No Comment: What I Wish I'd Known About Becoming A Detective

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You could be the first person they’d spoken to about it and they’d honestly believe you were going to help them – and you’d really want to help,” she says. “So you’d put everything together and work really hard and take it to the CPS – and it was so hard to get anything prosecuted. After all that, you’d often have to say to someone who’d told you what was happening to them that you couldn’t do anything.” Finding the suspect was easy – if not the partner, it was generally someone the victim knew, with “stranger rapes” in dark alleyways so rare that they were dealt with by a separate unit. The hard part was charging them. Jess McDonald, 36, grew up in Hartford, Cheshire, and graduated from Durham University with a degree in ancient history and French. During her twenties she combined jobs in management consulting, advertising and sales with travelling around southeast Asia and Australia. I was gripped by this unflinching close-up account of life as a new Met detective. As a female outsider, McDonald offers a rare insight into the current state of the UK's biggest and most controversial police force - a world usually painfully resistant to scrutiny. No Comment is essential reading for anyone interested in the questions being asked of the Met today, and its passionate call for change could hardly be more timely Jess McDonald was still on probation as a trainee police detective when she encountered her first alleged rapist. Like much else she describes in her memoir, No Comment, the interview didn’t go at all as expected. Probably the most important book on the state of British policing you'll ever read. Written with candour and balance, Jess McDonald lifts the lid on why cultural change is nigh on impossible in the Metropolitan Police and how the justice system conspires against the most vulnerable. A brilliant read which should be compulsory for all Chief Officers if they are serious about understanding what life is really like at the coal face

As for the pitiful rape prosecution rate, her time working on sexual and domestic violence cases inside the Met’s community safety unit (CSU) convinced McDonald that the real culprit wasn’t police misogyny but the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) criteria that set a high bar for prosecuting. “They want a realistic chance of conviction. But with these crimes against women – and they are predominantly crimes against women – you can’t have that,” she says, pointing out that intimate crimes rarely have witnesses. “I’m not saying they’re easy crimes to prosecute and then to convict. However, it’s not good enough to just be like: ‘Oh, it’s a grey area’ – a lot of these crimes are grey. It’s so very, very demoralising when you work in a unit where other women you work with say they wouldn’t report it if they were raped themselves.” Borrow Foreign Bodies → How Not to Be an Antique Dealer: Everything I've Learnt That Nobody Told Me, by Drew Pritchard

Roger Deakin was unique, and so too is this joyful work of creative biography, told primarily in the words of the subject himself, with support from a chorus of friends, family, colleagues, lovers and neighbours. Borrow I'm Not as Well as I Thought I Was → The Rooster House: A Ukrainian Family Secret, by Victoria Belim McDonald says she didn’t experience sexual harassment in the Met, but she knows women who did. Her friend Mel was living in police accommodation when she caught a senior officer using his mobile phone to spy on her in the shower of their shared bathroom. Fortunately, another officer intervened and the culprit was arrested, but by the time his case came to court, Mel had quit the force. “She’s said to me since, would she have reported it if it was just her and him? Probably not, because he’s more senior,” says McDonald. In the summer of 2017, McDonald was between jobs, having cycled through careers in management consultancy, advertising and tech sales. She was shadowing a barrister and considering going into law when she saw a female detective testify at a child abuse trial and realised that hers was a job capable of changing lives. Lifestyle First Person I bought a house on a flood plain - don't make the same mistake as me Read More

Jess McDonald was a true crime junkie and Line of Duty sofa sleuth with a strong sense of justice. Under a year later, thanks to a controversial new initiative, she was a detective in the London Metropolitan Police Service. The moment she qualified, the regularity of her previous working life evaporated. “It’s all shiftwork, so you no longer have a Monday to Friday, and you don’t have weekends off. Instead, you have rest days. But if you’re working a particular case, you just see it through to completion. The work-life balance,” she notes, “wasn’t great.”

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The first time Detective Constable Jess McDonald interviewed a suspect who declined to answer questions, she was a little thrown. “I’d seen Line of Duty, of course,” she says, “and so I knew that ‘no comment’ could happen, but when it happened to me… oof!” She laughs, sighs, and blows out her cheeks. “It was awful!” The vast majority of people join the police to make a difference and to help, and they’re awarded these powers to help with that. However, some people join the police for the powers. And people who seek power to abuse power are at the heart of a lot of really serious crimes,” she says. “In my experience, within the police, everyone knows who the dodgy characters are. Everyone’s talking about it, but no one can take it anywhere, because that’s committing career suicide, and nothing’s going to be done.” I was dealing with more trauma on a day-to-day basis than the average person would see in maybe two years She was thrown in at the deep end after just five months’ classroom training, plus a probationary stint at Bethnal Green police station. In the book, she writes that, by the end of the job, she felt like one of the abuse victims she interviewed: one whose partner “beats me up but needs me, and I stay for the tiny glimmers of hope that I will make a difference”. All but four of her class of 15 direct entrants have left the force, she writes. (The Met says it has since made changes to the programme.) A relationship ended, and now the bulk of her social circle was made up of fellow trainees. After graduating, she was posted to east London, and worked largely with domestic abuse cases. Almost 11 per cent of all crimes reported to the police concern domestic abuse but, McDonald says, these are often the hardest to get a conviction for.

As for the book’s other allegations about behaviour and culture in the force, it added that the commissioner, Sir Mark Rowley, “has been unequivocal in his determination to raise standards and improve culture across the Met as outlined in our recent update on standards and in the turnaround plan”.Jess McDonald, who left the Metropolitan Police two years ago, opens up about the problems – and misconceptions – of an embattled force. With the devastating effects of COVID-19 still rattling the foundations of our global civilisation, we live in unprecedented times - or so we might think. But pandemics have been a constant presence throughout human history, as humans and disease live side by side. Over the centuries, our ability to react to these sweeping killers has evolved, most notably through the development of vaccines. The story of disease eradication, however, has never been one of simply science - it is political, cultural and deeply personal. The reality, so different from her favourite TV dramas, was a slog of poor resources, sadistic sergeants and failed victims. She was bullied by two bosses, who belittled her and singled her out: scheduling her first night shift on her birthday, meticulously listing her trivial mistakes (like failing to attend the Met’s Christmas carol concert), chastising her for requesting holiday, and bragging about writing “damning” appraisals to “destroy” her career. Nothing happened when she complained. There was a “culture of silence” around badly behaved officers, she told me. For a short period she was signed off with depression, and then had PTSD diagnosed as she left.