two break and enter offender from uniform officers. The uniform officers already had found them committing the offence, and all we had to do was question them, prepare the case, and prosecute it through the Court. First, we had to establish the true and correct names and addresses for these guys, because they would be released on their on their own recognizance to appear in Court, but if they gave false names and addresses, we would never see them again. The female officer and I chose one offender each. I knew my offender gave me a false name and address, same as the female officer's offender. After the third time the back of my offender's head hit the concrete wall of the interview room, he told me his correct name and address, and he appeared in court and pleaded guilty and was convicted and justice was served. The female officer accepted the false name and address of her offender and he failed to appear in Court and was never heard of or seen again. The manner in which I gained the correct name and address of my offender was described by my partner this way: "I've never seen a more disgusting display of unnecessary violence in my life." Clearly, my way of policing was not approved by everyone, and I didn't like it either, but I didn't know a better way to make the system work and get justice for victims, clean up crime, and giving deterrents to criminals through having them convicted. Before I started to get serious, I did tell him that once he told me the truth and what I wanted to know, that I would be a gentleman again and everything would be pleasant, and I was true to my word and treated him nicely during the interview, charging, and watch-house process. I know what I did sounds bad, and what I did is an unlawful common assault, but I do not believe letting criminals walk free is good for society. And I can say this, that never did I use any force when I was Policing, that permanently injured or maimed anyone.
There were also unintended comical times during questioning -- like the occasion I had eaten a combination of foods that didn't agree with me. The other officer was performing the interviewing of the offender and I was seated quietly in the small interview room, witnessing. I felt a rising pressure of flatulence coming on and I was trying not to explode. I managed to be completely silent, discrete, and dignified, but the most horrific smell filled the interview room, and a moment later my partner jumped to his feet, slammed his pen down on the table, and with a disgusted look on his face he shouted, "Dellit, that's not even human", and stormed out of the interview room, returning when the air had cleared. Meanwhile, I waited in the completely uncomfortable silence from both me and the offender. And yes, upon the return of the interviewing officer, the offender confessed to everything.
Interviewing and Preparing Court Cases...
Sadly, I often erred and fell below the strict legal standards that required perfection. I was not perfect and often asked God to forgive me. Laws and points-to-prove were not always exactly right at the time, and "correction and improvement" afterwards. What may have been said or done may have been difficult to remember exactly. I did my best, but when it came to writing up my notes, what is written up may not be quite the way it happened exactly. The offence had been committed, but if I needed to, I would "help" my evidence support the charges so the offender could not get out of it if it went to Court. I do not remember a single occasion being sworn into the witness box "To tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God", and not feeling guilty and apologizing and asking God to understand and forgive me because I was faulty, I couldn't do better, I couldn't be perfect as the law required.
Kindness & Protection For Victims of Crime...
A frightened old lady was being stalked by a man. She had no family to help her, and she lived alone in an old house on a large corner block beside a main road -- all of which made it difficult for locals to notice or hear anything. This man was arriving at her home and thumping on her doors and demanding that she let him in or he would kick the down down. The harmless and defenseless old lady, invited my partner and me around so she could tell us what was happening to her. While we were with her she made a cup of tea and we sat at her kitchen table sipping her tea and listening to her tale. The offender was belligerent, confident, as large as life, and he was actually there outside the property, standing beside the front gate, and gave us a grin of "you can't touch me, I know the law", as we walked in. Sadly, matters of this kind often begin this way, but end in forced entry and vicious assaults and/or rape.
I took a vow that I swore to God -- all Queensland Police Force Officers do -- to serve without favor or affection, but when needed by victims, I broke my vow and served with both favor and affection, apologizing to God and asking his forgiveness. In the case of the old lady, while the other officer remained with the old lady in her kitchen, a paid a visit to her "friend" at her front gate. I told him that I was placing the woman under my personal protection and every time I found him back anywhere near her property, I would arrest him and put him behind bars. He told me I could't do that, and I told him to just watch me. I went back inside and shared a nice time with my partner and the old lady, reassuring her that we would take care of her, keep an eye on her, and drop back to check on her, which we did. I must have convinced the man troubling her because he never came back to trouble her again and she was never troubled by anyone else. It always felt good to stand with the good and protect them from the bad, even if I had to go beyond the law to do it.
