Is vigilantism the only way to hold on to what’s ours?
It is a strange and twisted logic that puts resources into fighting victimless activities like recreational and medicinal marijuana use whilst neglecting property theft and crimes of violence.
An incident in suburban Hamilton last week made for compelling reading.
When a would-be shoplifter at Fairfield’s Vege King was caught in the act, he responded with violence, leading with his right fist.
In the words of manager Harjit Singh, the assailant was ‘‘pretending to be a boxer’’.
Not to be outdone, staff reached for their cricket kit bag. If the legal justification for what followed might be termed ‘‘forward defensive’’, cellphone footage reveals a shot selection more in keeping with 20/20.
In a brief, but forceful opening partnership, Singh’s first XI unleashed a series of hooks and pulls, dispatching the thief to the boundary. It was a cross between Charles Bronson in Death Wish and Greg Chappell at Eden Park in 1977.
The best way to confront bad guys – or streakers – is with a lethal piece of willow. As Lance Corporal Jones would say, they ‘‘don’t like it up ‘em’’.
There was a sequel of sorts. The next day, Singh was phoned by the thief’s uncle. Threats were made. Again, the honest green grocer rose to the challenge.
‘‘Anytime, anywhere’’ were his watchwords. True to form, the chastised bully backed down.
Where were the constabulary in all of this? As reported at least, nowhere. Arriving too late, Singh says the police ‘‘pretended like nothing had happened’’.
Witnesses were spoken to and inquiries were said to be ‘‘ongoing’’. Anyone who has been burgled in the last decade or so knows what that means.
The law of averages suggest that Vege King will receive a letter in a couple of weeks announcing regretfully that all avenues of investigation have been exhausted and that the case is therefore closed.
Then again, given there is actual film footage of the culprit, perhaps this crime might prove an exception to the rule. In my experience, it won’t. I remember the moment when I lost faith in the New Zealand Police.
About 15 years ago, I had my wallet stolen. Many would argue that it was my own fault, having left the wallet unattended behind a service counter, a temptation for the passing criminal.
The theft was captured on CCTV. My boss insisted that I register an official complaint. We went to the police station together, presenting them with the footage. Expecting praise if not a commendation for our initiative, we were met with indifference. The videotape was accepted begrudgingly.
A month or so later a letter arrived in the mail. ‘‘Insufficient evidence’’ was the excuse given for the police not proceeding with my case.
What clearer evidence might have been required than film of the crime itself? I got the impression that if I had given the name, the address and the blood group of the thief, together perhaps with a DNA sample and his family tree to five generations, there still would have been ‘‘insufficient evidence’’.
The police simply did not care. It wasn’t worth their time and energy. Move along folks, nothing to see here.
Sympathy will no doubt be expressed in some quarters for the under-resourcing of our men and women in blue.
Underfunded by a succession of governments, they simply cannot be everywhere. Or so the story goes. If we accept it, we need to do so while questioning police priorities.
It is a strange and twisted logic that puts resources into fighting victimless activities like recreational and medicinal marijuana use whilst neglecting property theft and crimes of violence.
The police found time to set up a road block to harass little old ladies involved in a pro-euthanasia lobby group yet cannot prevent hardworking dairy owners from being regularly assaulted.
For years they wasted taxpayer money, vindictively prosecuting the so-called ‘‘terrorists’’ captured in their largely unlawful 2007 raids, actions that had more to do with institutional ego and facesaving than protecting the New Zealand public.
Those committing the crimes are just as much a reflection of political failure as the police themselves.
The New Zealand underclass of poverty and theft is the flip side of its capitalist elite, the fat cats and CEOS whose exploitation of those at the bottom constitutes an even greater moral crime.
For those of us in the middle it looks like vigilantism will be the only way to hold on to what’s ours. I’m a bit concerned though: my sport is squash. Weaponry is confined to an old racket or two. Not all of us have what it takes to wield the Vege King bat.