World's Toughest Cops: On the Front Line of the War against Crime. Vinnie Jones
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were getting involved. ‘I don’t know what your man can do,’ we heard one of the cops say, ‘but the young buck can hit hard, I know that.’
Jeff and I climbed through the ropes and squared up.
‘I’m fighting for the honour of the SWAT team,’ he grinned, before putting in his mouthguard.
‘And I’m fighting for Britain, flying the flag for Britain,’ I replied. ‘So long as you don’t put me on my arse we’ll be fine. Cos if you do I’ll kick you in the bollocks anyway.’
Jeff smiled again – and lifted up his long vest. He was wearing a protective box around the crown jewels. Everyone laughed again – seems like they really had done their research: more than Gazza ever did, anyway.
I waved away the offer of a box myself – that got me some applause, at least.
Deep breaths. Everyone was here to see me go down. Time to prove myself.
The bell rang. Seconds out. Round One.
The VOWS are the New Orleans Police Department’s Special Operations Unit, their elite squad. These guys are no ordinary cops; they deal with everything from tactical assaults and SWAT raids to cruising in ‘wolf packs’ in the city’s worst areas, on the lookout for trouble.
The city is situated in the deep south of America at the mouth of the Mississippi river. It’s a beautiful place with a turbulent past – some of which isn’t too far in the past at all. The French quarter pays homage to its original settlers, but just a few miles away it’s a different story. The after-effects of Hurricane Katrina, which devastated New Orleans in 2005, are still being felt. Violent crime in the city is amongst the worst in the United States – and it was recently ranked as having the highest overall crime rate in the country, per head of population.
The city is flooded with guns. Old city laws allow some New Orleaneans to carry handguns in their cars and on their person – which means that even those who aren’t allowed can get them easily enough: in the US it is estimated that nearly half a million firearms are stolen every year…and an unhealthy proportion of those gun robberies happen right here.
The VOWS unit are on the front line of the crime war in New Orleans. Every day they are charged with bringing in the city’s most wanted: from armed robbers and murderers to prison escapees and drug dealers. They’re up against hardened criminals with a lot to lose, so a tough and uncompromising approach is always necessary.
And when they’re not cruising the streets or serving warrants, they’re on SWAT duty, knocking down doors and storming houses.
It’s a busy job. It’s also a dangerous job.
We first hooked up with the squad as they were preparing for a SWAT raid – as it turned out, we would be so impressed with them that we’d stick around to cover all the other aspects of their work too.
They had just finished their briefing when we were introduced – in the warehouse behind HQ. There was the boxing ring in the corner, but for the moment we were more interested in the fleet of vehicles parked up: specifically the SWAT truck, an armoured personnel carrier they call a Bear Cat. When one of these beasts is packed with men and charging through the streets on the way to a raid, the pumped-up, adrenaline-filled atmosphere is like the changing room at Wembley before the FA Cup Final. Times about a million.
The team came over, already kitted up in bullet-proofs and helmets, all carrying machine-guns over their shoulders and pistols round their waists. There were 40 of them, just about the whole unit, and if they were dressed for business, they were also pretty focused. There wasn’t much time for small-talk and getting to know us: they were getting their heads together for the task in hand.
The target was a man wanted for suspected murder. Intelligence had come through with an address – he was holed up in a house with a girlfriend and a couple of pit bulls. But the dogs weren’t the only concern: the team were also going to be looking for weapons suspected of having been used in multiple murders and armed robberies.
Trouble was expected. Shooting was a serious possibility.
According to the cops’ surveillance footage, the building was surrounded by high chain fencing – as well as their guns, the unit would be taking bolt cutters. Getting into the house and on top of him before he had a chance to try anything stupid was vitally important…and that was down to the unit’s number one entry man.
We spotted him immediately. He carried a kind of battering ram known affectionately as an ‘enforcer’ – three feet of heavy metal that he would launch at the door until it gave way – and he swung it easily by his side like it weighed nothing. His name was Jeff Roach.
Jeff’s job on SWAT missions was to get the team into the property – pure and simple. Having the enforcer helped, of course…but being the size of a mountain probably played its part too. And the bottom line was that Jeff had a reputation for being the best entry man in New Orleans.
We nodded our hellos and got ready to ride.
Because of the dangers involved in the raid – and maybe because at this stage we still weren’t known to the team, I still hadn’t proved myself to them – we would not be allowed to sit with the boys in the Bear Cat. We watched as they loaded themselves in, psyching themselves up, adrenaline levels maxed…and then, as they pulled out, we followed behind with Lieutenant Brian Lampard in a squad car.
As we sped through the streets Brian outlined exactly what was at stake.
‘The guy’s suspected of murder,’ he said, simply. ‘He obviously has violence in his past. Depending on how bad he wants to stand his ground, it’s got the potential to be a violent rush.’
Finally we came to a stop outside a detached house. Almost before we could get our bearings the truck spilled out officers and they stormed the place. The bolt cutters did their work in lightning time and then they were at the door. Jeff swung the enforcer once, twice…on the third impact the whole frame buckled and smashed and they were in, guns drawn, shouting.
The rush was amazing. We were back in the car with the lieutenant but even we couldn’t sit still. We could hear screaming, yelling, dogs going crazy – and then a woman appeared, still kicking up a storm, escorted away double-quick by a couple of the men. But what was going on inside? Where was the target?
Brian’s radio buzzed and he gave me the nod. There was no sign of the suspect; the house was secured; we had the green light to go in ourselves.
Even though we knew the place was crawling with VOWS boys, we still edged inside carefully, our hearts in our mouths. The place stank of dogs; dogshit was everywhere. It was a mess…but there was no bad guy.
There was, however, his gun – a weapon suspected of use in a double murder. It was still a result.
Outside again and there were mixed feelings from the team. The operation had gone well – in that no shots had been fired, no officers had been injured…and they had got the suspected murder weapon – but the target was still at large. One of the cops had a theory about that one: he pointed out a couple of kids on the corner of the street – all it takes is one sighting of a raid, one quick call, and the element of surprise is gone.
It made me angry. That these guys, who are just trying to take a man suspected of murder off the streets – and are risking their own lives to do it – should be stopped by a kid with a mobile phone. It was…disrespectful. Half an hour before, loading into the truck outside the police HQ they didn’t know who would be coming home. They’ve got wives, families…and the fact is that on a mission like this they could have lost a man or two – just from trying to maintain a bit of law and order, just from trying to arrest a murderer. And then someone tips him off and all that adrenaline just dissolves into frustration.
It made me angry: I couldn’t imagine how it must make the VOWS boys feel.
It might only have been half the result they wanted, but it was still a result. The suspected murder weapon would eventually be destroyed, along with around 2,300 other firearms the NOPD