Epilogue
Queensland Police Service Sergeant Gary Suckling, Ret., nosed his half a century old Chrysler VH Valiant Charger into his former employer’s car park. Sitting in the idling muscle car, listening to its big engine, he contemplated if police work had become more dangerous than in days gone by. At the time of his hire four decades earlier, sometimes he’d get a call to break up a tussle at a pub and they might offer to fight him. He often obliged. They flat refused to have it any other way, and woe unto him if he lost. Many of the old-time cops didn’t even carry guns.
One constable, the sole officer responsible for an overgrown mining camp they called a town down in central Queensland memorized everyone’s number by heart. Unable to help but compare himself to the old school lawman, h
