Pat Ritter. Books

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'Dream Angel' - Page 37:
I placed the parcel on the counter in front of the customer; he did not react or take possession of it. ‘No, I didn’t want WALL. I want HALL. Have you got a parcel for HALL?’ I returned the parcel to the rake to check if there was a parcel for HALL. There wasn’t one. I returned to the counter, ‘There’s no parcel for HALL.’ I said. He thanked me and left. What now.
Early the next day, the same customer who came to the counter was arrested for possession of drugs found at his home.
Detectives at the Drug Squad were notified of the arrest and wanted to question him about the parcel at the terminal. He was eventually arrested on suspicion of dealing with the marihuana at the terminal.
At his court hearing, he pleaded innocent. A witness was called to testify the customer was the ringleader of drug dealers. This witness was an undercover agent who worked with the Australian Narcotics Bureau and who infiltrated the gang and obtained sufficient evidence to convict the drug dealer.
It was a case I thought would never have been solved if it weren’t for the undercover work carried out by the covert of the Australian Narcotics Bureau. When he gave his evidence about the package of marihuana at the Terminal, he said the accused man told him when he went to get the parcel he saw the masking tape on the top of the package had been tampered with. This was his reason he changed the name from WALL to HALL...

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'Dream Angel' - Page 38:

At the time the covert gave his evidence the look on the face of the accused, was one of ultimate shock and despair. He sat stone faced in the dock unable to stop his mouth from almost hitting the floor. If looks were daggers, we in the courtroom would have been dead when the accused heard his sentence of four years in prison without parole.
I admit to being naïve because I’d never experienced this type of person or circumstance before in my life. I’ll tell you how naïve I was. I honestly thought each person was honest. How many people do you know who are dishonest and tell lies? These undesirable individuals I came across, particularly the recent case of ‘drug dealers’ never occurred to me this type of person existed. I soon learned they were around and often lived outside of the law.
To learn some of the finer points to become a detective and the instinct of a detective, to sniff out all the facts of each case, I needed to improve. I also needed to possess the ability to know when a person told the truth or told lies. There was more to understand and learn as I climbed my personal ladder of success. Along the way I encountered many cliff-hanger experiences and learned to hold on tight or topple over the edge.
Many things are not written down as rules to follow but there was always one thing, I had a sixth sense. Apart from the five senses, I believed I had a sixth sense or a gut feeling or someone or some thing protecting me.
At different times in investigations I felt there could have been an invisible force looking over my shoulder either to protect me or to show me a different way to do things. I was grateful to learn these lessons from much older and more experienced detectives on how they coped and struggled through difficult stages in their careers...

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'Dream Angel' - Page 39:

One important lesson I quickly learned was how to record events in an accurate way as they occurred. I was vigilant in recording events as they happened so when I gave evidence under oath in court, I told the truth and supported the evidence with documentation and notes recorded at the time. Official Police Notebooks were used to record in detail each date, time, place, and conversation recorded at the time.
Another process when interrogating a person was the use of a ‘Record of Interview’. This procedure was adopted to use in conjunction with a Police Officer’s Official Notebook so all conversations were recorded accurately. The advantage of a ‘Record of Interview’ as compared to recorded details of events in an Official Police Notebook, the person was given a copy of their ‘Record of Interview.’ It was typewritten. They couldn’t have a copy of the notes made by the police officer. Whilst these procedures were not foolproof to convince the defence counsel the authenticity of how accurate the ‘Record of Interview’ was taken at the time, tape recorded and video interviews were a far distant concept.
Once I began to understand the process to record a conversation at the time, I discovered how simple it was to accurately record any conversation whether it was recorded in an Official Police Notebook or a ‘Record of Interview’ or both. There were always issues of ‘who’ told the truth, the investigator, or the accused in court hearings.
Many battles were fought in court when the accused denied any wrongdoing and proclaimed his or her innocence; however, I stuck to my guns and presented the evidence as it happened. It didn’t matter if a jury found the accused innocent; I knew I had done all I could do to present the evidence for the prosecution to the best of my ability.
There were many people who helped me climb my ladder of success, none more than a particular forensic scientist who examined evidence to fit the pieces to the jigsaw. It was a turning point in my career...

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'Dream Angel' - Page 40:
Graham was a forensic scientist and excelled above all other forensic scientists in his field. I’m not certain how people become friends or whether it was fate we met but we have remained friends since the first time we met and still are today.
Each payday was a time to meet other detectives at the Sportsman Hotel Spring Hill. Detectives gathered for their fortnightly get-together and boasted ‘how’ many cases they solved. It was a time to ‘let off steam’ and compare stories.
Police work is stressful depending on the type of investigation. This time together gave detectives time out to ‘release this stress’. It was a way also to receive counselling, and afterwards to ‘get on with the next investigation’.
I cherished those moments, to listen to the older more experienced detectives tell their stories of what happened in their day when they were my age; how tough it was in their time as compared to the present day. In the good old days, let it be known, the older detectives they worked with then were now their superiors, so they knew what they were ‘getting up to’.
‘You remind me of myself when I was your age, young and naïve, game as a pissant – it’s the way you learn – you know.’ The Chief Investigator said to me. ‘I’ll give you a word of advice – the only way you’re going to make it as a detective is to get into the hot seat.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said. I didn’t understand what he meant by the term ‘hot seat’.
‘In the witness box – it’s where you learn – those barristers need to tear you apart a few times to toughen you up.’ He countered. He ordered a beer and placed the glass to his lips. When he swallowed his face went into a spasm, his mouth twisted; his jaw jutted out and his face changed shape as if in pain. ‘Are you alright?’ I said aghast.
‘Yeah, it happens each time I have my first drink. I’m right after I get the first one down.’ He spluttered...

