Inside Justice Week: Reporter Ed Chadwick is subjected to swift justice by the law
Oct 24 2009 by Edward Chadwick, Birmingham Mail
WHEN the cell door slammed behind me with a deafening clang, it brought to an end a half-hour ordeal of being manhandled, eyeballed suspiciously and unceremoniously stripped of my possessions.
I was put through an unerringly realistic arrest and subjected to swift justice to experience first hand the work of police, the courts and probation workers.
My criminal career began in a wet car park as I took on the role of drug-addicted thief caught loitering close to vehicles and collared by PC Andy Mitchum who swiftly cuffs me tight enough for it to be uncomfortable as he frogmarches me towards the entrance at Kings Heath police station.
I’m conscious of how passers-by look at me as I meet their gaze. To them, the man in handcuffs is a criminal and, even though I know this is an exercise, the shame causes me to bow my head.
Once inside the station, I’m dealt with by people who deal with aggressive and uncooperative prisoners. At no time was I treated discourteously or without respect but being processed by the slick machine of a police custody unit is a decidedly undignified affair.
“Don’t lean on my desk,” barked the custody sergeant as I placed my hands on the counter to answer a string a questions.
I feel myself breaking into a slight sweat as I meekly give my answers and hand over my phone, keys, cash and even my belt in case I use it to harm myself.
After a thorough search and a positive drug test I am marched to a cell door where I am told to kick off my shoes and step inside. While I wait for my solicitor, I see a bare, vinyl-covered mat on a bench and a stainless steel toilet bowl.
I am lucky.
If this was not a mock arrest, I could expect to wait several hours in the cell for a solicitor and the police could hold me without charge for a full day.
Fiona Warman, a partner at Solihull-based Williamson and Soden Solicitors, tells me that I am likely to be charged with theft from a car after being found with a stolen phone and wallet following my arrest. I am advised to co-operate with police in interview and “charged” with theft.
In normal circumstances, a prisoner would be bailed to appear at court, or held in custody until the hearing but I am taken straight to Solihull Magistrates’ Court to face justice. At a second meeting with my solicitor, I am urged to plead guilty to get maximum credit from the JPs. I feel uneasy when asked to stand in front of the stern-faced panel and confirm my name. After pleading guilty to theft and breach of a conditional discharge from a shoplifting offence, a Crown Prosecution Solicitor outlines the case against me. While my guilty plea will help me, the fact that my victim was a mother on a shopping trip with her children will not.
My solicitor says my crimes were motivated by a £20-a-day heroin addiction and urged them to consider a community-based penalty.
The magistrates sentence me to a 12-month community order with a Drug Rehabilitation Requirement (DRR). I must pay my victim £200 in compensation and £85 in costs.
My first brush with the law was a glimpse into the justice system that most people will never to encounter. But it underlined the efficiency of a system processing thousands of criminals every day.
