CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Thirty minutes later and November Whisky 50 were back on the road and on the beat. They were patrolling down Grant Avenue in Norwood. Student Constable Dlamini was asking his field training officer why they even bothered getting involved in cases of domestic violence if they didn’t arrest anyone or the person that they did arrest would just get out of jail a little later and be able to do it all again --usually bailed out by the very person they were arrested for abusing in the first place.
“Our job is not to arrest people Steven” said Night. ”Our job is to maintain order and keep the peace. In South Africa we are luckier than a lot of our colleagues around the world, especially in first world countries like England, because we have a certain amount of discretion that we are allowed to employ while carrying out our duties as Law Enforcement Officers. Yes Beauty and Philemon had both broken the law, so to speak, but our complainant was neither of the two. The person who phoned the police was the landlord and she was not complaining about the assault taking place and not looking to press charges for these reasons. She only wanted Beauty and Philemon off her property and that is what we achieved.”
“Ja but shouldn’t we have arrested Beauty and Philemon for fighting each other?” asked Dlamini.
“No. But we would have if they were being aggressive with each other or they seemed intent on really hurting one other. But they were fine. Just both heavily under the influence of alcohol and drugs. And I believe there is an equilibrium, a balance there between those two, I don’t believe either of them will ever really be able to hurt the other, that badly.”
“But how could you tell, how do you know and what if you are wrong? What if one of them kills the other?”
“When it’s that bad and someone’s life is in real danger you will know Steven. You’ll know immediately” said Stanislov.
Now Shaka chipped in: “Ja boy, if that owner of the house hadn’t called us we would never have been involved in that silly thing. You must know that boy. You live in Alexandra. People beat each other all the time there.”
“But that’s normal in Alexandra and I wish the people called the police more often there. Then they could stop the fighting. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to be a cop -- to stop people from hurting each other.”
“That’s an admirable reason for wanting to be a cop Steven but policemen are not the answer to problems within the home. Law enforcement is not the answer to social problems. Anyway why do you think that people in Alex never call the police to deal with domestic violence?”
“Because they don’t trust the police” said Dlamini.
“Partly. But mainly because it’s just too much hassle to get the police involved.”
“But why, we could go there and arrest the bad one. The abuser. The man who beats the woman. Like in the movies man. We could save someone’s life!”
“That’s what all student police officers think. I was the same. We all were. But that’s why you spend the first year on the road with us, to learn, Steven. To learn that life is a lot more complicated than a cheesy Hollywood movie or an episode of Texas Walker Ranger.”
“And it’s very often the woman who beats the crap out of the husband! Don’t be fooled!” said Shaka.
“But we should follow the law and arrest people when they break it!” insisted Dlamini.
“You think we should have arrested Beauty and Philemon don’t you?”
“Yes! I think so.”
“Okay, imagine we had arrested them both. The outcome would be that Philemon’s wife would find out what happened and that undoubtedly would lead to more domestic unhappiness and turmoil and perhaps more violence. Beauty and Philemon may have lost their jobs. And if Beauty was arrested she would have resented her boss for it. And do you know what happens when a domestic worker resents their boss?”
“They rob them” said Shaka.
“Or they supply information to hard-core thugs who then rob the employer, usually with a lot of violence” said Stanislov.
“And not to mention the cost to the state, in fact to the taxpayer. For feeding, and housing them while they are under arrest. Arresting them would also lead to more case dockets being opened. The detectives having more work to do. The courts being even more overburdened. And then the charges would probably not stick or there would not be enough evidence for a conviction. We preserved the order more by not arresting anyone this time.”
The police radio erupted to life.
“Any November Whisky vehicle for a Shooting in Progress in Highlands North come in for Control” said Lisa.
“Send for Yankee Nine Control” said Sergeant Snyman.
“Thank you Yankee Nine. I have numerous reports of a Shooting in Progress at the Highlands North Sports Club. It sounds like a Robbery in Progress but I can’t confirm and have no more information at this time. Please respond. I am pretty sure it’s positive as we have received more than one call about it in the last few minutes.”
“Roger that Control, we are in Bramley at the moment so we are close. Can you give me an actual street address please Control as we don’t know the Norwood area that well.”
“I don’t have a street address but go ahead and have permission with November Whisky 50 they will know where it is.”
“Thanks Control. November Whisky 50, Yankee Nine.”
“Send!” said Night.
“Address?”
“It’s behind Balfour Park shopping centre. Off one of those feeder roads to the right off Louis Botha. You will see the floodlights and soccer field. So received?”
“So received. Okay, I know it. We should break in about three Mikes!”
“Roger that. We are also en route but we are wide. Give us about six Mikes and a Zero Six when you break” said Night.
“Roger that.”
Two minutes and thirty eight seconds later: “Control. Yankee Nine, Break! 22 Alpha, Highlands North.”
“Roger that Yankee Nine. All non-responding vehicles on my channel stay off the air until further notice.”
Two minutes later.
“Control, Yankee Nine.”
“Send Yankee Nine.”
“22 Alpha positive. I have one Whisky Male shot in the face. I need the mortuary van. But send the ambulance to confirm.”