I did the same thing to a young man in the city who had raped a pretty young girl and he caused her fear to have sex with her any time he pleased; she was too scared and vulnerable to witness against him; she had no support of family. At the time I was on the beat in the city, heard what happened, found the young man. Told him I didn't like what he had done and every time I saw him I would arrest him. He had a defiant look on his face as he asked what I would arrest him for. The look on his face changed when I said I would make it up at the time. He believed me, because a couple of days afterwards two came up to me laughing about a young guy who ran into them, literally, and and pointed at in the distance and kept running. They found it funny he was so terrified. It's a good feeling deep down when you can terrify bad people so good people don't have to be terrified.
I remember a very extreme and rare case of a woman needing protection. She and her husband had three teenage girls. The husband/dad would regularly rape her in front of the girls, but there were also a number of other men who lived in the street who also regularly raped her in front of the girls. Due to the extremely violent situation, we arrived in three Police vehicles ensuring we had the man power to ensure her protection and safe extraction. We arrived when the woman was home alone; her husband at the hotel drinking. She said her husband would find out we were there, because there was always at least one of the other men watching. We encouraged her to come with us and we would take her to safety, but she didn't think anywhere would be safe for her and the girls, and she was scared that if she did anything it would make it worse and she would be killed. Out of about 1,000 domestic situations I encountered, this was the saddest and most extreme, and she was most like right -- there was nothing in place to protect anyone for years from such a horrible situation. I felt like taking them under my wing and giving them a better life, but I already had my own to look after.
While Experiencing Scene of Crime Work, I came across another unusually sad case of domestic violence. The wife was being raped by her husband in front of their children, and while reporting the violence, she added as if it were almost an afterthought, that she also didn't like her husband forcing her to submit to sex with their German Shepherd, again in front of their children; the husband was imprisoned.
Domestic Violence...
As already mentioned, there are serious cases of domestic violence where females are the victims, but contrary to what is commonly believed, after attending about 1,000 incidents of domestic violence, I found that women were usually as much or more to blame than men, and if everyone would learn to never drink alcohol if it makes them aggressive, and to shut their mouths, there would be little trouble at home for Police to deal with. Obviously, on average, women are far more vulnerable in a physical conflict against men, because they are usually no match for a man and mostly come off second best. Also, women can be the champions when it comes to playing the victim and screaming blue murder and some women love to shove, slap, and punch men. Sometimes I had women beat into their husbands the moment I arrived, because then they presumably felt brave and protected to be violent against their husband without consequences. I often reminded women, that whoever was making the most noise would be arrested first, which usually quietened a lot of bad and aggravating behavior. Drunken violence in the home brings unhappiness to marriages and families, leaving every impacted individual the poorer for it. In the vast majority of cases, if those involved in domestic violence stop drinking alcohol and never speak insulting words and leave the home the moment it appears people are becoming angry, there will be very little domestic violence. Usually, both men and women who do the wrong thing and engage in domestic violence, also have the choice to do the right thing and avoid domestic violence. When attempting the peaceful resolution of a domestic violence or potential domestic violence situation, it is essential to be unbiased, so you do not risk adding to what has already aggravated the situation. You must quickly assess the behavior of each individual, give advice, and leave no one feeling unfairly dealt with, because otherwise you could cause greater violence to flare up after you leave. If everyone can be calm and friendly toward each other before you leave, you have done something good for everyone involved. If only everyone could also be instantly sober before you leave, that would help greatly!
The Three Good Prostitutes...
