My Hero Theo

The officer who was with Riley was struggling with him. They hadn’t gelled and Dave called me to one side while we were training in the woods one day.

‘If you could have any dog on this course and it might mean someone getting kicked off the course, could you do it?’

‘Yeah, I can do that.’

‘Even your friends?’

‘Yep.’

‘Right, what dog would you take if you could have it now?’

As little experience as I had, I wasn’t stupid: I asked for Riley straight away.

‘What about Max?’ came the reply.

Now Max was a horrible dog. He was huge, bigger than Simba, and I knew he’d be a successful police dog because he had a natural aggression but he wasn’t a dog I wanted or relished the thought of handling. I didn’t trust his temperament and, though I was new to the unit, my gut instinct told me no one would be able to handle him and, ultimately, he’d come off the dog section.

‘Look, if you’re telling me I’ve got to have Max, I’ll have him,’ I said, resigned to getting whatever dog they decreed I’d have, but just as I was about to let out a huge sigh, the words I wanted to hear came out …

‘Okay,’ he said, ‘you can have Riley.’

The officer who’d had Riley was sent back to division and I was given Riley. It was week seven of the thirteen-week course. I had some catching up to do if he was going to pass out in just six weeks.

Those six weeks were amazing! I went from wondering about my future on the unit to knowing I was exactly where I was meant to be. The daily appraisals almost always talked about how I was a natural with dogs. Riley learned fast, listened well and had a natural aptitude for training. One of the finest-bred dogs I’ve ever worked with, he was like a sponge – he got everything I taught him and never forgot anything in between sessions. We caught up with the other recruits within a fortnight. Riley passed out with flying colours and I learned I’d be sent back to the division I’d come from as their dog handler.

It was the proudest day of my life, and Riley and I started spending our entire lives together. Us recruits knew when we were training that we’d spend our first six weeks as handlers paired with another dog handler and their dog. It’s one thing learning it all at Hough End, another thing altogether to put it into practice on the street.

The dog-handling partner I was paired with was Andy Beaver, who had been a tutor while I’d been training. He was a great guy and, while I wanted Riley and I to go straight into the fray, I knew there were worse handlers I could have been paired with as we bedded ourselves in. Andy’s dog was called Milo, a German Shepherd. They’d worked together for around a year and Milo was an excellent police dog. Now retired, Andy’s one of my best friends and in those six weeks he taught me so much. He showed me what confidence can do and how teamwork between you and a dog should go.

Milo was big and daft, but he was fantastic when he needed to be. We’d run the dogs together on the field during the shift, but nine times out of ten Milo would disappear off chasing a rabbit, something he would never have dreamt of doing on an actual job or a rural track. He had a great recall but would forget you’d called him back and would disappear again to chase something else; he was dippy but with a beautiful temperament.

Andy showed me what a relationship between a dog and their handler can be like. He’d have thrown himself in front of a car for Milo and Milo would have done the same thing for him. They were a unit and adored each other. I’d watch their body language on searches, becoming one, and ached to have their experience. I wanted Riley and I to be as good or better than they were. It was an amazing six weeks of learning on the job with what turned out to be a lifelong friend.

The first day of our first shift in December 2002, Riley made his first bite. We’d been on shift all night and were called to an estate in Oldham at 1 a.m. I had Riley on a long line and as we searched the back of the property, we found a male trying to break into the house. He saw us and started to run off. I used the challenges we’d been taught in training, and when he ignored them I sent Riley in. He bit and detained the man like he should have done but Riley bit his bum, not his arm as he’d been trained to. Two nights later, we caught the same man again doing the same thing and Riley detained him again, this time on his arm.

Looking back, it was a nothing bite and a nothing sort of job: he didn’t wound the man or put him in hospital or anything like that, but I felt like I’d arrived – I could say I’d had a bite. I was a new recruit who was earning my place on the team. Over the next couple of years, Riley and I went from strength to strength. A formidable police dog, his success tally kept climbing. He was a fantastic tracker in urban and rural environments, fearless with an amazing bite, and would follow my command to the letter. He was so strong too – nothing got away from him and he knew it.

