POLICING THE DROSS.
In this article I use the findings of an ethnographic study of police station procedures to explore the limitations of Packer's Crime Control and Due Process models of justice. Concentrating on the dynamics of police--detainee interaction in the significant minority of cases in which the police arrest individuals whom they have no intention of charging, Is how that in such cases policing is not geared towards enforcement of the criminal law but towards the achievement of police-defined objectives. I argue that Packer's models are both legal models, and thus inadequate to the task of explaining what takes place in these cases. I present the argument that these cases are better explained by reference to a Social Disciplinary model of policing. This is a model which eschews concern for both legal and factual guilt, concentrating instead on the task of subordinating sections of society viewed as anti-police and innately criminal.
It has been common for those studying the criminal justice system to evaluate its operation in terms of Packer's Crime Control and Due Process models of justice (Packer 1968; Bunyan and Bridges 1983; Baldwin 1985; Dixon 1990, 1992; Irving and McKenzie 1989; McBarnet 1981; McConville et al. 1991; Sanders and Young 1994). In this article, based upon observation of police station procedures and interviews with detainees, I set out my contention that neither of these models adequately explains the experiences of a significant minority of individuals who find themselves arrested and detained at the police station. A plausible explanation for the treatment received by this group of individuals requires a model of `justice' which is far more solidly rooted in police needs, beliefs and expectations than are the Due Process and Crime Control models (see also Choong 1997).
Due Process and Crime Control: A Legal Paradigm
The Crime Control model operates on the assumption that the primary purpose of a criminal process is to repress crime, and therefore it endorses procedures which efficiently screen suspects, determine guilt and secure appropriate punishment for those convicted of crime. `Efficiency' is defined in terms of speed and finality, and accordingly, court-based processes are rejected in favour of extra-judicial, administrative and standardised procedures in which the opportunity for challenge is kept to a minimum. The model is premised on the belief that police and prosecutors, as administrative experts, can and will identify and screen out those who are probably innocent. Given this faith in police expertise and motivation, the supporters of the model oppose the imposition of restrictions on police activity unless such restrictions enhance the reliability of police fact-finding procedures. Packer summed up the Crime Control model by likening it to a conveyor belt, in which the success of each routinized operation is gauged by its tendency to pass the case along to a successful conclusion (Packer 1968: 160).
In contrast to this, the organizing matrix of the Due Process model is the proposition that informal police procedures are susceptible to misuse and prone to produce error. The model therefore operates an assumption of innocence and ensures that the road to conviction resembles an obstacle course. It requires the state to prove guilt beyond reasonable doubt to a judicial tribunal by overcoming evidential and procedural obstacles relating to such matters as admissibility and the standard of proof. The Due Process model is also concerned to minimize the possibility of investigative powers such as arrest, detention and questioning being misused, or used in an oppressive fashion. Accordingly, police powers are limited through mechanisms such as the requirement for reasonable suspicion, the right to have access to a lawyer at all times and the need for the police to secure prior judicial permission for particularly intrusive activity (Packer 1968: 165).
Although Packer's models describe two very different methods of determining the issue of guilt or innocence, both models involve a dialogue with legal rules. So, first, adherents of both models accept that the processes advocated in each model are to be activated solely for the purpose of enforcing the substantive criminal law. Secondly, both models accept that the activities of law enforcement officers must be subject to a `degree of scrutiny and control' so as to ensure that the `security and privacy of the individual' is not `invaded at will' (Packer 1968: 156). This means that the police, regardless of which of the two models is in operation, must be able to account for and justify their actions by reference to the aims, objectives and rules of that model. Finally, common to both models is the idea that the accused always has the option of forcing his accusers to demonstrate to an independent court that he is guilty of the charges against him.
This final assumption underlines the fact that both models are judicial and rule-bound. The Due Process model favours rules which would make this contest public and routine and ensure that it is fought in accordance with formal rules in open court which give the benefit of the doubt to the accused. The rules of the Crime Control model seek to avoid a public contest of this type, but are nonetheless aimed at producing a legal resolution in each case. There must be rules to establish when a suspect ought to be eliminated from the inquiry; to determine what charge ought to be preferred where the law allows some discretion in this matter; and to decide whether a suspect ought to be warned, cautioned or charged. Furthermore, because the model allows the accused the option of putting the prosecution to proof before an independent forum (the court), the police must operate in the shadow of the court's rules. In other words, they must continually ask themselves whether they can prove the case to the satisfaction of the court. In this respect, it is important to note that the emblematic Crime Control outcome--the guilty plea--has to be scrutinized and validated by a judicial officer.
