Monday 2nd November 2015, the start of another week but today was to be different to other Mondays. I boarded a train to Liverpool with a heavy heart, straight after breakfast. Today I was going to join many from across the UK to pay tribute to a brother.
It’s been a long time since I was last in Liverpool. In fact, the last time I was there, folk were throwing petrol bombs at me in Toxteth! On that occasion I was just a young lad with almost 6 months police service. Police officers from all over the UK had come together to deal with unspeakable violence and to protect the many innocent residents from the rioters. I remember it like yesterday. I remember a lull in proceedings where, in a side street, my serial were waiting for further instructions when several families came out of their houses in the terraced street with tea and orange squash ; “thank you so much” they said. They were grateful to us, we were grateful to them. That riotous night was eventually quelled by hundreds of bobbies from across the UK coming together and charging the rioters. It had been a long night.
A whole career has passed me by since then. I was proud to be part of a huge #PoliceFamily in dealing with that riot in Merseyside in 1981. I knew that today I would still be proud to be part of that #PoliceFamily, although I was no longer that young uniformed bobby but an “old codger”, part of the “NARPO gang”. It’s been 4 ½ years since I retired from the police service, yet that unspoken, invisible bond still exists with those still serving. We’ve walked in each other’s shoes, we’ve faced adversity together. When the chips are down, we know how to support each other. We give that support unquestioningly. They are still my brothers and sisters, yet I have never met most of them. We are the #PoliceFamily.
There were to be some similarities this Monday, to my last visit to Merseyside: Bobbies would come together from across the UK; they would show solidarity together; they would support each other; members of the public would offer their tokens of appreciation.
The atmosphere this Monday was far removed from that of my last riotous visit. This was to be a quiet, dignified event. We were here to say goodbye to our brother, PC David Phillips. PC 6554 Merseyside Police. A brother taken from us far too soon whilst serving the public. He died whilst doing something he probably thought as “routine”; doing something he had done many times before; doing something that he expected would run its course, after which his shift would end and he would go home to his family.
Yet it didn’t work out like that this time. The ending was anything but routine. He never went home to his wife Jen, nor to his two young daughters Abigail and Sophie. They and his wider family were in desperate grief. We feel their grief, for Dave is our #PoliceFamily brother too. His family needed our support on this day and so we gathered to give it as best we could.
I don’t know Liverpool. I left the train station, opened the ‘Maps App’ on my smartphone (thank goodness for that invention!) and followed its directions to Canada Boulevard. I didn’t need to follow it for long. After a few minutes, a steady flow of bobbies in “best uniform” –tunics, custodian helmets and white gloves – converged from all directions in twos, threes and small groups, walking purposely towards a common direction. Follow those bobbies!
Along this converging route were strategically placed Merseyside bobbies wearing red sashes, “meeting and greeting” the rest of us and guiding the way.
Of course, many of these converging bobbies were from Merseyside Police. They were easily recognisable: firstly they wore the “miners hat” style of helmet, like that once worn by me and a minority of other Police Forces; secondly, all their officers holding the rank of Sergeant or above were holding their famously unique “nightsticks” – a yard-long truncheon-like stick – once a practical frontline tool – now retained for ceremonial purposes; lastly, their Inspectors and Chief Inspectors wore flat caps with silver peak braid – normally reserved for superintending ranks in the rest of the UK – but still worn by tradition in Merseyside (replacing the normal black braid) in recognition of those officers who refused to take part in the 1919 Liverpool Police Strike.
But this was no Merseyside closed-shop. This was a paradise for any collector of police helmet or cap badges. Police officers from across the UK with their myriad of helmet styles and badges, all assembling in one place. From simple insignia to the marvellously ornate helmet plate, as modelled by @HantsFedChair John Apter – visibly distinct at considerable distance.
It was only 10 o’clock yet there was already a huge line of bobbies, formed up in Canada Boulevard with those arriving being marshalled into place by yet more sash-wearing Merseyside Sergeants. I joined the rest of the non-uniformed “old-codgers” at the rear of the uniformed columns. I couldn’t tell how many bobbies were forming up because I couldn’t see that far! A long column of bobbies as far as the eye could see! There was almost no noise from this gathering of the #PoliceFamily. A few quiet words now and again but mostly, those gathered were standing quietly with just their own thoughts. The flags, flown at half-mast on the Cunard Building, fluttered in the cool wind. The fog horn sounded intermittently, cutting somewhat eerily, through the heavy mist that still covered the river.
