WHY YOUNG THUGS SHOULD BE NAMED
Media Wales reporter Geraint Thomas was attacked at knifepoint on his way into work last month. Here, he reveals how the ordeal has changed his life, and why more should be done to prevent others suffering the same fate...
IAM a victim of knife crime. As a journalist who has reported on countless crimes and acts of violence over the years, it seems almost surreal to write the fact in the first person, but I know only too well that it is a reality.
One Friday morning, at the beginning of December, I was walking along a Swansea footpath through a wooded area between a residential street in Hafod and the city centre, when I became a crime statistic.
I was nearing a busy New Cut Road, at around 8.15am, when I was struck on my shoulders and neck from behind, leaving me dazed and confused.
My first reaction was that I had walked into something, but as I turned around I was confronted by two hooded thugs (to use a printable term).
“Give me your wallet!” One demanded through a scarf covering the lower part of his face.
Now although I’ve entered my fifth decade I stand just shy of 6ft and weigh more than 16 stone, and, as a former rugby player, I am not easily intimidated, but this was new territory for me.
When the police asked me to provide descriptions later I found it quite difficult as, in all honesty, my eyes were fixed on the large kitchen knife in the hand of the bigger of the two thugs. I have wasted far too much time reliving the moment in my mind since that day, mostly berating myself for not making a stand, but I was faced with a split-second decision.
I am no stranger to trouble, having been involved in my fair share of scrapes growing up in the Swansea Valley in the 1980s, but those were different times, when all you had to worry about were fists and the odd boot catching you. This was different.
Vaguely aware of the second thug to my right, the knife still had my focus.
The thought “if things go wrong you could die” entered my mind.
I was also acutely aware that I was in a secluded location where help was not necessarily likely to arrive any time soon.
I don’t wish to sound overly dramatic, but I genuinely believed that even if my attackers were bluffing, if that knife entered my body during any struggle, who knows what damage it may cause?
A police officer later told me I had done the right thing as the two were “off it on drugs” and anything could have happened.
Hearing the traffic streaming along New Cut Road around 15 metres behind me, I decided to make a run for it with the intention of reaching a public place.
At least if it came to blows someone may call for help.
As I said, it was a split-second decision that now looks like lasting a lifetime, as it lives on in my mind.
I still think it a wise decision but for one fact; I didn’t take into account my shoes.
I was on my way to work and wearing my suit and leather shoes, the soles of which, unfortunately, had all but worn away.
As a result, as I rounded a bend near the crest of the path, I slipped on a mix of mud and fallen leaves and ended up on my back with my head up against some railings with the wind knocked out of me.
My pursuers came to a halt, and as the cold and wet began to seep through my clothes I looked up to see a knife pointing down in my direction.
I can’t describe my emotion at that point as fear. It was more a case of an abject feeling of hopelessness and concern, amplified by a significant amount of adrenalin rushing through my veins.
The same thug repeated his request to hand over my wallet, to which I replied: “I don’t have a wallet!”
I reached into my right trouser pocket and threw a handful of change towards him. As he glanced down at the scattered coins, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. I turned to see that I had fallen in sight of the road and three vehicles, including a bus, had stopped, and now three people were gingerly making their way towards me, mobile phones in hand.
Aware that help was at hand, the lead thug looked down once more and his eyes focused on my work laptop bag, which had slipped off my shoulder and lay by my side. He made a quick grab for it and the pair ran off through the trees.
I later learned that they had been on a bit of a crime spree. They had started off their morning by slicing through the tent of a homeless man and holding a knife to his throat to demand drugs.
After threatening to kill him if he called the police, they moved on to an attempted armed robbery of an off-licence in Neath Road before running into me.
This all took place in Swansea in daylight on a work-day morning.
The police arrived and I was taken to Swansea Central police station to give a statement.
Paramedics were called to check me over; the back of my shoulders and neck were sore, I had cuts to my hand and knee from the fall and was, I was informed, in shock.
Thankfully the police caught the two thugs in the city centre shortly after.
I am deeply grateful to those people who stopped to help – and would like to apologise to the passengers on the bus who had their morning commute interrupted – it’s important to remember that the overwhelming majority of us are still decent, caring people.
I have nothing but admiration for the police and can’t fault their treatment of me – although I am disappointed that I have not yet been able to discover whether my laptop was ever recovered or not – and the paramedics also did an amazing job.
The pair pleaded guilty and have since been sentenced to four and three years in custody.
Perhaps the most chilling fact is they were aged 15 and 17.
When I first learned their ages I felt a bit embarrassed that a grown man could be subjected to such an ordeal by teenagers.
But then I read a court story in the Evening Post about a man being stabbed multiple times, in Neath town centre, and robbed of £20. His attacker was 15.
The public do not know the names of any of these criminals as they are under 18.
I am of the opinion that the courts offer too much protection to youths who commit violent crimes by granting them anonymity.
I believe, if they take the decision to threaten someone with a knife the least they can expect is for it to be made public – perhaps such exposure may even act as a deterrent to others.
I was off work for three weeks and took time to come to terms with what had happened to me.
At first I was quite jumpy when out in public and acutely aware of any footsteps behind me.
Walking carefree outside became a memory for a while.
If anything, the incident has taught me to be ever mindful of how dangerous this world can be; even in places I had previously thought safe.
While I don’t want any sympathy or care for any publicity, the police advise all victims of crime to report the incident otherwise the size of any problem will not be registered.
In a similar vein, I write this article in an effort to shine my personal light on what is fast becoming a major concern for society.
Official figures show that knife crime in the UK – including almost every major city – is on the increase.
When did a disturbing percentage of our young people decide that it is OK to carry knives or threaten people with them?
When will the so-called powers that be realise that more needs to be done to tackle the root cause of the vast majority of crime – drugs?
I don’t expect any answers any time soon, nor do I believe there is an easy solution, but – just like the search for a cancer cure – more must be done to combat this evil that can be found growing at the heart of our communities, threatening to destroy our safe and fearless lives. Am I over-reacting? Since I was robbed people have already lost their lives to knife attacks in this country.
How many more crime victims do there need to be?