Why I so nearly quit in fury a year ago

As met police chief Sir John Stevens announces his retirement, he reveals the cost of five years in the toughest police job in the countryIf I lost the trial, I stood to lose my reputation and gain a criminal conviction. I have never felt so outraged and humiliated The failed Damilola prosecution was a huge disappointment. I was used to 100 per cent success in murder investigations - to have a failure of that nature on my watch was a considerable blow From the Damilola investigation, we learned that there are 20 to 60 feral children in each London borough. After terrorism, the biggest challenge for my successor is the rise in antisocial behaviour I used to carry a gun and I have quite a few scars on my body. But most of the scars are in my mind. Forty years of them ... hidden ... inside

SIR John Stevens, the 6ft 4in Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, does not bow and scrape to anyone, so it is unusual to encounter him, as I do, on his knees. A moment earlier, he had been proudly showing me his trophies and awards cabinet in his plush office on the eighth floor of New Scotland Yard. Then suddenly, like a scene from a James Bond movie, he pushed something and the solid- oak-panelled wall folded back to reveal a hidden alcove. Next thing, Sir John was down on all fours, brandishing a key.

"When you become Commissioner, you are given the key to a secret safe which holds many secrets," he says, rummaging about.

"Aha!" he exclaims triumphantly. "Here it is!"

He holds up a sealed manila envelope. this is chilling - face-to- face with pure evil."

The only way you survive all this darkness, he says, is by becoming "hardened and cynical" very quickly. "But you also have to learn to leave your police work at the front door, because 'hardened and cynical' won't do in your family life." Sir John is married to Cynthia, a district nurse, and has three adult children, including two sons (one of whom is a senior detective in the Met), and a daughter, who is a criminal barrister.

So how does his wife cope? "Thankfully she is easygoing, but it has been tough," he admits. A self- confessed workaholic, he is seldom home, regularly working a 90-hour week and out most nights on public engagements. In his absence, Cynthia has brought up the children.

Moreover, since 9/11 and the increased threat of terrorism, his home is under constant video surveillance and he does not move without two personal bodyguards. In addition, he has had villains break into his house when he was out, trash it, defecate all over his carpets, and steal everything they could carry.

"I'll give you a little exclusive insight into the mental stress of this job and how tough you have to be," he adds. "Fourteen years ago, when I went to Northern Ireland to commence an investigation into collusion between the security forces and Loyalist murder gangs, I selected 28 of the best detectives that England had to offer. It was the most stressful inquiry. We were threatened with physical violence, we had our headquarters burned down, terrorists tried to attack us.

"Worse, we were investigating the Army and the security forces - just like the 'internal affairs' guys in the Gene Hackman movie, The French Connection - and this created a pressure that was almost unbearable.

"After two years, we returned to the mainland, and within months, every single one of these detectives suffered tremendous problems. Some collapsed in the street with apparent heart attacks, some developed boils all over their bodies, others left the force and never returned to policing."

It is hands-on survival stories such as these that gave Sir John his reputation as "a copper's copper", in stark contrast to the academically-inclined top-brass, such as Oxbridgeeducated Sir Ian Blair, who is one of the favourites to replace him. With 30,000 cops under his command, onequarter of the nation's police force, the job of Commissioner is regarded as the toughest police job in the country. Mistakes have been made, he admits, and his greatest regret is failing to convict anyone for the shocking murder of Damilola Taylor.

"Damilola's parents came and sat before me in this very office," he says, closing his eyes momentarily. "They were people with such tremendous dignity.

They had difficulty facing the enormity of what had happened to their son, blood pouring from him, dying on that stairwell in such horrendous circumstances. It is hard to look into the eyes of parents whose child has been murdered. Often I am asked to speak at funerals, and I find I have to focus on the back of the church, because if you look at the parents, you lose it.

"The failed Damilola prosecution was a huge disappointment to me. In my career, I received 27 commendations, so I was used to success - in fact, I was used to 100 per cent success in murder investigations - and so for me to have a failure of that nature on my watch was a considerable blow."

BUT there was also some vital fresh information that came out of the Damilola investigation that will change the face of modern policing, insists Sir John. "We learned that there are 20 to 60 feral children in each London borough, and that these children have typically been in care, that they have been physically or sexually assaulted while in care, that they haven't been to school for five months and that they run in gangs.

"In other words, we discovered for the first time that in London we had a big problem on our hands. After terrorism, there is no doubt in my mind that the biggest challenge for my successor will be to tackle the rise in antisocial behaviour. We need community policing - where you have a small complement of officers based in each of the force's 628 wards in London - to tackle it. But to do that effectively, we will need another 5,000 police officers, which, even then, would still be 5,000 less than in New York City."

But the Met Sir John leaves will be unrecognisable from the one he inherited. "When I arrived, morale was rock bottom," he says. "The McPherson Report following the Stephen Lawrence murder inquiry accused us of institutionalised racism, and that caused a lot of hurt in the force.

"It was a process we needed to go through, though. When I joined, only 60 people a month were signing up to join the Met; now we've got 60 people a day. Also, numbers of black and Asian officers have doubled, female officers are up 28 per cent, and the number of people leaving the force is at a historic low.

"As for crime, it is down across the board, our murder detection rate is the highest in the world and victims of crime in London report being more satisfied with their treatment than anywhere else in the country. It's a great success story."

So why retire now? At 61, he is still fit and athletic - he walks, plays tennis and skis - indeed, some would say Sir John is in his prime. "I think five years in this job is enough for anybody," he laughs. His pale brown eyes roll back and for a moment he seems to contemplate the future.

WHAT are his plans? "Well, of course the Princess Diana inquiry is ongoing, and I will continue with that, but the news is that I have accepted a job in America as distinguished lecturer at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice."

So the Americans are recognising him, making use of his vast experience, but not the British? "Yes," he nods, "isn't that an interesting comment on our society."

Has he ever had to kill anyone in selfdefence? "No," he says, "but I used to carry a gun and I have quite a few scars on my body." He lifts his sleeve to reveal one on his lower arm. "But most of the scars are up here," he says, pointing to his head. "Forty years of them. In my mind ... hidden ... inside."

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