The Journal of Crime & Punishment

Home Invasion  

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 Self portrait: Malcolm James Baker


 CPJ 25th April 2014  

We made our way back toward, and into the kitchen I think. It was the telephone I wanted to get to, to phone 111, and he wanted to stay away form it.
It was my experience with the policeman on the 20th September 1990 at Auckland Central Police Station, when the policeman had got behind me and had his right arm across the front of my throat, it was easy to apply a lot of force to the front of the throat. At that time I was worried that if I relaxed my neck muscles, he would simply crush my windpipe, and that they would be unable to revive me.
Me at home with my computer
 It was possible to try to hold some of the pressure with my too free hands, but his left arm was applying pressure to his right forearm. There, I wasn't struggling, I simply wanted him to release me, and asked another officer to instruct him to let me go because he clearly wanted me unconscious. On the other hand, I found it quite easy to walk around, because he was off balance, so I went through some doors out of the public area, into the police station where I found a more senior policeman behind a glass window, and asked him to tell the policeman to let me go, which he did.
25 Ignorance of law

http://www.legislation.govt.nz/act/public/1961/0043/latest/DLM328230.html

  • The fact that an offender is ignorant of the law is not an excuse for any offence committed by him or her.

    Compare: 1908 No 32 s 45

 

Young Ronald Moses (Mohe), as I found out was his name later, on the other hand was struggling for all he was worth, and trying to smack me in the head with his chain, which he managed to do quite a few times... There was a change, I detected in him, from the time I first restrained him, and after he struck me the first two blows. They were quite calm and deliberate, and I think we were both surprised that I didn't just drop to the floor unconscious. Afther that, Buster, because that is what I call him, was more frenzied. We got back into the kitchen, where I realized we didn't want to be. There was a knife sitting on the stove by the kitchen door, but he didn't see it. We got back into the hallway, and started moving toward the phone. It surprised me that he now began to relax, and even comply. It could be that he was becoming exhausted, because his struggling was quite furious. I was trying not to choke him, but was holding on quite tightly, although not across the front of his throat. It wasn't my intention to get into a fight with him, merely restrain him. We passed the lounge room door, and there was nobody in there, and a short passage to the bathroom on my left, (east) but there was nobody there either. Perhaps there were people hiding in the bathroom, or maybe that man had shot out the back door on the east side. We made it to the phone, and I picked it up. He must have thought this was my intention and allowed me to do it which surprised me but I didn't let him go. I simply dropped the phone and held on to my right arm with my left hand. There was no way he was going anywhere. He was swing at be with his chain again, nostly hitting me in the back because I'd duck when I felt him swing. I put him under the doorway in teh lounge, and he calmed down again, so we moved toward the phone. Same thing. As soon as I picked it up with my left hand he tried to break free. Under the doorway in the lounge, and he was hitting the woorwork instead of me, and then we were in the lounge, struggling violently . I don't know if I tripped, or he did, or maybe he connected, but I found myself on top of him in the lounge. He was on his hands and knees, and we were both panting heavilybut I wasn't letting him go. Then I saw blood dripping down onto the floor in front of our faces. Stupidly perhaps, I wondered if it was his or mine. "Get up," I said, and pulled him up to his feet. We went back into the hallway, but this time he wanted to head toward the kitchen. I was starting to get scared now. He was out of breath, but I didn't know how fit he was. If this was going to be a game of stamina, he might win and I could feel a bit of strength leaving me and was gasping, or breathing very heavily. I started calling out for help. "Help, help," but I didn't think anybody outside would hear me, so I really yelled at the top of my lungs, through the roof, "Help, Help, Help!" We went back toward the phone. Three times I got it into my hand before he started trying to break free, and then we were standing under the lounge doorway, and he pulled a new move on me. I do't know what he did, but he turned and took a full swing at my face. He was in the crook of my right elbow, but trying to turn and push away. I looked into his face for the first time. Hatred. He caught me full in teh face, and I felt my glasses go flying, but I didn't let go. My left hand went back to my right arm, and I managed to turn him away from me again, and get him back under control. It must have been that the tip of the chain had caught the door jam as he swung because I forced him off balance, and instead of swinging through the doorway, part of the chain struck it. There is still the outline of two links of them  chain, 4mm in the plaster wallboard, and another indention 150mmfurther up. The line of marks comes across the door frame in the room, and diagonally down across the inside of the jamb at 45 degrees, so we were standing in the hallway when he swung, and I remember him in the lounge still with my arm around his neck. I didn't know it at time, but this is when his chain broke. He had used a spark plug spanner for a ford laser, and had fastened his chain to it with a dog clip. This was ironic because he was a Mongrel Mob Dog Soldier prospect, as I found out later. They have to rise up through the ranks like in the game Mafia Wars, first selling a bit of dope as primary school children, and later doing some stealing cars, some burglaries, maybe going to prison, maybe going to prison by pleading guilty to somebody else's crim, and finally rape or gang rape or murder to gain real cred, depending on where they want to end up.

 

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