In October 2005, Riley saved my life for the first time. I didn’t think I could have loved him any more than I already did, but it’s a job that will stay with me forever. We were at the start of our shift when we were called to someone breaking into an empty derelict pub in Ashton-under-Lyne. We rocked up and were told by officers on the scene that one or two people had gone in and not come out. The officers asked if I wanted them to come in with me but I knew I’d be better with Riley alone so we went in and issued our challenges.

Challenges give perpetrators the time to give themselves up without me sending Riley in or them potentially coming to any harm. Before you release a police dog, you should let people know you’re there, so first you call ‘Police officer with a dog, come out or I will send in the dog!’ If they don’t respond, you issue a further challenge of ‘Come out now or I’ll send in the dog, it’s your last warning!’ and if they still don’t respond, you send in the dog.

I issued the challenges and, as expected, no one gave themselves up. Riley started searching upstairs and cleared the top and ground floor, room by room. After searching for the better part of fifteen minutes in the pitch-black, he eventually took me into the basement. We were barely at the foot of the stairs down when he started to growl so I knew someone was there. I opened a door inwards and Riley shot into the corner. There was a trolley used to carry drinks and a lad was hiding behind it. I lit him up with the torch and told him, ‘Stay there, don’t move!’ The words were barely out of my mouth when Riley spun on me and just came hurtling towards me, baring his teeth. He’d never done anything like it before and for a split second I was confused. In the same split second, out of the corner of my eye, I caught the glint of a crowbar coming down towards my head just as Riley caught the arm holding the crowbar in mid-air. I didn’t issue any command for him to do that; I hadn’t trained him to look after me, I’d trained him to catch criminals. Riley had taken the initiative himself.

Our bond meant he’d wanted to protect me.

While the two men were arrested, I took Riley back to the van and gave him a drink and a fuss. I thanked him and remembered one of the things Dave Johnson had taught us recruits while we were training as handlers. I didn’t get what he was talking about at the time but he’d told us, ‘If you look after these dogs properly for twelve months, they will look after you for the rest of their lives.’ From that moment, I swore I’d never let anything happen to Riley. If that crowbar had hit me, I could have died instantly. He’d saved my life and I was indebted to him.

By the start of 2006, I grew to rely on Riley; he became my rock and we became part of each other. There’s a saying in the Dog Unit that you can call me what you like, call me everything under the sun, but you call my dog anything or tell it to shut up and you see how a handler will react.

As Riley developed into a confident police dog, I became a confident handler, but where dogs aren’t prone to arrogance, the same cannot be said for humans. Riley was a fantastic piece of kit, an amazing partner and a wonderful dog. We were fast becoming a successful team and I’d park ‘Gareth’ at the gates of every shift and become ‘G’.

Gareth is a bit of a sap who wears his heart on his sleeve but I had to present a tougher exterior at work, bordering on arrogance and cockiness. Dealing with criminals who’ve taken something that doesn’t belong to them or hurt someone who was minding their own business can be emotionally draining so I’d switch persona at the start of each shift as much for self-preservation as anything else. There were times that winter when we’d be on tracks in fields, on the moors or in the woods in the middle of nowhere. It’d be dark, we’d be lost and looking for someone with a knife or a gun, but G felt invincible with Riley beside him.

It was while feeling invincible that I met Claire in January 2007. She was a police community support officer at the time and the PCSO team worked out of Hyde nick, where Riley and I were stationed. I saw a picture of her before I met her in the flesh and was blown away by how stunning she was. I’d finished a job and was doing the paperwork and needed a pen so I wandered over to an empty desk to grab one, not knowing it was hers. There was a framed picture of a woman with blonde hair and a lad sitting on her lap. I was struck by Claire but equally drawn to the fact she loved her son enough to have a picture up on her desk of the two of them. Her hands were round his waist and I couldn’t see a wedding ring. A quick enquiry of the officer on the desk next to hers confirmed she was single. I wasn’t looking for anyone – I was busy with work and Riley was my life, both in and out of the nick, but I couldn’t get her out of my head.

