An early-warning police system that works

Press, 15 October 1976, Page 13

An early-warning police system that works

Shuffling nervously from one foot to the other, the 13-year-old looked uncomfortable m his neatly pressed but slightly baggy suit. His parents, unaccustomed to the austere surroundings, were equally uneasy. The businesslike arrival of a uniformed police inspector signalled the beginning of the hearing.

The boy affirmed his name and address.

"You are charged that on September 10. at the Haymarket, in Leicester, you did steal a packet of crayons and three compasses to the value of £1.50, the property of Lewis Partnership Stores, Ltd, contrary to Section 1 of the Theft Act, 1968. Do you admit that offence?”

Almost in tears, the lad muttered a repentant ’■Yes.”

The inspector, with no visible softening in his approach, asked the boy if he realised the seriousness of his position, pointed out that he now had a police record which would be brought to the attention of he magistrate if he ever appeared in court, but added that the “caution” would be removed from police files when he reached the age of 17, provided he offended no further.

Then followed a few well chosen words about letting his parents down, and the need for young

people like him to behave responsibly.

It was all over in a few minutes, but it must have seemed an eternity to the boy — and to his parents, who were also offered some less formal advice.

The increasing use of the caution ist one reason why juvenile crime in the Leicestershire Constabulary’s area has recently been on the wane. “Not one of the first offenders who was cautioned last year had offended again by the end of the year,” said the 1975 annual report of the Leicestershire Constabulary. But the image of a pol.ceman as a strict disciplinarian is foreign to many of Leicestershire’s 90,000 juveniles (10 to 16-year-olds). They see him not as someone who “hits you over the head with a truncheon and puts you in gaol,” but as an approachable, helpful father figure.

It is an image the Leicestershire police juvenile bureau, under Superintendent Brian Pollard, has been at pains to build up because, as he puts it: “The role of the policeman in society is primarily that of a uniformed social worker.”

Even if 10 per cent of all juveniles were reported for criminal offences, he said, there would still be 90 kids out of 100 who did not offend. “If we spent more time

on that 90 per cent and gave them some idea of what law and order is all about, they themselves would have a telling effect on the small percentage who misbehave.”

Following a 23 per cent increase in the number of juvenile offenders in Leicestershire in 1974, the juvenile bureau was set up on January 1, 1975, as part of the force’s community relations department.

Last year the number of juvenile offenders showed a drop of 6.4 per cent. In the first three months of this year the figure was down again, but now shows an upward swing. The most spectacular of the juvenile crime figures come from the Hinckley sub-division, where a 25 per cent increase in the number of offenders in 1974 was transformed to a 34 per cent reduction in 1975, and a probable reduction of 36 per cent this year. These startling statistics have not yet been widely publicised in Britain, but police chiefs who have heard about them have sent senior officers post haste to Leicester to find out the secret formula. Brian Pollard is an idealist, as are the 18 members of the bureau. But they are realists, too, and their success is due to their vision and their enthusiasm. When he first applied to

join the police as a cadet at the age of 16 Mr Pollard was told he was not tall enough or heavy enough. He promptly joined the Royal Air Force, but his attempts to get into the Air Force police only led to his becoming a radio mechanic.

Three years later, in 1956, after he had “grown an inch or two and filled out a bit” he was accepted as a police entrant. A young superintendent at 41, Mr Pollard was commended 10 times during his seven years as a detective, and has served in every department. His main spare-time interest is lifesaving, and he was manager of the British team which competed recently at the world lifesaving championships in West Berlin. He is married and has two daughters, aged 12 and 14. All 18 policemen and policewomen in the juvenile bureau volunteered for the work. They include a female chief inspector, Pauline Coulthard, who recently took a B.A. in social sciences at Leicester University, an inspector to assist with administration, and 12 field officers located in the force’s five divisions.

The bureau puts a great deal of emphasis on two aspects of its work — the development of close links with local schools; and investigation carried out by

the field officers, who visit the homes of youngsters who get into trouble.

Leicester is 100 miles north of London, and its population of 836,500 includes 45,000 Asians and 5000 West Indians. “Sometimes there is fear and resentment toward the police born of experience overseas,” said Mr Pollard. “A more relaxed view of the police by the children often rubs off on the parents.”