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'Dream Angel' - Page 41:
‘Why don’t you throw the first beer out of the window and start on your second.’ I said and the other detectives 'laughed except him.
‘If you come up with those wise cracks again, a week of night work might help you to keep them to yourself.’ His tone went through me like a dose of salts.
Not long afterwards I worked with a trainee detective. We started our training together and were keen to ‘get out on our own’ to prove we could ‘do the job’. We wanted to be let out of the play crib and start to see how far we could walk before we fell over. He received a complaint from a storekeeper a customer presented him with a ‘rubber cheque’. It’s a cheque made for payment to the storekeeper to pay for items the customer purchased and the customer knew at the time he presented it there were insufficient funds in his account to meet the payment. It was commonly referred as a ‘bouncing cheque’ or ‘rubber cheque’. It came bouncing back from the bank after being presented for payment.
We thought at last we would be able to investigate a fraud case, which at the time was something important to do at this time of our training. He would interrogate and question the fraudster whilst I corroborated.
We set off from the office with a spring in our step to speak with the fraudster who’d presented the cheque to the storekeeper. This was our first investigation together. He knocked on the front door at the address where we knew the fraudster lived and waited to speak with him. This was our first mistake. We didn’t first speak with the storekeeper before going to the unit.
A giant of a man in his late forties met us at the front door, ‘What’d you prick want?’ He bellowed. He had a huge build and looked mean. I felt sick.
‘We’re from the police.’ My off sider appeared to be in control, although I heard a slight quiver in his voice...

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'Dream Angel'
- Page 42:
‘This is not about the old shithouse at the shop, is it? I told him I’d fix it up. He didn’t have to tell the bloody police.’ The giant of a man bellowed.
‘Yes, he reported the cheque you gave him didn’t have sufficient funds in the account to meet the payment. What about you come with us to the storekeeper and see if we can straighten this out.’ My off sider calmly said.
‘Let’s go then.’ He grabbed a small felt hat and jammed it on his head.
We drove to the store and as we entered, the storekeeper saw us and shouted, ‘I told you I was going to report you to the police. Your cheque bounced and you haven’t got any money.’ The giant of a man took his hat off and flung it at me and shouted, ‘If you want me you’ve got to catch me.’ He ran from the store onto the footpath and around to the rear part of the shops. I gave chase.
The previous day I purchased a brand-new suit to look like a detective’ those detectives on television. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would need to run and jump over six-foot-high fences in a new suit, but there was a job to do. ‘I’ll take the car around the block and stop him at the next street.’ My off sider called out before he disappeared and left me chase the fraudster down an alleyway and into the back yard of homes. I couldn’t believe how fit he was, he was twice my age and jumped over six-foot-high fences like an antelope. The last time I saw him, he was two houses away as I tried to lift my leg up and over another fence. I lost him.
When I arrived at the other street my off sider waited in the police car. ‘We’ll have to keep this one to ourselves. If this got out, we lost our first prisoner, we would be 'laughed out of the office.’ He said.
‘We’ll take it to our graves. It never happened; boy he can run.’ I was almost out of breath.
After we returned to the office the telephone rang. Who would you think was on the line? Yes, the fraudster who’d evaded us. The cheek of him to ring us and rub salt into the wound, ‘I told you two young fellows I’ll fix the cheque. So, don’t annoy me again,’ and hung up...

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'Dream Angel' - Page 43:
The next morning all detectives were summoned to the muster room to be addressed by the Detective Superintendent. We had no idea why we were being summoned to this urgent meeting. He began to tell us how difficult the role of a detective is when trying to apprehend an offender. I looked and whispered to my off sider, ‘Did you tell anyone about yesterday, because I know I didn’t.’
‘No, how did they find out?’ If it got out, we lost a prisoner and not reported it we would be in big trouble. No detective appointment. It was a serious matter. The Detective Superintendent continued his story of preventing people from escape and finally shared with his audience a senior detective from the Consorting Squad lost a prisoner and all detectives should be on the lookout for the escapee. We were relieved.
It was not our man but a senior detective of the Consorting Squad allowed a prisoner to escape. What a relief. Our fraudster was never seen or sighted again.
Rumours were always rampart around a detective’s office of stories being stretched further from the truth they became believable. Each story sounded exciting in the way it was told. One story, which happened interstate to a person under interrogated, should be told.
The story goes detectives from interstate had questioned a male person about break and enters offences, which he denied. Whilst he was being interrogated, he was allegedly held by his feet outside of the window of the police building three stories above the ground for the police to obtain a confession.
I couldn’t believe detectives would go to such lengths to obtain a confession; it was a story none the less, believe it or not. Unbeknown to the detectives who allegedly held the man’s feet out of the window, the suspect scratched his name on the wall outside of the building where he was being held against his will. At the subsequent court hearing, evidence supported the suspect when his name was found scratched on the wall outside of the building. The Judge discharged him...