When I met her in person a few days later, I had no idea how much she’d change my life. Riley and I had been on a massive track which resulted in nothing. We got back to the station after three hours in the middle of Saddleworth Moor. I was freezing cold and shouted for someone to make me a brew. Claire popped her head round the door and asked, ‘Are you tired, Gareth?’

I remember thinking, Oh my God, she knows my name! Oh my God!

She made me a brew and we had a bit of small talk, but her shift was ending and she had to pick her son Ben up. Instantly infatuated, I didn’t have the courage to ask her out because I was scared she’d say no. Over the course of the next few weeks, though, our paths would cross and, while we’d always chat, it never went any further. Her dad had been a dog handler in the police for twenty-six years and she was a natural with Riley. He adored her and she’d give him treats she kept in her desk. Before too long, both of us got excited every time we saw her.

I’d stay behind at work just to see her come on shift. I wouldn’t talk to her as she’d be busy with the handover, but just seeing her made me happy. I liked watching the way she’d scrape her hair back and get it smart and out of the way before she started and how she’d bite the top of her pen while taking notes. I could have watched her forever, it was like she had some kind of magnetism over me. Just being near her made me feel better about everything.

One day in February 2007, it had been lashing down with rain and I’d been on patrol with Riley. He was in the wagon and I popped into the station before we headed off on another job. Claire was on her way out and I asked what she was doing that day. She was on her way to a patrol around the town but I knew she’d get soaking wet because of the weather. I gave her my mobile number and told her to message me if she needed a lift back to the station to keep her dry.

My phone lit into life an hour later: ‘I hope you’re okay and not too wet, I’ve got some treats for the worker and that’s not you, that’s for Riley.’

I texted her back, saying, ‘How dare you abuse my phone in this manner! It’s for professional work purposes only.’

She didn’t skip a beat before she replied: ‘Have you got anything else I can abuse …?’

Our relationship was born.

We were both very cocky and very confident. The spark between us was undeniable and things moved quickly. Claire was very upfront about Ben from the second we got together. She explained they came as a package: ‘So if you don’t accept him, you don’t get me.’

I loved how upfront and forthright she was. I’d been as drawn to Ben as I was to Claire, and within a few weeks of our first date I met him for the very first time. He was four and a gorgeous little lad; he was sitting on my knee in a few minutes and taking cookies from the jar. Riley adored both Claire and Ben and we moved in together a couple of months after we met. I’d gone from being a single bloke with a career my life revolved around to someone who was coupled up, with a little lad in the house. It was perfect and my readymade family was all I could have wished for. I’d been saving hard since starting on the job unit and was in the process of completing on a house when I met Claire so it made sense for her and Ben to move in with me rather than for us to find somewhere else.

My family were delighted I’d found Claire too. Work had been really intense for months and, all of a sudden, I had a balance I didn’t know I’d been missing. Meanwhile, Riley and I were going from one amazing job to another. Fellow handlers would tell me we were making a name for ourselves. I remember one saying, ‘The criminals are in bed at 10 o’clock when they know you’re on duty.’

We had a job in April 2008, a ‘missing from home’ – someone had disappeared and we were tasked with seeing if Riley could get the scent and try and find him or her. It was a horrendous night. There was so much rain the rivers had flooded and a raging torrent. Riley was a strong swimmer but fell in and I knew he was panicking. I didn’t think twice about following him in, but shouted I’d need someone downstream fast to help us both get out. The last thing I heard before I hit the icy torrent was the divisional inspector on the radio shouting, ‘Do not go in that river!’

Hitting the water took my breath away. When I surfaced, Riley was just a few feet away and I was able to grab him by the scruff of the neck. I got us both onto the bank, breathless, cold and wet. Riley went berserk, licking my face, shaking the water off and then licking and nuzzling me more. ‘You silly bugger!’ I laughed, even though I was starting to shiver. ‘Don’t do that again, you could have drowned and so could I.’

