I am developing training for ICV schemes about how to hold the police to account. This sounds grand and the language can rub people up the wrong way, but it’s what we are here to do. But, it’s not all scrutiny committees; holding the police to account are often the stories that bring tears to my eyes.
It’s Friday afternoon, I am in a generous mood and I have been moved by the kindness and determination of my colleagues this week so I want to share with you. I want to show you how ‘holding the police to account’ can mean shedding a tear and celebrating brilliant colleagues making wonderful change.
I am frequently found ranting about how police custody cells aren’t designed right. They are designed for utility, to stop self harm, to be easy to clean. They are not designed to calm or deliver dignity. They are not designed to comfort a scared and vulnerable child. I’d like to think that we would create something very different if we were to start from scratch.
A stakeholder in the police is retiring this week. This man has often been the epitome of someone with his heart in the right place. He’s worked extremely hard to get kids out of custody – both through working hard to prevent offending and by changing local processes to make sure that children don’t have to spend a minute more than necessary in a custody suite. His retirement gift from his colleagues was the creation of a police cell specifically designed for children. Something to limit the harm that a trip to custody creates, to recognise that they are a child and an adult cell is not appropriate. How wonderful is that? He leaves a legacy of care and a force prepared to innovate.
The same man told me of the kindnesses he’d been grateful for. He’d been struggling to access mental health services for those arrested, detained and then found to be in need of care or assessment. He’d contacted ICVA and we have taken this fight forward. We also emailed the Chief Constable, Nick Ephgrave, the national lead for police custody at the time. The retiree was shocked and delighted to hear directly from the Chief Constable the following day. I’ve talked about Nick’s leadership before and this contact sparked off considerable work to help get mental healthcare in place. It’s funny, I hardly recall making those links, I wonder if Nick recalls getting in touch, but these things matter, don’t they? A little bit of support at the right time is enough to make change for the better.
ACC Nev Kemp replaced Nick in the lead role for custody. He too, has done us proud this week. Nev and his team have spent hours working with the College of Policing and our brilliant civil servants at the Home Office. They have developed new guidance for looking after menstruating detainees – working ridiculously hard to make sure that we get it right and that the reforms come through soon.
Kindness and dignity have been playing on my mind for a while. Small kindness also stick in the minds of detainees. Adnan, the subject of the first series of Serial described small niceties that stuck with him when he was initially arrested. Like many, it seems, I have had quite a year and it’s always the small things that stand out to me in a crisis. A well timed cup of tea, a hot water bottle, just tiny things that resonate. I remember, too, watching the victims of Child Sexual Exploitation speak about why they decided to disclose the crimes they’d been victims of and how they got the strength to testify. Again, here, it was the small things. The right police officer treating them with care, making a cup of coffee, facilitating a quick smoke. These things matter.
I think of my colleague, Sherry’s, recent work on detainee dignity and I am proud of her and of our Chair. She and our Chair, Martyn Underhill, have written to all PCCs to express worries where detainees have not been treated with sufficient dignity. It’s been heartwarming to see how PCCs have picked up on issues that may appear to be small to some: a teenager having their hoody strings cut in an attempt to keep them safe, or being placed in a paper suit with the normal clothes taken away. It won’t kill them, but it’s not nice, is it? It’s not right. So many PCCs have kicked off their own work to ensure that dignity is a core value in custody suites.
They came to mind when I opened my post this morning and found a pair of knickers had been posted through my door. Our wonderful scheme manager in Surrey has been working so hard to get better menstrual care into their custody suites. Soon, the days of paper knickers and stupidly thin towels will be gone. They will be replaced with ‘dignity kits’ for menstruating detainees – real knickers, a choice of tampons and towels, wipes to make sure that women can feel clean and a bag to dispose of waste. It seems small, doesn’t it? It’s not a massive change, but it may also be everything to the young woman who is detained whilst having her period.
These things matter to society too. Dr Layla Skinns has spent years studying police custody. You know what she tells us? The thing that matters most to detainees is being treated with kindness and dignity. And, what do you know? It also turns out that how you are treated in police custody has a long term impact on how you view the police. If we can treat today’s child with dignity, that is a step in the right direction.
It’s good to reflect on these things as I develop guidance on holding the force to account. I have enjoyed Cate Moore’s speech reminding us that policing is complex and no tick box list will cure all ills. Yes, we need to be in custody to observe and feedback. Yes, this can involve committees and papers and figures. Yes, it can involve uncomfortable public conversations between a PCC and a Chief Constable. It can be written reports and news articles that the police would prefer weren’t published. It can be us, making a noise about an inquest that they’d prefer forgotten or explained away by time. These levers are important. At least as important, perhaps more so, is to establish shared aims, shared values, shared goals – to make custody better for everyone involved. When I see a group of people, coming together – to find a way to make custody less traumatic for a child, to assist a colleague who really needs that help to solve a complex problem, to give a detainee a little kindness that makes them feel human – these are the changes that work, that matter and can sometimes bring a tear to the eye.
The Independent Custody visiting association 
Really nice post.
‘The thing that matters most to detainees is being treated with kindness and dignity.’
How ICVs introduce themselves, their very first interaction with a detainee, is key when considering dignity. There are many different options of how ICV introductions work, some are done via the wicket, some straight into the cell, some initially by the escorting officer, some by the ICV. Many options. I strongly believe that all these options are not equal in respect the detainees’ dignity.
The basic principle that should lead to figure out the best option is to consider the cell with is door closed as a private space (whether it is private from a legal point of view, I asked ICVA and the HO a few years back and never got a clear answer). An ICVs does have the right to enter a custody suite immediately on request but does not have special access powers otherwise so it is my belief that we should enter the ‘private’ space of a cell only when invited by the detainee in it. That means that the request to enter the cell has to happen via the wicket. It is also more respectful to ask directly, i.e., by the ICVs than having a third party (the escorting officer) telling the detainees that some people want to chat with them.
So the initial introduction process for ICVs that fully respect the dignity of detainees, in my view goes as follows: 1) the escorting officer checks that the detainee is not asleep, using the toilet or indecent; 2) if that’s not the case, one of the two ICVs introduce themselves through the wicket and request permission to enter the cell; ideally both ICVs are visible via the wicket at that time; and 3) if permission is granted by the detainee, the escorting officer opens the door and we enter the cell to conduct the visit.
It would be great if as part of this drive to improve dignity, ICVA looked at the process for ICVs’ introductions and made recommendations or instructions as to which of the many current options is best for the dignity of detainees. Clarifications and consistency in this respect would be helpful to all.
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Thanks for the post and the comment. To follow up on the dignity issue we should also clarify the question of where the escorting DDO should stand while ICVs are discussing with a detainee. Regulations indicate that they shouldn’t be able to overhear the conversation. For obvious reasons, the detainees wouldn’t feel comfortable complaining about the way they are treated if they can be overheard by the very people they’re complaining about. There is room for ambiguity though as the escorting officer is also responsible for ICVs’ safety. I have recently experienced a situation whereby the DDO refused to move from the cell’s door, which made the exchange with the detainee rather artificial. I think escorting officers should be reminded of this rule and respect the privacy of our conversation with detainees.
For “security reasons” again, the same DDO – who could thus see and hear the detainee during our visit – told us not to stand in the doorway of the cell during the visit. This is another tricky practical question. Where are we meant to stand if we can neither be too close to the detainee inside the cell nor stand in the doorway?
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