Chapter Twelve
Back to the present day 2007; Gene lines up his blue police notebook, pen, Hewitt Packard laptop with Microsoft Windows Visa and turns on the tape recorder in perfect parallel.
"We were in court yesterday with the CPS. Now, you know as well as I do that something smelt bad about this whole old school ex coppers thing." said DS Gene Hunt with his colleagues including DI Maya Roy and DCI Sam Tyler sat at the big conference table with bottles of water amongst them.
Former DCI Gerry Hunt rolls his eyes at the new fangled interviewing techniques under his breath. "Oh, fuck!" pretending to smoke on a blue ball point pen, not understanding the no smoking laws on the main Stopford House premises of Greater Manchester Police.
"This should have been standard practice, years ago." Gene puts the tape in and presses Record; shocked at the violent practises used in the Seventies to Eighties when he was just a child; at police officers framing innocent people for crimes they never did, violent brutality and cutting corners on cases.
"July 17th 2007; Present at interview: DCI Sam Tyler, DS Gene Hunt and DI Maya Roy." said DI Maya Roy determined to press on with the interview against the former Detective Chief Inspector before the time limit is up.
"Two bullets, retrieved from a former boxing promoter Haslam's address: a gun with the same calibre as 1970s police issue." DCI Sam Tyler presents the bag of ballistics sealed as evidence.
"Witness statement from a neighbour woken from sleep by bellowing and cursing. She looked out of her window to see this man -" stated DS Gene Hunt who holds up an old developed colour photo of Gerry wearing a beige camel coat, then places it down on the table in front of him.
Gene Hunt's uncle's representive is attempting to sabotage the evidence and interview.
"With all due respect, Mr Merrick -" interrupted DCI Sam Tyler before being cut off verbally.
"Yeah. Given that you've not yet charged my esteemed client, I don't quite see how you've had the brass to hold him in Custody as long as you have." Merrick coughs deliberately to spread unwanted germs on the Interview table; it was obvious the three police officers could smell traces of strong alcohol on him.
"Well, I think I've already explained that we're awaiting further testimony before sending the historical cases up to Discipline and Complaints for a charge decision." stated Gene Hunt who was already bored of the dodgy lawyer prattling on; wondering whether to get him breathalysed to measure the amount ingested in his bloodstream.
"That's hardly my client's problem. Oh, with the very greatest respect, Eugene ask your Detective Chief Inspector friend to, put up or shut up."
"Taking into consideration the serious nature of the offences—" DI Maya Roy interjected halting the bent lawyer's dodgy singing in the imitation of a long ago 1970s comedian turned singer.
Merrick launches into a full imitation of Louis Armstrong now. He sounds quite drunk, meanwhile DC Skelton takes him to the breathalyser machine, a large white machine designed to measure the units of alcohol; seeing whether the level given in a sample is in, under or over the legal limit for driving.
"Keep blowing, keep blowing, keep blowing." instructed the desk seargent in his neon reflective uniform, the breathalyser machine beeps to confirm Mr. Merrick's results are legal or not.
After Merrick gives a breath sample, the two officers look at Sam and sigh in boredom.
"In spite of your inappropriate behaviour, under the circumstances I am willing to release former DCI Hunt on police bail. On condition—" Gene was interrupted by Mr. Merrick once again in the sterile CID floor surrounded by computers, fingerprint machines, printers, photocopiers and fax machines with the sleek office style landline telephones.
"Huh. Conditions?" A clue in which Mr. Merrick has not kept up with current regulations in his profession of lawyer for years, is a chronic alcoholic and had bribed police officers for hush money back in the day.
"—To the police— for the purposes of bail -" informed DCI Sam Tyler in his formal style.
Mr. Merrick laughs uproariously.
"Come on, lovely old lad. We're done."
The fishy lawyer and elderly former DCI of Greater Manchester Police leave the main Stopford House premises escorted by two members of the Police Community Support Officers team; Gene's uncle thinks lowly of these 21st Century style bobbies on the beat; remarking that they're plods and plonks underneath all that techno-babble stuff.
"Gerry was past his prime then, but, er... if you wanted to see a real copper, spitting blood and suspects teeth he was your man."
Sam and Gene follow signing the form on a plastic blue clipboard and hand it to the desk seargent, on foot towards walking down the steps outside.
