As they finished off he noticed one of the three children sitting on grass nearby looking a bit upset. My husband spoke to him, and the lad confessed that his mate, the silent observer who avoided eye contact during our earlier conversation, had first asked him to set fire to the grass outside the "old fella's" (ie our) house, and when he had refused had deliberately lit the grass himself, further down the bank. With this information we immediately rang both the police and the fire brigade to report that the fire was a case of arson, targeted at us personally. That call was made at 3.30pm.
We had a photograph of the lads concerned, taken just before the fire (we had taken photographs of our encounters with them due to a lack of police support to supply as evidence to our lawyer in order to take out a private injunction against the whānau for harassing and threatening us, requiring they stay away from our house), which we wished to supply to the police as evidence, because arson, even if committed by a minor, is an extremely serious, life-threatening crime.
We then waited anxiously, thinking there would surely be a rapid response from the police, unless a murder was occurring elsewhere at the time.
After two hours of waiting my anxiety and fear had risen so much that, leaving my husband to guard the house and call 111 again and speak to a police operator if any further events occurred, I drove down to the Kaitaia police station, which had closed an hour previously, but which still had staff present, as evidenced by cars parked outside. By now thoroughly distressed and frightened, I banged on the side door until it was opened by a receptionist who let me in, calmed me and offered me tea (you're an angel Honey, sorry I was too distressed to take your name, but you know who you are).
She then tried to phone an officer, but as no one was answering their phones went off to another part of the building to find an officer to talk to me. Through the open door I heard her say something followed by a gale of laughter from the people she was speaking to.
About 15 minutes later a young female officer came out and spoke to me. I got the impression that even though we had never met before, she knew who I was, by reputation anyway. She certainly recognised some of the young folk in the photograph I showed her, and indicated that she did.
I explained what we had discovered about the grass fire in the Awanui River reserve several hours earlier. I was flabbergasted when she made a series of excuses for the lack of police response to our earlier 111 call, seemed very uninterested in taking a statement from me, basically refused to send anyone to interview my husband, questioned the propriety of photographing the young people (I explained the reason and assured her it was not for sexual purposes), and finally, to my astonishment, told me that the arson attack had occurred because I did not know how to talk to Māori youths.
(If there is a special procedure, such as doing a haka or bowing three times and asking permission to speak, I am not aware of such after many years of doing family therapy with youths of all ethnicities.)
By then I had gained the impression that I had been "blacklisted" by local police as a "whingeing pom," not to be responded to if we complained about the activities of local youth, because we were (naturally) racist. I realised there was little point pursuing things further. The officer reluctantly took the copy of the photograph I had with me, and suggested my husband "write a statement and bring it in some time," which I do not consider an appropriate response to a major crime.
She told me the youths would be referred to a 'youth worker,' and any action could take months, and that there would be no feedback to us. I questioned whether, if things escalated and there was a drive-by shooting or similar (I understand the whānau concerned have gang affiliations), if we could rely on a prompt police response. "You know you can," was her blithe response.
Unfortunately, our experience about the arson attack and a growing feeling that we had been racially stereotyped by local police as nuisance callers gave me no such assurance.
I have since made a formal complaint to the IPCA about the response in this case, pointing out that the youth involved has developed a highly addictive form of acting out his distress (fire-setting), which will not cease until he is stopped and given appropriate therapy or until he kills someone and begins his inevitable career of imprisonment/detention.
I left the young constable in a considerable state of confusion. My husband has only been able to make a statement of the knowledge he has of this crime today, some 72 hours after the event, and only because he, too, went down to the local police station and found a slightly older PC there willing to take his statement. (She did not have the temerity to suggest that the attack was his fault, perhaps because by then Mayor Carter had contacted Tony Hill on our behalf).
We are not looking for any special treatment from local police, just to be afforded the same protection from criminal life-threatening harm that all whānau living in this little spot of heaven expect. We have lived here harmoniously with our (mostly Māori) neighbours for eight years, after building this house, and have done our best to contribute to the community we are glad to be a part of. Despite our recent unfortunate experiences we love this place more than any other we have experienced in our well-travelled lives.
Name and address supplied
Kaitaia
(The police were invited to respond but have not done so. Editor).