That was one factor which encouraged the bureau, from the start, to seek the co-operation of the education authorities and the schools, and to introduce the schoolchild relationship scheme. By the end of this year 60 to 70 of Leicestershire’s 400 junior schools (seven to 11-year-olds) will have taken part in the scheme. Every day for two weeks the school timetable is geared to finding out as much as possible about the policeman and his job. Police cars, motorbikes, frogmen’s gear, police dogs, the local beat constable, the bureau field officer, policewomen and police cadets are all taken off regular duties to attend the course. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Frdays the specialist officers visit the school to talk to the children, demonstrate their equipment and answer their questions. Tuesdays

and Thursdays are reserved to allow the youngsters to assimilate and discuss what they have learned. The beat constable acts as the link between the school and the police, gets to know the children, plays football with them, takes them swimming, has his lunch at school; and at the end of the two weeks he has made hundreds of new young friends. “One beat officer was most reluctant to take part in a schoolchild scheme,” said Mr Pollard. “He had problems communicating with the local people, and had to be persuaded to participate. “By the end of the course his attitude had changed completely. He made up a poem for the concert which is usually held to round off the course, and the tears were streaming down his face. He told me: ‘I now have an open door to 450 homes’.” With the help of a patrol car and a pupil’s bicycle, the police sometimes organise ■ an “accident” in the playground. Pupils help with first-aid for the victim, set up warning cones on the road, sweep up the debris, and phone for an ambulance.

“We try to make it as lifelike as possible,” said Mr Pollard, “and a child can become quie agitated

if, for example, he finds he is unable to dial 999 because a telephone has been vandalised. It serves as a valuable practical lesson.”

A pupil’s understanding of the need for law and order can be heightened if a football-playing policeman asks what would happen if some men from Mars were simply given a football and told to play. The need for rules, arid for someone to enforce them quickly becomes apparent. Maths lessons tend to centre on the cost of keeping a patrol car on the road for 24 hours, or on the cost of feeding a police dog for a week.

In addition to the talks, discussions and demonstrations, the police usually provide films on road safety and on the dangers of talking to or going with strangers. Leicester University’s centre for mass communication research made a careful evaluation last year of a police-school liaison course.

“The policemen and women who took part in the scheme were apparently at home in the school, and happy to be among children explaining their various tasks,” said the report. The local policeman “attracted a great deal of admiration, affection and friendship from the children.”

One member of the staff said he was “a real hero” in the eyes of the children, and “on the last day of the project he was mobbed by small boys and girls who were loath to see him leave.” Mr Pollard said that headmasters had been encouraged to report to the police children who offended at school.

In the past there had been a double standard. A child who stole a pencil at school had simply been ticked off by the headmaster. But if the child had stolen the same item from a shop he had been reported to the police. “That creates problems for the child,” said Mr Pollard, “because he finds it difficult to reconcile the two attitudes. In a way, headmasters have been encouraging children to steal in school rather than outside. Now we are getting a decrease in the number of offences committed in schools.”

The Leicestershire juvenile bureau’s files include a case where three boys were accused of stealing two plums, worth 25c. For a field officer to carry out social inquiries and compile a report on such a trivial case may seem a waste of public money. “But,” said one bureau officer, ’*a perceptive report by a shrewd police officer may turn up underlying factors which need

further Investigation and help. “The mother may have been deserted by the husband and need assistance, or the child may be getting out of hand at home. If we can help to stop the rot at that stage, he may never be in trouble again.” When a youngster offends it is the job of a bureau field officer to discuss the matter with the child’s headmaster, school counsellor, the social services, probation service, the boy and his parents. Investigation completed, the field officer writes a social inquiry report, with a recommendation on prosecution or caution, and submits the report to the juvenile bureau head office. Mr Pollard or one of his two deputies considers the report, and decides whether to take the boy to court or to have him cautioned. "The form of caution is determined by the offender rather than the offence,” said Mr Pollard. “One youngster just needs a few words before he is in tears, while another might need some shouting at before the message gets through.” A youngster who pleads not guilty to an offence is sent to the juvenile court in the usual way, as are offenders who have been cautioned several times al-

ready. Social mquin' reports are not sighted by anyone except juvenile bureau personnel and cautioning officers. But are police officers capable of doing as good a job as social workers 9 Mr Pollard does not believe that three years training is necessary to enable people to obtain the information required for a social inquiry report. “The basics of a policeman's work is talking to people and getting information, and the experienced police officer is already an expert at that,” said Mr Pollard. However, the juvenile bureau will give up in certain circumstances — and the true social worker will never do that. The juvenile bureau admits defeat in one area — the small but hard core of youngsters who regard the police as enemy No. 1 and who are determined to thwart all efforts to rehabilitate them or even to communicate with them.

“1 think I’ve come to the conclusion that by the time they are 15 or 16 and are completely anti-police and anti-social there is nothing we can do for them, and that we should concentrate on the kids we can help and ignore the others,” said Mr Pollard.