'Hello Mr Criminal, have my number'
Updated on 16 October 2007
Newsroom blog: I've been given the unenviable task of knocking on the doors of criminals who've just been convicted of murder. Fantastic.
Imagine you are working on a big story about gun crime in Merseyside. All the elements are coming together nicely - good access to the police, lots of interviews with residents fearful of the current epidemic.
But one critical angle is still eluding us - the criminal.
Then comes the suggestion. I've been given the unenviable task of knocking on the doors of criminals who've just been convicted of murder. Fantastic.
This is the well trodden path of journalists across the country.
By this time we notice a silver car has been circling us at each address and is coming around again.
All - at some point - have had to knock on someone's door at the worst possible time. It's practically a right of passage for print journalists who simply wouldn't earn their stripes without attaining a certain quota of knocks for recently bereaved families.
Working for a national broadcaster is no different - except the doors on which you knock.
After researching a few addresses of people recently convicted for gun crime, and with a certain amount of trepidation, we head to one of the areas notorious for gangs. The first knock proves fruitless, the second a little better - the family are there but they won't talk. We leave a message at the third.
By this time we notice a silver car has been circling us at each address and is coming around again.
The fourth house gives us our best lead yet. An elderly gentleman refers us to a house a few roads away where his daughter lives - the mother of one of those convicted.
"Be careful though" he warns us "if the bloke she lives with doesn't like the look of you he'll stick a shotgun through the letterbox."
We look at each other - can he be serious? A few moments later he starts guffawing uncontrollably "Gotcha!"
Smiling sheepishly we head over to the address but the owner informs us she'll be firebombed if she speaks to the press.
Back in the car we wonder whether to stick around. After all, the silver car is still circling. Suddenly there's a rap on the window.
A young man is standing there. "You looking for me?"
He's recently been let out of jail for gun related offences but again the culture of silence prevails. He does however ask for my mobile number, which of course I give him in case he changes his mind.
I'm starting to wonder just how many people I've given my details to.
Earlier in the month I door knocked someone who's suspected of being a terrorist and again left my number. I also interviewed a convicted murderer who now also has it.
My phone starts vibrating in my pocket and the ringtone is twinkling its little tune - but just who will it be?
Oh, it's only the newsroom.