In 2008, Riley and I were unstoppable. We worked hard, knew each other inside out and our success rate was huge. Ben and Claire were perfect at home and while ‘G’ had become a force to be reckoned with, the last thing he needed was an even more inflated ego, then Send in the Dogs happened. An ITV documentary following police handlers, it ran for two seasons and covered dog handlers in forces including Nottingham, London, Yorkshire and Manchester, which is where I came in.

4

By the start of 2009, Riley was Greater Manchester Police’s stud dog, which meant he sired 58 puppies. We’d also made it to three National Police Dog Trials Championships, where the best police dogs across all the forces in the UK compete. I wasn’t able to go, but the fact he’d qualified was a huge thing for me, a testament to the work we’d been putting in together and how successful we were becoming. As well as flying at work, Claire, Ben and I were becoming a real little unit.

There’d been rumours at work for a while that we were going to be one of the forces on the second series of the ITV show Send in the Dogs. I was desperate to be a part of it, but wouldn’t have said so out loud. While Riley and I were a very successful team and had a great arrest record between us, we weren’t exactly a modest pairing. It’s embarrassing to admit now, but I even had a hoodie I wore to work that I had specially printed. It said: ‘If you run, you’ll only go to jail with teeth marks.’

Looking back, I was an idiot. A complete idiot.

With the power of hindsight, I’m pretty sure the powers that be decided my already inflated ego didn’t need a primetime TV show. I was gutted – I knew the jobs Riley and I went on would make some great TV but I also knew I’d rubbed people who made the decisions up the wrong way so I wasn’t surprised when I wasn’t chosen. I pretended I wasn’t bothered at all but I’d have given anything to be involved.

I started 2009 with a small chip on my shoulder but it grew as the months went on. I didn’t expect to be praised for every job, but Riley and I had a fantastic arrest record. I’d go on call-outs that would take hours, minutes before my shift finished, while other handlers didn’t, and I started to resent how hard I was working compared to some other handlers I knew. I should have just kept my head down and ploughed on, but I was becoming obnoxious and thought someone above me should have sorted it out. I’m taking full responsibility for the idiot I was becoming, but when you’re doing well and you’re bringing in great results, it’s hard not to believe the hype and start to think you’re the best at what you do.

I was still a comparatively novice handler – yes, I was gaining experience and knew what I was doing more every day, every job – but Claire had twenty-six years’ experience of being around a dog handler. Her dad had been one of the most successful of his generation so she could see I wasn’t behaving as he’d done.

Send in the Dogs was still being filmed at work and there was a cameraman – Paddy – who everyone in the unit got on with. He’d been out with a few handlers and got plenty of different material, but I knew he and the team wanted a bite on camera. It was the one thing they hadn’t had so far in the months of filming they’d done. Paddy loved a brew and spent a lot of time in the canteen, which is how he got to know the handlers he wasn’t shadowing as well as the ones he was. He was eating lunch one day when I overheard him saying how good it would be to get the first televised bite in UK TV history, there had never been one caught on camera before. Before I could stop myself, my ego piped up, ‘It’s because you’re following the wrong people. If you come with me, I’ll give you exactly what you want.’

Of course, I couldn’t promise that, let alone deliver, but I managed to convince Paddy, who spoke to his superiors. The handler he’d been following was scheduled for a week of annual leave anyway so it all timed out perfectly. I was finally on the Send in the Dogs rota of handlers and, while my superiors can’t have been especially chuffed about it, I was delighted and, true to my word in the week I filmed, I got the first police dog bite on film ever shown in the UK.

Throughout the filming, the Tameside division was getting pillaged with car thefts yet no one had been caught or arrested despite surveillance and a lot of police hours going into finding the gang who were responsible. Part of what makes me a successful police officer is growing up on an estate wracked by crime. From a pretty young age I was exposed to how criminals think so I’d long been able to connect the dots and use intuition to steer my policing.

I had a copper’s nose, which develops over time when you’re a police officer and any serving or retired officer will know what I mean. Even when you’re off-shift, you can’t help but notice the car that goes off the main road and through the estate instead of taking a shortcut on the main road. You instantly see when a number plate is newly screwed on; you simply know when to pursue things that don’t look as they should and it’s something you only learn from experience – it can’t be taught at Bruche or Sedgley Park.

