the id parade.

i know it's obvious. but, fuck you.

i know it's obvious. but, fuck you.

thought i should write this while it’s still fresh in my mind and before i drown in school work due for tomorrow.

“i do understand.” & “i cannot identify the suspect.”

those are a couple of things i said about half an hour ago.

my appointment was at 6 so i left early and got to the station to find there wasn’t any parking – i thought that was kind of lame, they should have special ‘informant bays’ or at least some parking in the station i could fucking use – although i can see the downsides of having specially marked areas for informants. so i had to park around the corner and we walked to the staff entrance and buzzed the id suite.

then we got taken through a shabby building past some offices and someone’s door which said ‘natalie something: finance officer’ and underneath that, written in pen, was ‘is not cold anymore’. that set the tone of professionalism for me. after all, i was still wearing my shirt and tie. we (my neighbour and i) got put in a room with a camera, some chairs and a flavia coffee machine. there was also a water dispenser (which i’ve just realised i left my full cup of water on) and a pile of gossip magazines and the daily mail dated 29th september. and some crappy biscuits which i ate. we were also given an faq to read.

as you can probably tell the whole experience was more of a novelty than a serious process for me and i spent a few minutes trying to get the fucking coffee thing to work, not spray me with water, calling it a piece of shit all under the watchful eye of the camera which i only realised was there after i told my neighbour he’d have to kick my foot or something because i wouldn’t be able to id the kid. the whole time i thought i knew who he was – that was his brother. i assumed we’d be going in together.

so vicki came in and took my neighbour through and i got 3 out of 4 scrabble-gram questions filled in before she came back for me (having led him away before i was taken). the one i didn’t get was indeedi. i took my coffee into a narrow, dull room, sat down and noticed that there was a screen right in front of a chair (old 14″ cheap job) with a badly formatted version of windows struggling to be seen on the glass. above the screen, about a foot away from me was a video camera pointed directly at my face. i smiled.

vicki then read a thing about why i was there, why it was recorded, did i understand etc. she explained there would be nine images, i had to watch them through twice, tell her when i wanted to stop after that. then say which one he or that i couldn’t identify him. she said that 1 would be the suspect, the other 8 were definately not suspects.

during the 9 images, who by definition all kind of looked alike, the thoughts in my head ranged from – stop smiling you fucking twat to look at the funny bastard at which point i would smile. so grinning like a tard i slurped coffee and tried to recognise any of them, i then remembered he was 13 so tried to eliminate the ones with some spots. after the 2nd time i asked her to stop and said i couldn’t id him and added that i couldn’t decide between 2 who looked familiar – numbers 1 & 9. she wrote all this down, i signed it and that was it. despite my willingness to put this motherfucker away and rock the court omar style, i wasn’t going to lie directly to a police offer whilst being recorded on video.

we were led out and i gave her my empty coffee cup. the whole thing lasted about half an hour. just as we walked out and the door closed behind us my neighbour asked if i picked him, i said no. he says he did and told her he was 100% sure (because he’s seen the guy a number of times)

“number 7.”


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