How many of us know what goes on when people get on to the wrong side of the law?
As part of Inside Justice Week, the Derby Evening Telegraph’s Robin Johnson was given first-hand experience and, in the first of three articles, finds out what it’s like to be arrested.

The majority of us have never been in trouble with the police – or had need to be involved with them.

To really understand how it all works, I was invited to go through the system myself.

It was suggested I should be accused of criminal damage, which takes us back to the scene outside the restaurant.

So, during a row, I stupidly took my anger out on a parked car. I kicked a side door and the wing mirror. My girlfriend ran off in fear and I made off in the opposite direction, the car’s alarm blaring away.

Moments later I was walking home when I was approached by PC Sally Rohde, asking me questions about where I had been and where I was going.

“We’ve had a report of damage being caused to a car by someone matching your description,” she said.

She then performed what is known by police as a touch arrest, which is basically placing their hand on your arm. Once that happens, there is no going back.

“I’m arresting you on suspicion of criminal damage,” she said, and proceeded to read me my rights.

I thought at this stage it would be unwise to swear or kick up a fuss, as the handcuffs would have been straight on.

That evening, there was no room in the custody suites in Derby and Ripley, so I was taken all the way up to Chesterfield.

The squad car pulled up in the van dock at the station – a secure area, where there was nowhere to run.

I was led by PC Rohde into the custody suite, where I was told to stand on a yellow line in front of the custody sergeant’s raised desk.

He asked PC Rohde details of the alleged offence, whether I had been handcuffed and whether I had been compliant.

I was asked whether I wanted a solicitor (I said “no” because for the purposes of the exercise there was no-one available) and if I wanted someone contacted, for example, a member of my family, to let them know where I was. I did not – they all knew what I was getting up to.

I was asked a series of questions about my physical and mental health.

Finally, I signed the charge sheet saying that I had been aware of my rights while in custody.

The detention officer arrived and I was put through the de-bagging ceremony. I emptied all the contents of my pockets and handed them to the custody sergeant.

Because some prisoners try to attempt suicide, I had to remove my belt and take off my shoes as they had laces in them – which were replaced by flip-flops.

After a body search, I was led away to Cell 11. It was pretty scary stuff and the custody sergeant had been fairly emotionless, treating me like any other prisoner.

But I was behaving myself and that seemed to be the best policy.

“Do you want a blanket?” asked the detention officer.

“Do you want a cup of tea? We can do you lunch if you want it.”

It was something of a bonus after the cell door banged shut to be able to recline on the cell bed, with the blanket resting under my head, sipping a cup of tea.

But the novelty wore off pretty quickly. I was told I would be in here for a good few hours.

The cell was very basic, with the only natural light coming from a skylight about 12ft above my head.

However, although there was an en-suite toilet, there was no privacy, as there was a peephole in the door, from which you could be observed.

While I lay in the cell, PC Rohde checked my details with the National Legal Database, printed off the definition of my offence and the points to prove. She also worked out an interview plan.

There were witnesses to the incident and she had to go back out to take statements from them.

Eventually, just when I thought they had forgotten about me, the cell door opened and PC Rohde took me to an interview room.

Inside there was a tape recorder with which she would make three copies of the interview – a master copy, my own copy and a working copy for the CPS, which could be transcribed and used as evidence in court.

During the interview I decided to come clean. They had me bang to rights and there seemed no point in prolonging things. Following the interview, there were a couple of other formalities to perform.

PC Rohde took me to a room where I had my mug shot taken. My fingerprints were also taken using the traditional ink method – although apparently at Ripley they have new technology which can read your prints just by you touching a screen.

On the wall were the faces of other wanted people – and PC Rohde asked me if I knew any of them. I didn’t.

DNA has helped a great deal in the fight against crime and after taking my prints I was given a DNA test.

“We can either take a swab sample from your tongue or 10 plucked hairs, it’s up to you,” said PC Rohde.

Sensibly, I thought, I went for the former.

The last part of the procedure was to stand before the custody sergeant and be formally charged.

He read out the charge: “On October 6, at Chesterfield Road, Derby, in the county of Derbyshire, without lawful excuse damaged a green Fiat Punto to the value of £300 belonging to Jenny X intending to destroy or damage such property or being reckless as to whether such property would be destroyed or damaged, contrary to Sections 1 (1) and 4 of the Criminal Damage Act 1971.

“Do you understand the charge?”

I did. Thankfully, they considered me a low risk offender and I was bailed without any conditions.

I was told that I had been bailed until October 11, when I was due to appear at Southern Derbyshire Magistrates’ Court at 10am.

If I did not turn up I could face a fine, imprisonment or both.

After getting my possessions back, I trudged out of Chesterfield police station with plenty to think about.

I had been in there for a fair few hours and was yearning to see daylight again.

But things were far from over. I just hoped that the magistrates would go easy on me.