I'm put out. I was looking forward to my last shift for 4 days and I receive a phone call. "Tyler, you're warned for Crown Court on Monday 10am court 10." Oh great, first time I've had all my rest days for months and they've been robbed, I don't even remember the case.
I know one thing, I wasn't an arresting officer - why are they doing this to me? I know there's a reason but I don't care to think about it. So the few days off disappear and I trundle down to the local Crown Court. I'm sifting through the file looking for my statement so I can remember what the hell I'm here for. As I do I see the pictures of the victim - beaten to a pulp for twenty quid - an elderly man who'll never be able to see his grandchildren because of the brutal attack. And I see the CCTV pictures of the snarling, cunning suspects after they wrecked this guys life, running onto commit further offences in a horrible early morning crime spree.
That's what I'm here for, in my ridiculously itchy and hot number ones
For the victim.
I speak to the Criminal Protection Service and they say the shits have pleaded guilty for a lesser offence after much persuasion even though the evidence is so overwhelming it would only be a show trial if they went not-guilty. The victim who is now blind wants to proceed for closure, the CPS don't want to because there's risk with sending this to trial.
I wait for hours, nervous because I want to do what is right.
The pleas for the lesser offence are accepted. At least I get my second day off. I don't think the victim feels the same...