Manhunt

As events of the trip so far would be of little interest to non-Jedis, I thought I'd tell you a true story, as I watched it unfold on TV. This was going on for most of my first week in England, and I thought you might find it interesting:

Last Friday, as I was preparing for this year’s trip to London and Leicester, Durham prison was releasing Raoul Thomas Moat from a prison term for assault. Though it would not come out for some days, Moat had already been arrested once for conspiracy to murder, and the prison authorities alerted the Northumbria police upon his release that he might pose a threat to his former girlfriend, Samantha Tobbard. The warning was filed and ignored.

Sam Tobbard had written Moat a couple of weeks earlier from Northumbria, just north of Durham, telling him that she was breaking up with him for another man, who was "better looking." In an effort to frighten him away from confronting her, she said later, she told him her new partner was a Northumbria police officer. He was actually a martial arts instructor. She had just sentenced Chris Brown to death.

A couple of hours into Saturday, UK time, Raoul Moat went to Sam’s house on Tyneside, near Newcastle, and started shooting. Brown tried to protect Sam, but Moat shot him three times in the head, and shot her in the stomach. Brown died of his wounds; Sam Tobbard lived to regret taunting a psychopath.

So far, although it was a sad case, it was not yet newsworthy in the long term. But 24 hours later, as I was boarding my plane for Heathrow, Raoul Moat rang 999 and announced he was going to kill another police officer. A few minutes after that, he walked up to a parked patrol car, and shot unarmed Northumbria Police Constable David Rathband in the face and upper body, possibly with a sawed-off shotgun. The BBC declined to air the photos of Rathband’s injuries.

If terms like “firearms officers” and “armed response teams” create a certain sensation of disconnect, you might be a Yank. Police in the U.K. “serve by consent” and do not, as a rule, go armed. So while Moat was in no danger from P.C. Rathband, the response to his shooting was as might be expected: Coppers with guns descended on the formerly sleepy village of Rothbury, north of Newcastle, where Moat had liked to camp, and where some intelligence they’d received led them to believe he’d be.

Meanwhile, Moat had gone to visit an old friend, and had given him a 49-page handwritten letter to deliver to the police, in which he promised to “keep killing police until I’m dead.” The police had already interviewed the friend, but were not keeping him under surveillance, so missed their chance to arrest Moat, much as they had missed their chance to protect Sam Tobbard and Chris Brown, and possibly arrest Raoul Moat for a lesser crime before he shot two people, then picked David Rathband as his next victim. Another letter from him was found later in the week in an abandoned tent near the River Coquet.

Suicide by Cop?

The situation seemed custom-made for “suicide by cop,” but for a few things: Moat took no hostages, provoked no armed police, and did not go to ground to make a last stand. He disappeared into the wooded rural area surrounding Rothbury, helped by friends in the area and occasional forays into empty houses. One family reported someone had broken into their house while they were away, took some food, and slept in a bed. Despite the ubiquitous police presence in Rothbury, it took police three hours to respond.

The search for Moat, and the bizarre sight of hundreds of armed men and women patrolling the village streets (at the height of the hunt, 10% of all Britain’s firearms officers were involved, along with aircraft, helicopters, and lots of fancy technology) was on the front page of every newspaper, and at the beginning of every news broadcast on every channel all that week. BBC1 even ran live coverage of a town hall meeting in the village hall, where police attempted to reassure townspeople they’d be safe, while also reminding them there was a dangerous criminal nearby, and they should remain indoors. Even the spy exchange between Russia and the U.S. was small potatoes next to the biggest police manhunt in Britain for 30 years. It was an inescapable dramatic narrative.

“You’re better off dead.”

Photographs of a three-year-old Raoul Moat reveal a lovely, round-faced, ginger-haired boy with sparkling blue eyes. These were frequently shown on TV and in newspapers alongside his mother’s advice on hearing of her son’s alleged crimes: “…you’re better off dead, son.” Just something to reflect on if you’ve ever wondered if psychopaths are born or made.

Newscasters and armchair investigators wondered why the massive search effort continued to narrow until it contained little more than the village of Rothbury, but when Moat was spotted on Friday evening, it was very near the center of town, lying on a riverbank near a bowling green, a few yards from the entrance to a storm drain—a favorite dog-walking area for villagers. The drain was connected to a tunnel that ran under Rothbury to a drain on the other side of the village. Raoul Moat had probably been under the police's feet on and off for days.

On spotting their target, police officers surrounded Moat, but not too closely—he was holding his sawed-off shotgun to his own neck, and they'd publicly promised a peaceful conclusion to this business. Negotiators were brought in, and the quiet standoff continued for seven hours, while officers stood by with guns and tasers, and rain came down in buckets. At the end of that time, Raoul Moat apparently heard some officers who had been creeping up behind him in the darkness, and shot himself. The manhunt was over, and so was a life that must have been a painful one to leave so much pain behind.

P.C. David Rathband will live, but has already undergone the first of many facial reconstructive surgeries, and may never regain the sight in one of his eyes. He says he holds no malice towards Raoul Moat, and that he wants to continue to be a police officer. Chief Constable Sue Sim has assured him he'll always have a future with the Northumbria Police.

You may find it somewhat disturbing—as I do—that some people in and around Moat’s native Newcastle consider him some sort of Robin Hood figure. They’ve been leaving candles, floral tributes, and notes outside his former home, expressing sympathy with him, his actions, his bravery. Perhaps they’re short of heroes up there.