At the public meeting, Allan Ross felt he was slowly losing the will to live. The discussion had moved on to the condition of the local roads, after which every aspect of bin collection issues and pharmacy opening times had been argued over in considerable depth. Finally, though, they moved on to petty crime in the area, and he started to show an interest in proceedings.
Tall and fairly muscular, he had been brought up in the area, and was known to be handy with his fists. Not that he made a habit of starting fights, but he had been known to finish a few in his time. He therefore wasn't the type who worried much about being a target for muggers and the like. And when he walked round to the row of shops that some of the older people regarded as a no-go area because of the youths hanging around, he never had any trouble.
He didn't bother them, and they didn't dare bother him.
Nor did he regard vandalism or petty crime as much of a problem for him. Nowadays he lived in a private house in one of the nicer streets with wife Julie and their kids, Mandy and John. They had a garage at the side of the house, a nice sized garden and good neighbours. He pretended to himself that playing football for the Cross Keys pub football team on a Sunday afternoon kept him fit and healthy. Steady jobs for both Julie and himself meant they could afford a big television and holidays abroad. All in all, he was fairly content with his lot in life.
His parents, though, were a different story, still living in their old council house in Mill Street, with junkies and drunks and joyriders causing a regular nuisance in the area. He despaired sometimes at the tales they would tell him about break-ins and stabbings, gangs fighting in the street, of their fear of leaving the house at night.
Although he dreaded speaking in public, he stood up and waited his turn, until eventually Councillor Eades invited him to address the meeting.
'I'd like to know when the police and the council are going to do something to help the people in the Craigends area? My folks live in Mill Street, and they can't get peace to sleep at night for young ones riding motorbikes up and down the lane at the back of the house, fighting each other, and giving the old ones a hard time. Not to mention junkies leaving needles around and drunks spewing and crapping in the gardens.
The annoying thing is, if they do any thing to try and help themselves, they just get into trouble for it. A few weeks ago some of the neighbours got together, and built a gate across the back lane, with a key for every house in the street, so that only the ones who lived there could get in. Next thing someone from the council turned up, and tried to make them take it down because it was public land, which we managed to discover was a load of nonsense. And then the council said, “Well, you still have to take it down because it's blocking access to emergency vehicles.” Which is bullshit because it's too narrow and most of the time it's blocked anyway by kids running cars down it till they get jammed, and then they set light to them!'
When he paused for breath, Councillor Eades tried to interject, but Allan was having none of it.
'Then yesterday, two neds tried to break into a shed a couple of houses down from my folks. The guy from the house saw them, managed to grab one, and a neighbour helped to hold him down while he swore and squealed and kicked like an animal for the full half an hour it took for the police to bother to turn up, then, guess what, the police came back this morning and charged them with assault, and some crap about detaining a minor!
The fact is, the people living there are beginning to wonder whose side you lot are on exactly?'
He sat down breathless as everyone looked to the officials on stage.
Superintendent Campbell put on his most conciliatory face.
'Well, obviously I can't comment on an ongoing case, especially without hearing both sides,' he replied, But there is provision within the law for common sense to prevail, and I would hope this case could be resolved in a fair and just manner'
'Yeah, that'll bloody happen,' came a voice from the back,
'It'll be the same crap as usual, the muppets that cause the bother will get a slap on the wrist,and the victims will land in the shit!'
Suddenly, everyone seemed to have a tale of injustice they wanted to tell.
'That old guy down Cheapside Street, used to be a foreman with the council, Tom I think his name was, he were that fed up with kids climbing over his fence and wrecking his vegetable patch, he bought a dog. Next thing that happens, a kid climbs in, and gets bit in the arse, Tom got fined and the dog was put down!'
Another man was straight to his feet,
'What about the old retired guy who filmed someone vandalising his car, causing a couple of thousand quids worth of damage. When the old guy went out to confront this ned, he got a load of verbal abuse and pushed about, so he took a swing at him. Next thing, he finds himself up in court, charged with assault, criminal record, the works. And get this, a social worker came to the house to find out what compensation he could afford to pay this ned, out of his bloody pension! And believe it or not, even though he had been filmed causing the damage to the car, the ned still walked away with just a caution! You can't tell me that's justice.'
'That's like Gavin Ward,' a woman from the audience said, 'He caught someone using his ladder to climb in his window a few nights ago, and then was charged with assault for pushing him to the ground.'
Others told of teachers forced to resign over trivial incidents, of shopkeepers targeted because they wouldn't sell alcohol to teenagers, and similar stories of perceived injustice.
Finally, Allan stood again, put his arm in the air for attention.
'Just supposing I heard a noise downstairs during the night, go to have a look, and it turns out there's some guy inside heading my way. Now I know our John left his baseball bat at the top of the stairs, so I think, right pal, try coming up here, and you're getting it!
Thing is, I don't know if he has knife or something, or if there's maybe two or three of them in the house. I've got a wife and two kids to protect, and I'm scared if I warn him, it'll give him the chance to get the better of me. So I wait nice and quiet like, then I hit him as hard as I can! What happens then if he ends up in a coma? Or dead even? Am I going to prison for defending my family and my property?'
Superintendent Campbell considered his question gravely.
'My advice,in that situation, would be to make plenty of noise to let him know you're aware of his presence, chances are he'll not hang around to be caught, and, of course, phone the police. A confrontation is never a good.......'
'Phone the police!..... down the Craigends you'd be as well sending a letter, the time it takes your lot to get there!' shouted a voice from the back of the hall.
Campbell tried again,
'I can understand the anger, the urge to take the law into your own hands but it is in everybody's interest to let us do the job we're trained for.'
The man who mentioned the dog biting the youth spoke again,
'At our work, we can't go for a crap without a risk assessment and a safe method of work statement....... In triplicate.' There was a ripple of laughter.
'Now, I'm not suggesting that our burglar has done quite the same thing, but he has assessed the job, and decided the risk of getting caught or hurt isn't high enough to stop him,'
'And he must know there's a chance of getting hurt because you can guarantee, if someone broke into his house, they would get an almighty hammering! So why should we have any sympathy for anyone who deliberately chooses to put themselves in that position?'
Another man spoke up.
'There's some off these junkies, they're so off their heads you just couldn't afford to take a chance with the nutters.' There was a murmur of assent from the audience.