Posts Tagged ‘police’

Just time for a quick post about two very troubling stories that have appeared in the last day. The first is a report in the Times which reveals that Ministers are to consider plans for a database holding details of every phone call and e-mail sent in the UK.

A massive government database holding details of every phone call, e-mail and time spent on the internet by the public is being planned as part of the fight against crime and terrorism.

Now anyone with an ounce of intelligence can see that if - and what a gigantic ‘if’ that is - this plan were actually implemented, it would have pretty much zero impact in stopping terrorism. There are just so many ways around it, such as pay-as-you-go mobiles, pay phones, sat-phones, internet cafes, VPNs to offshore servers and even old fashioned letters and face-to-face meetings, that no serious terrorist would be deterred by it.

If the Government did have a database of all phone calls, emails and “time spent on the internet” (what does that mean anyway?) would they be able to resist the temptation to start data mining, profiling and scanning people’s communications to look for suspicious patterns, rather than performing targeted searches of known suspects? They can do the latter now anyway. Hmmm, total surveillance society anyone? So much for Article 12 of the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights:

No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attacks upon his honour and reputation. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks.

Of course such a system would present some massive technological challenges, and we know what the Government’s track record is like when it comes to large-scale IT projects. And they’re not so hot at protecting our personal data either, are they? One would think that the merest mention of the word “database” would have Ministers running a mile by now, but sadly these ill-conceived IT ‘panaceas’ still seem to make them cream their pants. Still, least it would be a nice little earner for the likes of EDS.

Even if the whole story is just a bit of kite flying by the Home Office, the fact that anyone could contemplate floating the idea scares the hell out of me. I particularly liked this comment on the Times article by Alan Black:

I think someone ought to point out to the government that 1984 was meant as a critique and a warning, not a blueprint.

The second WTF! story today concerns the teenager facing prosecution for calling Scientology a ‘cult’.

The unnamed 15-year-old was served the summons by City of London police when he took part in a peaceful demonstration opposite the London headquarters of the controversial religion.

Officers confiscated a placard with the word “cult” on it from the youth, who is under 18, and a case file has been sent to the Crown Prosecution Service.

That’s despite a judge sitting at the Old Bailey previously stating that

Scientology is both immoral and socially obnoxious…It is corrupt sinister and dangerous. It is corrupt because it is based on lies and deceit and has its real objective money and power for Mr. Hubbard… It is sinister because it indulges in infamous practices both to its adherents who do not toe the line unquestionly and to those who criticize it or oppose it. It is dangerous because it is out to capture people and to indoctrinate and brainwash them so they become the unquestioning captives and tools of the cult, withdrawn from ordinary thought, living, and relationships with others.

As is so often the case, the Register came up with the funniest take on the story - their caption for the photo of the police confiscating the placard was “PC plodette extends the long tentacle arm of Xenu the law”.

Is it just me, or does the City of London police seem a little too cosy with the Scientologists? Perhaps Scientology is the new Freemasonry?

(If you have never seen it, you must watch the South Park illustration of what Scientologists actually believe.)

I was planning to have an early night tonight, but instead I find myself waiting for my next door neighbour’s living room window to be boarded up at 3am.

At about one o’clock this morning I heard some noise which I initially put down to my cat Patty playing. When I realised the noise was out in the street, I peered out from the living room window, but couldn’t see anything dodgy. A couple of minutes later there was a loud crash — clearly not feline-related — which made me race to find my keys and some trainers.

I opened the front door to find several police officers tending an injured man on the pavement right outside the gate, and my neighbour’s front window smashed in. (yes, you read that right, the Met actually responded quickly to a crime!)

It turned out that prior to trying to break in next door, the injured man had smashed a window in the street around the corner, hence the police’s quick response. Clearly rather drunk, the man had made a right pig’s ear of attempting to break into my neighbour’s, and ended up cutting his arm rather badly on the broken glass. Blood all over the place — over the window, the curtains, garden, front door and pavement.

Within a couple of minutes there were three police cars on the scene, plus two plain clothes officers, and a LAS Rapid Response Unit and ambulance to take care of Crap Burglar’s arterial bleeding.

I have to admit to being rather glad I wasn’t the first person on the scene; it would have felt a bit galling to have had to administer basic first aid to the man who’d just tried to smash his way into my neighbour’s place (and given Crap Burglar’s injuries, I’d have felt obliged to do so). Also, as burglar often = junkie, and junkie often = hepatitis, with all that blood I’d probably have spent five minutes rummaging around under the sink for a pair of Marigolds…

To make matters worse, my neighbour is on holiday at the moment, and I’ve been going in to feed her cat every day. Not exactly the sort of thing you want to find waiting for you when you get back from your hols, is it?