The judicial basis of the two models requires that police behaviour is anticipatory: at each stage it anticipates a further legal step in the process to legal adjudication. Stop and search powers are activated because the police have reasonable suspicion that a crime has been, is or is about to be committed. If the reasonable suspicion is strengthened, the police arrest the suspect. This is done with a view to charging him with an offence. If the suspect is questioned, it is for the purpose of establishing whether or not the suspect is legally culpable. Accordingly, legal powers at each stage are exercised with a view towards authoritative legal resolution, whether that is to be done through a warning, caution, plea or trial.
Beyond Legal Models: The Social Disciplinary Model
Legal rationality, a concept which underlies both of Packer's models, fails to explain the experiences of a significant minority of individuals whose cases terminate at the police station. In such cases, the police never have any intention of invoking the full weight of the criminal justice process because they never intend to charge the individuals concerned with a criminal offence. I am not concerned here with cases which are sifted out at the police station because of insufficiency of evidence or on public interest criteria.(1) Rather my concern is with cases which, from the outset, are treated as police cases rather than as criminal cases.
In these cases arrest and detention are used in order to achieve police goals as opposed to criminal justice goals, and from the outset the police view the station as the end rather than the beginning of the process. Those arrested do not conceptually fit into legally accepted categories: they are detainees not suspects. Here, arrest activates a police system of summary punishment in which the police station becomes the site in which the on-going conflict between the police and particular individuals, groups and classes is played out. In this context, the police station is detached from the judicial process for which it is supposed to be the point of entry. Arrest and detention is not, for this group of individuals, the stepping stone onto Packer's conveyor belt or the first stage of an obstacle course. It represents instead a self-contained policing system which makes use of a legal canopy to subordinate sections of society viewed as anti-police and innately criminal.
This police system of `justice' is best described as a Social Disciplinary model, a term used by McConville and Mirsky (1995) to describe a process used in New York City's state courts to produce guilty pleas. They observed a formalized system in which defendants were routinely pressurised to plead guilty by trial judges in `a highly coercive drama in which defendants are first shown (by being made to watch others) that they will suffer greatly increased penalties if they refuse to plead guilty, and in which they are given their 15 seconds to accept or reject the pleas and sentences offered to them by calendar judges.' The authors noted that the facts of the case were of little consequence to judges or lawyers, witnesses were not called at either hearings or trials and the propriety of policing and the reliability of police evidence routinely went untested.
The system which I observed the police operating is also a Social Disciplinary model, in that its chief distinguishing characteristic is its lack of interest in legal or factual guilt. Its concern is with the police objectives of reproducing social control, maintaining authority by extracting deference and inflicting summary punishment. An exercise in social discipline involves the use of coercion in circumstances where such coercion is not intended to further a criminal investigation. Rather, its initial and primary purpose is to remind an individual or a community that they are under constant surveillance: the objective is to punish or humiliate the individual, or to communicate police contempt for a particular community or family, or to demonstrate that the police have absolute control over those who challenge the right of the police to define and enforce `normality'. Unlike the situation in New York, the police in England and Wales cannot rely upon the courts to sanction and reinforce such a model, and they seek therefore to ensure that cases in which the model is applied are not subjected to scrutiny by a court.
Both Crime Control and Due Process have communicative features. Due Process communicates the law's concern with individual autonomy and integrity, and its commitment to maintaining close control over state power. Crime Control communicates messages about the desirability of speed and efficiency, and the trust that can be reposed in police and prosecutors. However, while they have communicative features, their purpose is the suppression of crime. This is in contrast to the Social Disciplinary model. When operating under this model, the police purpose is communicative: their actions and behaviour are designed to send authoritative messages about the relational position of the police and the policed.
That a significant amount of police activity is dictated by the principles of the Social Disciplinary model of justice is supported by findings of research conducted by the author over a three-month period in 1992 at two police stations situated in neighbouring cities in the south of England. In total, I observed 144 eight hour shifts. Basing myself in custody rooms, I concentrated on observing how officers dealt with detainees when they were first brought into the police station. During this time I interviewed 80 detainees, observed the processing of many more, and held informal conversations with police officers about particular cases and their job in general.(2)
The detainees were persuaded to talk at some length about both their present and past experiences. In addition they volunteered accounts of how friends and relatives had been treated by the police. With some notable exceptions, their accounts of how they or others had been treated were uncorroborated. However, their descriptions of police behaviour and attitudes were given credence by the views which officers expressed to me, and received further support from my own observations of how the police treated individuals in the custody block. The extracts reproduced below form only a small part of the considerable interview and observational data which were collected, but seek to reflect the general picture painted by the findings as a whole.
