In the novel I'm writing, someone goes missing. I need to research this. Who better to talk to, only the police? I have some idea of what happens... I've watched The Bill, I'm watching The Wire at the moment (and loving it!), but for that real authentic stuff, I want some guidelines to work with. So I pop into the local police station. They have shut the office as there is an urgent case of a missing person, so I have to come back another day. It fleetingly crosses my mind to ask if I can stay, but that thought runs back to where it came from and I shut the door behind me.
I walk down the road to the community police office. A young girl (who looks like she would help me) explains she doesn't know about that department, she'll go and ask her colleagues. A few minutes later and I'm hopeful. The door opens, and instead of inviting me in, she says that they can't talk to me; rules and regulations. I need to talk to press. She'll be able to help me, she's very nice. I go home. I call the number I've been given but it's just after 5pm so there's no answer. I call again the next morning and get through. She'll see what she can do. She takes my email and says she'll get back to me. And she does; to say that, no, press can't help me. I should try the website. Well, I had already read that in the first place, hadn't I.
Someone goes to hospital, not the same person that goes missing, another someone. So I need a doctor. I've been asking myself who's brain I can pick but, as yet, haven't come up with one. I do contact a centre though, and explain my situation. Maybe they could point me in the right direction, let me know about resources available? I wait. Then I get an email saying, no, due to limited resources, they can't help me, many thanks for getting in touch. No, please, thank you.
Wait for it.
The next day I get an email from the same person, with an additional line at the end of the previously sent email, of a link of another institution that might be able to help.
Message of the day?
A teeny weeny life line always pops up when you least expect it.
I walk down the road to the community police office. A young girl (who looks like she would help me) explains she doesn't know about that department, she'll go and ask her colleagues. A few minutes later and I'm hopeful. The door opens, and instead of inviting me in, she says that they can't talk to me; rules and regulations. I need to talk to press. She'll be able to help me, she's very nice. I go home. I call the number I've been given but it's just after 5pm so there's no answer. I call again the next morning and get through. She'll see what she can do. She takes my email and says she'll get back to me. And she does; to say that, no, press can't help me. I should try the website. Well, I had already read that in the first place, hadn't I.
Someone goes to hospital, not the same person that goes missing, another someone. So I need a doctor. I've been asking myself who's brain I can pick but, as yet, haven't come up with one. I do contact a centre though, and explain my situation. Maybe they could point me in the right direction, let me know about resources available? I wait. Then I get an email saying, no, due to limited resources, they can't help me, many thanks for getting in touch. No, please, thank you.
Wait for it.
The next day I get an email from the same person, with an additional line at the end of the previously sent email, of a link of another institution that might be able to help.
Message of the day?
A teeny weeny life line always pops up when you least expect it.
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