by Paul Millen
The office scattered into action. I grabbed my folder and went straight to my van to make my way to the scene. The traffic was awful. The scene was only a mile or so away but it seemed to take me ages to get through the traffic which clogged up all the side roads.
When I got to the scene, the road was properly cordoned off. Some further details were available. ‘It was alleged’ (a good old police phrase) that the man under arrest had a severe mental disorder. His name was Alan Wood. His wife (Alice) had called their doctor to visit him at their home. It appeared that for some reason the suspect had then attacked his wife and the doctor with a hammer. Both had received serious hammer wounds to the head. The suspect’s wife was dead at the scene. The doctor, although seriously injured, was still alive.
Dr Goss was a well-known medical practitioner in the area. She had run her surgery, serving the people of Forest Gate and Stratford for over twenty years. She was well respected.
The man had been arrested but, given his condition, he was on his way to Whipps Cross Hospital. So too was the injured doctor, but at this stage it was doubtful that she would live.
The scene was preserved, the initial medical response complete and no one else needed to go into the scene at that time. Following a review of what we knew with the DI, I suggested that an immediate priority was to deal with the female victim and the suspect at the hospital. This was based on the fact that the scene could wait (nothing was going to change immediately) but the events unfolding at the hospital could not. I summoned help to attend the scene and then made my way to Whipps Cross as soon as I could. Ideally, I would need a colleague so that one of us could deal with the female victim and one with the suspect. The reason for this is to ensure that there is no contamination between areas which may need examination and comparison later. I did not have that time or luxury. I decided to review that when I got there and see if I could get someone to take steps to advise others so that any evidence was properly preserved for examination later.
When I arrived at the Accident and Emergency department at Whipps Cross the atmosphere was highly charged and sombre. The hospital’s Emergency unit covered a large part of northeast London and was always busy. Now it was full of police as well as medical staff.
Dr Goss was well known to the staff at Whipps Cross, after all she was a doctor, one of their own. I identified myself to the medical staff. Both Dr Goss and Alan Wood were in separate cubicles and were being dealt with by different medical staff. This was an important first step to ensure there was no contamination. However, if the paramedics who attended had dealt with both of them at the scene and then transported both in the same ambulance to the hospital, there would be some contamination. I had yet to find that out. Even if they had, we would have to consider what it meant in the light of what we could or needed to prove. There was a lot of action going on. There was serious concern for the condition of Dr Goss. The looks on the faces of the medical staff said it all. They too were in shock. I didn’t want to interfere in any aspect of their work or distract them in any way, but I was going to be ready to pick up the pieces as soon as the time was appropriate. Whatever forensic issues I had, I would have to wait for the medical team to finish their work and stabilise their patients. I asked to see the medical staff dealing with Dr Goss and I was directed to her cubicle. I decided I would just stand at the entrance to the cubicle so as not to intrude and also to limit any risk of contamination as I still had to deal with Alan Wood. Drawing back the curtain, I found the cubicle full of medical staff standing around Dr Goss’s motionless body. All the attending medical staff were silent and there was little activity. Looking at Dr Goss I immediately realised why. She had a massive head injury, her brain was exposed and there was nothing the medical staff could do. She was alive, but it was only a matter of time, very little time before she died. There was a look of helplessness on the faces of the nurses. Their professional armour breached by the emotion of the situation.
I advised the doctor dealing with Dr Goss that we would need to take some steps to preserve the forensic evidence once she had died, but then I left quietly, respecting the tragedy of the situation that was in its final moments.
As I made my way to the cubicle where Alan Wood was, the doors to the unit flew open and in marched a tall man in his thirties. Scurrying, he looked around frantically. There was fixed horrified gaze on his face. It was Dr Goss’s son, himself a doctor and he was about to hear the terrible news about his mother.
I continued to Alan Wood’s cubicle. As I opened the curtain I found him lying on a couch, with a nurse attending to him. There were three uniformed police officers with him. He was, after all, under arrest. He was on the edge of unconsciousness. Either through his apparent mental condition, drink or drugs, or possibly all three, he was an extremely troubled man. Occasionally, the officers would have to hold him as he roused. His condition was not life-threatening, but he needed care.
Information from the scene and what we were observing at the hospital indicated that, either before the attack or immediately after, Alan Wood had consumed the contents of a tablet bottle. It was not known exactly how many tablets he had taken as the bottle was now empty. His lack of consciousness indicated to the medical staff that he was under the influence of some drugs and they would have to take action.
One of the uniformed police officers there was a friend, John Cronin. I had known John before he joined the police. He was a friend of my young sister-in-law. John was a big jovial man, always with a smile on his face.
I wanted to recover Alan Wood’s clothing as soon as practical. There was also the sticky subject of consent. He was under arrest, but he was also unconscious. The information we had about the whole event was hearsay. That is, it was yet to be determined. As far as I was concerned, I wanted to help establish the truth. For all I knew, the story on which we were basing our actions could be completely wrong. Alan too may have been a victim of an as yet unknown suspect. Taking samples without consent could be seen as contrary to the Police and Criminal Evidence Act. Although not law at that time, it was due to be so within a few months. We were undertaking to work within its guidelines as, for the first time, it offered protection for the rights of detained persons and the police who dealt with them correctly.
