Again, we try to get some sense from the trio: what happened?
This time the story takes a slightly different tack.
‘Well, we were up all night ’cos we were talking. And at about 6am we noticed he’d stopped breathing. But we did resus and we got him back, we did. And then we put him in the chair. He was movin’, definitely. So then we went out for a bacon butty from the cafe.’
Nice, eh? But whatever you might think of their behaviour – leaving a half-dead friend because you suddenly decide you want your breakfast – in these people’s minds they actually think they did a good job. We don’t believe for a minute that they really did make any attempt to revive him. What they probably did was reluctantly call 999 when they got back from the cafe. And in fact he’d been dead for hours.
The police were called but it wound up as ‘a suspicious and unexpected’ death and we were never asked to give evidence. Probably it was an accidental overdose. But, unluckily for him, he was using in the wrong company. They just didn’t realise he was gone. But that’s not unusual. A lot of people don’t know a dead person if they see one.
On TV or in the movies, death is always violent, there must be blood coming from somewhere. Fictional death always has a lot of drama around it. Whereas in reality most people die fairly intact. And look quite peaceful.
Quite often you’ll go to a house and someone will say, ‘She’s upstairs, dear. She’s been very quiet.’
And very dead.
We’re in the ambulance station and I’m bored as hell. Some people like it when it’s quiet. Quiet times mean sitting around, joking, watching TV, gossiping. But it’s too flat for me with nothing happening. I prefer to be busy with challenges, things happening fast.
‘I want a really interesting job right now,’ I say to Carole. ‘Something different. Haven’t had one of those for ages.’
Carole looks at me as if to say, ‘Are you bonkers?’ She’s one of the quiet life brigade.
Don’t they always say, ‘Be careful what you wish for’? Out of nowhere, we get what’s termed ‘an abandoned call’. It means someone has rung 999, given a bit of detail and just hung up: the only information is a man and a woman have been attacked in a south London park, no precise location. The police are already on their way. Can we meet them at one of the entrances?
By the time we arrive, the police have had more 999 calls from the man who has been attacked, ringing on his mobile. He’s been trying to explain to the police where he is in the park, but they can’t yet locate him. He keeps saying he’s near the bandstand – which doesn’t really help. He’s told them he doesn’t have a clue where his girlfriend is. The story is, they’ve both been attacked by a gang of black men, but the men took his girlfriend away.
The best option for us is to get to the closest park entrance to the bandstand. We get in there with our equipment and torches. Two of us, me and Carole, go with police officers into the dark and deserted park, shining our torches around. But we get nowhere: not a sign of anything. Back to the vehicle for another police update.
And now a bit more information comes through: the girl is just l6. Police have asked the man if he knows if she is still breathing – he can’t confirm either way. He keeps telling them she’s been beaten up and taken away.
Now it’s getting quite serious. We’ve already lost 20 minutes looking for the girl and not only is there no trace of her, we don’t know what state she’s in, how bad the attack was. Then a breakthrough: one police officer has located her and directs the control room to ‘the middle of the park’. She’s not breathing, he says, and has no pulse. He tells control he’s already doing mouth-to-mouth on her. Overhead a helicopter buzzes, joining in the search for the elusive ‘gang’. A group of kids on bikes are relishing the kerfuffle.
‘What’s going on, who’s dead?’ they hassle us.
‘Go home,’ I tell them. ‘It’s very late.’
We’re frustrated, to say the least. As the minutes tick by, this young girl’s life could be fading away. The sooner we get to work on her, the better. Now police are directing us to a wooded area. It’s virtually inaccessible: to get in we have to climb over a six-foot-high metal fence. And finally, in a clearing, we see the lone copper, desperately carrying out mouth-to-mouth resus on the girl.
He looks up at us. ‘I found her like this,’ he says. We tell him to keep going while we set up our equipment. Despite what the public may imagine, one thing 999 crews don’t do as a rule is mouth-to-mouth, unless it’s a real emergency with a baby or small child. There’s a risk of contamination or infection via saliva so it’s regarded as too dangerous for ambulance crews. But the policeman quite rightly wants to do something, anything, until we turn up.
Carole and I then start to use the bag and mask to try to get oxygen into her, ventilate the girl’s lungs. I notice purple bruise marks on her neck and this important bit of information is instantly relayed to the police: could be attempted strangulation. Then Carole starts chest compressions on her, irritated by the helicopter whirring noisily above, shining the spotlight right on us. ‘Interesting enough for you?’ she snaps at the chopper. We’re desperate to get the girl back. And yes, after ten minutes, with four of us working away, we get a sign of life. Her pulse comes back. And her heart is starting to beat for itself. It means there’s hope at least. But she’s still not breathing properly for herself, so we continue to use the bag and tube to squeeze oxygen into her lungs. Another ambulance has turned up to help us. And the fire brigade are trying to cut open the gates to the area.
While we’ve been working, a group of police have finally managed to locate the boyfriend elsewhere in the park. ‘Do you want a quick look at him?’ we’re asked over the radio. We refuse. The girl is our priority. And the police say there’s no obvious sign of any attack on the man. They’ll get another ambulance for back-up.
Finally we get the girl out of the park and on the way to hospital. She’s still got a pulse as they wheel her into intensive care. But the problem is, we spent too many crucial minutes trying to find her. So there could be brain damage – that’s if she survives at all.
The hospital is swarming with police. They’re trying to find the girl’s family. The man has been taken to another hospital, accompanied by police officers. Already they are starting to have serious doubts about his story. For starters there are the marks on the girl’s neck. And their suspicions only increase with the boyfriend’s detailed description of the attackers’ clothing. The fact that he could recall that they all wore Nike trainers, for instance, strikes a very odd note. The last thing anyone recalls when they’re being attacked is the brand of shoes or top their attacker is wearing. And, though he claims he’s been beaten up, there’s not a single piece of physical evidence to back this up.
For a few days it’s touch and go for the girl in intensive care. Tragically, despite everyone’s best efforts, she dies, surrounded by her family, who keep a round-the-clock vigil in muted shock. Not long after, the police have enough evidence to charge the boyfriend with her murder. They’ve had real suspicions right from the start, but they let him continue with his story – and he keeps stringing himself up with every detail. He admits that he’s taken the girl for a romantic stroll in the park – and they’ve had sex: he insists it was with her consent. Then, he insists, the ‘gang’ attacked them out of the blue.
No