"Yeah. Apparently his policing days were over well before he got his hand broken. Your corrupt uncle decided to help himself to a retirement package from a cash box at the Superintendent's office."
"Let me know what else you find on those old cases. Cause we're both good coppers and mates. Keys." said DS Gene Hunt gesturing to his silver 1995-1999 Ford Scorpio Ultima saloon parked where his dad's beloved Ford Cortina Mk3 GXL in bright yellow used to be in exact perfect parallel.
Sam hands over Gene's car keys and Gene goes to his Scorpio.
The historic evidence was staring Gene in the face, when he had requested the files of the Greater Manchester Police CID team folders from the 1970s and the heavy box parcel arrived at his office.
The two went over to Sam's father ex Detective Inspector Vic Tyler's flat, born in 1942 he recalled that then DS Milton Carling never really recovered from the jade blue Hillman Avenger estate car bomb blast near a primary school that nearly wiped him out. He continued to suffer from PTSD for most of the 1970s until that fateful day in 1980 when he pulled his gun on a fellow police officer.
Gene and Sam were helping ex DI Vic Tyler track down the whereabouts of his old team members. They found Gerry in a retirement home. He was sitting playing poker with the other residents. DCI Gene Hunt joined in with a game very clearly sweeping the floor with the elderly people and smirkingly telling them that they could not fool the Gene Genie.
"You can't fool the DCI Gene Genie!" until Sam reminds him they're here on a case, not with the PCSO unit from downstairs in Stopford House or the Neighbourhood Watch old guards.
Gene had tears in his eyes just seeing what became of his crass former DCI uncle. He figured there was different endings; walked away with DCI Sam and ex DI Vic Tyler outside of the activities lounge. Sam's father couldn't almost bring himself to look for the others, but curiosity won out.
The two grown up DCIs found Milton Carling in a psychiatric home. Ray's father was just sitting there facing the garden looking so small and haunted by the past 33 years. The female orderly walked past let the three men know that they could see Milton; but warned the possibility of him not being able to answer the two policemen's questions since he was on medication.
Ex Detective Inspector Vic Tyler felt it was his fault, but Sam his only son and mate Gene smooth the commotion out in their power as current police officers "Dad, you weren't to know that our colleague Ray's old man would end up with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or that your old Guv ends up in a retirement home."
"Really? I thought I was the biggest pain in the arse, that the Guv has ever seen in the station..." said ex DI Vic Tyler in tears of sorrow as like Sam and Gene he was into police techniques way ahead of his time.
"I thought my Guv uncle was finally going around the bend; when he said he had you on his CID team. I guess he was right for once." said DCI Gene Hunt cracking a smile promptly steering Sam and Vic Tyler towards his top of the line Ford Scorpio Ultima.
"This reminds us, exactly why we became police officers in the first place!" chimed Gene driving along to his favourite glam rock music back to just laughing around with Sam Tyler as usual. Vic felt he should have stayed in Greater Manchester CID if it wasn't for those Morton brothers jeopardising the police assignment back in 1973 when four year old Sam witnessed a gun man holding a then WPC Annie Cartwright wearing a red dress with Mary Jane shoes hostage, near the community hall that his aunt Marge's wedding was being held at. A eight year old Gene Hunt was watching the action unfold from Stephen's gloriously bright yellow Ford Cortina Mk3 GXL listening to his favourite David Bowie song playing.
The next day at the main Stopford House base, there's a buzz in the CID offices about the survellience assignment they've been given on one of their colleague's relative who worked for two constabularies since 1953 aged 19 after two years of National Service during 1950-1952.
"I want you to keep my uncle ex DCI Hunt under close surveillance." ordered DS Gene Hunt writing on the whiteboard in a blue wipe clean marker pen next to photos of the former Detective Chief Inspector of Greater Manchester Police with photos of him as he is now.
"Why?" complained DS Ray Carling, possibly jealous of the possible promotion coming up, more interested in watching YouTube than concentrating on the briefing inside the boardroom.
"We know what Gene's uncle is up against, and we know what he's capable of. I wouldn't want any of our witnesses experiencing some of his more... abrupt methods of persuasion." stated DI Maya Roy in a serious tone of voice pointing to the twenty to thirty year old photographs of suspects battered to order in various states from Chinese burns up to crushed skulls.
