During the third week of June, a burglar broke into my home while I was away on a business trip. The thief took a considerable amount of computer equipment, clothes, and a few irreplaceable items like part of my coin collection and the mantle clock that had belonged to my grandparents.
I do not wish to tell the story of my sense of loss, not that of the excellent service provided by Craig the Burglar Bar Guy or my new ADT armed response people. I want to tell you the story of the horrifying ineptitude of the Table View police.
It is difficult to know where to begin. Perhaps it is worth mentioning that the police have no way of dealing with a situation in which the person that has been robbed is not present to make the statement themselves. My housekeeper very kindly spend her day waiting for the police to arrive, giving a statement, waiting for the police to arrive, assisting the forensic footprint team, and then waiting until the end of the day for the non-arriving fingerprint guy.
The officer that took the statement actually refused to take down my phone number because he was of the opinion that it was not required. Access to the premises for the fingerprint guy was arranged through her, several days later. Of course, she was back home on the other side of Cape Town by then, so it wasn’t much use.
To this day, I have not been able to have a single discussion with an investigating officer about the crime. This despite the fact that I have phoned the police station nine times and left a message for Detective Inspector November, whom my housekeeper was told was assigned to the case. I wanted to speak to him to arrange the collection of a pair of very stinky shoes that the perpetrator had left in my home. Both the footprint and fingerprint teams had refused to take them.
Eventually, I took them to the police station myself. After dutifully following the signs that directed me to the offices of the detectives, I found both office blocks open, accessible and without any signs of life. Had I been of a criminal bent, I could have removed far more computer equipment than I had lost, and helped myself to whatever case files I might have considered useful.
In fact, there were no signs of a police presence at the Table View station at all, except in the charge office itself. There I left the shoes, as well as a letter detailing the items that were lost, my contact details, and a plea for Inspector November to contact me.
Guess how that worked out.
The fact is that I have a lot of respect and appreciation for the police personnel that drive around our streets keeping us safe. I think it is a dangerous, underpaid and depressing job that they do quite well, generally speaking. When, for example, I saw a man walking down my street wearing what I am quite sure were a pair of my stolen shoes, a police van arrived within minutes to look for him.
The fact that I heard nothing more, even after potentially delivering their suspect to them directly, is an indication of the abject uselessness of the investigative wing of the force.
I suppose that the point could be made that the police are overworked, and that they cannot be expected to have time to follow up every lead on a minor domestic burglary. I say that is a load of old bollocks. I have previously mentioned the commander of the local station, Inspector Nolan, and his merry men here and here. The sad fact is that in the case of this crime, there has not even been a token effort to make contact with the victim, or to follow any leads.
That does not speak of overwork. It speaks of complete apathy. It seems that our police have the time to brutalise innocent students, stage mock arrests for charity, provide case numbers for insurance purposes, and nothing more. In the absence of any actual investigative activities, you would think that they could perhaps learn grammar or something, but have a look at this next item – a letter addressed to my housekeeper informing her of the status of the investigation:
Point 3 is my favourite.
If you review the writings of Inspector Nolan that I have reported before, it can be seen that our police force sees us as customers of a sort. We are able to get the benefit of their services if we do certain things, like a shopkeeper would expect us to arrive at his emporium within business hours. By implication, we are actually blamed for crime if we do not co-operate by becoming extremely paranoid.
While I cannot blame the police for the fact that this crime was committed, I do expect to be able to go away for a few days without worrying about my possessions in my locked house being molested or liberated. I expect blanket coverage of the country by law enforcement, and I expect arrests to be made when I report a crime. This is what I imagine when I think of my tax money going towards policing.
I know that expectation is utopian and unrealistic, but I think that any situation in which it is not met is indicative of a problem. I don’t blame the police for this problem, nor do I think that any system can ever be completely free of problems. I do expect the police, however, to act to address these problems in a reasonable way. I expect the detective to call me back. I expect the first officer on the scene to take my number. I expect a SOCO team to arrive promptly so that I don’t have to live for several days in a filthy, ransacked house. Wiping the fingerprint dust off my possessions would also be nice.
Our police seem to be trying to address these problems through marketing. That might impress you if you feel safe in your home. For the rest of us, it is a fine motivator for learning the words of O Canada!
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