In the early morning, when most are asleep, the members of Durban’s Flying Squad are still up, shining torches down alleyways.
|||Durban - In the early morning, when most are asleep, the men and women of Durban’s Flying Squad are wide awake, shining torches down alleyways and stopping and questioning suspicious-looking characters.
Long hours and dangerous working conditions may not appeal to everyone, but “it comes with the territory,” says Warrant Officer David Bramley.
The Mercury accompanied Bramley and his colleague, Constable Jenna Bezuidenhout, on Friday night when they patrolled the Outer West - the area besieged by violent crime.
Durban’s Flying Squad operates from Stanger, on the North Coast, to Winkelspruit, in the south and from the city centre to the Outer West.
At least three of the squad’s cars, each manned by two to three officers, patrol the areas all night.
A husband and father-of-two, Bramley has been working with the police for 20 years and Bezuidenhout, a mother-of-three, since 2008.
Their 12-hour night shift starts at 6pm and, despite it being a cool evening, the officers have the windows of their patrol car open.
“You’re better prepared that way,” says Bezuidenhout, “You can hear a gun cock outside.”
The officers begin by checking in with their contacts and informants, to find out “where the action is”.
“A lot of hijackings take place between 6 and 7pm and between 6 and 7am,” Bramley explains as the officers get on their way.
“Criminals know police are vulnerable when the shifts change.”
But it is a quiet night. Messages crackle over the radio sporadically. Emergency calls to 10111 are answered by controllers stationed on the 11th floor at Durban Central police station. From there they are relayed to officers who can assist.
Crimes in progress take priority, Bramley says.
“If a crime took place more than 30 minutes ago then our chances of catching the perpetrators at the scene are slim,” he says. “So we head to the known escape routes.”
Near Clermont, the officers notice a suspicious-looking man walking along the pavement. They pull over and search him.
In his left hand, he has a plastic packet containing a flat screw-driver, a butter knife and pliers.
“Housebreaking instruments,” proclaims Bezuidenhout. She asks the man why he is carrying these tools. He tells her he found them.
The officers call for back-up and the tools are confiscated. “It might seem insignificant but imagine if 30 minutes after we searched him there was a housebreaking down the road.”
Later, as we drive through the township, the officers notice a group of young men accosting a girl. Things heat up.
They swerve on to the pavement and, as Bramley leaps out the vehicle, the men run. He gives chase disappearing down a dark alley.
He returns a few minutes later, disappointed, saying they escaped.
The girl does not want to speak to the police but, even though she is crying, she is safe.
Later, we meet other officers on duty at a petrol station, a central point. Over coffee, Bramley and Bezuidenhout share stories and information with officers from the metro police’s dog unit. Bezuidenhout has a quick bite to eat, saying she must eat when she can.
There have been times when calls have come through mid-meal and she has had to throw out her half-eaten dinner and race to the scene.
A number of reports of cars, stolen from Morningside and Musgrave, come over the radio.
“They’re hitting central tonight,” comments Bezuidenhout. As we pass suspicious-looking cars Bezuidenhout radios the number plates to the control room.
The control room responds with the name of the owner, the make and colour and whether or not the car has been reported stolen.
None of the vehicles have been stolen.
Hours pass and the car’s clock shows 3am. The officers are more alert than ever. Bramley notices a gate missing from a home in Dawncliffe. He and Bezuidenhout leap into action. They pull over and inspect. There are two gates lying on the grass, one old and one new.
“They are just installing a new gate,” says Bramley as the officers get back into the car.
Another hour passes and it is time to go back to base at Hillcrest police station.
It has been a quiet night but Bramley says this is the nature of the game.
“Some nights are like this,” he says, “But some nights you just do not stop going.”
The two officers have four days rest ahead and, while neither can wait to spend time with their families, they love their jobs.
Bramley does not think he would ever leave the force.
“Not now,” he says, “Being a police officer is all I know now, it is a part of who I am.”
The Mercury