Close into Brisbane city I came across three prostitutes with big hearts. Each had taken in about a dozen pretty young vulnerable girls who had no family support or protection, and these prostitutes were providing them safety, accommodation, and food. What they were doing attracted police attention because local residence noticed the number of girls. I checked on the girls to make sure they were okay, and I chatted with the prostitutes to establish that it was above board. One of them in particular stood out because of her sincere concern for the well being of the girls. I noticed she was different, but she also said I was different to other cops. She told me about her fears for the children and what they were trying to do for them, fear of Police and organized crime. We exchanged contact details so she could phone me if she needed my help. For a variety of reasons, kids can find themselves with no family or no family they can stay with, and there are not many options provided by government services that appeal. These three women were helping to fill in the gaps and spaces in society that vulnerable people often fall through, gaps and spaces they may never ever be able to completely return from. God bless them all.
Armies...
In Woodridge, I knew of three houses that contained about 12 to 15 teenage boys. We called them "armies" because they could potentially bring big trouble to society, but they were not street fighting gangs and nor were they criminal gangs. They were young guys with nowhere else to stay, no family to live with, and no options and choices left. Each of these three homes had no connection to the others, had one man, usually the father of one or more of the boys, and often the man was a tradesman making good money so he could feed and secure them all. There were no women or girls at any of these three homes. I had occasion to visit them. The "dads" were normal dads and the collection of boys came about from circumstances where they came home with one of their sons, and they had nowhere else to stay. It's sad, but God bless these men for helping these boys through a difficult time in their lives, and keeping them from crime. Often the house rules set by the "dads" were super simple and strictly applied: no fighting and no crime. Keep the rules and you can stay, you can be safe, and you can eat as much as you like.
Police Wives' Destroyed...
Sadly, with the amount of corruption in the 1980's in the Queensland Police Force, came a lot of fear on the part of the main beneficiaries of the corruption. If those who had the most to lose felt threatened by you, your wife may find herself approached by Police while shopping. An un-purchased item would be found in her bag -- slipped into her bag by Police -- that belonged to a store she had previous been shopping in and had since left. She would be questioned concerning the shop theft, charged, placed before the Court, prosecuted and convicted. The Police would also ensure press coverage so it would be well publicized. Her husband and his wife would lose credibility, and any matter the Police Officer husband could claim against Police would seem like a malicious smear and not genuine. These wives may have their own careers impacted by now being "criminals", and their friends would never believe it was the Police and that their friend was innocent. It often did so much harm to Police families that marriages and homes fell apart. I still recall photos of shattered, embarrassed wives spread across the front page of News Papers as they left Court as a convicted criminal, and no matter whatever way they may try to explain their innocence and Police corruption to their friends, there would always be some remaining doubt left in their friends, because the truth seemed a stretch from reality. I recall a Police Sergeant at the Woodridge Police Station who was a friend of the Police Commissioner and knew about all the corruption but was not involved, telling me that one day he walking into the Commissioners Office, pulled his hand gun out and slammed it down on his desk in front of him and said that he -- the Commissioner -- had nothing to fear and promised that he -- the Police Sergeant -- would never divulge anything he knew and never give evidence against him, but if his wife was ever arrested for shoplifting, that the next time he would see the revolver would be when it blows his f*&^ing brains out. He told me the Police Commissioner nodded silently that he understood; the Police Sergeant's wife was not arrested. It was a stressful time for all Police Officers who knew about the corruption, particular those who knew and were married like I was. After the Police Commissioners conviction, all Police wives convicted of shop stealing, should have been publicly declared innocent by the Queensland Government -- with as much front page publicity that their convictions received -- to try to right the wrong, to attempt to officially remove their disgrace, but to my knowledge the need for justice for these innocent women was never addressed.
Hatred For Taxi Drivers...
Racist Cops...
There were great cops, but some hated Aboriginals and Asians.
Drugs & Corruption & Money...