Every so often, we “old-codgers” would shuffle back to make way for more arriving “uniforms”. A red-sashed woman sergeant marched smartly to and fro across the pierhead arranging this, her “segs” (metal segments nailed to the soles of “best boots or shoes”) making a stark sound on the paving in contrast to the almost silent gathering. “I love the sound of that” said a woman behind me, “reminds me of the parade ground at training school”. I turned around, “you’re showing your age now!” I teased her (segs and police training schools both long since largely meeting their demise). A quite titter of laughter amongst those who were with her, “you’re not wrong there!” they smirked. It didn’t matter that she or her friends were strangers to me. We were all brothers and sisters together.
Amongst the sombre gathering there were bound to be moments of such lighter tone, it’s how bobbies cope in tough times – cop humour.
It was a little over 3 years ago since a similar gathering at Deansgate, Manchester – for Fiona and Nicola. My mind wandered between then and today. I knew that some of the same Twitter acquaintances were present today. Sure enough, there were tweets from @ConstableChaos and @SgtTCS. They were tweeting the scene, from the pictures, obviously way ahead of me, both being still serving and in uniform. “Plenty of us old buggers at the back too….” I tweeted in reply. “Do a dance” replied @TheTCS – referring back to Deansgate 3 years ago (his helpful suggestion to identify myself when it was apparent from our pictures on that day that we were within 100 yds of each other, lining the road.) – “I am… but so far back you’ll never spot me!” I replied.
There was no more time for light banter, a muffled parade marshal’s bellow, the sudden distant strains of the Pipe and Drum Band of the Police Service for Northern Ireland and we were off. We set off for the 1.3 mile walk to the Anglican Cathedral.
As we passed along the pierhead, there were members of the public standing in silent tribute. In small groups, in twos and standing alone. All ages, from all walks of life: pensioners; people with toddlers; couples; a guy of only about 17yrs casually dressed standing alone; smartly-dressed people; scruffily-dressed people; a man with a white bichon-frise dog; a woman in a mobility scooter; a young couple no more than 20yrs old – she in jeans with her hoodie pulled tight on her head against the cold wind – he in a sweatshirt and shorts (Brrrrrr !). They had all obviously made an effort to be there. They stood in respectful silence and were still doing so by the time we passed, which must have been quite a time from when the front of the parade passed them. We appreciated their efforts.
As we walked into the City Centre, we occasionally heard snippets of the Pipe & Drum Band as the parade weaved along the route. The procession was led by officers on horseback from Merseyside Mounted Branch, one of the few mounted branches not disbanded due to budget cuts. I didn’t see the horses but from time to time had to dodge their ‘deposits’ so I knew that they were there!
The public presence increased in the centre; shop and office workers stood in the doorways; small crowds at junctions; the staff of a Chinese food wholesaler assembled outside; a group of builders stood above us on scaffolding, whilst another group of them assembled on the pavement – all downing tools in silent respect.
In the face of seemingly never-ending political and press/media criticism of the police, it’s easy to reach the conclusion that everyone is anti-police: quick to criticise yet slow to praise; blaming today’s officers for past police problems – even though many were not even born, yet alone serving at the time! It’s easy to think that the public at large dislike the police – at best!
But that’s not true. Here is the evidence. The public in all their diversity, making an effort to show that they cared; that they appreciated the risks police officers face daily; taking time out of their day in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in grief. In turn we appreciated their gestures.
It took just over 1 hour to make that 1.3 mile journey, mostly uphill. The parade was so large that it took another 30 minutes to get everyone into the Cathedral, delaying the start of the service.
The Cathedral was packed. We plain clothed “old Codgers” sat on a lower level at the back. We couldn’t see any part of the proceedings but that didn’t matter. We were there for Jen, Abigail and Sophie. The priestly procession preceded Dave’s coffin – draped in a Merseyside Police flag with his cap on top. Dave was carried on his colleagues’ shoulders – his close colleagues, with a drill marshal and two others, helping the bearers to negotiate the several sets of cathedral steps. Jen and the girls led the family behind Dave. Abigail and Sophie in pretty dresses with sparkly shoes – Daddy’s Princesses no doubt.
As the service started, Jen, Abigail and Sophie were invited to light a candle for Dave. “I think mummy will help you” whispered the priest to one of the girls. After a short time the priest whispered “well done”. You could almost hear a tear in the eyes of the congregation. Even the “Old Codgers” were moved.
