One of the very hardest things any police officer has to do is to tell a loved one that their son, daughter, husband, or wife has been killed. The checking, double and triple-checking that you have the right address, the deciding between yourself and your colleague who is going to break the news – before the final walk of what feels like a thousand steps to the door.

There are of course formalities to be navigated, but the only training any police officer receives in how to pass on the dreadful news comes from older, wiser colleagues who have seen it all before. Make sure your cap is straight; turn the radio down so there are no distractions when you talk. There are no prizes for long drawn-out narratives about the how, as almost without exception every single person who opens that door instinctively knows what you are there for the second they see your face anyway. The deliberate removal of the cap as the ultimate sign of respect before delivering the news removes all doubt.

No matter the circumstances, the occasion demands solemnity. What you say, and how you say it, will be forever etched in the minds of the loved ones. I pray to God that in this new age of policing, where baseball caps have largely replaced the old uniform skip cap, the service maintains the dignity of these occasions – and does not have officers delivering such news looking as if they have just stepped out from behind the counter of a fast food restaurant.

Deaths from anything other than old age and illness will always make headlines, and whenever there are headlines, you can be certain a suite of governmental policies and strategies will exist to help tackle them.

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