Riding shotgun
January 27th, 2008, 5:52 am Hobbies News
My brief is simple. I am to ride shotgun with officers on duty in the Southland Rural Police District, observe how they work and what they deal with. The rest lies in the hands of fate.
First up, a noise complaint in Durham St, Winton, requires a gentle warning. The occupants of the house have been lax about the volume of their stereo — to the irritation of their neighbours. A guessing game follows.
%26quot;I bet its them over there,%26quot; a man at the house says, nodding across the street. The fact he doesnt actually live there seems lost on him.
However, the message does seem to get through with a woman, who does live at the house, assuring Mr Mangos the problem wont happen again. From there, we head to Otautau, where we will be intercepted by Tuatapere Senior Constable Tony Bell for a run to his beat.
Five officers are covering the region tonight, Mr Mangos tells me, and the nature of the rural beat means its either feast or famine.
%26quot;Sometimes theres nothing across the whole district.%26quot; As Mr Bell tells it, crime in his patch is hard to predict. %26quot;Theres no real pattern to it,%26quot; he says.
Drilling operations for oil and gas in the Waiau Basin, near Tuatapere, did see an increase in crime rates, he says.
%26quot;They worked hard but they played hard … Our workloads increased when they were here.%26quot;
At 6.40pm, we pull up behind Tuataperes Waiau Hotel, the first of the townships watering holes to be checked for the night. The 20-odd patrons in the bar barely look up from their meals and pints.
Meanwhile, at Highway 99, cafe-bar preparations for Tuatapere Karaoke Idol are in full swing. The place will be packed later, the barmaid says, glancing at the handful of patrons in the bar. Mr Bell takes note and promises to check in later.
The Waiau River mouth is part of his stomping ground, he says as we follow the river to the sea down Papatotara Rd.
The rivermouth is a battlefield as past memories of conflict over whitebait remain fresh, even if a poor season this year has seen a lull in hostilities.
Working closely with the Ministry of Fisheries, the area has been a hotbed of police call-outs in the past as conflicts over peoples whitebait takes get out of hand, Mr Bell says.
Whitebaiters are nowhere to be seen when we get to the coast, but the handful of cribs huddled along the coastline are full of people.
The cribs are emblazoned with names like %26quot;Drift Inn%26quot; and %26quot;Waiau Heights%26quot; . A party is in its early stages at one of them, but for now everyone is well behaved.
Nextup is a visit to the %26quot;Mexicans%26quot;. The case is confusing, Mr Bell explains. To say the %26quot;Mexicans%26quot;, two men who live in the middle of the bush south-west of Tuatapere, live off the beaten track is an understatement. Police are investigating three Invercargill men who allegedly visited the mens remote and ramshackle house in the bush and stole some home brew before heading for home. The men are also suspected of a house break-in, where food was stolen on their way back to Invercargill.
Mr Bell says one of the offenders alleges he paid one of the men $5 for the beer — casting doubt on whether the burglary happened.
The %26quot;house%26quot; is nestled in a clearing in beech forest off a dirt track at the end of Papatotara Coast Rd. Surrounded by derelect caravans, wrecked cars and old trailers, the house is powered by a diesel generator.
%26quot;Its rough as guts, but who cares — Pakehas or Horis,%26quot; the houses owner declares.
The other man confirms one of the offenders offered him $2 for the beer but he didnt accept it. The police investigation continues.
We head away, the banjos fading into the distance (well, there were no actual banjos, but there may as well have been).
We arrive outside the Otautau police station at 8.25pm, where my escort for the next part of the night, Constable Pete Graham, is questioning a youth he has pulled over in an old ute across the street.
The ute is a %26quot;VOI%26quot; or vehicle of interest and is normally driven by a driver with a suspended licence.
Tonight, however, it is driven by his inexperienced mate, who has just been fined $650. Mr Graham leaves the youth to process his fate, crosses Main St and enters the station. It is at this point Mr Bell notices the youth is crossing the street towards the station. Behind him, the bumper of Mr Grahams I-car is lying on the street.
After a terse exchange on the street, the youth is brought into the station to give a statement. Apparently, the youth unfamiliar with the vehicle had accidentally reversed into the I-car.
%26quot;He whipped it into R for racing,%26quot; Mr Graham says.
A five-page incident report is required for police hierarchy.
A 9pm, a call comes through from police communications of a bull crossing Main St near the intersection with Nantwich St and making his way up the railway tracks.
A quick fiddle with the bumper and a few firm pushes to click it back into its brackets, and we are responding.
It takes three attempts to shepherd the bull back into his paddock.
From there, we leave to check on whats happening in Ohai.
All is quiet in the township and apart from a quick check of a blue Subaru WRX loaded with youths and ticket for the driver who is driving on his restricted licence, we take our leave.
Nightcaps also proves quiet, that is until we get just out of the township.
A man running towards us on the opposite side of the road appears in the headlights. He is a man on an alcohol-fuelled mission.
His mantra? %26quot;Ive gotta prove a point, Ive gotta prove a point.%26quot;
While his sheer grit and determination is admirable, the %26quot;point%26quot; of his mission seems lost in translation. The man has been drinking at the Wairio Tavern and he is hell bent on running to Taylors Hotel in Ohai, determined to settle a score over money.
Another car arrives on the scene; the mans sister, who has been alerted to his althleticism. After some coaxing, he agrees to get into her car.
We head to Winton, where I am to accompany Mr Mangos for the final part of the night. All police will tell you the full moon leads to an increase in crime but all the unrest tonight seems to be concentrated in Invercargill, with fights and brawls dominating the radio waves.
A bail check on a dairy worker on Oreti School Rd provides some amusement as the young offender is woken from his sleep at 11.50pm.
He staggers to the door to answer Mr Mangos knock barely coherent.
Arriving back in Winton, the town is quiet except for the Winton Hotel, otherwise known as the %26quot;Bottom Pub%26quot;.
%26quot;Theres a bloody good band on in there tonight,%26quot; one youth says as he wanders over to the I-car.
Part and parcel of rural policing is the fact you are well-known to the community you serve — this is evident as one after another, patrons from the hotel walk over to have a yarn to %26quot;Jimmy%26quot; .
Bouncers on the door and rowdy, yet well-behaved, punters assure Mr Mangos everything is above board in the hotel.
A quick patrol of the streets and I head for home, happy Western Southland is in safe hands.
Related posts
