Remembering Kim West, the old-school cop with a heart of gold

Kim West became a legendary suburban cop in Victoria for his “no-nonsense policing” and generous advocacy of the Life Education program. Andrew Rule looks back on his legacy, and recalls his encounter with ‘Westy’ — which led to some sorry crooks feeling the full force of the law.

Former Victoria Police Inspector Kim West. Picture

Kim West was a big man who did some big things as a police officer and those stories will be told — with much laughter and a few tears — at an extra big funeral later this week.

One yarn of several that won’t be told at the service is how he caught the thieves who stole my first car.

Some might say that the teenage delinquents “Mr West” brought to justice had actually done me a favour.

The car, pinched one night from the La Trobe University car park, was a dirty grey FB Holden station wagon I’d bought from a dodgy surfie for roughly double its worth.

It had tie-dye curtains, reeked of its previous owner’s taste for “the herb”, and drum “brakes” that should have been exhibited at the coroner’s court as a warning. Its only appeal for thieves was that a kindergarten kid could hot-wire it.

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Former Victoria Police Inspector Kim West. Picture: Victoria Police.

No wonder the joy-riders dumped it as soon as possible, in the badlands behind Northland Shopping Centre, where light-fingered locals stripped it down to a steering wheel and a spare tyre too bald to steal. Vultures had nothing on Preston car-strippers.

The then Sgt West was the “sheriff” at Reservoir, not yet 30 but already an old-fashioned cop, as in one who got results by hook or by crook. Not only did he bag the thieves, he persuaded them to cough up to a string of 17 other car thefts. He was good like that.

The Wild West methods of investigation would cause alarm in the Chief Commissioner’s office today, but in the late 1970s robust tactics were like discount pots and parmas: they came with the territory.

The joy-riders didn’t look too joyful when they got to the rickety old Children’s Court (where Birrarung Marr now is). But Sgt West didn’t let them off the hook. He made the case that they (as in their long-suffering parents) pay compensation.

Miraculously, the parents of two of them did, therefore keeping their tearaway darlings out of a boys’ home — and financing me to buy another geriatric Holden, this one a sedan in two-tone aqua with three on the tree.

It was a remarkable feat of law enforcement. All orchestrated by a man who was surprisingly light on his feet given he was the weight of a small bull and approached his job much the same way: front on and bellowing.

Even in 1977, it was easy to see why “Westy” was on the way to being a legendary suburban lawman.

One of many stories about him — it might even be true — is that he spent days off parked in Northland car park with his wife and binoculars watching for thieves breaking into cars. He caught plenty.

What his wife thought of this hobby is unknown, although you’d hope she looks back on those days with some affection. You can bet the law-breakers don’t.

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Kim West with his Life Education mascot in 1999.

A lot of people have “Westy” stories and some can be repeated. A well-known inspector recalls his second day on the job at Footscray as a green 20-year-old. To his huge surprise and pride, he was “borrowed” by Kim West, who was visiting the district that morning to lead a crime squad raid on a known criminal haunt.

The rookie and his mate were sent to a lane behind the targeted house and told that if anyone tried to escape over the back fence, they were to stop them at all costs. They were extremely relieved when they heard West yell that it was OK: the detectives had cornered the crooks.

When the novices went inside the house they saw the team leader doing some of his “best 1980s work”, he recalls nostalgically.

As an official police obituary stated during the week, West was known for “no-nonsense policing”. This covers a lot of ground.

Times change and so did police who wished to be promoted in a gentler and more accountable force.

So it was that the by-now senior officer West not only did his time as an internal affairs investigator in the ethical standards unit, but became a huge evangelist for a movement called Life Education, designed to encourage children to make safer life choices.

As the “Life Ed” advocate, West persuaded sponsors and media people to support it. “Life Ed” caravans went from school to school to show kids the way to stay out of trouble.

The results spoke for themselves. Kids were steered away from doing the wrong thing — and Mr Life Ed got an Order of Australia to honour his good work.

Detective Inspector Kim West OAM hated crooks and loved food and wine. He did reviews on radio under the alias “Harry Heidelberg”, using his detective skills to track down “cleanskins” that were not just the usual suspects.

Det-Insp Kim West, his wife Ann, a retired federal police officer and daughter, police graduate, Alex, at the Victoria Police Academy.

If a vineyard hit hard times and had to liquidate stock to stay afloat, “Harry” would grab half a tonne of the good stuff at a bargain price and pester everyone he knew to buy a case or two. It was his way of helping both buyers and seller.

The streak of gruff generosity was hidden from wrongdoers but his family — and fellow police — noticed it. His daughter Alex, herself a sergeant who once worked with him in the crime squads, says his greatest ability was being able to speak happily to anyone from the lowest crook to the highest dignitary. He might forget to fill in official correspondence such as diaries and log books but never forgot a crook’s face — or fellow police members who were struggling.

“I can’t remember a Christmas or birthday or other family event where someone didn’t come along,” Alex West told our chief police reporter Mark Buttler this week.

For someone who got on well enough with the police hierarchy all the way to the top, “Westy” was remarkably popular with the ranks underneath him. One of his former team in the tactical response squad recalls that when an officer opted to take over a senior sergeant’s office, “Westy” was so disgusted that he moved out of his own office and “sat with the boys” as an act of solidarity.

“He was always for the troops,” says the mourner.

“He was super-generous. That’ll be the biggest police funeral you’ll ever see.”

At the funeral this Thursday, of course, hundreds will gather to honour a man who was a keen student of human nature and red wine but wasn’t keen on newfangled technology.

Sometimes, it is alleged, one of his trusted subordinates at St Kilda Rd had to hurry back to the office to tape the boss’s favourite TV show.

It was, of course, Law & Order.