Cops track 160 royal ‘stalkers’
Security alert in wedding run-up
UP to 160 people with unhealthy obsessions about Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are being tracked ahead of their wedding.
Referrals to a specialist unit that manages royal stalkers are at a record high since the couple went public in November 2016.
The 160 are made up of 106 men and 54 women and included seven people classed as “high risk”. Six were detained under mental health laws, figures obtained by the Mirror reveal.
Officers and psychiatric nurses are visiting the most obsessed in the buildup to next month’s nuptials and one man has been detained under mental health laws in the past few months.
The Fixated Threat Assessment Centre is also looking online for potential dangers to Harry and Meghan. Former Royal Protection Command chief Dai Davies said: “The publicity and interest in Meghan and the wedding will add to the protection squad’s concerns. “This Windsor venue and the carriage ride does elevate the risk of threatening behaviour by those who are fixated.” Thames Valley Police revealed details of the security operation last week, including how leave will be cancelled for 4,200 officers. Security barriers are being installed near Windsor Castle. Cases of royals obsession have surged from 73 in 2014 to 160 in 2017 and the first two months of this year. A total of 462 people were referred to the unit in the past three years, including 26 deemed “high risk”. Police fear the biggest threat at the wedding could come from stalkers rather than terrorists.
He’s a big guy with a massive attitude and, even when staring down the barrel of a gun, there’s one word missing from Jack Reacher’s vocabulary – retreat.
America’s Midwest is his new frontline. Having found a woman’s class ring in a Wisconsin pawn shop, he’s set his sights on finding out why she gave up something she’d spent over four hard years earning. But finding her and returning the ring was never going to be easy. Or without risk...
The guy had a gun. A revolver. It looked like a worn-out Chief’s Special. A .38 five-shooter by Smith & Wesson. Short barrel. It looked small in the guy’s hand. His right hand. He was half-twisted behind the wheel, aiming half-sideways through the open passenger window, with a bent arm and a cramped right shoulder. “In the car,” he said again.
Reacher stood still. He had choices. Life was full of them. Easiest thing would be just walk away. Straight ahead along the sidewalk, in the same direction the car had been driving. A right-handed shooter in a left-hand-drive car would have a practical problem with that kind of geometry. His windshield was in the way. Couldn’t shoot through it. The bullet would deflect and miss. And afterwards there would be a hole in the windshield. Not a smart thing to have. Questions about a bullet hole in a windshield would be hard to answer.
So the guy would have to move. He would have to shift the transmission, and take his foot off the brake, and shrug off his seatbelt, and flip up the armrests, and shuffle his ass across the front bench, and hang his right arm out the passenger window. All of which would take a small but finite amount of time. During which Reacher would be walking farther and farther away. And all the guy had was a worn-out .38 with a two-and-a-half-inch barrel. Not an accurate weapon. More or less a guaranteed miss, with the speed Reacher could walk.
So the better bet would be hang out the driver’s window. Much quicker. It was right there. But how? The guy would have to kneel up sideways on the driver’s seat, and stick his whole upper body out, and wriggle his right arm free, like putting on a tight sweater, bringing him all the way out of the car up to his waist, and then he would have to twist, and aim, and fire. Except at that point he would also be overbalancing and about to fall out the window. An inaccurate weapon, and a preoccupied shooter cling- ing to the door mirror. Not a whole lot to worry about.
The whole get-in-the-car thing looked pretty good in the movies, but on the street it was basically optional. Plenty of choices. Keep calm and walk away. Live to fight another day. But Reacher stayed where he was. He said, “You want me to get in the car?” The guy said, “Right now.” “Then put the gun away.” “Or?” “Or I won’t get in the car.” “I could shoot you first and get you in bleeding.” “No,” Reacher said. “You really couldn’t.”
All he had to do was take one fast pace left. Then the guy would be shooting through glass again, or the B-pillar, or the C-pillar, plus anyway his shoulder was tight against the upholstery and wouldn’t rotate. Plus again, the cops would come. Lights and sirens. Questions. The guy was stuck.
He was an amateur. Which was encouraging.