Report from the East Sussex Crime Desk

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In our neighbouring county of Kent, the police have been busy foiling cool 21st century crimes, like chasing down the security van thieves who made off with more than £50 million. Cool thieves. Movie thieves. But here too, in Sussex, the police have vital work to do.


When I was young and forced to start considering careers, I went through many options. I wanted first to be a chemist, but that was really only so I could have a secret hidden cupboard full of test tubes of chemicals. I had, at one stage considered entering the world of the career criminal, but I was put off by the long-term prospects. I was concerned by the lack of a pension plan, the absence of obvious benefits like a Christmas party, and making friends at work. Above all, I was concerned that there was never going to be a source of solid, regular work for a thief. In the shop where I currently work I have been forced to reassess that view.


We are something of a magnet for thieves, with our readily available quantities of relatively lightweight, easily manageable and reasonably expensive theft options. Add to this the benefits of no CCTV, no connection to the town's shop theft-alert system and the fact that we are right on the edge of the nastiest area of our town, and we might as well put up signs. I say 'nastiest area' but I should qualify that by pointing out that I live in Eastbourne. The vast majority of our ASBOs1 are issued to the over fifties. But, mock though you really should if you're half way sensible, it isn't an area you'd willingly run into after a couple of blokes who've just nicked six hundred pounds worth of stuff. It was less than six months ago that a policeman was stabbed three streets away. It took five policemen with tazers to bring the guy down, strap him, literally, hand and foot, and carry him to the police car. This may not sound that bad to many of you, but in a small English seaside town with an elderly upper middle class population who predominantly voted for a middle-aged bloke called Nigel with coiffeured grey hair as their parliamentary representative, it was pretty damn hardcore. Also, we put expensive stuff right by the door. Asking for it, I'm telling you.

Our first big theft of the autumn took place while I was, nominally, in charge. Our manager was having a day off and our assistant manager was on holiday, so it fell to me to open the shop, bank the takings and reset the computer when it failed to start properly. It was Monday, it was delivery day. There were two of us. As a result of these things, combined with the fact that our delivery entrance is also our main shop floor entrance, there was stuff everywhere. All over the floor. Lee (my part-time colleague) was serving at the till. I was out in the back office searching for an item a customer told me had been reserved for him. The customer, meanwhile, was making hasty progress down the road with a helicopter under each arm and mate in hot pursuit carrying a radio controlled car. All in all, they made off with maybe £500 worth of stuff, although we took consolation from the fact that some of their ill-gotten acquisitions wouldn't work unless they came back and purchased the bits to go with it. We had, after a fashion, made a sale.


I would like at this stage to consider the perspective of our shoplifter. Thus far, everything has gone well for you. You have negotiated your way into the shop (which, as later developments will indicate, was probably no mean feat) selected some items of value and emerged, victorious, without having paid for them. All good so far. From here on your natural intelligence kicks in and it all seems to go downhill. You have key decisions to make. Most crucially, you are now in possession of stolen goods, and you are aware (albeit, and the phrase may never have been so apposite, dimly) that what you have done is not considered universally acceptable and the long arm of the law may shortly be descending in your general direction with a view to redressing the moral balance. You need to hide the evidence. Where to go? Not home, for even you are not quite that stupid. An idea strikes you (and it must have hurt). The shop just up the road. They know you, you've dealt with them before. Surely they would quite happily hold on to a few electrical items for you for a half hour or so while you, relying on your impressive improvisational skills and naturally acute intelligence, contrive some plausible excuse as to why you urgently need to be elsewhere? What could be less suspicious? It is a foolproof plan.


Time, I think, to come back to me. I was one the phone to the police by now (I had got through a queue of phone calls in the time it took our robbers to think through a couple of sentences. It was a long queue). At this point in time my conversation with the helpful lady on the other end of the phone was interrupted by a man from Cash Converters, the shop down the road, to ask if we had just had a car stolen. He had, he explained, just spoken to a young gentleman who had offered him the unique opportunity to take part in what he had correctly identified as the receipt of stolen goods. Smart bloke, a first for this story. The thief had moved off with the merchandise, which was a blow, but given to me with two rather useful cushions. Cash Converters had the bloke's name and address on file. Cash Converters had CCTV footage of our thief standing in their shop with an item that had gone missing from our shop not five minutes previously. It's a fair cop.


Unsurprisingly, it didn't take the police that long. They moved in on the address given to them by Cash Converters and arrested a young man. He turned out, rather inconveniently, not to be the man on the CCTV footage. He did, however, recognise the man on the CCTV footage as being his sister's ex-boyfriend. The ex-boyfriend was promptly arrested and will, presumably be charged with theft and identity fraud. Another good day's work for the East Sussex Constabulary.


Mind how you go.

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benjaminpmoore

14.02.08 Front Page

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1Anti Social Behavour Orders. A little note that says you mustn't be naughty in the future, not staggeringly effective, but they do have a catch Acronym.

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