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I had barely set foot in the Nuneaton Safer Neighbourhood Team’s office before I was informed that a call had come in from the town centre.
A group of youths had been told to leave the town centre by on-duty PCSOs to comply with a Section 35 dispersal order.
Friday 21 June was a rare proper summer’s day for the town of Nuneaton in Warwickshire – the sun was shining, the streets were dry, the air was warm, the football was on.
It was also tense. Or at least, I was tense. The officers had already said they were expecting a busy night, on a shift which was due to last from 6pm to 4am the next morning.
Nuneaton has, unfortunately, been at the centre of several violent incidents over the past few months, some involving weapons.
Because of this, a section 35 dispersal order, giving powers to, when necessary, move any group on from the town centre and Riversley Park and providing power of arrest if they choose not to do so, was put in place for the weekend.
The Enhanced Police Initiative (or, EPI) shift for the Safer Neighbourhood Team, which launched in 2023, aims to directly tackle crime and ASB on Friday and Saturday nights.
One officer and I arrived outside a popular fast-food restaurant on Queen’s Road, where we were met by the PCSOs who had tried to move the group on.
Apparently, they had scarpered not long before we had arrived – a large group, mostly made up of young teens, several of whom were already known to officers.
A second group on bicycles chose this moment to cycle past our vehicles. One of them had already been given a warning to clear off earlier that day.
Two members of this group of three had been arrested only the day before for violent offences. Investigations were continuing, but for now, they had been bailed.
“Go home!” the officer shouted from the window of the van. “There’s a dispersal order, you could be arrested.”
The boys indicated in no uncertain terms that they did not care about the dispersal order, before dispersing at speed.
There is a growing concern about young people in Nuneaton being involved with antisocial behaviour and serious violence, concerns which are well-known to police.
Officers tell me that they often find out second-hand about children who are carrying knives from the people around them, at the clubs they attend, from their peers, sometimes from their parents.
It’s vital intelligence that lets the officers carry out pre-emptive engagement, gently steering them away from a very painful path.
The boys on bicycles had gone. Nothing to do here, then.
Time for a quick second sweep of the town centre for the first group, and then back to the station.
It was 6:30pm, we had parked up, and our feet barely touched the floor before the next call came in.
ASB. Group of young teens. Outside a sports clothing shop on Harefield Road. Refusing to leave.
Back in the car, then. Round the corner.
The group were immediately obvious – a large group of young teens milling around by the bus stop, nowhere else to be, and probably quite aware by this point that they couldn’t be here.
They circled the van as the officer wound down her window to talk to them. She was immediately recognised – she’d dealt with this group before.
One younger boy said, “Oh look, it’s my favourite officer!”
Bit cheeky, but no malice or menace. Cheerful. Happy to talk, happy to engage.
They’re told they could be arrested if they don’t disperse or return – most likely taken home to their parents in the back of a police van.
“That’s embarrassing”, one of them says.
There was a bit of pushback – “where else are we supposed to go?” - but it didn’t take much talking to convince them to move on, go home, or at least go somewhere that wasn’t here.
The officer said “They’re not bad or anything. They’re here because it’s something to do.”
She said that children who were identified as being at risk and received support from youth workers often made huge improvements, particularly when they were pointed towards youth groups, community groups, hobbies.
Places to be. People to see.
Unfortunately, it’s not possible nor appropriate for someone to be in constant contact with them, encouraging the good progress, solidifying improvement – particularly not as police officers.
The tragedy is that it is in the gaps between contact that the regression into ASB and criminality takes place.
Back to the station, 6:50pm. A bit of food. A tikka masala had allegedly gone missing from the fridge. An investigation had been opened.
Another call.
A blind man was allegedly being bothered by some children on one of the estates. Reportedly, they were trying to encourage him to follow them.
Out to the car to go and have a look.
As the gate pulled open to release us, a man was stood directly in the exit path for the vehicles.
He was in a state of some distress, leaving him alone was not an option – but the longer we leave it, the greater the risk for the potential victim on the estate.
One of the officers jumps out to talk to him. We continue, single-crewed, to see if we can find the victim.
Nothing is found.
On the way back, we see that Coton Road has been closed off by patrol officers – a woman was reportedly hit by a car.
It’ll be like this for at least the next few hours.
Time for a patrol. Four officers and myself pile into a large blue van.
Piles of protective equipment in the back of the van rattle in a constant cacophony. It’s amazing how quickly you can tune something like that out.
We drive round the town centre and the neighbouring park, waiting for a call, waiting until something happens.
We chat. It’s mostly breeze. Small talk, jokes. Punctuated with observations. Back to banter.
I’m told the EPI shift tries to keep focussed on its purpose – SNT policing of pubs, clubs, streets, and communities – but sometimes ends up responding to other crimes where it’s needed.
It’s warm – like a mediterranean evening, gently temperate with a cool breeze, still bright outside.
We’ve got the radio on. It’s playing Rhythm of the Night by Corona.
There’s a group over at the bandstand in Riversley Park – right where the dispersal order is in effect.
It’s difficult to tell what they’re doing from the road, but whatever it is, they can’t be there.
We hop out the van and wander over.
There’s a real fear – a genuine worry – that this group could be a church group.
Imagine moving a church group on for disturbing the peace.
Imagine.
Close up, it’s obvious it’s a group of teens. They look a bit shocked at being approached by a contingent of four officers and one slightly strange looking bloke in shirt and jeans (erm, me).
The officers make it clear they’re just dropping through for a nice and easy chat. No-one’s in trouble.
