Noah's Story

I know it sounds cliche, but I genuinely joined policing with a wish to serve and help my community. This deep rooted belief has never wavered or changed, and I have and will always hold this belief close to my heart. I think most police officers join with this strong sense of feeling to serve, and deep down what we want to do is keep the public safe, preserve life, protect those who can't look after themselves and secure property.

After my first few weeks in the role, I learnt the unfortunate realism that a minority of the public (for their own reasons) often shouted rude and aggressive names in your direction and on occasion spit at or in your direction for simply doing your job. Despite this, I never once thought as part of my job, I would suffer such a violent attack which led me to require facial surgery and leave me with hidden wounds which everyone apart from me couldn't see or feel. I never dreamed up until what happened to me that I would ever feel so strongly to leave the job I loved due to the thoughts of not being able to continue or the anxiety that reached into every part of my body, every time I jumped in my car to go to work.

I was attacked in the early hours of a cold, wet, wintery Sunday morning on a busy city centre street whilst policing the nighttime economy. I was there to make sure that those who were out enjoying the nightlife were able to do so safely and without being the victim of a crime. It was an operational deployment I had done routinely over several years and something I was extremely comfortable doing. I enjoyed being out on foot, sociably interacting with people out visiting the city, passing directions and taking positive action when I needed, to ensure a safe night was able to be enjoyed by all.

My attack lasted less than thirty seconds, but its impact remained with me several years later. It all started because of several fights simultaneously outbreaking in the street I was in. All occurred between different groups of people and were not linked. I took responsibility with one of my colleagues Tom for dealing with the closest fight to us. We managed to separate the two different parties, offering them with suitable words of advice and it resulted in both parties apologising to me and Tom for their behaviour, shaking our hands and mutually resolving their differences between one another. This was always the way I aimed to deal with any situation, through talking, being assertive but only using force as the last possible action and this is the way I had dealt with similar situations previously.  The handshakes I got from both guys stayed with me for years, as what happened to me just under a minute later was completely at the opposite end of the spectrum.

After shaking their hands, I turned and noticed another of my colleagues Olivia trying to reason with two large men. Both were clearly under the influence of alcohol and drugs; both were extremely aggressive and pushing Olivia back towards the wall. I saw, as Olivia drew her PAVA gas canister and fired two short bursts of spray at both men. One immediately retreated, but the other continued with his threatening, aggressive behaviour. Tom and I instinctively went over to support Olivia as it was clear this male had and was committing several offences. We quickly took control of the male, placing him quickly to the floor and handcuffing him as Olivia simultaneously placed him under arrest.

Conscious of getting the arrested male back onto his feet, to preserve his dignity, whilst maximising our safety we arranged to get the male back onto his feet. As I did so, all I remember is as I stepped up on my right leg and looked up, I saw this fist rain down on me and contacting my face. The instant pain and feeling were unbelievable as I felt one side of my face disintegrate and move across into the opposing side. I then felt a deep numbing feel as I passed out, seeing my attackers figure fading out.

I woke up several minutes later. I think the cold wet cobbles under my left cheekbone, mixed with the cold, wet, wintery rain brought me round. I noticed Olivia above me with the arrested male still there, and Ava (another officer) who was kneeled by my side. Tom was nowhere to be seen. I later learnt that Tom had chased my attacker and detained him several streets away, arresting him for what he had done. As I went to speak to Ava, I noticed several pieces of loose tooth on my tongue as I spoke. I quickly wiped my tongue across my front teeth, which quickly led me to realise that my teeth were damaged. The immediate panic I felt as I realised this I can't explain. I had always taken good care of my teeth and it had always been one of my worst nightmares for anything to ever happen to them.

I was rushed by ambulance to hospital and after arriving I learnt that I had suffered from several facial fractures, broken teeth and concussion. I was told by medical staff that due to the amount of swelling and bruising I would need to come back in several days’ time for my injuries to be fully assessed. Naively at this point I believed I would be back in work within a week or two, how wrong I was.

On getting home I managed to get to sleep, probably due to the sheer exhaustion I felt. The next few days I felt like I was living in a dream, the pain I felt in my face and head was unreal, and nothing like I had ever experienced and when I visited the hospital and was advised I needed immediate facial surgery it just felt unreal and like it wasn't happening to me. I was told by the consultant that my injuries were rare and because of their nature the surgical team couldn't rule out that I would be left with a permanent facial disfigurement if they had to operate from the outside of my face. Being told this news hit me hard. I felt a wave of sickness come over me as I felt extremely hot and struggled to breathe. It was only afterwards I realised I had suffered from a mild panic attack. I was also advised by a dental surgeon that the damage to my teeth was permanent and that it would likely take several months before my teeth could be repaired.

