The following text contains strong language and descriptions of racial violence.
Being escorted by Doug, a slim, slightly elderly looking ‘Bobby’ who was nearing his retirement, Smith, an alleged Armed Robber, stared at me with screaming, angry eyes filled with rage and violent intent. He was brought out of cell four and began the 10-yard walk down the corridor from cell four to cell one, where my inspector (I was Police Constable C 578 Chaudhry back then) and I stood dealing with a prisoner who was in cell one.
As he walked down the corridor, his face grimaced, it was etched with the lines of sheer hatred.
I stood with my Inspector, dealing with another prisoner and hawkishly watching Smith’s every move. My survival instincts were working at full capacity, instantly analysing every micro expression, anticipating an attack. My brain was sure it was a case of when I was going to be attacked not if I would be attacked.
My emotions were aroused, my brain had gone into full survival mode.
As a young Police Officer, I had been in this type of situation many times before, so dealing with violent people was something that I was well practiced in. I was fit, slim, fast, strong and streetwise. I regularly lifted weights. I could do 108 press up in a minute and could do 57 press ups on one hand. I had always kept myself fit. I was good in fight situations.
Smith had been remanded in custody and was due to appear in the Magistrates Courts upstairs. I was confident I could take Smith down on my own, so I had no fear. He had been searched when he came in so it was highly unlikely that he could have had a weapon on him.
My brain very quickly made it’s mind up about him. “He’s an extreme racist. He is going to attack you. He’s a dangerous man who has used arms in the past, but he is unarmed now. He looks like any other person on the street.”
“You have been in hundreds of scuffles where you have had to overpower people like him – sometimes larger and sometimes smaller and you never lost once. Smith is about in the middle in terms of size. You have taken down so many people that look like him and you can do the same to Smith. So, fight! Fight and make sure he doesn’t lay a glove on you.”
It was a fight, flight or freeze situation but I was still able to think this through with a degree of control. I had been trained to deal with this and I was ready. My brain had worked all this out in the 3-4 seconds it had taken for Smith to get within a yard of me.
By the time he walked to Cell two, I whispered to my Inspector, that “there is going to be trouble” to warn him. He hadn’t heard what I said. He had been talking to the prisoner in cell one and he had no idea what was going on. He could not foresee what was going to happen. He was totally oblivious to Smith and his intentions. Before I could repeat the words, Smith was within hearing distance – and worse – striking distance.
Suddenly Smith made a lunge. He attacked and led with a punch towards my face. I moved and twisted around and within a second had Smith pinned up against a wall with my elbow sharply tucked sideways under his face, pushing into his throat. The Inspector, who’s own training and instincts were kicking in joined the struggle. We had him pinned against the wall and he was trying to bite our faces. He hadn’t given up the struggle. The more he bit the more I jabbed my elbow into his throat. He became breathless and exhausted very quickly – perhaps within seconds. It was only later that I found out that he was HIV positive.
This situation more than any other violent incident caused me to feel down. I wasn’t clinically depressed, but it had bothered me greatly; not because he had HIV but because of the nature of the attack.
This story hadn’t begun at the attack. That was the end of it. The story began when Smith had been brought into the custody suite. I had been on jailing duties which basically means you search and look after prisoners being brought to the Police Station after being arrested. In this case, Smith had been brought in on remand for Armed Robbery from Prison so he could appear in Magistrates Courts upstairs.
Upon arrival he saw me. His attention turned to another Asian Officer who was in plain clothes as he had been working with CID.
The Desk Sergeant, a middle-aged white man, was booking him in and he was focussed purely on his written record keeping duties and was busy writing things down.
Smith looked at me and then looked at other Asian Officer and said – “You’re scraping the barrel a bit aren’t you Sarge?”
The Sergeant looked up at him puzzled – he hadn’t seen Smith’s sideways glances. He thought nothing of it and carried on writing, but I knew exactly what was going on. Being brought up in the ‘80’s people of my age know exactly what it is like to be victims of prejudice, including extreme prejudice. I knew exactly what Smith meant.
A couple of minutes later the Sergeant had completed the booking in procedure and asked me to search Smith. Smith’s response was short and instant. “I’m not having that fucking Black Bastard search me!”. All of a sudden it was all out and everyone knew what was going on.
