For the past 50 years, within Christchurch’s criminal community, the name Fish has been met with a mixture of fear and respect.
Fear, because if Detective Sergeant Don Fisher was looking for you, there was nowhere to hide; and respect, because no matter who you were, respect is what Don gave and what he deserved in return.
Don, or Fish as he is most commonly known, retired last week after 50 years’ service, mostly with CIB, and with an unparalleled reputation for catching burglars.
He says his crime-solving, crook-catching success is all down to relationships built over many years.
“I was told when I joined the CIB, to go out and buy myself a good pair of shoes because ‘you'll be doing a lot of walking, knocking on doors, going around pubs, speaking to people, getting your face out there so people know who you are’,” says Don.
Today, you can bet every pawnbroker in the city knows Don by name – some even consider him family. Offenders too (as well as their kids and grandkids now) are well acquainted with Don and he with them.
In fact, due to his remarkable memory for names and faces, ‘Little Wanganui’ was another name Don went by in some circles: ‘If you can’t find it on the computer, go and see Fish,’ they’d say.
“I’ve always tried to build a rapport with the people I deal with, including offenders,” says Don.
“I used to check to see who’d been arrested overnight and I'd ask the watchhouse keeper to take ‘Johnny’ out to the loading bay. I'd meet Johnny there, give him a cup of coffee and a cigarette and chew the fat.
“It wasn’t an interview; I would just check in to see how things were going – ‘how's the family? What's happening in your life that's driving you to commit burglaries?’”
Four years into the job, 1978.
Don is careful to explain that his approach wasn’t just about intel gathering, it was about building a relationship.
Don’s empathetic approach extends even more keenly towards victims of crime. A victim himself of multiple burglaries, he knew how it felt.
It was that strong sense of empathy that inspired Don to join Police in the first place. “Like most others, I really just wanted to help people,” he says.
Don grew up on dairy farm in Clandeboye, in South Canterbury. One of nine siblings, he knew how to look after himself.
“I’d always wanted to join the Police but the height factor was against me, until the height was lowered to 5’8". Nowadays, I might be considered a giant.”
Without going into too much detail, Don describes his experience in the Sir Francis Kitts Wing 59 at Police Training School as a real eye-opener, like “a new entrant at boarding school”.
He got through training and started his career on the beat in Christchurch. Apart from five years in Ashburton, Christchurch is where he stayed. Now, with 50 years under his belt, Don says there are just too many stories to tell.
There was the time he scared the life out of a bike thief in action by jumping out from behind a bush, grabbing his handlebars and forcibly introducing himself as Detective Sergeant Fisher.
Then there was the pillowcase thief who used to break into people’s homes and stuff their pillowcases full of stolen items. The investigation team Don led managed to return a lot of the stolen property by getting victims to identify their linen.
Once, Don became aware of a planned ram raid at Harvey Norman. Don and his crew had observations on the location and, sure enough, a car drove straight through the plate glass entrance and into the foyer.
“The driver put the car in reverse to smash the window into Harvey Norman’s proper, but the tyres just kept spinning. He kept revving and revving until he realised the tile floor was so shiny he couldn’t get any grip. So he got out of the car and started running.
“We had people waiting for him down the road, so we let him go for a bit. In the end, I think he was happy to get picked up because he was so exhausted!”
Don also remembers the first time he went into a pub on duty. “I was young, young looking and small in stature. I went in with a sergeant who was probably 6'6" and 18 stone.
“In those days, every time you went to the pub, people would say ‘Here come the pigs.’ But this night, some quick-witted guy said ‘No it's not, it's the pig and the piglet!' I’ll never forget that, I had to smile.”
Don’s most memorable arrest happened during his time in Ashburton. It was Christchurch Show Day, a public holiday in Ashburton, and he’d just finished night shift.
“I was walking home along the main street at about five in the morning, and there were lots of big trucks and trailer units rumbling through town. Whenever there was a lull, I heard a strange noise.
“After a while I recognised it as nails being pulled out of roofing iron, and it was coming from Woolworths. There were no cell phones in those days, so I ran to the public phone box, called 111 and asked for the early shift to come and meet me.
“We put staff at each end of the alleyway, and I went up onto the roof. As I got there, I saw a male running across the roof, down the fire escape and out of sight. He ran straight to the arms of the police officer at the end of the alleyway.
“I went back and sure enough, sheets of roofing iron had been removed and a large rope had been tied round the rafter. We found explosives in his bag, which he was planning to use to blow the safe.
“He'd done this homework. He’d cased the place, he knew it was a public holiday, he probably knew it was our change of shift. But what he didn’t take into account was the suspicious alert of Constable Fisher walking home at that precise time!
“To catch a burglar on the job is a buzz; but to catch a guy who's going through the roof to blow the safe, that was an extra buzz!”
While in Ashburton, Don worked the Springbok tour, recalling how hard it was to focus on the crowd, as instructed, during the final test at Eden Park, when “this mad bomber was flying over and the game was so tense.
“It wasn’t really until I got back home that I realised just how serious it was and how lucky it was that no one was killed."
Throughout his career in the CIB, Don worked a number of homicides and serious crime cases, which he thoroughly enjoyed.
“Working on a major investigation is what young detectives join the CIB for. It's like a team sport. Each individual brings different skills and flair and it’s how you mould them and get the best out of them that gets results.
“Whether it’s closure for the family of a homicide victim or returning stolen property, I’ve always found that part of the job hugely satisfying.”
An upset win for Don's Belfast team in the North Canterbury senior rugby final, 2003.
Don has long had a strong affiliation with sport, rugby in particular. He has coached for many years and is currently President of Belfast Rugby Football Club.
“Rugby has been a great release valve for me. It keeps you involved with the community and it's a great break from police work.”
He has also used rugby as a recruiting tool, with several serving officers who had been coached by Don crediting him for their Police career.
Coaching and mentoring has been a constant throughout Don’s 50 years, and he likes to think that maybe he’s helped a few people along.
“When I talk to people about promotion, the one piece of advice I give them all is to be a leader in the field first and foremost, as opposed to a manager at your desk.
“Junior staff don't need you micromanaging them. On the streets is where they need you, not three days later when you're sitting at your desk in hindsight and saying ‘Why didn’t you do this? Why didn't you do that?'
“Sometimes I hear the old catch cry ‘We haven't got enough staff’. But I always say, if you are the only staff member, you can still do something. Rather than sitting there complaining about what we haven’t got, get out there to do the best with what we have got.
“It's like sport - it’s all very well to say, ‘Let's go out and win this game’. But realistically, it’s about putting in a performance you can be proud of.
“I've loved policing with a passion. I bound out of bed in the morning, get to work and, as some staff would say, I'd forget to go home.”
When Don graduated from his initial training, Commandant Bill Overton wrote on his final appraisal 'This young man won’t last long'. Clearly, Don took that as a challenge.
“I must admit, there have been times I thought he was probably correct, but I think I've just about proved him wrong.”