HARDENED copper Stan Atkins will always have a soft spot for victims.
Until his final shift late last month, that’s who he always had in mind – direct victims or the protection of the community.
Sergeant Atkins recently retired from the thin blue line after more than four decades in uniform.
“I still keep in contact with some victims over the years, because they are the people you are trying to protect,” he said.
“They are the people in our community whose lives have been impacted short or long term and who we think of when we try and bring them some justice and closure.”
Sgt Atkins entered the cadet academy in 1977 and then the police academy a year later, graduating in September that year.
He was stationed in Melbourne for five years, mostly in the inner eastern suburbs of Camberwell and Balwyn.
After 46-and-a-half years on the beat and hundreds of crime investigations, Sgt Atkins’ memory of his first job wasn’t flash, but he could recall the most prominent.
They included the arrests of the Russell Street bombers in 1986, the Kerang rail disaster in 2007, and the shock discovery of a newborn found alone inside the public toilet block at Riverside Park in Swan Hill.
“The baby incident was about 20 years ago now and it was actually five years ago it was solved. They found who the parents were,” Sgt Atkins said.
“There were a few jobs that stuck in your mind.”
He said he fortunately wasn’t called to the rail disaster scene, when a truck slammed into a V/Line passenger train at a level crossing, killing 11 people.
“I was working on that day, but fortunately didn’t go down there as I was just finishing my shift when that happened,” Sgt Atkins said.
“But I do remember the chaos at the time, the urgency and the toll it had on emergency services. Many have never recovered.”
Sgt Atkins said the bombings had a major impact on Victoria Police as it was an “attack on colleagues”.
“Police made arrests in Birchip and in motels here in Swan Hill,” he said.
“They planned an armed hold-up that morning but fled from Swan Hill before they carried through.
“I do remember escorting one of the offenders down to Melbourne to the remand centre with the air wing.”
Sgt Atkins left school early and his “old man” suggested his son had to do something, and for Sgt Atkins, it would either be a policeman, truck driver or a farmer.
“My wife at the time and I loved Swan Hill,” he said.
“Policing is a bit the same wherever you are, it’s just a different town you are in.
“Every town has the same issues, so we thought why bother moving, so we stayed here.”
The only thing that hadn’t changed in the job was the little black notebook worth 50 cents.
“Everything else has changed; the batons, firearms, tasers and sprays, even the handcuffs, I later discovered,” Sgt Atkins said.
“We started with cop cars that had one siren and one light, now there are multiple sirens and different coloured lights, and vehicles with modern technology so you don’t have to even get out of the vehicle to initially detect a speeding driver or unregistered vehicle.”
Sgt Atkins’ proudest days were seeing his daughter, Ash, join the force. There is a long blood line in the force, with his grandfather and uncle having also been police.
“She was working at the bank for a while and while I encouraged her, she didn’t have much interest,” he said.
“Then she came to me and say, ‘Yeah, I’d like to give it a go’.
“She’s now been in the force for 12 years … now in Northcote as a senior constable.
“She worked her first shift with me and came up especially to work with me on my last shift.”
Sgt Atkins said what drew him to the job was the opportunity to be around people and help others.
“There is always someone who needs our help,” he said.
“You can see whatever happens in Melbourne makes its way to Swan Hill eventually.
“Drugs as the starting point … the impact on mental health and family violence.
“Those two elements would take up the most amount of work, and because of the drugs.”
His seniors could have taken $20,000 away from the pay cheque and he would still have walked through the station doors, Sgt Atkins said.
“It becomes your identify after a while, it’s who you are,” he said.
“I reflect on what we used to talk about, a copper doing an extraordinary job, but we aren’t extraordinary people, we are ordinary people you see at the pub, at the footy, at the shops.
“You just have to have a little common sense and appreciation for people and to understand people that we aren’t all the same.”
Sgt Atkins knew when his “use-by date” had arrived.
“I’d hate to continue and let someone down,” he said.
“As a sergeant, the guys here rely on decision-making.”
The “essence” of policing hadn’t changed, Sgt Atkins said, because the need for help would forever remain.