"What, you're joking, aren't you? It was a different world in those days!" gasped DS Ray Carling.
"Well, unless you think this particular... suspect deserves special treatment because he's an ex police officer?" questioned Detective Chief Inspector Sam Tyler who was setting all the equipment up for the stakeout, signed his name on the nominated drivers sheet and had unmarked cars out ready to go; along with a Ford Transit High Cube filled full of technology.
"I'm not disputing that, sir." said Detective Seargent Ray Carling in his curly permed hair.
"Good. Look, I know it's not a very pleasant job, but I'm sure you two will do it to the best of your abilities." stated DCI Sam Tyler wearing his black suit, a St. Christopher's medallion necklace and a blue collared shirt with polished black shoes.
They get up and go. Sam and Gene walk through the office, stopping in front of Liz's desk.
"Well, with PR in mind, I have a very special assignment for PCSO Cartwright."
He hands Liz a file.
"Road safety?"
"Well, you know, this case... it could get messy, so... you're probably better off out of it."
"Well, thanks for your support, Chief Inspector." smiled the uniformed female PCSO.
"Why don't you check up on the others, see how they're getting on? Show your face more often in this department." asked DCI Sam Tyler to DS Gene Hunt while he deals with Chris and Ray not keeping an eye on the Transit's on board CCTV system during the obversation; breaking procedure outside Gene's childhood 1930s semi-detached he grew up in during the 1970s.
"That kind of incompetence might be acceptable to ex DCI Hunt, but I can assure you it is not acceptable to me! Now get out of my sight!" shouted Detective Chief Inspector Sam Tyler tucked in privately at his office to DC Chris Skelton and DS Ray Carling wearing their plain clothes.
Gene could hear every word from his own office as he was catching up with overdue admin.
Sam watches Liz's road safety lesson from a classroom window. There is a young girl riding a bike around the school playground while a load of kids chorus the lesson.
The kids chant: # At the kerb, halt
Look right, look left
Look right again
And if all clear, quick march! #
"Aren't you supposed to stop children from getting knocked over?" asked DCI Sam Tyler who helped Liz up from the Tarmac ground after the kids pretended to run her over with various Little Tikes cosy coupe cars, bicycles, Berg branded go-karts and Micro scooters.
"You're good policemen, sir. You've taught me a lot, Sam and Gene." replied Detective Constable Chris Skelton who was sat alongside on a red leather bar stool alongside other colleagues and watched the Sky football match on Manchester United versus Chelsea.
Meanwhile at DCI Sam Tyler's flat inside the converted former Crester's Textiles factory; Gene has a heart to heart both as a childhood friend and fellow colleague of the Greater Manchester Police service.
"Coppers like my uncle dragged himself out of the gutter using his fists and not his brain. Earned the respect of his fellow police officers. People like Jack Regan would have died for him. And when it came to money, well, he always had a few tasty sidelines."
"You wanted a bit of extra pocket money as a kid?"
"Yeah, and then the odd tenner from my Dad. D'you know, what really sticks in my gullet is that I put a stop to it, all of it, years ago."
"And inside that envelope was a load of cash. Oh, and, er... a little note. "If you keep quiet, I won't be sending a letter to the Chief Constable telling him about our little previous arrangement."
"So your uncle verbally abused you? By blackmailing you to get him off the historic GBH charges?"
Gene nods.
"Yes. My cabinets. Which I just so happen to have the keys for. In one of them is some old crime photos dating from 1970 until 1984 before the Police and Criminal Evidence Act reforms kicked in." Gene sets DCI Sam Tyler an undercover challenge with dressing up involved "Can you dress up as a road safety prop, enter my office and collect the old files into as many boxes?"
Sam dresses up as a ROSPA road safety hedgehog wearing a bright reflective jacket to collect the old files from the cabinets in Gene's office, one colleague walking by asked how the case is going; but instead tells her he and Gene are on another primary school visit covering for a uniformed colleague off sick.
"It's that primary school road safety assembly for the Police Community Support Officers."
"Good, hearts and minds." the secretary in the reception area says as she was busy processing criminal records on the computer and seeing to these who were due to be in Custody.
"Gene and I are covering for a uniformed colleague Kathy, on sick leave." he says with laden boxes in front of him, with folders up to nearly 36 years old.
Gene sits up just as abruptly in Sam's bed, yelling after watching too many horror films.