The Imposition of Control
The Social Disciplinary model is the product of a policing system which rejects the contention that police work should seek to identify specific individuals who commit specific offences. It posits instead the contention that an acceptable and efficient way to police society is to identify classes of people who in various ways reject prevailing norms because it is amongst these classes that the threat of crime is at its most intense. Having identified the `criminal classes', the police are then justified in subjecting them to surveillance and subjugation, regardless of whether the individuals selected for this treatment are violating the criminal law at any given moment.(3)
The police believe that it is the lower-working class, ethnic minorities and those who have no stake in society, such as travellers, gypsies and the homeless, who pose a special and constant threat to order and therefore merit particular attention (Smith and Gray 1983; Skogan 1990). Asked about their employment situation, 74 of the 80 detainees who were interviewed gave an answer, and 58 of these said they were unemployed. In addition, a minority (n = 10) of the respondents indicated that they were living on the streets or in night shelters. In common with most of the homeless respondents in the study, the following detainee complained that he was arrested for who he was rather than for what he did:
I haven't been arrested by them that many times, but I've been intimidated by them loads of times, you know, I've seen a lot of riot police, been pushed around, usually evicted off camp sites by them ... I've been arrested before, just for hanging around the street, brought me in and kept me here for a few hours then cautioned me and kicked me out at five in the morning.
It is perhaps a logical extension of this belief in the innate criminality of non-whites and the poor that the police are prepared to write off entire districts of the city merely on the ground that they are populated by those falling into these categories (McConville and Shepherd 1992). Officers at both stations stated that certain areas of the city (those housing large council estates and containing a significant non-white population) were lawless, inhabited mainly by `losers' and `social security scroungers'. I was told that it was important for the police to make a show of force when entering these areas as they were `sensitive' (i.e. prone to erupt in anti-police riots) (McConville and Shepherd 1992; Foster 1989). It became clear from speaking with the father of one of the detainees that some of the residents of these areas resented what they viewed as paramilitary style policing:
What you have here is a situation like South Africa. These kids can go to work, but they can't go out in the evening. They've got to stay in the township, and the riot van comes round to keep them in the township ... there's no reason why they should `move on'--it's their estate and they can stand around, there's nothing else for them to do. One of the coppers once said to me, `you keep him in!'. I mean what can you say to that?
Some of the non-white detainees whom I questioned were firmly of the view that they were targeted by the police because of their colour. The sample included 23 non-whites (11 Asians and 12 blacks), and of these five Asians and four blacks, although not asked a direct question about racism, stated that they were treated unfairly on the streets by the police because the police were racist. Half of blacks, and almost half of Asians, complained of past unfair police treatment on the street as compared with only a quarter of whites. The complaints of black and Asian suspects are given credence by the fact that racist attitudes within the police force are widespread (Lambert 1970; Cain 1973; Gordon 1983; Holdaway 1983; Smith and Gray 1983; Reiner 1985; McConville and Shepherd 1992). In the present study, when discussing general problems of law enforcement, police talk was permeated with negative stereotypes of blacks. I was informed that `most blacks' were engaged in organized social security fraud and drug dealing, and possessed a propensity for violence. The Asian youth in the following example set out how policing was experienced by non-whites:
Everywhere that us Asians or blacks go, we are picked up by the police. They won't let us live in this town; even when we go into town just to do a bit of shopping they just come up to us and start saying `What you doing?', `Where you going?', `What you been nicking?' If you go out after about eight in the evening, they'll just come and start searching you, and if you question what they do, they throw you around and arrest you, they'll just make something up, burglary or something. Then they'll let you out five hours later and say there was no evidence and you can go.(4)
Having arrested individuals once, this in itself becomes reason for keeping them under surveillance. Unlike in a model of justice based on principles of legal rationality, an individual becomes permanently suspect rather than a suspect for a particular offence:(5)
If they see me on the street they come straight over, pull my jacket off and start searching me, being rough with me. They ask me a lot of questions about my mates, who I've been with, what's happening--`what can you tell me?', `what can you tell us today? `--' Or we might have to take you down the station'. You say you don't know, that you don't associate with the people they think you do, but they don't listen.
