Retired Chief Superintendent John David Roach 26/07/1930 - 31/12/2025
(A personal tribute by his son)
John David Roach was born on 26 July 1930 in Carshalton, Surrey, but lived his formative years in the Rhondda Valley, after the family home was badly damaged at the start of WW2. From that day onward, no Englishman ever claimed more proudly to be Welsh!
Dad had six uncles, all in the forces, and all away fighting. Against the odds, they all came home in one piece.
Aged 15, at war’s end, Dad left school to become an apprentice sign-writer, but his alter ego was very different and he was a keen boxer.
He completed National Service between 1948-50, with the Royal Army Service Corps, where he learned essential military skills, like hand-washing, ironing, floor cleaning (with a toothbrush) and painting… coal… white. More usefully he gained heavy goods vehicle and motor bike licences and had practical leadership opportunities way beyond his years.
He took great delight in telling me how as an army HGV driver he had first visited Exeter. On exercise, he was part of a convoy towing field guns. Due to a navigational error the convoy took a wrong turn onto Exeter High St, (and with no option to U-turn), had to continue, knocking down every lamp-post in their path…He never did elaborate as to who had been map-reading.
On completion of National Service, Dad seriously considered staying on as a regular. The Korean War was underway, and many of his mates would serve there; however, inspired by his Uncle Tom, a serving Metropolitan policeman, he instead joined their ranks.
He completed 20 weeks basic training at Hendon. Back then, intakes were exclusively male, and mostly ex-servicemen, which resulted in a far less politically correct culture than exists today. Swimming lessons were mandatory, but swimming costumes were not. On one occasion, Dad’s class raced from changing room to pool, with several in the buff, headlong into a group of visiting ladies from Peel House.
Dad played rugby for the Met, but after one match ended up in a convalescent home with concussion. Whilst recovering, he became increasingly irritated by a fellow patient, who, acting as the ‘tea monitor’, seemed to take perverse pleasure in upsetting the bed-bound patients. Despite requests to ‘pack it in’, the man persisted, and then unbelievably poured a cup of tea over Dad’s head. Dressed in pyjamas, but far from bed-bound, Dad sprang up, and with a quick one-two launched the ‘tea-boy’ over his trolley, to the delight of the entire ward.
As a single man, residing in Trenchard Section House, Dad briefly lived the dream. However, all that changed when in 1952 he met Mum. Aged just 16 and barely out of school, Mum was a pretty local girl working as a secretary for the Canadian Joint Military Staff. They were introduced at a dinner and dance, whereupon Dad (then 22), promptly ditched his date for the evening and switched his attentions…supporting the assertion that ‘you should never trust a copper!’
For those keen to listen, Dad could paint a vivid picture of policing in post-war London, and the many and varied characters on his beat. Toms, pimps, burglars, pickpockets and card sharps…he had a tale about them all… set against the backdrop of a city littered with bomb sites and barely out of rationing.
Around this time, Dad’s younger brother, Bob, also joined the Met, having completed National Service with the RAF.
Inspired again by his Uncle Tom, Dad applied to become a Detective, and cut his teeth as an aide to CID at Blackheath and Sidcup. Later, after a round of exams, he became a Detective Sergeant at Tottenham Court Road.
After 4 years as a Detective, Dad applied to join the Flying Squad. Selection was tight with recruits hand-picked, but in 1963 he was accepted. His peer group comprised many war veterans, led at the time by the legendary ‘Tommy Butler’ (nemesis to the Great Train Robbers).
The Squad’s focus back then was armed robbery, disrupting violent gangs, wielding shotguns and pick axe handles, targeting banks, jewellers, and cash in transit. It was on one of these ‘over the pavement robberies’ that Dad earned a Commissioner’s Commendation for outstanding bravery, disarming a robber with a handgun, whilst himself unarmed.
This was the era of the ‘Richardsons’ and the ‘Krays.’ Dad’s Squad tales from that time were awesome, but with a common thread: rough justice! As a former soldier, and amateur boxer, he had fallen into exactly the right job in the right company.
Dad subsequently returned to the Flying Squad twice more, first as an Inspector, and then a Superintendent. These were undoubtedly his ‘golden years,’ and he was immensely proud to be a ‘Squad man.’
Flying Squad attachments though only lasted two years, and in 1965 he was moved to the Murder Squad…which, despite initial reservations, proved to be another career highlight.
As a murder investigator in the mid 1960s (with the exception of fingerprint evidence), there was virtually nothing to aid you: no computers, mobile phones, CCTV, or DNA analysis. Murders were solved the old-fashioned way, by house-to-house enquiries, suspect interviews and a copper’s intuition. Dad’s Murder Squad tales were spell-binding and he committed many to paper.
Meanwhile, Mum was in effect a ‘one parent family’, raising three kids single-handedly. She and Dad had an understanding, ‘the Job’ always came first. She never complained and waited up night after night as dad brought work (and work-mates) home, never failing to greet them all with a smile, sandwiches and gallons of tea. If anyone deserved a LS & GC medal it was Mum!
As the years passed, Dad rose up the ladder, attending Senior Officers’ College at Bramshill, four months he described as ‘a complete waste of time on a course run by idiots.’
Subsequently, as a Superintendent, he became one of the first ‘Senior National Co-ordinators’ of the Regional Crime Squad (No.9 RCS), and as such a founding member of the ‘Scarlet Pimpernels,’ another avenue of service that gave him great pride.
Dad eventually retired as a Chief Superintendent in 1981, with no less than 18 commendations for distinguished service. Throughout his career he had earned a reputation as a ‘copper’s copper’, a fact made clear at his retirement party, which I attended aged 16. His last posting was as (uniformed) Chief Superintendent at Croydon, with responsibility for several neighbouring boroughs. Tributes paid to him that night were humbling and made me proud beyond words.
I could recount Dad’s exploits until the cows came home, but could never do them justice, nor indeed the many larger-than-life characters he proudly worked alongside and counted as brothers.
Over the course of 32 years, he battled armed robbers, sparred verbally with QCs at the Old Bailey, led countless serious crime and murder investigations, (including the ‘New Cross Fire’ investigation), and ultimately put away some of London’s most dangerous criminals. In recognition of this, in 1986, he was awarded the ‘Freedom of the City of London.’
Dad worked for a further 8 years in the City as a Fraud Investigator with Barclaycard, before retiring for good in 1990. He and Mum then moved to Hingham, Norfolk, where Dad became an active member of the local community and President of the Royal British Legion, before settling down for good in nearby Wymondham, surrounded by family.
In 2018, aged 88, he was a guest at the ‘Flying Squad Centenary Dinner’ in London, travelling there solo by train, despite Mum’s threats and pleading. I remember escorting him on the last leg to the venue, immaculate in suit and squad tie…then scooping him up eight hours later…still immaculate, but less steady on his feet…and beaming. As the oldest ‘Squad’ veteran present that day, he had been treated like a god!
Dad was the product of a unique generation: stoic, selfless, honourable and kind, with the highest standards, strongest morals, and a rare sense of duty. He was an Old School copper’s copper, my hero and my best friend.
He is survived by his loving wife-Pauline; daughters-Joy and Carole; son-David; 7 grand-children; and 3 great-grand-children.
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