Although Alan Wood could not consent due to his condition, recovering evidence could help establish what happened, what was the truth. It could prove or disprove any allegations. Failure to take action to recover this evidence would make it harder to do so. We might not be allowed to use such samples if consent were not subsequently given by Alan Wood or his legal representative to use them. We also had to be careful that we were not accused of assault by taking the samples without his consent. I explained the situation to the senior nurse and to John and his colleagues. I suggested that we (the police) would advise and help recover the clothing and other samples, some which we would need and some medical staff would need and some we would both need. In order to allow any legal argument regarding the right of the police to take and retain these items, they would all be preserved but left in the secure possession of the hospital staff. This I confirmed with the medical staff and hospital administrator. It was a tightrope walk between the rights of the unconscious Alan Wood and the quest for evidence, evidence which I hoped would establish what had happened, and establish the truth about the events and even the medical condition of Wood at the time of the attack.
At the very least, I would be seeking to retain Wood’s clothing, any blood stains on him (he had no wounds himself) and samples of blood grouping, drugs and urine. Normally these samples would be taken by a forensic medical examiner, but the casualty officer was happy to assist. Any external swabs I could direct or take myself, mindful still that I had no consent, although I did obtain, by phone, the authority of a superintendent. This allowed me to take external (non-intimate) samples of a suspect in a serious arrestable offence, where evidence was likely to prove or disprove involvement. It gave me some protection, althou
gh that could be tested in court.
The medical staff indicated to me that they wanted to pump out Alan Wood’s stomach. This seemed like an opportunity to establish not only if he had taken any drugs but what they were and how much. I think when I indicated that I wanted a sample they thought that I wanted just a small pot. I had decided that I wanted the lot. This I found out was likely to be a couple of gallons as they would force water into his stomach through a tube in his mouth and then pump the contents out. I quickly obtained three large clean glass jars from my van. They were designed for debris from fire scenes but they would do for this purpose.
As we began, we got the sad but inevitable news that Dr Goss had died. It was a sobering moment. I ensured that her body would be preserved so that we could examine her and prepare for a post-mortem examination. The Home Office pathologist was going to be busy.
The dynamics of the room changed when the stomach pumping began. I realised that John and his two colleagues moved from around Wood’s head to his feet, whilst the nurse and I found ourselves at the business end of the procedure. I glanced at John and got a knowing smile. We got on with it. We filled nearly all three jars before the nurse was happy that there was nothing left in his stomach.
I recovered some blood-staining from Wood’s forearms as well as his clothing. The medical staff also took the blood samples for blood grouping and also one for drugs. I also managed to persuade the doctors to take a second blood sample for drugs an hour after the first. This, I hoped, would help determine the effect of the drugs on Wood’s action at the time of the attack. Had he taken the drugs before or after? I thought two samples with a known time in between might determine the length of time the drugs had been in his system, indicating whether the levels were increasing or decreasing in his blood. Further timed samples would be better still, but that would be asking a little too much. A urine sample was also needed but that would have to wait until Wood awoke or the medical staff decided to empty his bladder by other means if he remained unconscious. Two blood samples for drugs was one more than the toxicologist normally got.
As the events unfolded in the following days, the story was confirmed. There was no objection to the examination of all the items I had taken and so I submitted them to the forensic science laboratory.
Wood pleaded guilty to the manslaughter of his wife and their family doctor on the grounds of diminished responsibility. His plea was accepted. The toxicological examination of the blood and stomach contents helped his defence. He had been under the influence of his medication at the time of the attack and he had tried to kill himself after realising what he had done.
It was a tragic story for his family and the family of Dr Goss. Wood was committed to a secure hospital. Within two years he was seen in a main shopping area where someone recognised him. He had been released back into the community. There was a lot of strong opinion about it, and I too felt, at the very least, surprise. I reminded myself that, whatever the judgement of the court, his subsequent treatment and release was the job of others. Mine was to help establish the truth and I think I did that.
8. The Flying Squad
I used to watch the TV series of The Sweeney during my years at school and college. The stories, involving fast cars, hardened detectives and tough criminals within the underworld, were popular and entertaining but seemed a million miles away. I had no ambition to become a police officer and so it never occurred to me that one day I would be a part of the real thing.
The Flying Squad had been formed in the 1920s within the Metropolitan Police. It was an élite group of detectives who were given the job of investigating violent crime. The mobile and proactive nature of the squad with its wide geographical remit caused a Daily Mirror reporter to refer to it as a flying squad of detectives and so the name stuck.
In good old cockney rhyming slang it became known as the Sweeney, after Sweeney Todd, the fictitious demon barber of Fleet Street.
