# The Coach and Horses Set-to!



## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

As luck would have it, during the last week of 1970 I was the observer in the west area car on a week of night shifts. We were called up by Bravo Control of our position, then instructed to attend a major breach of the peace at The Coach and Horses public house in Upper Brook Street, in Ipswich, where an assault occasioning grievous bodily harm had taken place.
When we arrived at the public house, I was directed by a short, slim, middle-aged black man around the corner to Tackett Street. He was known as 'Slim, King of the *******'. Not only by all the blacks who were pimps to all the working girls and drug dealers of the town, but also to most of the local police force cops on the town beats.
"You should keep things under control," I eye-balled him with a grin on my face. "If you don't want us in here on every minor breach of the peace." He nodded back at me, understanding the meaning of my words.
In the doorway of the Salvation Army charity shop sat a very obese young woman, who was covered in blood from several deep cuts in her left upper arm and to her chest. In a very drunken voice, she told me that her name was Big-Mary, and that her boyfriend had done this to her because of an argument they'd just had in the bar.
She told me that her boyfriend wanted her to have sex with some ugly-looking punter, but she had told him that she wanted a night off to enjoy herself. He'd got quite angry at her refusal, as this punter was going to give them twenty pounds for her services. "It's only sex!" he'd told her. "Then we have the money to score some gunja and have a good time."
I told her that we needed to take her to the hospital at Anglesea Road, as several of her wounds were so deep that you could see the white of her bones showing through. The cut on her left upper arm had allowed the flabby flesh to almost turn inside out.
But she wouldn't have any of it, saying that she didn't want anything to do with the hospital, after several previous altercations there. She would, she'd told me, allow us to take her to the police station, where they could stitch her up. And that's what we eventually did.
While the desk sergeant was stitching and dressing her wounds... him being a member on the St. John's Ambulance Brigade... the phone rang at the switchboard, and it turned out to be the Anglesea Road Hospital on the line.
They were concerned about a young black man, who had staggered into the Accident and Emergency Department with some serious cuts and stab wounds to his body. I took down his details from the matron on the other end of the line, and told her that I would shortly be there to question him, as we were dealing at present with a similar case of assault at the police station that could be connected.
When I went to the hospital to interview the young black man, he was so ashamed of himself at what had happened that he broke down and spilt the beans to me. He admitted that he was Big-Macy's boyfriend, but also acted as her pimp. The money she earned was just for spends... to have a good time... and he made sure that nothing untoward happened to her while she was working in the town.
He also admitted that there had been a violent argument in The Coach and Horses public house, where she threw a full pint beer mug at him. He'd managed to duck out of the way, and it had hit the corner-post of the bar, cutting two other drinkers in the face with splinters of flying glass. I told him that I'd already taken down their statements of the incident for future prosecution against her.
He had smashed her in the face with his half-full pint mug of beer when she lunged at him, then used it to defend himself when she attacked him with an empty pint beer bottle... badly cutting her arm in the process. He'd then lost his nerve, as things got out of control, and had turned on his heels and ran from the bar, with Big-Mary in hot pursuit. 
After fleeing in front of her down Tackett Street, he'd doubled back into the rear car park behind The Coach and Horses public house to get out of her way... but he was blocked in, being in a dead-end. As the car park was still under construction, there were piles of hard-core all over the place. They'd ended up throwing half house-bricks at each other, until he was hit on the head and made a run for it over the back lots of the adjoining buildings.
I told him that I was arresting him for assault occasioning grievous bodily harm, and read him his rights. He lowered his head at the implications, and I took him back to the police station with me in the west area car, after his injuries had been treated and his nose had been reset by the hospital staff.
Without fully realizing the implications of the situation, the duty inspector had not only let Big-May leave the police station after her injuries had been stitched up and treated with the application of sterile dressings, but she had actually been taken home in the east area patrol car. This nightmare was getting completely out of control as time went by.
When I made my report to the duty inspector, after the boyfriend of Big-Mary had been locked up for the night, it was obvious that she should have also been charged with assault occasioning grievous bodily harm herself. She should, therefore, have been arrested at the scene of the incident at The Coach and Horses public house, charged and cautioned for the offence of G.B.H.
The duty inspector told me to include in my report that I had arrested her at the scene of the incident and cautioned her, as should have happened in the first place if we had been made aware of all the facts involved in the case. He told me that it was the best way to cover everything up.

