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Machetes, drug deals and brawler vans: What it’s like to be in the police ‘Swiss Army Knife’
It was the stifling hot long weekend – and Victoria Police was ready for trouble. The Age joined the force’s public order response team on that busy Saturday night.
Police gather outside a rave.Credit: Darrian Traynor
It is 9.40pm and still 34 degrees outside on Saturday’s long weekend when the night team is briefed before kitting up and hitting the streets.
The Public Order Response Team (PORT) is the police’s troubleshooters, called to cover everything from demonstrations to street brawls.
Earlier, Melbourne was quiet as people hid from the heat. But like bats at night, many are heading out, most looking for a good time – some looking for trouble.
Members of Victoria Police Public Order Response Team take part in a pre-shift briefing.Credit: Darrian Traynor
Inside the Victoria Police Centre on Spencer Street, the 10pm team is being briefed. At 11pm, another crew will roll out. Leaning on the wall at the back are four cops in casual clothes. They will be working undercover in pubs and clubs.
Senior Sergeant Nicole Beale tells the team to expect a busy night and their roles will be to support general duty police, and attend “hot jobs”.
They are told their response should be proportional to the event, to go in slowly, activate body-worn cameras and only to attend any licensed premises in numbers of at least four.
There is a plan to meet with the mounted branch and local police to do a zero-tolerance sweep at the intersection of Flinders and Swanston streets to disrupt the expected congregation of street gangs.
The horses – sensibly – were assigned a night shift to keep them out of the day’s heat.
PORT doesn’t make the sweep – hot jobs consume the shift.
Images of machetes recently seized by police.Credit: Darrian Traynor
To emphasise the importance of searches, a picture of two weapons seized the night before flashes on the screen. It is part of a haul of 10 machetes (one bloodied) and an imitation firearm found during body searches. Most were taken from a youth gang.
“It is scary what is getting around these days,” Inspector Gary “Keg” Wilson tells us.
Finally, they are reminded to drink plenty of water in the heat, which could affect them more than most. Their uniforms are fire-retardant, which means they also trap the heat. The air conditioners in their cars are set to low.
Next, we head to the armoury where the team picks up weapons for all contingencies. They carry semi-automatic pistols, capsicum spray, tasers and batons.
In addition, selected members take semi-automatic rifles, crowd-control guns, distraction flash-bang explosives and stop sticks.
These are loaded into specially blacked-out PORT cars that are equipped with gun safes to ensure the weapons can’t be stolen.
Members of Victoria Police Public Order Response Team check out weapons before their shift.Credit: Darrian Traynor
The troops hope they stay locked away for the shift because if the weapons are needed, the situation is already out of control.
Tonight, due to Moomba, PORT will concentrate on Melbourne. Other times, they may head regionally to support local police, discharge arrest warrants or blitz local youth gangs.
The previous week, they had been on ASEAN protection and in a few days, they will be dealing with Extinction Rebellion protests.
“We are the police Swiss Army Knife,” says Wilson. He is a career, 30-year operational cop who investigated international drug syndicates and suburban crime gangs, along with stints in road policing. He still loves being a cop. “We have a reason for coming in to work every day.”
PORT has about 300 members, with 30 assigned to the Viper anti-gangs taskforce. There is a waiting list of 200 wanting to join.
I am with Age photographer Darrian Traynor. His dad Barry “Trunch” Traynor was a career cop and his brother Anthony “Trunch” Traynor is still in the job.
Strength in numbers as a PORT convoy heads to a rave party.Credit: Darrian Traynor
Turns out Trunch and Keg worked together at Collingwood and are old mates.
It is part of police culture. Nicknames passed from father to son and connections that last a lifetime.
In the car park are lines of intimidating black PORT cars and brawler vans. Soon, we will see how intimidating.
We sweep out of the heavily fortified underground car park. We turn right. A homeless man sleeps on the footpath 50 metres from police headquarters. Ten food delivery bikes and drivers wait outside an Asian food shop.
Keg has a radio connected directly to a PORT channel while the car has a second radio spitting out general duties jobs.
We get an audio narration of Melbourne at night. Police are called to a bar. There is a person unconscious outside who is still breathing. Turns out he has had too much to drink. A fight leaves two men worse for wear. A mob runs through a Japanese grocer, stealing bottles of soft drink.