"What is it?! Jeez!" sitting up in bed suddenly awake wearing boxer shorts and a necklace.
"Yeah, a twenty-stone baby. Burps, snores, farts..." teased Detective Chief Inspector Sam Tyler sniggering at the senior DCI all the same.
"Whereas me, slept like a baby and I do not snore!" Gene protested with good humour.
Gene's Scorpio arrives in a narrow alley, pulls up and then reverses until it's level with where its driver wants it to be.
"But the police brutality shouldn't have happened. Floored the other poor fellow with a single punch like an Alsatian dog. In a forced confession with dangerous interviewing practices."
They both get in the car.
"Ex DI Mickey Holmes. He owes me one. Seventy-eight, and still drives like a bloody lunatic. Mind you, when I park he'd better not scratch the paintwork of my Scorp. I'll get him arrested for driving without notifying the DVLA of medical conditions and driving without due care."
Gene and him. They'd perform their duty as best as they could, each one believing in his own policing methods, but always respecting his partner's ideas as respected lawmen.
As soon as he'd been declared fit for duty and re-admitted into his CID, Sam had given in to his need to know the truth about his strange adventure in time and space, so he'd carried out some extended computer research within the police archives and discovered that his and Gene's 1973 equivelents had really existed, much to his amazement. His friend Gene had just been repromoted to Detective Chief Inspector, after being bumped back to Detective Seargent a decade earlier in the 1990s.
Annie Cartwright was the one he'd found out the most about: she'd got married to Neil, had one daughter in 1979, and another in 1990 but had earned herself quite a career in 'C' Division, Hyde. Now she was in her early fifties, having retired a few years earlier with a spotless curriculum as a criminal profiler. Somehow, that discovery had made him smile.
There must have been nearly 100 people stuffed into the canteen, including, she noted with astonishment, Superintendent Dorney. Alex looked around, saw Shaz and Chris sitting as though welded together; Ray was sitting with a clutch of CID faces, and Viv was in the front row, looking rather fit in civvies, long legs stretched in front of him. No sign of Gene – hardly surprising since he was finishing overdues, but Alex was annoyed to note the twinge of disappointment.
He smiled at Sam with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It's good to have you back, Sam!"
"And a damn good Guv'nor, too!" he smiles back to his team "We search out rule-breakers at every chance and send the bent police officers to Discipline and Complaints."
"We are modern 21st Century coppers after all." remarked DCI Sam Tyler in front of his neat desk free of paperwork piles, with a office style telephone in satin silver next to the computer.
"I am the Boss of the C.I.D!" Gene cheers drawing himself up to his full six feet before the sterile CID premises go quiet with everyone returning to their sleek slim desktop computers; it was quiet enough in CID to hear the hiss-tick-hiss-boom of Gene's old Sony Walkman playing obscure 1980s to early 90s music just before 17 year old Carol Stockman walked in introducing Detective Inspector Alex Drake from London's Metropolitan Police.
"I did an act at the Christmas do singing David Bowie's The Jean Genie, the first year I joined the police in '83. And as my second middle name is Michael, don't know why." said DCI Gene Hunt.
DI Alex Drake thought for a moment. "Do you know, I have no idea? The last time I saw him he told me he was going back to his first wife. I was dumped for an older, stupider, boring bloody woman. They went off to Canada on holiday, and I've not seen him since. He phones Molly, but I only hear from his solicitor." She looked at Gene, the anger and hurt in her eyes. "Anything else? Want a list of my other failures? It's a long bloody list..." The tears welled, threatened to spill; she couldn't look at him.
"Sam and I teach Chris all sorts. Taping interviews, doing forensics for SOCO, admin and Tactical Driving; you name it." winked DCI Gene Hunt bearing deep pock marks... must have been a heavy case of acne as a teenager in the 1980s despite lots of money spent on Clearasil and Rimmel creams. In a 22 year old photograph from 1985 at his parents wedding anniversary, would the fair-haired one really be Gene? A young, baby-faced Guv? Yes it is in a pageboy outfit.
Alex hands Gene his favourite Cadbury's Curlywurly bar "Thanks," he replied with a smile as he sat down at his sleek slimline desktop computer glancing at the screen of the records on past Greater Manchester Police staff.