The result of this targeting is that the police, as they themselves put it, process `the same dross', `the same losers' again and again. This was supported by the findings of the study: 79 of the 80 detainees who were interviewed said that they had been the subject of police suspicion in the past, and most of them (n = 65) had actually been arrested and detained at the station on previous occasions. A third of the sample complained about the way in which they were constantly stopped and searched, and routinely arrested for trivial matters. In line with this, police attitudes towards those with whom they had regular contact were extremely negative, with detainees being variously referred to as `scum', `toe-rags' and `obnoxious shits'.
There is existing research evidence which suggests that the police see themselves as the embodiment of `authority' (Bittner 1967; Lambert 1970; Lee 1981; Smith and Gray 1983; Foster 1989; McConville and Shepherd 1992). In the police view, it follows that a show of disrespect for the police amounts in effect to a rejection of the whole notion of authority and order. Despite the lack of any law which requires citizens to show respect to the police, officers clearly expect respect to be forthcoming and will not condone any challenge to their authority. This can lead to resentment on the part of the citizen and encourage the very type of challenge which so annoys the police (Foster 1989: 134). As one officer put it to McConville and Shepherd, officers `tend to expect too much submissiveness from people ... there is no reason why people should be submissive, especially if they're treated in an aggressive way' (1992: 178).
Almost one third (n = 28) of the sample stated that either they themselves or people whom they knew had at some point been subjected to unnecessary or excessive police violence on the streets, or had been in situations where the police had behaved in a manner designed to provoke a violent reaction. One fifth of the sample (n = 16) stated that their present arrest had been accompanied by unnecessary police violence or that the police had attempted to provoke them into saying or doing something which the police could then use to justify the use of violence. These findings suggest that the police view those whom they have categorised as `scum' and `losers' as the embodiment of all that which is anti-authority. Targeted individuals and members of targeted groups are deemed to be in need of corrective treatment regardless of whether they actually do anything which could be interpreted as a rejection of authority.
Policing strategies appear to revolve around efforts to neutralize the anti-authority elements in society by forcing them to accept, as one officer put it, `the authority of the cloth'. Officers regularly affirm their authority by forcing the `obnoxious' to tolerate uncivil, unreasonable and provocative behaviour, or by demanding that police requests for information be unquestioningly complied with, or by punishing those who have the temerity to interfere in police work or ask the police to justify their actions. Policing in the Social Disciplinary model of justice is symbolic: the police do not stop and search black youths, harass those with previous convictions and enter run-down estates in large numbers in order to combat crime, but to reassure themselves that their authority to do so will not be resisted.
Examples of individuals being forced to acknowledge police authority included one detainee who complained that asking for a written record of the reasons for his stop and search was interpreted by the police as a challenge to their right to carry out the search, and that he had ceased to make such requests once it became clear to him that this in itself may bring about a stay in the cells.(6) Another complained that he was arrested because he asked an officer who was arresting his friend to provide his name and number. It appeared that the police had some simple yet effective techniques of checking whether individuals whom they categorized as `scum' were in need of further `treatment'. One respondent claimed that officers would stare at an individual, and if the individual had the nerve to stare back this might cause officers to alight from their vehicle and effect an arrest.
The accounts of respondents in my study support Bittner's contention that any challenge to what the officer views as his `entitlement to inquire into a man's background, business, and intentions ... significantly enhances a person's chances of being arrested on some minor charge'. Charges of assault, obstructing an officer in the execution of his duty or charges under the public order legislation are resources used to achieve the police defined objective of creating and maintaining operational control (1967: 708).
Those who are regularly policed state that they are approached by the police with a clear presumption of guilt. They must answer whatever questions the police decide to ask. Those who challenge the `right' of the police to behave in this fashion are carted off to the `punishment block'. A black youth told me that he was once approached by two officers, one of whom grabbed him by the arm and asked him where he had been and where he was going.
I couldn't see how it was any of their business ... I just said `leave me alone, all right'. They said `Right, you're going down the station now'. I said I didn't see any reason why I should be arrested, and he punched me in the balls....
He said he was arrested, placed in the cells for some hours and then released without charge.