On the morning of my surgery, I remember as I headed into a small room to get changed in the pre-operation surgery the room close in around me. I felt panicked, worried that once I woke up, I could end up being disfigured for the rest of my life. As a usual calm, forgiving man, the fury I felt towards my attacker was unnatural and alien to me, but it was there, and it was a strong feeling. I initially thought this was the reason why I felt my heart pounding hard in my chest but as I began to feel lightheaded to the point I sat on the chair in the room and put my head between my legs I realised it was panic because of the unknown post-surgery. I was trembling and struggling to breathe. It felt like an out of body experience and how hard I tried to calm my body and mind, nothing would help. I looked at my hand and on seeing the line that had been inserted coming out the back of it the hot nauseas feeling that washed over me made me feel even worse. I didn't realise how much time had elapsed and it was only when a nurse entered the room and realised what was happening to me that I started to feel slowly better. The staff in the NHS were world class and my surgical team managed to successfully complete my surgery without making any external facial incisions. I was discharged and returned home.

In the weeks passed and my injuries slowly began to cover but my self-esteem and confidence plummeted. I felt my injuries were that obvious that everyone was looking at me. I got annoyed at people checking in with me to see how I was, but I also yearned too for reassurance from people to make sure that I hadn't upset them too. I know now that I was suffering from depression. Trying to sleep was the worst as I had nightmare and relived over what had happened to me in my dreams, over and over again. I realised I needed help and reached out to my forces occupational health unit only to be advised that the waiting list was fourteen plus weeks and a fortnight to even be seen for triage.

Returning to work I felt ill prepared, nervous and tense. To a degree I felt like everyone around me just expected that I had got over what had happened to me, but this couldn't be further from the truth. Every day I drove to work I had a mental battle with myself as I forced myself to go to work and forced myself into situations to challenge my mind to show the worst I feared wouldn't happen; neither were healthy or helpful. It got that bad that I started trawling job sites to find any other mundane, run of the mill job, anywhere as an alternative to still being a police officer. 

After getting my counselling sessions underway with my forces occupational health unit they did help, and I was so glad to be able to talk everything through in the run up to and during my attacker’s trial with someone who wasn't judging but rationally listening. These counselling sessions were so helpful as I had to relive my negative experience through the criminal justice system, as it felt there was an indirect presumption from the judiciary that as I was a police officer what had happened to me was simply a hazard of the job, although it was clear that my attacker’s actions against me were completely premeditated and unforgivable. This presumption was confirmed after my attacker only received a six month custodial prison sentence. If I am being honest, it was like reliving a nightmare going to court every time I attended on the several different occasions. I am glad now due to Operation Hampshire having been implemented that no other officers must relive the same negative experiences I did. That is one good thing that I know has come out of my experience is feeding back the much needed improvements to how forces deal with police assaults in terms of the criminal justice system, and victims’ journey through it.

Following my trial things didn't get better. It was only after visiting the Police Treatment Centre in Scotland and completing their mental wellbeing programme things really did start slowly feeling better. Their programme essentially saved me and allowed me to stay in a job that I love. Whilst there I managed to have the honour of meeting two trustees of Thin Blue Line UK who were visiting the centre and learnt of the valuable work the charity does. Both trustees came across like they genuinely cared about me, my story and I had this strong genuine feeling that they really did want to help me. I learnt of the THRIVE support app that they sponsor, and I managed to get access to the app too after my treatment centre visit. This was a lifeline and having access to the therapy chat service when I needed it, resulted in assisting me in my continuing recovery. I just wish I had known more about Thin Blue Line UK and their fantastic work sooner as I think it would have made a real positive difference to me whilst waiting to see my forces counsellor which I believe would have helped me in a quicker recovery. 

I know as police officers we all like to say we are okay, and we can carry on, hiding how we are truly feeling from colleagues through fear of being judged or seen as weak. I also know as a man how hard it is for men to honestly talk about our feelings. I would be a liar in saying when I started counselling and talking to other people about my experiences it was easy. It was far from easy but having lived through my negative experience I know how important it was to talk and how valuable it was to say truly how I was feeling. This aided my recovery.

I now feel like I have got my life back on track from recovering mentally and physically from my injuries. I am still in policing and doing a job that I love. I will always be grateful to the Police Treatment Centre and Thin Blue Line UK for being there for me when I needed them and its down to them that I am still here as a police officer and able to uphold my belief that I am here to serve my community and help those when in need.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.