Crime And Correction

While Maud gathered her thoughts, showing great patience, the young
constable paused at regular intervals to sip at the tea, which the
pretty dark-eyed nurse had served to them all. Action by painful
action, Maud Harwood struggled to recall every minute detail, in
response to the policeman's prompts.

"I'm sorry, I can't remember exactly what time it was, but Neighbours
hadn't long finished," she apologised unnecessarily.

"So it had to be after two," Mrs Collins chipped in, only too keen to
exhibit her knowledge of the TV scheduling.

"And was it a knock, or did he ring the bell?" P.C. Rogers asked,
pausing his pen on the paper.

"Oh, he rang the bell first. Then, when I didn't get to the door quick
enough he started banging."

"So, tell me what happened next," the policeman encouraged her.

"I got up out of my chair and went to open the door. You've asked me
all this before!"

"Yes I'm sorry," the P.C. confessed with a comforting smile, "But I
just want to make sure I've got it right."

"Well I got to the door and he&;#8230;"

"I'm sorry again," P.C. Rogers interrupted her, "How many did you say
were at the door?" He ignored the look of distain that Mrs Collins shot
at him.

"One!" Maud told him impatiently, "There was one young man on the
step."

"And how did you say he was dressed?"

"I didn't get much of a chance to look at him before he shoved me
backwards into the hall. But," her purple grazed brow creased with the
effort of thought, " I'm pretty sure he was wearing blue trousers -
jeans and a jumper."

"And can you remember what colour the jumper was?"

"Green and I think it had writing on it" she said screwing up her
blackened eyes to get a clearer vision.

David Rogers was blatantly aware of how intrusive his line of
questioning was but he needed to know all the details. He hated violent
crimes, especially when committed against the elderly. And this time he
was determined the culprit, for once, would not get away
scot-free.

"And then?" he coaxed Maud as gently as he could. And again Marilyn
Collins shot him a wary glance.

"And then," Maud continued, dabbing a tear from her cheek with the
corner of her hanky, "I staggered backwards trying to keep my balance
but I lost my footing and slipped over as he pushed passed me. I can't
remember anything after that until Marilyn arrived."

P. C. Rogers swung his attention onto Maud's neighbour. "So, what time
was it when you noticed the front door left open, Mrs Collins?"

Marilyn Collins gazed at the ceiling and twiddled her thumbs around
one another while she gathered her thoughts. "Let me see, I was rushing
back from the shops to catch the beginning of Countdown, so it must
have been after four. Well I couldn't believe it. She was in a terrible
state. They ought to 'ang the little sod when they cop 'old of 'im. It
wasn't enough for 'im to knock 'er down and break her 'ip. You can see
for yourself, officer, it looks as if he trampled on 'er face as 'e
went passed. Things'll never improve 'til they bring back 'angin' and
floggin'. Excuse my French but that's all these bleedin' little
bastards understand." She jabbed a stubby finger in the direction of
Maud. "That's what you get for bein' a good citizen all your life,
payin' yer taxes an' everythin'. D'you know 'er husband, 'Arold, was at
Dunkirk? Got the Military Cross 'e did."

The police officer was momentarily distracted by his radio crackling
into life. He raised the transender to his lips. "7496, go ahead." He
listened to a barely audible response, spoke a few cryptic words of his
own into the instrument, and then rose to his feet to excuse
himself.

"I'm sorry for cutting you short, but I'm afraid something's cropped
up. So, I'd like to thank you both for your time and assistance. I
realise it can't have been easy for either of you, however, if anything
else comes to light that I think you may be able to help us with, I
hope you won't mind me getting in touch again."

Joseph Ward looked exactly how Maud Harwood had described him:
sixteen, lean, below average height, short fair hair, Nike trainers,
blue jeans, and a dark green sweat shirt with a 'Timberland' logo in
gold lettering across the chest. David Rogers had to get him out of a
cell and take him into an interview room to speak to him.

It had been less than an hour since Jill Laurence had arrested him in
the Jewellery Quarter, attempting to trade Maud's gold locket at
Cohen's 'Gold &; Silver Jewellery Wholesalers &; Retailers'. It
transpired that the proprietor had alerted the police, when his
suspicion had been raised by the hesitancy of the vendor to supply a
valid name and address. Such was the blas? attitude of the young
robber; he hadn't even stopped to remove the small photographs of Maud
and her husband from the hinged compartment of the locket.

"I ain't sayin' nuffink 'til I see me brief," Joseph greeted the
arrival of P.C. Rogers at the cell door.

"The duty solicitor will be here shortly," Rogers explained.

"Don't want 'im!" Joseph snapped, "This is my brief," he thrust a
business card through the hatch, into the policeman's face, "Give 'im a
bell an' tell 'im it's urgent. And while you're at it, I want to see me
social worker as well. And what's 'appened to the fuckin' doctor that
that ugly dyke was supposed to be getting'? If 'e ain't 'ere soon I
want to make an official complaint. Look what the lousy bitch did to me
fuckin' wrists." Rogers was forced to inspect the pale blue bruising on
Ward's wrists, which, according to Jill Laurence, were caused by the
prisoner's reluctance to be handcuffed. David Rogers had also born
witness to the nasty grazes on his colleague's shins, resulting from
her prisoner's objections to being arrested. He was about to leave the
prisoner to make enquiries regarding the doctor when Ward called him
back.

"Oi! An' while yer at it, get me a smoke, will ya? Hey! An' I ain't 'ad
nuffink to eat for fuckin' hours."

It was at times like this that David Rogers found it most difficult to
retain his professional objectivity. He had just left a frail old lady
with a broken hip and a battered face, who had had to wait three hours
on a trolley in a hospital corridor before receiving any medical
attention. Now he found himself confronting a violent adolescent, who,
far from contributing anything to society, was preying on those who did
like a gutless hyena, then demanding legal aid, social workers,
immediate medical attention, cigarettes and food. Police Officer Rogers
couldn't pinpoint precisely what it was, but he suspected there was
something not quite right with the legal system that he was such an
integral part of.

Epilogue:

Maud Harwood never returned to her beloved little redbrick terraced
house, where she had lived out all of her married life. Medical opinion
suggested that, as she was too frail and vulnerable to look after
herself, she should be cared for in a residential nursing home for the
rest of her natural life.

Joseph Ward was tried and convicted of aggravated burglary. Because of
extenuating circumstances (there was no place available for him in
secure accommodation) he was given a suspended sentence and a couple of
hundred hours community work. His victim never regained the standard of
health she had enjoyed before the incident.

And when she died of pneumonia some months after her ordeal, Joseph
Ward happened to be on an outward-bound course, mountain climbing,
canoeing etc. in Snowdonia. The venture being the brain child of some
well meaning influential members of society, especially for socially
excluded young offenders. The idea was to promote their communication
skills and encourage a team spirit, so that they could be better
integrated into the community, which had served them so badly.

Joseph Ward knew exactly what to expect from the course and excelled
in all the activities. It was nothing new to him; he had learned a lot
from a similar course he had attended the previous year.