Suicide is Painless

Last night I had a dream my friend, and that dream was of death. That dream was of my death, and your death and the death of everyone you hold dear. My dream was of suicide my friend. That was my dream.

Suicide is the great leveller, the taboo, the final instalment in a life ruined. It ruins other lives, and causes heartache and pain, but what heartache and pain there is for those who chose to take that path, to walk not towards the light but into the darkness, the perpetual horror of death by your own hand.

I have known three police officers who have taken their own lives. Three police officers who had nowhere else to turn, who believed their own lives so worthless, so wretched, so bleak that they found the only solution to be suicide. Their names will never be found on rolls of honour, they will never be subject to remembrance ceremonies or anniversary re-unions. Their passing is a thing of horror. Those near to them will bear the cross, their families the shame of a cursed relation.

Henrietta was a quiet and reliable officer. She would never set the world alight, but equally she would never cause harm. She had one close friend, another police officer, who she would share her deepest thoughts. It seemed that when this friend chose to marry, Henrietta found difficulty coping. When she didn't arrive at work, colleagues were sent to her house where she was found hanged.

Steven was an intellectual, especially by police standards. He had had a book published, and all seemed well in his world. His ex-wife chose to emigrate with their children, something which Steven could not cope with. He died by overdose.

Amber had had issues throughout her life. She had treated joining the police as a new beginning, and had followed a successful career into a firearms role. The demons continued to haunt her though, and she took her life by shooting herself dead.

These were good people. They all had great potential in life, a potential which will never be fulfilled. May they rest in peace.

Should you ever find yourself in dark place, somewhere maybe you think there is no way out of, remember Henrietta, Steven and Amber and think of what they have left behind and what they could have been. Remember them.


One More Tale from the Scrapbook

Many many years ago, when I was a true blooded constable and believed what they told me, I loved my job. This is one of the reasons why.

A restaurant owner from a neighbouring borough had closed his business and driven home. His name was Mike. He lived in a house overlooking a park area. As he locked his car, he heard what sounded like muffled screams coming from the park area. He paused, looked at his house, then thought he should investigate.

This decision would save a life.

He went into the park, and saw what appeared to be a couple with the male lying on top of the female. He called out, asking if everything was okay. The man yelled that she was his girlfriend and told Mike to piss off. Mike still felt that something was not right. He noticed that the woman appeared to be struggling - it looked unusual. He asked again if everything was okay. The woman said, "Help me".

Mike moved forward as the attacker got off his victim. He saw that the man was muscular, tall and clearly his physical superior. He was also armed with a lump of wood. Mike stood his ground as the man again told him to fuck off and threatened to kill him. Mike stood his ground as the lump of wood was swung in his direction. The man then turned and ran through the park, away from Mike's house. Mike gave chase. He knew he could hardly recognise the man again, and wanted to get some indication of where he went. He lost sight of him shortly afterwards, and ran back to where the woman was. She had gone.

Mike went back to his house and called to police. We attended minutes later, and took a brief account. We drove straight to a hostel which overlooked the other side of the park. Staff there told us that a man fitting the vague description given my Mike had just run in. They told us his room number. With no time for niceties, we ran up and kicked his door in. He was there trying to climb out of the window. He resisted arrest, but we managed to handcuff and arrest him for rape. He was taken off to the police station by other officers, and we searched his room. I found a bus pass belonging to a white female behind his chest of drawers. This was very likely his victim, but at that time we did not know who or where she was.

As we got back to the station, we were informed that a woman had turned up at another police station with her father stating she had been raped. Her name matched that on the bus pass we had found in his room. We had the bastard. The feeling cannot be described.

It turned out that the victim was a middle class girl from a nice area nearby. She had been for a night out with friends, and ended up in a pub near to the park. There she had been charmed and chatted up by our rapist. He seemed cool, and she took more drinks from him than she probably should have done. He seemed nice, so she was happy to stay with him when her friends left. At closing time, she thanked him for his company, and gave him her phone number. She then left the pub to catch a bus home.

The rapist had other ideas. He obviously felt that he was entitled to more than a phone number. He followed her from the pub, and dragged her into the park where he brutally raped her. During the ordeal she was strangled. Medical evidence presented at the trial showed that she was close to death at the time Mike intervened.

The rapist pleaded 'not guilty' all the way through. The case went to the Old Bailey where he was found guilty and sentenced to eight years imprisonment.

Mike got a Borough Commander's Commendation for bravery. His restaurant was burgled the following week. The police have yet to bring anyone to justice for that.