If they thought that I was going to perjure myself to save their backsides, then they were very much mistaken! Without saying anything to them, the next day in my own off-duty time I went to see the two defendants at the flat that they shared in the High Street to explain to them what was happening. Everything was rosy between them, after they'd got back together again and sobered up.
I explained to them that the powers that be were trying to coerce me to commit perjury to save their necks and get a conviction against them... but no way! This wasn't going to happen... not on my watch! I advised them to say nothing to them, but keep everything secret until they went to court... then there would be the biggest dirt-fight they had ever seen in their lives. There would be no prosecution against them, ever! Not after what I had to say in the witness box.
But those stuck-up bastards on the top floor of the police station sussed what was up and dropped the case, knowing full well that I wasn't going to play their little game. They arranged for the process department to drop the case and dispose of all the records on file. If they disliked me before this, they now positively hated my guts... but what did I care. I wasn't going to perjured myself in Crown Court for anyone. 
I felt particularly peeved that I was being asked by the senior officers of the Suffolk Constabulary to perjured myself in Crown Court to cover up the blunders made by them. There was no way that I was going to be coerced by these senior officers to perjured myself to save their sticky backsides. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## JRMacGregor (Feb 1, 2007)

Cpt Dick Brooks said:


> I felt particularly peeved that I was being asked by the senior officers of the Suffolk Constabulary to perjured myself in Crown Court to cover up the blunders made by them.


Perhaps I am missing something but what were the blunders made by the senior officers ? Were the blunders not made by the on-scene officers ?


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For JR MacGreger.*

At my arrival at the scene of this breach of the peace, I was directed by one of the drinkers in the bar to the doorway of the Salvation Army shop in Tackett Street. I found a young woman covered in blood from the wounds in her arm and her breasts. The flesh of her arm was hanging open to the white of her bones, and her breast was lacerated and open.
I suggested to her that we should call for an ambiance to convey her to Angeles Road Hospital to treat her wounds... but she declined, and requested that we take her to the police station for treatment. With no other option, she was taken to the police station and was stitched up by the duty sergeant, who was a member of the St. John's Ambulance Brigade.
While this treatment was taking place, there was a phone call from the hospital about the arrival of a black man who was suffering from severe cuts and abrasions to his body. Leaving Big-Mary with the station sergeant, I set off in the west area car for the hospital. There I found a young black man with severe wounds to his head and body. It soon came to light that he was the second person involved in this incident, and after his confession of the assault on Big-Mary, I arrested him and read him his rights.
When I arrived back at the police station, I was informed by the duty sergeant that Big-Mary had been taken home in the east area car. I presented my evidence first to the duty sergeant, then to the duty officer of the complicity of the young black man and Big-Mary in this incident of the breach of peace, and that they should both be reported for assault occasioning grievous bodily harm. 
As I have previously stated, the duty officer told me to include in my written report that I had arrested Big-Mary outside the Salvation Army shop, and cautioned her. Without saying anything to him, I decided that I wasn't going to purdger myself in the Crown Court to save their necks, but to keep quiet about my intentions to tell the truth to the court when on the stand. The next day, I went in my own time to tell Big-Mary and her pimp of the coercion to purdger myself to save the necks of my senior officers, and that I would stand by them in this illegal act of purdgery. 
If the senior officers of the Suffolk Constabulary didn't like me before, they positively hated me now. Because I was getting near the end of the four years of rebuilding my second ship, Biche, knowing that I intended leaving the police force to set up my own charter business out of Ipswich Wet Dock, they were more than peeved. Young police officers were supposed to give their all to the force, and prosecute all their efforts in passing their sergeants exams... and I'd never ever driven a motor vehicle ever in my life. Never mind that they chartered my first ship, Blue Bell, for police operations in the River Orwell when required for search and recovery and recovery of bodies. 
I intend to post short stories of how I finally left the Suffolk Constabulary, and I promise you that it will not be congenial. The bigotry is beyond belief... I promise you... but that is another story all together. I just hope that you have the courage to post my work on your website. All the best, Cot Dick Brooks.


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