Gerry Hunt
(1934-Present)
1953 - 1966 Lancashire Constabulary
1967 - 1980 Greater Manchester Police
1980 - 1993 London Metropolitan Police
"Alex, they are real!" Gene informed her in a bewildered look.
Nervously typing into the search box some more former members of staff, the records came up with a photograph of Liz's mother Annie and the team she worked for during the Seventies and early Eighties.
Annie Cartwright
(1957-Present)
1974 - 1983 Greater Manchester Police A Division in Salford
1984 - 1991 Greater Manchester Police C Division in Hyde
1992 - 2006 London Metropolitan Police
Gene and Sam needed to find these people in connection with the original police brutality complaints with Detective Inspector Alex Drake's help.
DCI Gene Hunt silenced everyone in the main room.
"Okay, you lot we meet those former police officers at The Railway Arms pub, the only former Greater Manchester Police officer we trust to do a statement is Liz's mother Annie Cartwright, whom had a varied curriculum as a police woman." clicking his fingers to gain everyone's attention on the SMART board as the virtual board pens were writing little short notes next to the photo retrieved from the archive under Annie's name. "Fortunately my old man Stephen is helping us with the investigation, as a Superintendent of the Liverpool Police Constabulary; he remembers what policing was like in those bad old days."
DI Alex Drake's turn to reply taking over the briefing "These ex police officers except one female are now dinosaurs when it comes to the blue line, so do be aware and try not to take them too personally."
The Railway Arms pub has changed a lot in 30 years since 1977. The wooden bar equipment has been replaced by lots of metal and chrome. The once drab walls have been painted a light blue with different football team shirts dotted around this pub. Ancient fittings have been thrown out into a skip for the modern equivelent and a widescreen plasma TV showing live Sky Football matches hung in the corner. There were skylights on the ceiling brightening up the inside room considerably. Old fashioned wooden tables got swapped for glass tables and comfy red sofa style chairs accompanying the modern pub.
It was no longer a backstreet boozer.
"What can I get you, man?" The Jamican barman asked with blonde hair in dreadlocks and dressed more like a classy restaurant waiter with a white shirt, black waistcoat, black shoes and trousers. Stanley's clothes were far different from his dad's Nelson who had a bright and colourful dress sense in flowery shirts back in the day.
"Two Diet Cokes please," Gene replied handing DI Maya Roy a pile of change.
"So you're Stephen's son round here then?" Stanley the barman asked trying to make conversation with a now adult Gene Hunt since he and his team were the first customers of the evening.
"Yeah, I remember sitting inside Dad's Cortina with a packet of crisps and some Coke." Gene told him; when he thought of The Railway Arms as some mystery mystical place that only copper adults got to drink in at the time.
"Hang on, I recognise your mate from that hit and run on the way to your CID, aren't you DCI Tyler?" said Stanley pulling some pints still talking to Gene as he pressed the keys on the cash register.
"Yes, I am DCI Sam Tyler and briefly dated DI Maya Roy." Sam told him.
"Well the thing is, Gene and I are reinvestigating some police corruption from er... the 1970s and during the road traffic collision I.. um was attempting to stop a dangerous driver." Sam stuttered before the barman thinks his dad recognises Sam from his father during that time.
"I'm sure my dad, Nelson he knew you? Nah, forget it ting you're not old enough." Stanley explained.
"Nelson, the landlord who used to work here in the Seventies? So he's your dad!" said DCI Sam Tyler shocked by the generational similarities.
"Yeah he's my dad, shall I tell him you're here?" the young Jamican pub landlord asked.
"Of course!" Sam replied in awe over the father and son ran business.
"You can have your drinks on the house, we're mates right man?" Stanley firmly shook Sam and Gene's hands happily.
Maya took Gene and Sam to a table. There was still no sign of Superintendent Stephen Hunt and ex DCI Annie Cartwright.
Stanley returns to the bar area closely followed by his dad Nelson.
"Sam, you've grown mon brav!" Nelson exclaimed.
"Yeah, I'm now a Detective Chief Inspector." Sam replied back.
"I see you've met my son Stanley; he's done a good job of the place." Nelson stated in a local Manchester accent.
The door opened and six people entered.
DSI Stephen Hunt looked towards his grown up son and Sam, his mullet hair a shade of grey and he looked good for his age. Gene's dad broke into a smile feeling proud of his eldest son. He was a slightly older version of Gene yet more modern than his old team. An MP3 player hung round his neck, was playing a Sony PlayStation Portable and he held a mobile phone in his hand; juggling both a game and phone call.
