Lessons Learnt (1/6) By Nick Quantrill

(1/6), (2/6), (3/6), (4/6), (5/6), (6/6).

DS Richard Coleman pulled into the lay-by and headed towards the flashing blue lights. An hour later it would have been someone else's problem. But it wasn't. An articulated lorry had been isolated from the other vehicles, cones placed around it, linked together by barrier tape. A mobile generator providing power to the small floodlights had been hastily erected to illuminate the lorry's cab, along with a white Scene of Crime tent to preserve the forensic evidence.

Nobody other than the Scene of Crime Officers would be allowed near the cab of the lorry, not until they'd completed their work. 'DS Coleman' he said, offering his identification card to the uniformed officer designated to guard duty. The officer made a note on the log before introducing himself as PC Andrew Dawson. 'What have we got?' asked Coleman, looking over the young officer's shoulder, hoping to catch the eye of one of the SOCOs.

If he couldn't get any closer, he could at least watch a playback on the camcorder which was meticulously recording the scene. 'The driver was sleeping in his cab. Someone smashed the window, dragged him out and beat him. 'Badly?' 'Head injuries, a couple of missing teeth and crushed fingers. The paramedics said it was lucky he wasn't wearing any rings or the damage might have been worse.' Coleman winced and stepped backwards to look at the lorry. The company livery carried the name and telephone number of a haulage company in Huddersfield. 'What's the cargo?'

'Electrical goods. Plasma screens, mp3 players, that sort of thing.' 'All gone?' 'Not all of it.'

Coleman walked along the line marked out by the tape and peered into the back of the lorry, where another SOCO was at work, testing for fingerprints. There was no way he could tell how much had been taken. 'Have you got a torch?' he shouted to Dawson. Lorry jacking had become a serious problem in a short space of time. Looking at the piles of nearly boxed electrical goods, he understood why. If you chose the right lorry, all you had to do was persuade the lorry driver to open up the back, and it could be done the easy way or the hard way.

It was as simple as that; unlikely to be any witnesses, the darkness of night offering cover and a lowly paid employee who ultimately didn't care. It was the methods of persuasion which were becoming more extreme and brutal. Glancing over to the ambulance, things were becoming increasingly serious. Previously, the gang's method had been to bundle the lorry driver into the boot of a car and dump them miles away from the scene. Violence was an escalation. 'The SOCOs are looking at a cricket bat found near the scene. They're hopeful of getting a print' said Dawson.

Coleman shivered, unsure whether it was the cold of the night or the thought of the cricket bat inflicting its damage. 'Have you managed to get hold of them?' he asked Dawson, pointing to the telephone number on the lorry. 'I've spoken to Mr Wilson, the owner. He's going to contact the driver's wife and bring her across to Hull Royal Infirmary. 'Good.' It gave him at least an hour. 'Can you keep her in an interview room until I arrive, please?' Dawson flicked through his notes. 'Do you want to know about the witnesses I found?'

Continued... Next Page (2/6)

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