“Yankee Nine you know I cannot send the van until a death is confirmed by medical staff. I will send the ambulance.”
“Ja whatever Control. The guy’s brains are on the back seat of his vehicle. But yeah send the ambo as I am not qualified to tell you if a man is dead or not.”
“Yankee Nine remember your radio etiquette! Do you have a Zero Six?”
“Yes. Zero Six is for one Bravo Male in light blue faded jeans, a black and white t-shirt, a brown leather jacket and a baseball cap. He is armed with a pistol and is on foot. Direction is probably Alex Control.”
“Roger that. Standby while I broadcast the Zero Six across all channels.”
Lisa van der Westhuizen broadcast the lookout for the shooting suspect across all relevant Johannesburg police radio channels.
“Control this is Bravo Lima Three. Come in.”
“This better be good Bravo Lima Three. Send” said Control.
“I think your suspect just hijacked a vehicle here on Louis Botha Avenue towards Alexandra. I have the complainant with me and his description of the suspect fits the description of your shooting suspect. Hold on for a Zero Six on the vehicle.”
“Roger that. Standing by.”
“Okay Control it’s a blue Toyota Corolla old model with tinted windows. He doesn’t know his registration but he says that the hood of the vehicle is black as it was in an accident and he replaced it with a spare but hasn’t sprayed it blue yet” said the crew of Bravo Lima Three.
“Roger that Bravo Lima Three. All vehicles be on the lookout for an old shape Blue Toyota Corolla with tinted windows and a black hood. Heading towards Alexandra. Lima X-Ray vehicles did you copy that?”
“Ro
ger that, Control this is Lima X-Ray 100. We will set up a welcoming committee on London Road leading into our little corner of paradise” said Warrant Officer Vilakazi.
“Control, November Whisky 50.”
“Send November Whisky 50.”
“Ja Control we are heading into Alexandra as well. Permission with Yankee Nine.”
“Permission granted go ahead.”
“Yankee Nine, November Whisky 50.”
“Send.”
“Do you have any more Intel for us or do you need us on scene?” said Sergeant Night.
“That’s a negative. Just get the son of a bitch. He has killed a father of three and one of the sons is here.”
“Roger that will do.”
“Control. Yankee Nine.”
“Send Yankee Nine.”
“Please send a November Whisky complaints vehicle to take over this scene so that we can leave and head into Alex.”
“That’s a negative Yankee Nine. That’s your scene now. You broke first! And don’t come back onto my channel unless it’s urgent.” said Lisa.
“You know I am just going to get my Captain to order you to get a complaints vehicle here” said Sergeant Snyman.
“That’s fine. But until then I need you to handle that scene. Take care of everyone. What do you need there?”
“Everyone Control, a full house. And check up on the ambulance and mortuary van for me please.”
“Roger that.”
“Control, November Whisky 50. Urgent” said Night.
“Send your message.”
“Control we are behind the Blue Toyota Corolla with the black hood and can see the suspect, the description matches the lookouts. Give me permission with the Alex vehicles please Control.”
November Whisky 50 had used their knowledge of their area and had taken a side street running parallel to Louis Botha Avenue heading towards the informal settlement. They had come across the suspected shooter trying to double back against himself heading away from Alex and into town.
“Go ahead. Have permission with Lima X-Ray 100.” said Lisa.
“Thanks Control. Lima X-Ray 100.”
“Send” said Warrant Officer Vilakazi.
“Villa, it’s good to hear you again my brother. Listen up, we are behind our suspect here. Travelling parallel to Louis Botha Avenue heading back towards you guys. Our suspect was trying to double back but we interrupted him. He’s playing dumb and driving semi normally. He’s obviously not sure if we know what he’s done. We will stay behind him and try to lead him to you. Otherwise just stay loose on directions as he is…. Hold on, he’s bolting. He has just run the lights at Second Avenue and Arkwright heading towards Wynberg Road and then London Road” said Night.
“That’s perfect Mike! Just stay on him and don’t give him room to turn too early. Push him down London Road and towards the Far East Bank intersection, we are set up here. I have two other vehicles with me and we will blast the shit out of him as he comes around the corner. So don’t turn with him.”
“Roger that we will be with you in under 30 seconds, so be ready and the suspect is positively identified as being our guy and a very naughty boy. He is shooting at us!”
The blue Toyota Corolla with the black bonnet was driven recklessly and violently down London Road in Alexandra by Fikile, a veteran criminal, and a member of the notorious 28s gang. He stuck his gun out the window and started to shoot wildly at the pursuing police vehicle. The large double cab police car with November Whisky 50 written on it started to slow down and give up the chase.
Fikile took his chance and turned down the intersection at Far East Bank and into Alexandra Township. Soon, he thought to himself, he would be nestled inside a hostel safe from the pesky police. He was very pleased with himself for shooting the chasing police unit. He guessed he had shot the driver and that’s why they stopped chasing him.
Fikile felt quite proud of himself. His fellow gangsters knew him as One Shot Fikile, their hijacking specialist. One shot in the forehead and Bang, the car is yours. No mess, no witness. But this time he hadn’t been able to get the keys from the owner. Maybe he had thrown them out of the window.
