It's a Fair Cop

 

Many many years ago, when I was a Traffic officer I learned fairly quickly to judge if I was going to book a motorist for an offence or not. For example. If someone was speeding and was only a little over the limit and there attitude when I stopped them was civilised, then they would get away with a caution and not be taken to court. However, if that same offender was stroppy, argumentative or rude, then they would get themselves a summons and their feet wouldn’t touch the ground.

Now. I’m six feet two inches tall, and have been for many years. Actually, I’ve shrunk a bit as the years have caught up with me so I’m a little under that now. I digress, sorry.

Stick me on a motorcycle wearing a big white crash helmet and a white reflective coat and for people with fairish eyesight it should be fairly obvious that I am in your vicinity if you are keeping your wits about you.

So. One Saturday morning I am sat on my Triumph Saint by the side of the A627 Rochdale Road, Oldham watching the world go by and listening to my stomach rumble as I waited for lunch time to arrive. Coming towards me I could see an MGB sports car. British Racing Green and it’s got its hood down. Bit brave of the driver as it was winter time and a bit nippy around the nether regions. I could tell that it was pushing the speed limit a bit even though it was some distance away to my left as the driver pushed on towards Rochdale. I kicked the bike into life and waited for him to slow down. He didn’t, just kept his right foot down on the accelerator. This was a 40 mph area which changed to a 30 mph area about half a mile down the road. He came past me looking somewhat like Mr Toad from Wind in the Willows, hood down, cloth cap, scarf around his neck. I could just imagine him humming to himself, blissfully unaware of me, the road, and life in general. I pulled out to follow and see what speed he was doing.

I sat on his tail, about 50 yards behind him, and checked my speedo. We were doing 55 mph. Naughty. But we weren’t far off the 30 mph area so I left him to it to see how it would be reflected in his speed. It dropped to 45 mph as we came into the new speed limit area and he kept to it, nice and steady. This was a bit too much, and no matter what his attitude was, he was going in the book.

After about three quarters of a mile I pulled him in and pulled my bike up on its stand in front of the car. I indicated to him to turn off his engine. He did. Now, the reason I mentioned my height earlier on in this story is now becoming apparent I hope. The driver didn’t get out of his car, he just looked up at me. His neck must have been killing him. An MGB is not big and he was almost sitting on the floor as I loomed over him. I didn’t want to hear any excuses from him so started right into my spiel straight away.

“Good morning Sir. I’ve followed you along this road for over three quarters of a mile. In the 40 mph area your speed was 55 mph and then in the 30 area you dropped it to 45 mph. You are not obliged to say anything but whatever you do say will be taken down and given in evidence. You are going to be reported for the question of a prosecution to be considered for exceeding the speed limit. Do you wish to say anything?” He paused for a moment then grinning looked up at me and said,

“It’s a fair cop.”

I blinked and was stuck for words for a moment or two.

“You can’t say that.” I said. He carried on grinning.

“It’s a fair cop” he repeated.

“Oh come on, you can’t say that.” He said nothing more, just grinned. He realised that if this went to court I would have to say those words when telling the court what happened. I would look a complete fool.

The bastard.

Anyway, I took his driving licence and insurance details and left him to carry on with his journey.

Later that day in the nick I wrote up the speeding report and plonked it in the Sergeant’s in tray. Then sat back and waited. It wasn’t long coming. I heard the Sergeant laughing his head off and then his head appeared around the traffic office door.

“He didn’t say that?” the Sergeant asked.

“He bloody did. The sod.”

“Let’s hope he pleads guilty in court then.” I nodded my head.

Some months later I was warned to attend court. The driver had pleaded Not Guilt and was being represented by a solicitor. Together with the Sergeant and Inspector we went over ever detail of the offence report. We could find nothing wrong with it.

Came the day of the court hearing and luckily we were in one of the minor ‘motoring’ courts. Not many people there to watch and listen and only one member of the press, a very young reporter.

Sure enough the guy pleaded Not Guilty when the charge was put to him and I was called to give evidence. I went through the whole thing and came almost to the end. It went something like this. I kept my voice down as it was a fairly small court room. No need to shout.

“I told him he was being reported and he replied, “It’s a fair cop.””

Magistrate looked up. “Sorry officer. I didn’t hear you. Could you repeat it please?”

“He said, “It’s a fair cop” your worship.”

Instant laughter all around the court. I look across at the defendant who was sat by the side of solicitor. The pair of them were grinning widely from ear to ear. The three magistrates were choking trying not to laugh.

His solicitor rose to his feet.

“May it please your worships. In view of the evidence the officer has given my client now wishes to change his plea to guilty.”

Fined. Licence endorsed.

I met the pair of them outside the court room. They were waiting for me. The driver held out his hand as I walked towards him.

“I’m sorry officer. I couldn’t resist it. As soon as I saw the look of disbelief on your face when you booked me, I knew I had to take it all the way. My apologies.”

I still don’t know if his speeding that day was deliberate or not. Either way, he had enough money to throw away on a solicitor and a day in court.