Anyway, once the ambulance had carted Crap Burglar off to the A&E at King’s, the cops said I’d have to wait for the Scene of Crime Officers (SOCO) to collect evidence before I could start washing the blood away (blood can be a bugger to get rid of, so I wanted to get the worst of it removed before it dried). Not entirely convinced it needed the specialist forensics team to figure it out: trail of blood leading from drunk bloke on pavement with a big gash in his arm to broken window… Hmmm.

Having watched a few episodes of CSI on TV I was a bit disappointed when the SOCO people didn’t turn up in a Hummer, all dressed in designer suits. They didn’t even have any hi-tech gadgets; in fact the three of them actually spent five minutes trying to figure out how to work their digital camera! Still, I like to think that when they return to their lab, with its sexy, low-key lighting, they’ll be piecing the whole incident together using a 3D computer animation at least.

Well, the blood’s been washed away, and the guy’s just finished boarding up the window, so it’s time for me to hit the hay.

I’ve just been reading David Mery’s account of his arrest on the tube. Not only was he arrested and placed in a cell, but some of his personal possessions were confiscated, his flat was searched, computer equipment and data were removed, and his fingerprints and DNA were taken (to be stored indefinitely). His crime? Carrying a rucksack and wearing a coat that was “too warm for the season”. Jesus. At least they didn’t execute him on the platform I suppose…

Elsewhere, Reporters Without Borders have put together a Handbook for Bloggers and Cyber-Dissidents (sadly in PDF format) containing info on:

how to to remain anonymous and to get round censorship, by choosing the most suitable method for each situation. It also explains how to set up and make the most of a blog, to publicise it (getting it picked up efficiently by search-engines) and to establish its credibility through observing basic ethical and journalistic principles.

Scumbags 1, Criminal Justice System 0
I was called for my first trial today. At 11am the Jury Manager called out 15 names, and we were led up to Court 12 on the 5th floor by an usher (there are two lifts exclusively for jurors’ use). Once inside the courtroom, we all sat down and waited as 12 names were called out at random. Those called (including me) then trotted over and sat down in the jury box. There were no challenges to the selected jurors, so we were sworn in.

Surprisingly I was one of only two people to take the affirmation, as opposed to the religious oath on the holy book of their choice (I decided against asking to take the oath holding The Simpsons—A Complete Guide To Our Favorite Family). I suspect that most people went with the default oath for sake of ease and embarrassment. The final guy to read the oath had some trouble — I was sat next to him and couldn’t understand a word — and after the judge asked him to repeat it, he was dismissed because of his dubious English. This meant that one of the spare jurors had to take his place. Then the trial began.

The defendant was charged with Wounding with Intent to do Grievous Bodily Harm (which I later discovered carried a maximum of life imprisonment). We had a pencil and pad of paper each, but it was hardly necessary to take notes, as only three people gave evidence — the victim, the defendant and the interviewing detective. At this point I have to be careful what I write, as I could find myself sent down for contempt of court if I give any details of my or my fellow jurors’ thoughts.

What I will say is that the prosecution was awful, totally amateurish and unprepared. It’s no wonder the police reputedly say that CPS doesn’t stand for Crown Prosecution Service, but actually Couldn’t Prosecute Satan.

We were in court for about an hour and a half; after the closing speeches and judge’s summing up, the 12 of us were led out to be locked in the jury room to consider our verdict. Sat around a large table (think 12 Angry Men), we introduced ourselves and said our bit (mostly along the lines of “Ooh, it’s just like it is on telly!”). At one point we had a question about the prosecution’s evidence, so we buzzed for the usher, who took a note to the judge. After a few minutes we were called back into the courtroom, where we were basically told that no, we couldn’t find out what we wanted to know. Back to the jury room. Sandwiches were ordered (no, not free), fags were smoked. Another question for the bloke in the funny wig, so back to court we went. Then back to the jury room again.

We eventually reached a unanimous verdict after about three hours deliberation. Our foreman was volunteered (as it was so hot, he was wearing t-shirt and shorts!), and we went back into the courtroom for the final time. Not guilty.

The jury was thanked and told to go home, so the 12 of us left via the jury waiting room. We left the building at exactly the same time as the cleared defendant, who thanked us. A bit weird (you’d think they’d stagger it, or at least send them out by a different exit). A few of us walked back to the station, muttering about the prosecution, then went our separate ways. Hmm, an interesting yet rather depressing experience.