Myself and partner were driving on dirt tracks through bushland out the back of Woodridge. We were looking out for suspicious characters. There was drug dealing going on the area. Suddenly there was a VW Beetle and moment it saw us a chase was on as they took off and something was thrown from their window. They stopped. We searched them and the vehicle and found drugs. Took them back to the Woodridge Police Station. I was my drug arrest. Curiously, there was a very kind and helpful officer at the Station who the moment he heard I had drug offenders, wanted to help. In fact he wanted to help so badly that he wanted to perform the interrogation, arrest, charge, and guaranteed my name and the name of my partner would be on the brief of evidence as arresting officers. I thought, why not. The two friendly officers took our two suspects into the interview room and there was a lot of noise of slamming and crashing and banging, but then in stead of the expected confessions, arrests, charges, the two kind and friendly officers explained they had the cooperation of the drug dealers who were providing names and details of their drug clients, and this bought them their freedom.
Around Woodridge he carried a fancier than usual wooden batten which had rounded bulbs on it. He would talk to groups of young guys and ask them which bulge on his batten they wanted over their head, and give them the choice of 'this one or this one' as he pointed to them. He was becoming a little too much.
A few years later this friendly and helpful officer was stationed at a key tourist location on the Great Barrier Reef, liked to unofficially borrow fully automatic police department firearms and have some fun in the bush with them. The problem for him with this was that he attracted attention with the machine gun fire, while at the same time doing criminal acts. He was known to drug dealers in the area by the nickname 'god', because no drugs moved or were bought or sold without his permission and knowledge, and without corrupt payments to him. His machine gun fun got him noticed and got him caught and he spent about seven years behind bars. A very foolish man who threw away his career for crime only to learn the lesson personally that if you do the crime you do the time. He was quite a nice guy, but he was over confident, thought he was smarter than he was, while being sillier than he thought he was, and power can go to your head and you can get proud and arrogant and the next thing you may start thinking is that you can do anything and get away with it ... there was a lot of that going on in the State at the time, all the way up to the Commissioner.
Child Protection...
I came across many children abused, neglected, who simply needed love but were not going to get it. Young children with battered and bruised faces who clung too scared to let go of abusive parents, terrified of what the future held for them; so often a love/hate relationship, loving them because they were parents, hating the ill-treatment, the pain, and the injuries they suffered.
Besides serving with the Juvenile Aid Bureau which brought me into contact with many children who needed help, love, and protection, the needs of neglected and ill treated children were everywhere and were a part of General Duties in Uniform. I met Amanda Nixon from the Brisbane office of Children's Services while I was stationed in Winton. She asked me to be the Children's Services representative for Winton, and said that any decision I made concerning children, she would back, and in combination together, the Court would back, and I could simply inform her of every decision, after the event. Residence in Winton would "quietly" phone and tell me of children who needed protection, contacting in a timely manner so I could act immediately and catch the parent in the act of offending. I broke into the back of a house to find a young baby alone and crawling about amongst dog poop, and as I walked out with the child in my arms I passed the mother returning from the hotel, telling her, "You've lost your baby". It was a busy time, but deeply satisfying protecting the defenseless who were too young to even speak.
In the JAB in Brisbane city office I recall finding a young boy who his mother said in his face, "What have you brought him here for. I don't want him." He was devastated and silently sagged; it was so sad. I had occasion to reunite many child-runaways from unhappy homes, trying to help parents and children to cope, to understand, to do better, and to love. Missing Persons was next door to city JAB and I was asked to relieve there for three weeks and after the three weeks I was asked to remain with them, which I declined. While there a highly paid executive when missing. He went over the Gap in Sydney. I visited his wife and two little children. It was so sad. So many people needed so much help to cope with life, and wrecked lives needed so much love; the young widow's dad was there when I arrived and said he didn't know Police did this sort of thing. I felt sad and I felt guilty, because I wished I had been quicker. Many children would runaway from home and be so vulnerable while they were missing. I remember a very sad teenage girl who I found hiding in bushland out the back of a sporting field and she had adopted a stray dog in her travels; she went home to parents with more loving, kindly, and understanding hearts, along with her new dog. More love is needed for the healing of more hearts and sometimes I felt so inadequate because it seemed like the whole world needed adopting.
The Moonlight State...
