TV review: Early shots in the dark

Line of Fire gives insight into the beginnings of the Armed Offender Squad. Photo / Supplied

It's incredible, in these days of almost-daily homicides, to realise that back in the 1960s, New Zealand was such a safe place "no one locked their doors". I'm not sure that was true but that scenario opened Line of Fire, the four-part Gibson Group series on the Armed Offenders Squad, which started on Monday on TV One.

Times were a-changing. Why? There was no explanation. In 1964, four police officers were killed within a month and the police had to get real. The AOS was quickly formed, its first members clothed in army uniforms dyed black.

Through the revealing narratives of former officers, newspaper clippings and dramatised footage, the show walked us through various crises, including one in Wellington in 1970 involving a young man called Bruce Glensor, who had kidnapped a girl. This developed into a two-day standoff, culminating in Glensor being shot dead just above Glenmore St, an event I hadn't thought about for years until I saw this programme. I was in a bus travelling along the street at the very moment it all happened.

The tales - accompanied by a rather too dramatic, constant orchestral soundtrack - revealed men, and later, women, who took their responsibilities very seriously - even if there were some amateurish moments in the early days.

One officer, called out on what stretched to a 10-day hunt, recalled he turned up wearing a glaring white jumper. A perfect night-time target. Charmingly, he admitted his hands were shaking, his knees knocking.

Another officer admitted to a Keystone Cop caper, when he was dangled over the edge of a cliff in the Buller Gorge in search of a dangerous crim. It was night-time, and the rope was too short. So there he was, swinging above what may have been a man about to kill him. That was why, he explained, you must always tuck your trousers into your boots - so when you crapped yourself, it would be contained.

So the documentary gave humanity to the people who have to be prepared to kill. This led to the issue which has so often vexed the public: why don't they "shoot to wound"? Often there's no choice. As one of them put it, it's the "critical mass, the biggest bit" they aim for - the chest. Sometimes all they can see - as was graphically demonstrated - is the head.

Aside from "the three Cs" - the crazies, the crusaders and the crims - there is also the P element to deal with these days as well. If an officer wounds a person on P, they're more likely to get "annoyed" and keep coming at you.

In an understated Kiwi way, there was some sweet humour in some of the anecdotes. One gun-waving "crazy" shouting his head off in his backyard told the negotiator he'd forgotten to turn the kettle off. Why don't we go inside and have a cuppa? suggested the officer. "So we had a nice cup of tea and 15 minutes later he was on the way to jail." As they say in the AOS: Result. Same for the series. Next week, Aramoana.