A gang of 50 youths involved in earlier scuffles are sheep-dogged as they walk from Moomba on the Yarra. They are first moved towards Federation Square, followed as they head into town and finally guided towards Flinders Street Station. Under constant cop eyes, they head home without incident.
Wilson gets a call from the non-PORT crew checking pubs and clubs. Two of the undercover team have identified a drug trafficker in a bar. The dealer tries to sell to one of the cops. He is grabbed and arrested and found in possession of 25 ecstasy tablets and five grams of powders.
The chatter on the radio is calm and good-humoured. One officer gives an update on his job beginning “for those playing along at home”, before saying a disagreement between punters had been resolved without further incident. Another cop refers to a “gentleman wielding a machete”.
The PORT channel alerts us to a potentially ugly rave party in Footscray on an empty industrial block involving about 150 youths, with the hardcore partygoers throwing bottles onto the neighbour’s property.
We mass at a factory car park 200 metres away on Dynon Road. Our shift is joined by the 11pm team. Finally, there are 10 cars.
Here is the point of difference. With physical and tactical superiority, the police could easily race up the only entrance/exit point, trap the partygoers and drag them out.
Senior Sergeant Nicole Beale, Acting Sergeant Paul Harris and Sergeant Greg Green work on plans for an operation.Credit: Darrian Traynor
Instead, the leadership team, under torchlight and using the bonnet of a car as a makeshift desk, sketches out an operational plan.
Beale, in an unmarked car, heads over to check before returning to say many of the youths were leaving and those she spoke to were “good kids”. But there was a hardcore.
Acting Sergeant Paul Harris is appointed PFC (Police Forward Commander). The troops are briefed. The plan is to produce a show of numbers to persuade potential troublemakers that a peaceful resolution is the only option.
Beale tells them the party is listed online and likely to be gatecrashed. “This is a marathon, not a sprint,” they are told.
Because the area is dark, they are told to check torch batteries, hydrate as they could be on the line for hours, and “don’t get angry”.
An officer reminds them of the Human Rights Charter and says the welfare of the partygoers and the police is the priority.
They are told to go to level one, which includes wearing police baseball caps with a hard plastic protector inside, gloves and glasses. The gear magnifies the heat. They will withdraw and go to level two – full protection gear – if the situation escalates.
A group from the party walks past, sees the cops and alerts the party.
We hit the cars, form an impressive presidential-like convoy and pull up outside, lights flashing.
The plan is to negotiate, and if that fails, congregate on one side, then perform a “barn door sweep”, pushing them down the hill and out of the block.
The first cops are met with aggression that may well be more bravado than battle cry. “Here they are, get ready, f---ing pigs.”
Police gather outside the rave as some leave the event.Credit: Darrian Traynor
Wilson says PORT members are trained not to react to insults routinely thrown at them during demonstrations.
About 30 PORT members fan out to create a line at the front.
“It is part of the theatre of policing,” says Keg. A show of force, he says, can avoid using force.
Sure enough, the kids wander down the hill while the hardcore head to the back of the block. PORT units selected from colour-coded sections, red, blue, white and green are called up, persuading the last to head out.
A few throw abuse as they walk away – but walk away they do.
No arrests, no confrontations and no injuries. Beale is delighted. “I thought it was going to escalate, but eventually, they had their say and moved on. I’m very happy.”
During the debrief over the radio comes a report of two stabbings at a large Indian festival near Sunbury.
A Hindi-speaking PORT member is selected as part of the team to head there for crowd control and to try to find the offenders.
About 2.30am, a suspect is identified. PORT moves to his house, but he is not home. He’ll keep for another day.
We cruise along Chapel Street. The bars are full, as a barefoot woman wobbles across a pedestrian crossing. The vibe is friendly, not threatening. People feel safe.
Back in the CBD, I head to my car parked at Media House, at the corner of Collins and Spencer. On the lawn outside is a group of three who appear drug-affected. They are happy and dancing, oblivious to the outside world. Behind them are eight people sleeping rough.
The following night, PORT will be back to do it again.
John Silvester lifts the lid on Australia’s criminal underworld. Subscribers can sign up to receive his Naked City newsletter every Thursday.