I don't know why, but Police told me things; they seemed to trust me with secrets, maybe because I was a bit older than others starting out, but probably it was God orchestrating things far more than I was aware of at the time. Like the day I was driving down the highway with a Sergeant of Police from the Woodridge Police Station when he stated to talk. The first thing he did was stitch off the Police radio, telling me to never trust the Police radios. He went on to tell me things about the State, the Police Force, Politics, and let me know what was going on and high it went. He was a personal friend of Police Commissioner Terry Lewis. I was didn't know personally, but Police told me the name of an Italian crime family in Brisbane who were running the unlawful gaming and prostitution clubs in Brisbane and I knew they were protected. Police could go to these clubs, wear another jacket, present their badge, and everything was free. I considered going to a Judge or to the Press concerning the corruption, but if I did, to stay alive, I would have to change my identity and spend the rest of my life living under protection, and I didn't know of a marriage or family that stayed together living that type of life. I had a good marriage, a happy family, and wanted to keep it, and besides, I didn't know who I could trust, and when you don't know who to trust, it is safer to not trust anyone. But the corruption was so obvious and so wide spread that it couldn't go on forever, and on 11 May 1987, The Moonlight State (https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3370228/) aired on the Four Corners Television Program, blowing wide open Queensland Police corruption, and leading to the judicial Fitzgerald Inquiry investigation into Queensland Police corruption. There were more than 100 convictions including Police Commissioner Terry Lewis who served prison time. It also brought down the Queensland State Government. One day I was asked about it at church, and I said that I deserved the same -- not that I was corrupt -- but I was doing things as a Police Officer that were unlawful, and I was not willing to make myself look perfect and innocent, when I was not. The Queensland Police Force was like a machine, like an assembly line, and the further you went along that assembly line, the more you were liable to compromise, and little by little, excuse more and more compromise, until there was less and less difference between you and your offenders. The whole system has to change, and sure, it is easy to see what has to change and how and why, but I doubt if it will ever change, because no one is likely to like that either. I am human, the Police Force was human, and the Courts and the Law are human, and that means it is not perfect because we humans are not perfect -- none of us; the perfect Policeman was probably never a Policeman, or never really did much in the way of Policing. Nevertheless, I am very sorry and regret everything that I did that I should not have done, and I am very sorry and regret everything I didn't do that I should have done, but most of the time I was doing my best considering who I am as a person, and I couldn't do much better.
My Wife's Experiences:
I remember arriving home from a shift at about 1:30 am and going to the bathroom where I washed the blood out of my handcuffs. As I was doing so, my wife woke and came into the bathroom and saw all the blood in the bathroom basin and said, "Who did you bash this time?" I was taken aback more than a little, because I was not in the bashing business, but somehow she got that idea; perhaps from movies. What had happened was a domestic situation where an irate husband had punched and broken the front window of his own home and cut himself, after his wife was too frightened to let him into the house. He wasn't very happy when my partner and I arrested him to let him cool off for the night; there was no bashing, there never was any bashing of anyone by me.
One night I was very late home because I tried to save a man from gassing himself in his car. The man died, I was gassed trying to rescue him, and the ambulance summoned for him, took me to hospital. I was hours later than expected and most of the night was over when I got home. I found my wife sleeping blissfully, and when she heard about my night, she was concerned because she hadn't known; I asked Police not to contact her so she would not get a phone call from Police which would immediately make her fear the worst.
There was a time when two dogs were fighting out the back of where we lived. I was very annoyed because there were so many stray dogs, and I got my handgun and said I was going to shoot both of them, but when I went to rush out the back door my wife grabbed hold of me and grabbed hold of my handgun pleading with me not to. I cooled off and the dogs sorted out their troubles without any help from me.
My Child's Experiences:
When your dad is a policeman it can impact your child more than you know. I remember one night I was late home and my wife was tucking our daughter into bed. That evening I was expected to be home before she went to bed, and when her mum let her know I would be coming home soon, she hung her head sadly and said, "No, my daddy isn't ever coming home. A bad man has killed him." As parents we were stunned at her fearing and expecting such things would happen and didn't know what could have led to her saying that, and were careful to not talk about things that may make her worry. Years later when I lost my friend, it was obvious that not everyone gets home.