In one case the custody officer, the appointed guardian of the detainee's rights, authorized the incarceration of a black youth for five hours even though the justification stipulated in the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, namely that there be an intention to secure or preserve evidence, was not met. The individual concerned had come to the police station on numerous occasions to collect his watch, which was in the police property system. On the present occasion he told the desk officer that he was not going to leave until the matter was finally resolved. Although he quickly realized that he was not going to get very far and announced that he would leave the station, his temerity in challenging police control in the station itself was not allowed to go unpunished. He was arrested, and the following exchange took place in front of the custody officer:
CO I've heard what the officers had to say, and I think you should be detained here until such time as I feel that a breach of the peace is not likely to recur upon your release.
Def I just want my watch. If you want me to come back, I'll come back, OK? There was never any peace breached; I was leaving the station.
CO I don't want to get into that. I think you should calm down. When I'm satisfied that you've calmed down, I'll let you go.
Def But I am calm.
CO Well, I don't think that at this present time you are. Don't worry, you won't be charged. I'm just going to place you in the cells for some time.
The power to arrest and detain `suspects' at the police station allows each officer to extract the submissiveness which he feels is his due, for the police station is an ideal location at which to subject recalcitrant members of the policed community to a status degradation ceremony (Garfinkel 1955). In most cases, `victory' for the police is assured merely by bringing the individual to the station: it shows the `toe-rag' that he can be removed from home, family and friends and isolated on police territory. Detainees are told when to stand and when to sit down, when to talk and when to remain silent (Holdaway 1983). They are expected to behave with complete submissiveness, hand over their property on demand, tolerate abuse and threats of physical violence if not its actual infliction, and suffer incarceration in cells which some respondents described as appalling or filthy. One detainee was resigned to the truth of what the arresting officer had told him: `You keep your mouth shut in here, because we can do whatever we want to you in here'.
Detainees are locked into a system of rewards and punishments. The police have power over such matters as search of the defendant's premises, strip searches, the speed with which to process the defendant, whether or not to charge, the choice of charge, whether or not to grant police bail and whether or not to recommend a remand in custody when the defendant is presented before the court. Regular visits to the station had taught many what they had to do to in order to escape as unscathed as possible: `When I get arrested, I just keep my head down, cause no agree and get out of there as quickly as possible. Just let them get on with whatever they want'. Those who adopted this submissive posture were labelled as `good as gold'; the remainder were the `obnoxious' for whom the stakes had to be raised until they accepted that a show of courage was for the foolhardy.
Most detainees were aware, from past personal experience or the experience of friends and relatives, that at any moment while in custody they could be subjected to the pain and, far more importantly, the humiliation of violence. Six of the 80 detainees who were questioned said that they had been subjected to unnecessary violence while at the station on the present occasion, and ! personally observed five occasions where the police used violence against detainees which was unjustified or excessive. This usually arose where the detainee refused to comply with police demands, thereby challenging the `usual procedure'. So, for example, a detainee who asked his friend why he had been arrested was told to `shut-up'. When he refused one of the officers began violently to push him backwards by hitting him on the chest, angrily shouting, `Don't you dare, in here! IN HERE!' The anger of the officer was exceeded only by his disbelief that a member of the `scum' could be so disrespectful as to challenge police control in the station itself.
As stated at the outset, when the police arrest for the purpose of maintaining control over and extracting deference from the target groups, the presumption is that there will be no charge. It is possible for this presumption to be displaced subsequently and for the case to be fed into the official criminal justice process. However, it should be understood that preferring a charge in such cases is contingent and peripheral. So, for example, in one case a juvenile was arrested for breach of the peace because he was part of a posse of youths, one of whom had sworn at a passing Special Support Unit patrol. It is unlikely that the case would have gone any further had the youth not compounded his insolence by swearing at a WPC inside the custody block. As a result of this he was put into a very painful armlock, dragged out of my view, and later charged with assault.
In another case a black youth happened to be walking past while an officer was in the processing of arresting someone in the city centre for fare dodging. The black youth casually told the officer to `fuck-off and leave him alone'. He was arrested, and although the custody officer indicated to the arresting officer's colleague that he should be released after a stay in the cells, the custody officer was informed that the arresting officer `really wanted him' because he was very annoyed. This, combined with the fact that the youth was `cocky' while in the custody block and an `evil bastard' like his brother, resulted in him being charged with assaulting a police officer. Charges can come about, therefore, in `police' cases, but this should not obscure the fact that they are not viewed as or intended to be `criminal' cases.
