THE DIVISIONAL CRIME BRANCH

“So, do you know who is responsible for those activities?” I asked him.

He looked at me through the haze of smoke of the cigarette dangling from his mouth. “What did you say about their method of operation?” he asked, dragging the cigarette from his mouth with two smoke stained fingers. His eyes were regarding me, a smile playing around the corner of his mouth.

“It’s like you have not been listening to me in the last five minutes I have been talking,” I said, looking straight at him without any hint of impatience. I know how to play this game with him, and I do not mind how tactical we maneuver. The underlying result is to get what I should get from him.

Kevwe Oghenekaro came into my spotlight when I was a beat constable attached to the Police ‘C’ Division Warri in the ‘80s. His mother had come to the Police station one afternoon to report about her son who was threatening her life with violence.

As the available Constable on duty, I was drafted to go with her to their house to invite him to the station for interrogation. What simply should have been an invitation, turned out sour the moment he saw me in Police officer uniform coming with his mother to their home.

He was a big boy of about twenty-one years of age. I think must have regarded me as a pest coming to infest him with a moral disease as he looked at me with an unhidden disdain. He picked up a broken wood lying beside the house and brandished it on my face and threatened to smash my head into a pulp if I should come anywhere closer to him. He was a head taller than my five feet six inches; which was the police regulation of recruitment.

Bulging on the shoulder, with a broad face, like the faces you will always see on the Area boys in Lagos.

“Hey man, there is no need for that stick,” I said and gave him the best charming smile I could muster in the circumstance. I was trying to weigh the options I have in dealing with this thug. For that was exactly how he appeared to me initially. I showed him the Billy in my hand. I do not have to brandish it, for he might take that as an effrontery to his domain.

“See, I do not mean any harm. I just want to have a chat with you concerning your mother’s complaint.” I said and bent my head sideways to mean no harm.

“What did my mother complained about me?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

“Can you put that stick down so that we can talk a man with man?” I insisted.

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That was my initial encounter with Kevwe. Since then, we have been able to establish a very close acquaintance; mostly on official capacity. I gradually came to understands that he has knowledge about most of the boys in the community, on account of his house is being rumored to acts a sort of transit point of Hemp retails.

He was, however, is quite discreet in that regard whenever I was around to visit him. Since after that initial encounter, the mother has somehow persuaded me to watch over him. It was not a small call. I cannot imagine how I can watch over a man who, to all appearance, was big enough to be an elder brother to me. But somehow, we have been able to make the best out of that relationship.

When I became an investigating Police Officer in our Divisional Crime Branch a couple of years later, I found this relationship very valuable. It is easier for me to set my ears amongst his associates to pick up snippets of information that could aid in some of my investigations.

However, some months later when he suddenly vanished from my radar, I was not unnecessarily wary as to what has become of him. He has been playing the high game from both ends and one cannot tell when the bubble could burst on them. But he just vanished somehow, while life continued on its infinite crawl.

Warri Police ‘C’ Division was a formation of a new Police Division when the Delta Steel Company, Ovwian/Aladja was commissioned in the early ‘80s. The station was within the staff housing complex. It was known then as the Mobile Barracks.

The housing complex was a large expanse of land between the communities of Ohruworun/Ekete/Ovwian and Aladja in the eastern axis of Warri. It was made up of the Permanent Camp, Camp Extension phases 1 and 2.

The Permanent Camp quarters the senior and expatriate staff of the company. Some senior staffs were also quartered in the Extension Camp phase 1. The bulk of the staff of the company were quartered in the Extension Camp phase 2. The Mobile Barracks was an extension of the phase 2 which quartered the Company’s Security personnel, the State Security Service Staff, and the Police barracks and Divisional Headquarters.

The responsibility of the police was not limited to providing security services for the housing complex only, but also to cover the company industrial site at Aladja; a distance of about four kilometers from the station. They are also to provide security to all the communities in the Udu clan, made up of Aladja, Egbe-ijo, Ovwian, Orhuworun, and a network of villages in the clan where it was not even possible to drive through.

It was in this setup, and in the mid-80s, that we had a wave of armed robberies, unprecedented in the area over the years. It put the division on edge. Twice a week on the average, a case of robbery was being reported to the station. The men in the Crime Branch were tasked with trying to unravel this unrelenting effrontery into our careers.