In the 1970s the Squad’s role was redefined to investigate the increases in armed robbery, kidnappings and kindred offences. It proactively targeted those gangs who committed armed robbery rather than waiting for them to commit the offences and catch them after. It became the Central Robbery Squad but this was not a name to match the romantic and macho Flying Squad which it soon re-adopted.
The Sweeney immortalised the Squad for a generation. DI Jack Regan and his sidekick Detective Sergeant Carter inspired young boys and coppers alike. They were earthy and tough with laddish lifestyles but they were also professional and honourable. And so it was in real life.
In the mid 1980s the Squad was C8 Branch with its main office at New Scotland Yard. Four branch offices in the north, south, east and west of London each contained about fifty officers. They were mainly detectives but there were also also surveillance officers and the famed Flying Squad drivers who were the cream of the Met’s Class 1 drivers. It was their job to get the detectives into the thick of the action as fast and as safely as possible, which they did regularly with heroic bravery and skill.
For over sixty years the Flying Squad had targeted London’s most dangerous and ruthless criminals, those who carry guns and commit violent armed robbery. The stakes were high with terms of imprisonment of fourteen years and upwards for those caught.
In reality it was called just ‘the Squad’. There was only one and everyone knew it. In the early 1980s the detectives and drivers were joined for the first time by civilian scenes of crime officers, of which I was to become one.
By 1982 two scenes of crime officers were attached to the Squad’s five offices covering the four corners and central area of London. Their success meant that by 1984 each of the four outer offices had their own with a manager based at the central office at the New Scotland Yard. I eagerly applied for the northeast London office post, but it was given to a SOCO who was a retired police officer many years my senior. He didn’t last too long in the post and I didn’t have to apply the second time. I was given the job. It would not be the last time I was second choice for a job, but that didn’t hold me back and it was to prove both enjoyable and successful, with a lot of hard work thrown in.
My appointment to the Squad was probably hastened by my performance in a case which occurred in my last year at City Road. The Squad descended on City Road Police Station with four prisoners in their custody. The men had been arrested for conspiracy to rob and I got actively involved with the examination of the suspects. This involved the taking of hair combing samples amongst other things. When it came to the trial at the Central Criminal Court in London, I was asked by the prosecution barrister to demonstrate how the sample was taken. As I stood in the witness box I showed them how I opened out a kit containing a sheet of white paper and a comb, the teeth of which were seeded with a strip of moistened lint. Showing how I would ask the subject to bend their head forward, I bent my own head forward and demonstrated the thorough combing action, allowing fibres to be caught in the comb or fall onto the sheet. Placing the comb in the paper, I folded the paper around it before placing it in a bag. Looking up I could see all the court, the judge, barristers, defendants, jurors and officials laughing, many with tears steaming down their faces. My bald head had been the focus of everyone’s amusement as I demonstrated how to take a hair combing. Wiping his eyes, the judge composed himself and apologised for himself and on behalf of the court. I replied that I quite understood, but offered that I ‘hadn’t resorted to wearing a wig yet’. The judge’s face changed abruptly and, lowering his head, he looked over the top of his spectacles and told me, ‘I’ll allow you to get away with that, Mr Millen.’ Everyone except the judge and barristers continued to laugh.
The greatest prize for the Squad was catching a team of robbers ‘on the pavement’, as they committed their offence literally outside a bank or similar premises. Months, sometime years of investigation, surveillance and planning would turn the robbers’ world upside down. The adrenalin rush felt by all those who witnessed such events would never be forgotten
. And they would be accompanied sometimes by the bravest and often seemingly reckless pieces of police action, when unarmed police officers would tackle and arrest armed criminals.
The Squad detectives all had experience on local police divisions and all had talent and ability. There was, however, a core of the finest, most talented and hard-working investigators I was ever to come across in one place. I was moving from a minor league to the top division and I knew I had to work hard and competently.
The élite and hard view which some people had of the Squad drew its problems. There would be allegations of corruption. The allegations are understandable. When police officers deal with hardened criminals, use informants and recover large quantities of cash the allegations will not be far away. History had shown that some detective succumbed to these temptations or abused their power and position. However, that is not an excuse to abandon the police response. It would take committed, honest and ruthless detectives to overcome even the hint of allegations and demonstrate to anyone who needed to know that the job was done right.
I quickly realised that my role as the only civilian scene of crime officer attached to the north-east London branch office of the Squad was to have many facets. Yes, I was to examine and investigate every armed robbery scene, getaway vehicle and prisoner I could get to. But there was more. I would have to use as a resource all the officers on the Squad as well as SOCOs based locally on division. As well as recovering evidence, I would have to encourage and ensure the preservation of evidence recovered by others. Giving advice and instruction was the best way to counter allegations of corruption or just plain poor practice and engineer it out. So items would be preserved, labelled and sealed and these facts documented at the very earliest opportunity. Through this we would not only preserve evidence but preserve the integrity of the investigators. Poor practice and the allegation of or opportunity for accidental contamination or deliberate planting would be removed. Sometimes it would be a matter of protecting officers from their own eagerness, such as arresting a suspect and then going to the crime scene before it was preserved or examined.