Londoners can no longer rely on the police to handle mental-health emergencies

By Georgia Banjo

A burst of acronyms came over the police car radio, galvanising Nick Beasley into action. Beasley, who is in his early 30s and has been a police officer for nine years, keeps the peace in Ealing, a borough in west London. It was 4pm on a bright Friday afternoon in October and I was accompanying him and his colleague Malachi Randell, a lanky trainee detective in his 20s, on the evening shift. Beasley flicked on the sirens and the cars in front curved away, as if pushed aside by a centripetal force. We spun around a few corners, and came to a stop outside a terraced house on a quiet, tree-lined street. Three women, wearing Crocs and headscarves, were standing in a garden full of purple and apricot African daisies. “She’s gone in the living room and smashed up the TV,” said one of them matter-of-factly.

The woman in question had previously been treated in hospital for psychosis. This was the family’s third visit from the police in three days. An ambulance had been called an hour ago but hadn’t turned up. Earlier that day a National Health Service (NHS) mental-health team had come to perform an assessment, but apparently felt threatened and left. Randell phoned the team to ask if they could come back. The mental-health worker he spoke to said they couldn’t – they needed to pick up their kids.