“We cannot allow this to continue. No, we must stop those boys from making rubbish of this station.” The Divisional Police Officer, a tall, slim, elderly Superintendent of Police, Idowu Alabi, said angrily.

He was glaring at the five of us standing in front of his desk. I was regarding him closely. I knew he was not overtly angry at us that we have not done very well in our job, but he expects more. We were the best team he thinks he has got at the moment in the Division.

There was Sergeant Adamu Silas, a tall, fair complexioned man from the North. I do not know exactly in which state he came from. He was also staring at the DPO with his sharp penetrating eyes, his lips drawn back, and holding down by will power, what was in his mind to say, but which could not be uttered at the moment, given the temperament of the DPO.

Corporal Ibekwe John is from one of the eastern state of the country; a short fat man. He has a temper that could easily flare up, but not in this present situation.

Corporal Daniel Wangyo is from Benue state. He is a very likable, fair-complexioned man.

Corporal Itoro Akporaro was from the present Delta State; a sharp talker, fat with an almost a protruding tummy. He has a slight frown on his face as he looked blankly at the Officer seated in front of us.

Then, of course, there was my humble self. I was the most junior in rank. I cannot explain myself, but for the last two years, I have got an evaluation report describing me as a young constable with a quiet disposition with a flair for investigation, needed to be watched.

Sitting at a table adjacent to that of the DPO, was Inspector Okoro. He was the Inspector Crime of the Division. The rest of us were standing in an at ease position with our hands behind us, nodding and shaking our heads.

“Sir,” Inspector Okoro said, trying to break the silence that seemed to have engulfed the gathering. ”There is a trend that is forming in their modus operandi. After every operation, they tend to give two to three days before their next one.” He looked around our faces for confirmation.

“It is true Sir,” interjected Sergeant Adamu. “All the statements we have been able to obtain from witnesses suggested that those boys break into the houses of their victims, shoot sporadically into the house to scare away the occupants into their bedrooms or under any other cover they could find, then they would remove all the electronics or any other valuable item available in the sitting room, and zoom off before our patrol team could get to the scene in response to any distress call made.”

“So all the items stolen in all the cases were electronics and other valuable items?” the DPO asked, looking at the row of faces.

“It is Sir,” Corporal Itoro put in. “One other salient revelation in all of the reports we have had so far was that they used a heavy object - mostly 6 inches blocks or some similar heavy instrument that could smash the lock open for them to gain entrance into the house.

“They also alternate the places of their operations. For instance, if they operate in, say one end of Aladja on one occasion, they will move to another town to the next or the other end of the same town.”

“And our patrol has a large area to cover,” I said without being prompted, shifting my weight from my right leg to the left. “I think the idea they have is to throw our patrol team off balance and away from their scent, so that we may not be able to predict their next target.”

“And what is the idea you think you have to curtail them running amok in our jurisdiction, Baralate?” the DPO asked, shifting his attention unto me.

“Well,” I blurted out, pointing to Daniel and Itoro standing beside me, “We have been thinking about a strategy. We are arranging to subject ourselves to extra patrol duties in the nights without wearing our uniform. We are assuming this will complement our patrol team, and the other beat duty personnel in their locations to expand our coverage of the area.”

He nodded his approval, putting his hand together on the table, and turned to the Inspector Crime.

“They have briefed me of their arrangement,” he answered the unasked question to confirmed what I have just said. “I think it is worth a trial, though we want to be very discreet about it in the beginning.”

I noticed the relief flooding back into the DPO’s face. I think he is been under immense pressure from the Area Commander to control the wave of robbery from his Division. And after a brief strategizing of our plans, we filed out of the DPO’s office.

And so, for two weeks, the men of the Divisional Crime Branch were going around on foot patrol in the nights. This was no doubt a very stressful duty in addition to our other routine duties we were doing; going to Court in the mornings to give evidence as IPO in other cases, and running about other investigations.

It was worth it though because, during this period, we did not record any report of the Block Boys activities. Though, that itself was strange. How do they know we have put up an extra measure against their operations? This will be for another brief though.

It, therefore came to us with surprise when the boys again, robbed one Mr. Jacob Ovie, an electronics repairer in his house at Ovwian. We have had a relative peace as far as their activities in our Division were concerned and were already basking in the euphoria of our success when this case came up.