In cases processed under the Social Disciplinary model, police questioning is not geared towards extracting confessions or criminal intelligence. The police use the opportunity of interrogation to ask detainees any question they want, and in any manner they want, regardless of whether it relates to the original suspicion. Respondents in my study were asked about their personal relationships, asked where they got their new trainers from and how they paid for them, asked about their immigration status, and asked about why they were claiming state benefits. These questions had no connection whatsoever with the original reason for the arrest. Their effect is to make it clear to the `criminal classes' that they have no privacy from the police.
Just as the criminal classes have no privacy, so they have no rights. Detainees who ask for their rights challenge police control and, whether they are aware of it or not, redefine the case as a criminal rather than police case. It is this open contradiction of police defined reality which aggravates the police, rather than any belief that rights obstruct attempts at securing convictions. It is, therefore, the element of resistance which helps explain why police officers resent the exercise of rights in those cases where there is no intention of charging, or where the exercise of rights cannot conceivably have any adverse impact on the prosecution case.
Police impatience with suspects' rights can also be seen as a by-product of the contempt that officers have for those whom they regularly process. Most officers thought that rights should be conferred only on those individuals who deserved them, those who had some moral `worth':
Custody Officer And the other thing that gets my goat is the amount of money we spend on these, these--these (contemptuously) `persons' with solicitors, doctors, meals and all that!
Officers frequently indicated that the law attached too much significance to the rights of suspects. Being arrested, searched and placed in the cells for hours on end--these were events, I was informed, which might cause distress to `someone like you or me', but were everyday occurrences in the lives of `these people' and did not bother them.(7)
The experiences of those who are regularly policed demonstrate that in a significant minority of cases policing is geared, not towards the enforcement of the criminal law, but towards the achievement of police defined objectives. The police believe that they must have control over `problem' communities, and control consists of being able to stop, search, detain and question individuals at will. Police actions, both inside and outside the station, are designed to send a message to certain communities, groups and individuals. The message is that challenge, resistance, and a lack of respect, like criminal infractions, will incur punishment, even if that punishment has to be imposed through an informal, police administered system of `justice'.
The data gathered by my study show not one but two separate yet intersecting systems of criminal process. One is the official criminal justice process, driven by the rational goals of evidence collection and screening in which police conduct is ultimately informed by the expectations and needs of judicial agents. Sometimes this is responsive to Due Process principles, sometimes it is driven by Crime Control values. The other is a `shadow' system of police punishment, driven by police defined goals, disconnected from the demands of the official system. While the two systems imply different goals and different kinds of police conduct, they interrelate at structural as well as operational levels. Aspects of the official process, such as the police discretion over arrest, the duration of detention, the decision to charge and the selection of charges, become resources for the police in operating their own system in that if officers begin to lose control over what started out as a `police' case the terminology and labels of the official system can be used to convert it into a `criminal' case. In the context of policing the `dross' of society, though officers may cut in and out of the official system at will, their preference is to subject the target population to a system whose co-ordinates are laid down entirely by the police themselves.
(1) McConville et al. (1991: 104) found that almost half of those arrested are not prosecuted.
(2) The initial aim of the project was solely to discover the views of detainees, and the importance of my conversations with police officers as a source of data did not emerge until the project was well under way. As such, although the views of police officers (as well as solicitors and social workers) were noted in the observational log-book, I did not keep a note of how many such conversations took place.
(3) There is a wealth of research literature supporting the claim that historically the police have been more concerned with maintaining social control over problem populations than with detecting crime. See Brogden (1985); Brogden and Brogden (1984); Davis (1989).
(4) A number of studies have demonstrated that blacks are stopped more frequently than non-blacks: see Brogden (1981); Willis (1983); Smith and Gray (1983); Skogan (1990); Jefferson et al. (1992); Norris (1992).
(5) In other words, he becomes `police property': see Cray (1972); Shearing (1981).
(6) Section 3 of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984 requires an officer to make a record and to inform the person searched that the record is available for inspection.
(7) Bittner (1967: 713): `It is difficult to overestimate the skid-row patrolman's feeling of certainty that his coercive and disciplinary actions towards the inhabitants have but the most passing significance in their lives.'
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SATNAM CHOONGH, School of Law, University of Warwick.
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|Publication:||British Journal of Criminology|
|Date:||Sep 22, 1998|
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