Whenever we’ve had gangs or teams working as a criminal unit on a spree I’ve always been one who’ll spend hours poring over crime scenes and reports. I do all the background work, look at all the crime scene pictures, read all the reports, track all the dates … It’s hard to describe because there’s alchemy to it. There’s no one thing that’s teachable but with experience on the job you get to know how criminals think and, once you know, you can go some way towards trying to work out what their next steps could be. It’s good old-fashioned police work and I love it.

With Paddy to impress, I spent more time than usual going over every shred of evidence for the gang we had so far. I meticulously studied time frames, locations and photographs, looking for anything that might help figure out who they were and what they might do next. I knew I was on to something and closing in when Paddy announced one Wednesday that he had to go and film another part of Greater Manchester Police. I told him there was a chance he’d miss what he wanted, but he told me it wasn’t his decision to make and he’d be back with me the following night. So I dropped him off in the van where he needed to go and was on my way back to the station when the call came across the radio: there was a pursuit happening in Oldham.

There’d been a burglary and the two guys involved had taken a Volvo and a Polo from the driveway of the house. I’d been researching and studying this group and where they went and what they did and, because I felt like I knew them, I went to a route where my copper’s nose told me they’d be. I knew they’d taken two cars and, sure enough, I saw them both exactly where I thought they’d be. I had to make a split-second decision to go after one of the cars so I chose the Polo, reckoning my van could keep up with it better than it could a Volvo.

Within a few minutes of the pursuit starting, the car crashed into a wall and the occupant inside set off on foot into a housing estate. Riley and I followed and, while we gave chase, I issued the challenges, which were ignored. I sent Riley in and he detained him with one of the cleanest bites I’d ever seen him make. He bit him with such speed and dexterity, the lad went crashing through a garden gate.

Paddy had missed it: we were finally able to make an arrest which led to us getting the rest of the gang. My already-inflated ego and sense of self-worth hit brand new heights. I joked with Paddy that I’d told him so, but the poor lad had to tell his producers the storyline he’d been filming had no culmination because he’d done as he was told and filmed something else.

Working forty to fifty hours a week, thinking you’re God’s gift to the Dog Unit, inevitably meant some of the arrogance and competitive streak I assumed for around eight hours every day at work stayed with me when I went home. Claire and I had talked at length about having a baby together and by mid-2009, being what can best be described as an arrogant git about it, I promised her if we had the child I desperately wanted, it’d be a girl and the labour would be quick. I know how that sounds and, yes, I was being an idiot, but everything I touched at work was successful so I’d developed a bit of a hero complex and cavalierly made the promise. Of course, Claire knew better than to believe me but I’d promise it every time we’d have a conversation about adding to our family.

With wisdom and experience it’s easy to see the way I was behaving both at work and at home was unsustainable, but I couldn’t see that at the time. Yes, I was a great handler and we got results, but I took risks that I shouldn’t have done, something that caused tension between Claire and me. Claire knew plenty about the Dog Unit and she knew getting into trouble and arguing with the seniors above you wasn’t the way to get on. The Dog Unit is a family. It might sound daft but we’re a bit like a pack and when someone is stepping out of line when they shouldn’t, it doesn’t go unnoticed and it’s tough to smooth over. It’s easy to develop a bad name for yourself and tough to get rid of that label.

Claire had been furious the night I’d jumped in the river after Riley, partly because she was worried and partly because she knew I’d defied a direct order not to get in the water and she knew that defiance always held consequences. She didn’t want me getting into trouble, she wanted me to keep my head down and get on with the job.

In November 2009, Riley and I were on our way in a chase when I was clocked by a speed camera doing 96mph in a 40mph zone. Police cars are able to speed but it was excessively fast and the risk to civilians at that speed far outweighed the benefits of getting the car I was chasing. The car had been involved in an armed robbery but because my driving authority didn’t allow me to go that fast, I got into trouble and had the book thrown at me.