I was detailed to run the investigation. I visited the scene of the crime with Mr. Ovie and Charles Ikom, a Police constable in the station. Charles has been a very close friend that always accompanies me on my investigation if he is not engaged on official duty. A slim, sharp police officer from Cross River State, Charles is about my age - 27 years.

We found the locks of the protector and the kitchen entrance smashed into bits, and the offending implement, a heavy block was left lying on the floor. The kitchen has a door on the left that opens into the dining room. We noticed bullet holes on the wall just above the dining table.

The television set, video player, amplifier and a stereo set that were in the parlor have all been removed, leaving the rack they were, gaping like a black cave on a mountain side, at us. Curiously, the two rooms in the house where Mr. Ovie and his family went into hidden when they heard the first banging on their door were not touched.

They were not asked for any money or anything. They robbers left with only the electronics. That was the same trademark as the Block boys, I guessed. Expectedly, Mr. Ovie did not recognize or suspect anyone as he did not even see them at the time of the robbery.

It might have been an intuition, but I told the DPO when I came back to the station later in the day that this has got to stop. I was sure he did not know what I meant, neither did I know why I said that, but I was sure he believed me.

I went back to Ovwian town later in the day to see Kevwe’s mother to inquire about him. She informed me that her son has returned from wherever he has been to and that I would find him in his house.

“Oga Bara! Hey! Oga Bara!” he Shouted on seeing me as I literarily burst into his room without even bothering to knock at the door. The room was in a haze of smoke and smelling like a burning barn.

“So you can disappear from town without letting me know, eh,” I asked him, pretending to be very angry, and extended my hands to him.

“You know, it is not like that,” he said accepting my hand with both hands. “I need to make some money for myself.”  

“What about your school?” I yelled at him. “What about your school? You cannot abandon school now for money. You are already over-aged for a secondary school. If you don’t complete your education now, you may find it very difficult to pick up later. You can make all the money you need to make, but your education comes first,” I reprimanded him, leading him out of the room as I was almost choking in the room.

“Well, how much have you been able to make in Lagos, and what have you been doing there?”

“Ah! Things were not easy there also,” he shuddered. “You cannot believe it, but I was lifting sand from the lagoon to feed.”

He went back into the room and came out with a rag to clean the pavement for us to sit down. He spoke about his friend who persuaded him to go with them, only to find out they have nothing to offer.

I allowed him to speak for a while and stopped him and told him about the problem we have at the police station and explained about the Block Boys, and how they have been committing havoc in his community.

“So, do you know who is responsible for those activities?” I asked him pointedly.

He looked at me through the haze of smoke from the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“What did you say is the method of their operation?” he asked, dragging the cigarette from his mouth with two smoke stained fingers.

I regarded him coldly for a long while. He was watching me closely as well. We all understand the drill. I knew if there was any anyone in this community that can throw light into this case, I am right there with the person.

I slowly repeated their method of operation to him. He sat silent for a long moment shuffling his feet in the mud before raising his head to look at me again.

“I will show you where they live.” He said, his voice was husky, and the eyes cloudy. He was no longer looking at me.

 I can hardly believe what I think I have heard. Is fortune favoring someone here? I thought to myself.

“What do you mean you will show me where they live?” I pressed on, veiling my enthusiasm with skepticism.

“I knew about those boys. Since I came back from Lagos, I have heard about their escapade. I knew the boys and where they live. I will take you there and I will also show you the house of the man that has been buying their cargoes.” He said with finality, in case I was still entertaining any doubt.

Now he was regarding me now as if to mean, ‘can I trust you?’

I extended my hand to him, gazed into the soul of his heart through his eyes, and crossed my chest.

“You have nothing to worry about me.”

For about an hour, we strategize what we would do, that at the end of it all everyone will come out clear.

I floated back to the station like someone in an air bubble. I will not breathe a word of this to anyone till I have packaged the details, then the action will unfold. That was what has made me unique. I went to the counter, booked for a Beretta pistol with eight rounds of ammunition.

“Serge, please, can you vide the entry on that case of the armed robbery reported yesterday and book me on inquiry?” I asked the sergeant on duty winking at him as he returned a smile to me.

 I sauntered out of the office, the weapon tucked under my belt. I am now officially on duty I said to myself, adjusted my red face cap and whistled down a cyclist riding by the station.