Burnt pizza and problems in the stairs

The last Friday in February, close to midnight.

There are no major concerts in the city, and even though it’s the end of the month, it feels like the middle of it. The city is deserted and there’s not much traffic.

The police we’re supposed to follow get in the car and they tell me to sit behind the driver on the left side.

– Calm before the storm, says the police officer.

The police we’re following tonight don’t want their names published, we respect that at AG, so we’re not publishing the officers’ names.

Homeless people create insecurity

Inside the car, in the darkness and silence, a faint voice is heard over the radio, and the police officers are informed that a person is sleeping in one of the blocks in Qapiarfiusaaq. They drive a little faster than usual towards the place.

I am informed that it could be a homeless person or, in the worst case, a dead person, and the police explain the precautions to be taken in such situations.

The weather is cold and a little windy. On the way up the stairs, the policeman walks attentively, and the one in front turns on his flashlight, which is on his chest since it is dark.

– Can you smell the burning smell? asks the policeman.

As we reach halfway up the six floors, the staircase becomes warmer, and we follow the smell of something burning. When we reach the top, we find a person wearing a black jacket lying on the floor.

– Hello! Wake up, hello, says one of the policemen, kneeling down and trying to wake the man.

– Oh, it’s you. How can we help you? Do you have somewhere to go? Should we take you to a hostel? asks the policeman, recognizing him.

When he wakes up, he answers in a dry voice.

– No, I have nowhere to go. I can’t go to the hostel because I’m drunk – they won’t let me in, replies the young man, who is about 30 years old.

– If you have somewhere to go, we can take you. Where are you going? asks the policeman again.

While he talks about going to Qinngorput, he himself walks away from the place.

Report of fire

While we are driving next to the tunnel on Industrivej, the police are informed via the radio that there is a burning smell in one of the apartments in Nuussuaq. The other police officer, who is sitting in the passenger seat, is trying to find the address on his mobile phone.

“The smell is coming from upstairs,” says a woman, standing with a duvet around her and pointing upwards.

Several residents from the neighbourhood also come out to see what is happening.

Before they reach the apartment with the burning smell, the door is opened. A man who seems to have just woken up, with short and messy hair, comes out. When he opens the door, a strong smell of burnt food and smoke follows.

– Is there a fire? Can we come in? asks the policeman.

– No, it's just a pizza that burned in the oven, explains the man with a smile, who had fallen asleep while making the pizza.

Inside the apartment there is smoke and the smell of burning and the pizza is completely black and is lying on the kitchen table.

– Do you want to eat it? asks the policeman with a smile.

– No, I don't think so, the man replies laughing.

Since nothing serious has happened, we'll drive on.

Baaboo

Around half past ten we drive calmly from Qinngorput to Nuussuaq. The police talk about everyday things as they approach the end of their shift.

“Those who are supposed to be on night duty must have arrived,” one says with a smile about their replacements.

“Yes, we always arrive early so that those who are supposed to be off can leave on time,” the other adds.

But the situation changes suddenly. A slurred voice, but one that the police can clearly hear, comes over the radio.

“There is a suicide threat in Qinngorput. Can you move out quickly?” comes the call from the police control center.

The blue indicators come on, and before we can turn around, we make a quick U-turn, reverse, and drive back quickly.

Ahead of us is a car, and the siren sounds: baaboo, baaboo. The cars in front of us pull over.

The police officers speak faster and in higher voices. They don't seem stressed, but prepared to deal with the serious situation.

“We always assess on a case-by-case basis. We do our best to help people in need,” the police officer explains.

In contrast to the quick response to the scene, we drive back towards the city – fortunately – calmly, as the police can leave the suicidal person without any worries.

Another call comes in about the homeless

It's after midnight, when the police have a change of guard, and we take our seats in the car again with a new team, listening to music that becomes more and more festive as the night goes on.

They begin their quiet patrol in the city.

There are reports of young men in an elevator making noise and disturbing the residents, so they need to check it out.

First they drive to the location that the police have previously visited, but there is no one there.

We go up another elevator, and just like before, the air gets heavier and the smell of people gets more unpleasant the further up the stairs we go.

At our destination, it is messy and full of things. Several black bags that appear to contain clothes are lying around. A man is lying nearby, covered by a blanket.

“There are two lying here,” the policeman says to his partner.

“Hello, wake up. What are you doing here?” the other policeman says in a sharper voice, while he carefully nudges the man with his foot.

– Who are you? Do you have somewhere to go? asks the police.

– No, we have nowhere to go. We were passengers on a ship, but there was a fire and we went ashore because we don't dare sail anymore, the man explains quietly.

– You have to move on. You are disturbing the residents here with your noise, the police say firmly.

– Where are we going? Should we take the blankets with us? the man asks his partner.

They pick up their blankets and head towards the stairs and start going down.

AG followed the police's work from 9 pm to 3 am. During the night we went out four times and stopped 14 cars in traffic.