As his thoughts came back to the present however and he opened his eyes he had a perfect moment of clarity - the hunting police vehicle had halted its pursuit because they were heading straight into a wall of undiscriminating bullets. Fikile’s life ended with the faces of all his helpless victims flashing before him, the final face being that of an outstanding businessman and father of three, a good husband and a fine son to proud parents, a man who he had just executed for not handing over the keys to his car. As the multiple rounds from the Alexandra Police Officers’ R5 assault rifles and Vector Nine millimetre pistols penetrated the hijacked vehicle’s windshield and entered his chest, face and brain he was ashamed, ruined, in total misery and condemned to the abyss.
“Control. This is Lima X-Ray 100. Come in.”
“Send for me Warrant” said Lisa, who knew Warrant Officer Vilakazi well.
“We’ve got him. Our murdering, hijacking suspect is no more. He’s dead and I don’t need an ambulance to confirm it.”
The murderer’s getaway car was infested with bullet holes. It had veered off the road and into a nearby wall. Now the Corolla went up in flames via a small explosion.
November Whisky 50 had now arrived on scene, in a corner of one of the poorest and most dangerous townships in the world, under the blazing African sun and in the middle of a cloud of rising red dust. The South African police officers stood in a semi-circle and watched the vehicle blaze. One of the young female constables based at Alexandra police station poignantly whispered aloud the title of the South African national anthem: Nkosi Sikelele iAfrika. (God Bless Africa).
“Let it burn. Let the bastard burn!” said Stanislov, an unusual outburst for the usually composed Russian.
November Whisky 50 left Alexandra Township and the dead robber in the capable hands of Warrant Officer Vilakazi. They returned to Norwood Police Station and booked off duty but not before stopping at the Sports Club in Highlands North to get the full details of the murder. The man who had been so callously executed was a leading businessman in the financial sector in Johannesburg. He was a wealthy entrepreneur and a well-known philanthropist. He had arrived at the Sports Club and parked his vehicle in the parking lot while he waited for his son to finish playing a game of football. While he was in his vehicle watching the final minutes of his son’s match an armed robber, Fikile, had approached him and brandished a firearm. According to witnesses and for no explicable reason Fikile raised his weapon, a Norinco 9MM, and shot the charitable father in the face through the glass of the driver’s window. Strangely, but not all too uncommonly, the round ricocheted off of the top of the roof of his mouth and down through his body and exited out of his left elbow. He died instantly. A young man who had heard the gunshot, a friend of the man’s son, ran over to investigate. He said he saw the robber run off towards Louis Botha Avenue with a gun in his hand. He said he could hear him laughing. He opened the unlocked door of the vehicle and attempted to assist the already dead man. He did the only thing he could think of and got in the rear passenger seat and held the man’s head straight and waited for an ambulance. He said he did this as he had thought that he should keep the man’s neck straight in case it was broken. The young boy stayed there until Yankee Nine had responded. Yankee Nine arrived on scene to find the man’s son looking at his father, pleading for him to wake up, tears in his eyes.
Within the hour the scene was swarming with high ranking police officers, politicians and influential business people. The ripple of the man’s death would be felt financially as well as emotionally as Sergeant Night had heard many of the arriving friends and family swear that this was the final straw and that they were going to emigrate from South Africa and take with them all of their money, expertise and experience. The factory that the man owned was going to be shut down. Not sold. He had heard the man’s dis
traught and angry wife say that the 60 people who worked there would lose their jobs, without pay or pension. The factory was situated in Wynberg, an industrial area, just outside of Alexandra Township. No doubt the men and woman losing their jobs because of an act of brutal crime would themselves have to turn to crime in order to survive. That was the theory of Sergeant Snyman at least.
The great brain drain of South Africa is spurred on by crime, corruption, poor service delivery and lack of opportunity. Approximately 1 000 000 skilled, professional, white South Africans have left their homeland since 1994. Some say it’s only fair, for what the whites did during apartheid. These were always comments Night heard from people living overseas in protected and comfortable Europe who had no understanding of what it is like to see one’s father, mother, son or daughter raped and murdered.
To flee from a country because of a feeling of being hunted down and exterminated is a deadly evil thing. And the policemen and women of the South African Police Force witnessed the effects often. Night was always flabbergasted at just how many people’s lives were affected by just one family leaving the country. The knock on effect was destabilising to the immediate community and in Night’s experience almost always led to more acts of crime and violence, despair and negativity. Apartheid may be over but the lasting effects of the balance of nature correcting the injustice were far from concluded. Night thought a greater retribution was still to come.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Sometime later that evening Night sat in the foyer of the Westcliff Hotel waiting to meet his General for dinner at the La Belle Terrasse – one of Johannesburg’s most exclusive and sought after restaurants. It was usually impossible to get into without a booking months in advance but the General had called in a favour from one of his many influential friends and phoned Night only a couple of hours earlier inviting him to dinner. No doubt to talk about their upcoming endeavour Night had thought.
Night in London Page 22