They’ve met up here before moving on to the pub. They agree to move on – no fuss – they apologise for any issues.
It turns into a pleasant walk while we scout the remainder of the park.
Less than ten minutes later, reports of an assault in the town centre. Reportedly an “old boy” being attacked by a group of men. We head back to the van at pace.
We pile in and turn on the blues-and-twos for the town centre.
A blue light run in a massive blue van feels far more chaotic – grabbing onto the sides on the corners, bracing for every bump that threatens to pull the seatbelt clean through your legs and chest.
By the time we get there, the location is deserted. Local staff at a pizza shop tell us what’s happened. Allegedly, the “old boy” had tried to put a brick through a pub window, at which point the group had attacked him.
A hat is found. Supposedly it belongs to the man who was attacked. There’s nothing else to suggest anyone was here.
The hat is bagged up.
Other officers attend the pub for follow up enquiries. We carry on.
On the radio, Take Me To The Clouds Above by LMC and U2.
By 10:30pm, we’re back at the station again. Refuelling. Tea, crisps. High fat, high sugar, high caffeine.
Break, then out in the van.
An easy spot – one is riding in an ASDA trolley, being pushed by another, a third running alongside. They barely notice us pull up.
“Get out of that trolley, now!” – the “now” shouted with that Nuneatonian twang that makes it sound more like “nah”.
A few moments. It doesn’t look like he’s having an easy time of dismounting. A change of tack.
“Get him owrah that trolley, nah!” she shouts.
They are asked firmly to return the trolley to ASDA, as we roll slowly alongside them. It’s hard not to laugh as the officer gives encouragement from the window – in fact, if ever there was a time to be thankful for tinted windows on the van, it’s now.
Once the trolley is returned, a thank you, and we’re away.
After spotting a vehicle the officers recognise, a quick detour to a street where drug dealing is suspected to be taking place. A vehicle parked strangely is noted. All valuable information for a larger picture.
A call about a car outside a bar on Queen’s Road – two women have just emerged from it, two men are inside of it, they’ve been spotted on CCTV – it’s believed that drug dealing has just taken place.
We’re there for a while. Searches have to take place, CCTV must be collected, initial interviews conducted.
Three bags of what appears to be cocaine are found, along with £200 in cash. The CCTV is reportedly quite clear in showing drug use inside the vehicle – although we don’t find this out until later.
They are not arrested at this time. Instead, they will be voluntarily interviewed at a future date. The evidence needs reviewing first, checking.
The people allegedly involved don’t seem like a current or immediate threat. The drugs have been seized, and a message delivered.
Back to the station. There’s paperwork to do.
Quick coffee from a much quieter fast-food restaurant on Queen’s Road. A bag of sweets shared around for a late-night sugar rush.
There’s a discussion about stop-and-searches. It feels to the officers like the SNT are doing a lot of them now – all intelligence-led, rumours of certain individuals carrying weapons or drugs.
With everything that’s happened, no-one wants to take the chance of letting something slip through.
Plus, if people believe that they will be stop-searched, it’s less likely that they’ll carry a weapon. Even less likely that they’ll brag about it.
The less they brag, the less overt the presence of weapons feels.
The less others feel they need to carry them for protection.
That was always a shaky argument – you’re more likely to be stabbed with your own knife than someone else’s.
We keep a close eye on the incident logs as they come through, live. A domestic abuse incident that we’ve been receiving in snippets over the radio since 10pm shows up with a positive result – an arrest, enacted by patrol officers.
There’s a light amount of kicking off outside one of the town’s favourite (by which I mean, only remaining) nightclubs.
Some disagreement that’s bled out onto the street. It’s exactly what the EPI shift is meant to handle.
On arrival, there’s clearly something being discussed aggressively at high volume that doubtless feels very important to the half-cut participants.
From here, sober and sleepy, it looks like a dumb way to end an evening.
One chap in a grey jumper led, amicably and apologetically, towards the cell on the back of the van by an officer.
The others are handling the fallout – chatting to the bouncers, having words with the people involved in the argument.
No-one’s really sure what the argument was about. Not that it matters.
It was decided to take him home.
The journey didn’t bother him. He seemed to enjoy it. Every time we went over a speedbump we heard a “Wheeee!” from the back of the van.
He did make a brief comment about how bumpy the journey felt – he was advised that other car share services are available, generally with better suspension.
The rest of the evening until 4am is spent finishing off paperwork (for me, studiously checking social media feeds and making notes).
One officer has turned on the radio. Enter Sandman by Metallica. Appropriate.
The team is tired. It’s not late anymore, it’s early. As the clock ticks on, every flutter of chatter over the radio is greeted with a visible tension.
It never leaves the minds of these officers that every single log is someone in trouble – for one reason or another.
When the call lands, it is not just part of the job to attend, it’s the right thing to do.
But it’s also nearly 4am in the morning after a shift almost 10 hours in length.
Finally, it ends. One last report in to sign off with the control centre. The next shift isn’t far away.
*
I grew up here. Most of the people I know still live here. Every time the town comes up in the news I hold my breath.
The police in Nuneaton work hard to keep people safe – you don’t have to pay attention for long to realise the quantity of initiatives, activities, projects, operations, warrants, community engagements, and everything else that happen in the town, much of it coming through the Safer Neighbourhood Teams.
I’m driving out of the town, towards home. The sun rises behind the terraces of Attleborough, casting patches of light on the road, leaving gaps in the shapes of the houses, bright spots down the paths and alleyways between them. Holding them together.
It’s hard not to focus on the gaps. Even when the sun’s coming up.