The same could not be said for Stephen's brother ex DCI Gerry Hunt especially after all the smoking and drinking. His face was very wrinkled showing four decades of this.
Annie Cartwright stood next to Gene, her hair is still surprisingly brown and Maya could tell she had a varied police styled National Curriculum as she was one of the first female Detective Constables, groundbreaking for the 1970s. She looked very young for her age of nearly 50, but Sam knew since first seeing her enquire at his mother Ruth's address in connection with a spate of house burglaries at the time; that Annie was like that.
Milton stood behind Annie, his hair and moustache still a gingery brown but he had a few grey hairs.
Chris Skelton's father looking exactly the same as his own son; only he was an older version of DCI Sam Tyler.
"How are you, Sam and Gene? You know I remember you boys, when you were this high!" Annie said pressing her hands towards theirs.
"We're fine, Annie, how have you been?" Sam asked while Gerry was ordering drinks for his old team at the bar area. He went to a table away from the modern police officers with pints of beer, whiskey chasers and glasses of wine.
"I had your colleague Liz Cartwright in Blackpool during '79 after a kidnapper held me at knifepoint, if I didn't run away he would kill me with my unborn baby so it was for the best; so I went back to Manchester when the kidnapper was finally sectioned under the new Mental Health Act 1983. Gene was only a Police Constable aged 18 at the time. Years later I found Gene as a Detective Inspector in the late 80s telling him what had happened when this crazy man stalked my husband Neil in hospital. So Neil and I moved to Newcastle for a fresh start." Annie told Sam about her and Neil being stalked around Manchester before their move to Newcastle in the Nineties.
The boorish and bigoted elderly men were laughing and talking loudly about driving at breakneck speed without wearing any seatbelts in their old unmarked cars.
Gene and Sam had a round of Diet Cokes, barely listening to the old Greater Manchester Police team regale colourful tales of 70s policing. DSI Stephen Hunt and ex DCI Annie Cartwright joined the now grown up boys at their table with colleagues DI Maya Roy and DC Chris Skelton.
"So, Sammy boy and my Eugene, how are you feeling?" Stephen asked.
"Better, now that your son Gene investigated my hit and run incident while I was still in hospital; so how about you?" asked Sam.
"My Eugene worked out the suspect in your road accident? I knew my boy would take after me!" Stephen Hunt replied happily. "Sadly though my brother was never a good copper, it's people like him and his simple goons that were thankfully removed from the Force; when I was still a DCI!" he said out of earshot from his former first CID team.
"Gene, I can't think what your father had to go through as a young police officer in the 70s, no please don't tell me what else they've put him through..." Sam told Gene close to tears.
"Yes, Sam but that's his generation unfortunately and his Detective Inspector Vic Tyler your dad had to walk away from you; after a police assignment against the Morton brothers went skew whiff." Gene answered viewing his and Sam's memories as four and eight year olds in 1973 through adult 21st Century eyes.
"38 years old." Sam told Stephen Hunt showing his GMP warrent card.
"That's right, I remember when you were a shy little boy; can't believe you're a DCI now!" Stephen enquired.
"I'm sorry, for not believing your father at the time, Sam!" Annie whispered quietly. "Gene as a very young police officer in the 1980s, saved me from a knife wielding kidnapper; if I wasn't for Gene; I would be one of those poor people dead. But I trusted Gene even though he was only a teenager then. Tell him I said thank you." Annie stated.
The meet up with Gene's father DSI Stephen Hunt, ex DCI Annie Cartwright as they caught up with Sam, Gene and his now grown up son's colleagues. DSI Stephen Hunt finally gets his former first CID team of old men arrested on suspicion of historical police brutality at Greater Manchester Police Stopford House between 1970 - 1984 for Gene and Sam's colleagues sake.
Maya handed Gene the keys since Sam felt he couldn't drive after watching his fellow Detective Chief Inspector's father face his former Greater Manchester Police CID team laughing about the cruel things they did as coppers. They got justice for the victims, Annie Cartwright senior, Vic Tyler and Chris Skelton's father who didn't know about those until years later.
"And you're a detective!" Vic Tyler laughed jokingly with his only son.