I went towards him to conduct the search, thinking “whether you like it or not this fucking black bastard is going to search you.” Doug, a Grandad type figure and a really nice man put his hand out as a gesture to stop me. Out of respect for Doug and because I didn’t want any trouble I stepped back and let Doug do his job. Doug, a man of great experience and superb people skills diffused the situation. He completed the search and led Smith away to the cells who was using a diversity of obscenities all with ‘Black” as prefix.
As jailor, my duties were to check on the prisoners, to make sure they hadn’t escaped, they didn’t self-harm, they were fed and to provide those that smoked a light. In those people used to smoke in offices and workplaces and in the cells.
After some time, I walked up and down the corridor doing the checks and lit cigarettes for those that needed me to. Every time I walked down the corridor; I was met with a torrent of racial abuse by Smith.
I took all the abuse because in those days that is what you had to do once a prisoner was already locked up. You received no back up or even much sympathy from other Police supervisors and other Officers. It was a part of the to be abused and even to be attacked. The attitude was – this is the job.
Expect it and deal with it. It’s part of the job. It’s what you get paid to do. If you don’t like it then you’re in the wrong job.
I took it and took it and took it. Doug had been lighting his cigarettes, but Doug had now become busy. He shouted through the hatch, “Oi Paki! Give me a light!
I moved towards his cell with the intention of putting the light through the hatch and lit the lighter. He put his face to the hatch with the cigarette in the front of his mouth. In that moment I was going to do exactly what he ordered me to do but then at the last second… something unplanned happened … something in my brain in a micro-second flipped a switch. This man had been horrible, abusive, threatening and indeed, menacing. I put the lighter though the hatch and was about to light his cigarette and then at the last second, I pulled it away and said, “Nah. You don’t want a light from a Paki.”
He immediately started shouting and threatening. I closed the hatch door and walked away with him shouting, cursing and banging on his cell door.
I had enough of Smith. When I think about him now, in my head I am swearing at him and wishing that I had punched him – sorry to anyone reading this and thinking it would have been wrong to have done that.
You are right and that is why I didn’t but there is a big part of me that believes that he got away with what he did to me. I don’t know if he was convicted and imprisoned for the armed robbery. I think he probably was but he got away with what he did to me.
I took the whole situation pretty badly because this was not just an incident where a prisoner has a go at a Police Constable just because they are a Bobby. He targeted me because I was Asian. He didn’t know me but it was a personal attack. It was him saying that I don’t accept the authority of “Paki”. It was part and parcel of an expression of politics that would have people like me thrown out of the country.
It was an attack on my sense of Britishness – indeed my Englishness so therefore it undermined my sense of personal identity. This contributed, eventually to me leaving the Police a few years later.
I received little or no moral support from Police Supervision. When I had gone home that night, I told nobody about it. I didn’t tell my family because they would have been worried, but it did get to me. It took me a week or so to get move on from it but when I think about it, the dye was cast and me leaving was a matter of when and not if.
So why did it affect me so much? Had he not made it so personal I could have just passed it off as another incident. I felt that the whole incident was mishandled from the first seconds to the last.
It was mired in unfairness, a lack of respect for me as an individual person, there was a grotesque expression that I was not equal, my differences were at the base of the problem. I felt isolated, alone and excluded. Not only did I feel a lack of emotional attachment, I felt that I didn’t belong.
I went home, sat in a room and silently, stared into space for a good two hours. I was in a state of emotional hijack. I couldn’t move and didn’t want to move. Fortunately for me I was able to get over it reasonably quickly. I had to. I had another shift the next day.
This story shows the level of ignorance, unfairness and injustice not just of Smith – we know there are many Smiths in our society, but of the Police response and the lack of support I received. When I went back to work on the next tour of duty no one even mentioned it.
It was gone and forgotten but this attack had hurt me at an emotional and visceral level.
This type of extreme behaviour doesn’t happen every day in more conventional workplaces (such as your own) but we do know through the work that we do that around 8% of employees report that they have been bullied or harassed in the last 12 months for a variety of different reasons.
Unfortunately, I have had so many experiences like this. It is these experiences that drive and motivate me everyday to help organisations create a culture that is inclusive of all. We do this through Investors in Diversity.
To discuss this story or how you can become an Investor in Diversity, please contact me on solat@iiduk.org.
