The Linguist is a languages magazine for professional linguists, translators, interpreters, language professionals, language teachers, trainers, students and academics with articles on translation, interpreting, business, government, technology
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AUGUST/SEPTEMBER 2017 The Linguist 11 FEATURES At about 5.30am, we interpreters were escorted to the front of the property. The front door had been smashed in and two sleepy, rather bemused and frightened looking men were being led out by police officers. After brief conversations with us to establish that we spoke their respective languages, the men were bundled into separate unmarked transit vans and driven away. We were then driven back to the briefing building and our claim forms were signed off. At home, I was unable to sleep, knowing that it would be a matter of hours before the police called me to interpret at a local police station for 'my' suspected terrorist. As my mind replayed the raid, it dawned on me that I should have insisted on a bulletproof vest. All of the police officers were wearing them; only the interpreters were not. Working round the clock I spent most of the following fortnight at the station where 'my' suspect was being detained. I never saw either the other suspect or his interpreter again, and I have no idea what happened in that respect. Another French interpreter had now been booked to interpret for 'my' suspect during tape-recorded interviews with police and Special Branch officers. My role was to interpret during his consultations with his lawyer and the police surgeon, and also during any conversations that he might have with the custody staff. What was surprising was that the interpreters had simply been booked 'on the hoof' – no prior arrangements had been made. This seemed incredible, given the huge police operation involved. There also appeared to be an assumption on the part of the police that we would be 100% available for the duration of this job – no matter what other personal and/or private commitments we might have, no matter how long the job might last or how many hours we might be expected to work on any given day or night. In every other respect, the job seemed to have been planned in minute detail. I can only assume that due to the highly sensitive nature of the job, the police were working on a 'no information' basis until absolutely necessary. We interpreters were allowed to meet up during our breaks, but we were not allowed to discuss the case. That way neither of us, knowingly or unknowingly, could contaminate each other's interviews. Due to the long hours that we were working, having two interpreters on call at all times was an excellent idea; neither of us could have coped alone. Over the next 13 days, I was at the station from 7.30am until at least midnight (with appropriate breaks in between). Strangely, I did not feel too tired; the job was so enthralling that most of the time I was running on adrenaline. It was only on the 14th day, when the job ended, that the fatigue hit me hard. Getting friendly with the 'enemy' When I was told that I would be interpreting for a suspected terrorist, I was consumed with all sorts of prejudices, both conscious and subconscious. As the days went by, I found myself warming to the man I was interpreting for. During his exercise breaks in an enclosed yard – in the presence of a police guard – he, his lawyer and I discussed all sorts of things – from French poetry to football. After one such break, one of the guards criticised me for being "too friendly to a terrorist". I advised him that my client was a suspect until charged, that I was only doing my job and that the fact that I had developed a good relationship with the suspect was probably more productive to the inquiry than a hostile relationship would have been. This last comment seemed to The interpreters had been booked 'on the hoof'. This seemed incredible given the huge police operation involved