1959, my first time out on the beat on nights, walking down Gem Street at about 11pm. Screaming and shouting from the top floor of a house, and a woman leaning out. 'Hes trying to kill me, please help me'. How do I get in? 'Heres the door key, and she threw it down to me. I went into the downstairs room, and up the stairs to the first floor, The bedroom door had been demolished, with wood everywhere. In the bed I saw a mans head lying next to a dogs head, covered with a sheet. The woman was still screaming from the top room, and when I went up her door it had also been demolished. She told me the story, he was drunk and violent and was going to kill her. Despite all my training I decided to take him in. I got him to follow me downstairs and into the street, where I dutifully nicked him. Next day in court his wife gave evidence and said I had dragged her husband out of the house, and he had not threatened her, neither was he drunk. He was fined for being drunk, but I learned a valuable lesson in husband/wife relationships.