Hannah, Dave’s sister gave a tribute. She was wonderful. “Dave always looked for the good in any situation…” Dave was the family’s “beacon for good…” and he was “…too self-deprecating to claim the title of Hero – so I will claim it for him.” She told us that Dave was taken too early but that he was always organised and had ’The Lord is my Shepherd’ stored on his phone, so the family would know what to sing at his funeral; “… but he could never have imagined one like this.”
Dave’s good friend and fellow bobby PC Dave Lamont gave a tribute. He was nervous, perhaps uncomfortable in speaking to this audience at this time but his tribute was no less impactive for it. “We shared lots of interests…” “…we shared the same middle name, Andrew not Victor; let’s be clear about that!” There were funny little stories about “Disco Dave” about things on and off duty. More than once, we were told, “Dave would tell you…. – that wasn’t true! What happened was…” Dave was “…trusted to keep the streets of Liverpool safe; but was incapable of making his own sandwiches!” Dave ended by saying that blokes “really just want a shed” and told us that he would get one; and install a little mini-disco ball, for “Disco Dave. It was a wonderful tribute full of typical police humour, from someone who was clearly a wonderful friend. Well done Dave Lamont.
Dave’s other sister, Kate read out a poem that she had written; in a style as if Dave had written it for the congregation. Part of it read;
So remember me for my smile,
The one you put on my face.
Remember me for my strength,
For my courage I always gave.
That courage had rubbed off on Kate and gave her the strength, as her voice faltered in grief, to finish the reading. Well done Kate.
There were two songs from Les Miserables – a favourite of ‘the two Daves’; “only one of us cried at that…”, PC Dave Lamont had earlier quipped, “ “… and it wasn’t me.”
There was a tribute from Sir Jon Murphy, the Chief Constable of Merseyside. “… it’s not just about what we do, but how we do it…” he told us, “…Dave was like the public want our bobbies to be…”
The service drew to a close. On the last page of the service booklet, was a picture of ‘Disco Dave’ with the following message that I can only reproduce in full:
Both families of our beloved son David, would like to place on record our most sincere and grateful appreciation for the tidal wave of love, sympathy and support we have received from all quarters of the Police, sports clubs and organisations, and by no means least, the general public. Your love and support has helped us through this time of abject misery and pain. We would not have been able to cope had it not been for you all.
Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.
I hope that the presence of the #PoliceFamily and the reactions of the Merseyside public helped Jen and all the family through this difficult day.
Jen, you are ours and we are yours. Your family will always be part of the #PoliceFamily. You clearly have a strong family who will draw on each other for support in the coming times ahead.
Others will be there for you also, not least Care of Police Survivors (COPS), a wonderful charity that looks after the families of our fallen bobbies. Some families look for that support immediately, others months or years later. They will be there if and whenever you are ready.
Many of us at this gathering could imagine what Dave felt on his night shift, we have walked in his shoes. We can barely imagine what the family feels, for we have not walked in their shoes. COPS can fill this void in understanding. Their annual service is full of heart-warming stories of the support offered at COPS events: partners’ events; parents’ events; childrens’ events and siblings’ events. They live up to the COPS motto; Rebuilding Shattered Lives.
As the family left the Cathedral, behind Dave’s coffin, once again bravely borne by his colleagues, there was quiet applause from the congregation that grew louder as they passed. This wasn’t something rehearsed or requested. It was a spontaneous gesture by the congregation. The applause was of course for Dave, but also for his wonderful family friends, who had been so dignified, so strong, so wonderful. It was a fitting end to the public service to our brother.
Well done also to Merseyside Police. Your organisation, dignity and attention to detail did Dave proud.
It took as long to get out of the Cathedral as it had to get in. Uniform was dispersing in all directions, this time in free form, in contrast to the orchestrated arrival.
Later, police officers in Merseyside, and across the UK would don their uniforms and prepare to go out onto the night shift. They would expect to do routine stuff – and they would expect later still – to go home to their families…
#PFTP (Police for the Public / Public for the Police
#OfficerDown
#LestWeForget
Final Note: Should any reader whish to make a donation to Care of Police Survivors (COPS) – in tribute to Dave, – ‘Disco Dave’ – PC 6554 Merseyside Police;
You can do so by following this link; http://www.ukcops.org/donate.php
Or by post:
Care Of Police Survivors (COPS), PO Box 5685, Rugeley, WS15 9DN