Sordid Stories On Our Doorstep

Because life is filled with bittersweet irony, today's post is in stark contrast to yesterday's.
This is about as far from innocence and childhood as it's possible to get.

Last night I made my first ever call to the police to report "an incident". The incident in question was taking place right across the street from where we live: on a car park that is not closed at night and no longer has a working security camera.
In the last few days we have realised that, after dark, this car park has become the new "free of charge" hotel room for prostitutes and their "clients". They park their cars, do their sordid stuff and drive off, leaving their horrible rubbish behind them.
Naturally, this makes us very, very upset.
I'm not so naive as to think this kind of stuff doesn't happen, but is it too much to ask that it doesn't happen on my very own doorstep, just metres away from where my son is sleeping?

Anyway, back to the police.
Their reaction to my phonecall can be neatly summed up in the phrase "couldn't care less", and that's putting it nicely. I think this actually made my blood boil more than the presence of the perverts across the road. A weary police officer mumbled something about maybe sending a police car over to take a look "if they had time and if a car was available". Naturally, no-one bothered to come and take a look.

I am shocked by this. Sure, my experience of the police is limited to soap operas and the one time I got stopped and fined by no less than 8 policemen for going through an orange light (seems they DID have men available that day, surprisingly....), but I was under the impression that they were supposed to tackle crime and protect law-abiding citizens?
Appears I am naive in more ways than one.

Anyway, today we have endured a twenty minute queue at the police station, to lodge a complaint, only to be told that the officer responsible for this type of complaint was on his lunch break, and that we would have to phone later and make an appointment.

I am a very impulsive person (actually, that's not true: I am a mostly level-headed person, but when something happens that makes me flip over to emotive mode, I'm gone, and it's virtually impossible for me to switch back to "nice reasonable person") and I fear that last night, had FH not physically restrained me, I would have gone and confronted those people myself.
I suppose FH was right to stop me.
But who exactly is going to defend us if the police don't care?
And is it possible to ignore the fact that this kind of thing is happening right under your nose?

If you've got this far, thanks for reading.
Unfortunately, there's no conclusion and no happy ending for the moment... Just the prospect of a battle to be fought and a furious, hormonal mother on the warpath...