Police officers are supposed to enforce the law. And that sometimes means arresting people, issuing fines, and so on. And we’ve all heard stories of police who are so intent on following the letter of the law that they miss, as it were, the spirit of the law. And yet, in real life and in fiction, there are police who’ve found that it’s easier to have a quiet word with someone than to make an arrest. You can call it pragmatism (because it does save on time, paperwork, and so on), or you can call it compassion. Either way, cops like that show the value of building relationships rather than knee-jerk reactions when they’re called in to a situation.
For instance, Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Boscombe Valley Mystery sees Inspector Lestrade faced with what seems like an open-and-shut case. Charles McCarthy has been murdered, and the evidence points to his son, James. The two had a serious quarrel shortly before the murder, and James can’t account for himself directly after the quarrel. Still, James’ fiancée, Alice Turner, is convinced of his innocence. She pleads to Lestrade, and, despite the fact that he thinks the case is settled, he asks Sherlock Holmes to look into the matter. Holmes agrees, and finds that things aren’t as they seem, and that more than one person could have committed the crime. Lestrade is usually a strict enforcer of the law as he sees it. But in this case, he allows for Holmes’ way of looking at things.
M.C. Beaton’s Hamish Macbeth lives and works in the small Scottish Highlands town of Lochdubh. It’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone, and that includes Macbeth. He’s learned over time that it doesn’t pay to instantly arrest and charge people, especially for petty things. For one thing, it’s not practical. Macbeth works alone in the village, and doesn’t have time (or, for the matter of that, desire) to go after every person who does something, especially if it’s minor. For another, Macbeth is a part of the community. He’s known everyone for a long time and doesn’t want to alienate people who are his friends and acquaintances. It’s easier and more effective to speak to an offender about, say, noise, or where a car is parked, or fishing/hunting in the off-season or on private property. A word in the ear, and perhaps a follow-up visit, can do the job most of the time.
Bill Crider’s Dan Rhodes has a similar attitude in his way. He’s the sheriff of Blacklin County, Texas, and, like Macbeth, he knows just about everyone in his jurisdiction. Of course he investigates and solves serious crimes like murder. But he’s also practical enough to know that it’s not worthwhile to be officious about what people do. At the beginning of Too Late to Die, for instance, he’s called in to investigate a break-in at Hod Barrett’s grocery store. It’s very likely a group of kids taking sodas and treats, so in the grand scheme of things, Rhodes knows it’s not earth-shattering. Besides, Rhodes doesn’t have the budget or the staff to provide a lot of security for the store. But he also knows Barrett will not take kindly to his complaint being ignored. So, he listens to what Barrett has to say, and he does do a bit of a search for evidence. Barrett isn’t happy, because he believes Rhodes isn’t aggressive enough about going after the kids who broke in. But he does calm down, and Rhodes’ pragmatic approach turns out to be useful when he needs information from Barrett to solve a murder. You’re absolutely right, fans of Craig Johnson’s Sheriff Walt Longmire.
In Jean-Claude Izzo’s Marseilles trilogy, we are introduced to Fabio Montale, a Marseilles police officer. He was raised in the part of Marseilles that he now patrols, so he knows very well what life is like there. In fact, he and his friends got into their share of trouble when they were young – that is, until a tragedy changed the course of their lives. Montale left the city and joined the military for a time. After his service, though, he returned to Marseilles and joined the police force. He still remembers his youth, though, and he knows that if he’s going to be accepted and respected, he’s going to have to be practical about enforcing the law. He won’t get anything accomplished if the locals resent him, so he doesn’t arrest people with impunity. Rather, he talks to those involved, finds out what’s really going on, helps if he can, and so on. That doesn’t mean he ignores serious crime. It does mean, though, that he’d rather use his authority to help his community than to alienate it. His strategy often works, too. He’s freed up to go after real criminals and even gets help from those he serves.
Brian McGilloway’s Ben Devlin finds much the same thing. He’s a police detective in the borderlands between the Irish Republic and Northern Ireland. Where he lives, people don’t always trust the police, and memories are long. Devlin knows he won’t get anyone’s co-operation if he wields the law as a weapon. In fact, things could go badly for him if he did that. So, he prefers to have a quiet word with someone and settle a matter ‘just between us.’ It’s an effective approach, and it means that people are far more likely to trust what Devlin says and give him information he needs.
And that’s what a lot of police officers find. Sometimes a simple conversation and a friendly warning get the job done much more successfully than does a strict interpretation of the law. There’s a difference between turning a blind eye to crime and being practical about building trust. Wise detectives know this and keep it in mind.
*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a Beatles song.
Crime Writer Margot Kinberg 