Former soldiers fight the squatters

Properties in danger of raids by burglars and squatters have a new line of defence — a crack team of ex-squadies

A ramshackle terraced house stripped of its walls and electricity, gas and water may not seem much of a home — but after a tour of duty in Iraq, it’s practically a palace. That is what a private army of former servicemen, employed as property caretakers, is discovering as they are recruited to fend off squatters and burglars.

Vigilance Properties is a fast-growing business that provides former servicemen to guard homes in the landmark streets and squares of Central London. The developers and owners of million-pound properties are increasingly reluctant to leave them empty, even for days, while they await sale, new tenants or the completion of renovations.

The shortage of affordable homes has fuelled resentment at properties being left empty. But a spate of high-profile home occupations has also increased owner anxiety. Last year squatters reportedly inhabited a £12 million Chester Square property near Baroness Thatcher’s residence. The 80-room former Sudanese Embassy on Rutland Gate was thought to be occupied, as was David Blunkett’s government-owned £4.5 million former grace-and-favour home on South Eaton Place.

Christopher Hartley, 31, a former captain in the Grenadier Guards and the co-founder of Vigilance, says that the process of removing squatters through the courts typically takes three months or more, but a round-the-clock roster of conventional security guards can cost as much as £12,000 a month.

His clients, which include banks, local councils, corporations and the NHS, as well as wealthy homeowners, pay a quarter of that price and have requested protection for sites as diverse as homes, offices, warehouses and even vacant land. For most businesses, a night-time visit from heavies (an illegal solution, much whispered about in the property industry) is out of the question, so muscular prevention is required. “We take a military approach to keeping out burglars, squatters, whatever,” Hartley says.

Properties being targeted are not necessarily owned by the international super-rich. This year a family home undergoing renovation in Tottenham, one of North London’s poorest suburbs, was occupied. Andrew Barnes, of the developer Rigby & Rigby, a Vigilance client, says that the second homes of the wealthy have sophisticated alarms and, often, live-in staff, while those owned by “old money” are more vulnerable. “There are many property-rich, cash-poor owners who lack the resources to maintain them, but will not sell these homes because they view them as their children’s birthright. They have often never had a window lock and never known an alarm.”

Vigilance started two years ago when Hartley left the Army to find that “the credit crunch was at its height and the conventional route of the ex-army officer into banking was pretty much ruled out”. The company may appear to be a friend to the monied classes, but it has a secondary motive: Hartley visits charities and regimental associations to recruit former military personnel who are struggling to adjust to civilian life and are at risk of homelessness.

Hartley, who believes that there are 5,000 homeless ex-servicemen in the UK, acts as mentor, and the job as a caretaker provides accommodation and a springboard to finding work elsewhere. “We have helped 55 or 60 men this way,” he says — one is now retraining as an accountant. Some recruits have just finished tours in Iraq or Afghanistan, while others are still struggling to find their place in society decades after service in Northern Ireland or the Falklands. Michael Jamieson, 49, who has spent 11 months working for Vigilance, slept rough for seven years on the street, five of them selling the Big Issue, after leaving the Army more than two decades ago. Hartley says that his men are not security guards, but are caretakers briefed — and paid — to be a resident presence who can call the police in the event of a break-in.

Cost-effectiveness is key, but clients also find it “very reassuring” that the caretakers know their way around a combat zone, Hartley says.

Mark Loveday on the law’s attitude to squatters

“Squatting” is not a legal term and when property is taken over for a short period, the legal position is usually simple: the owner can obtain an eviction order.

However, the process can be dragged out by technicalities and end up taking time and treasure to sort out.

Under section 6 of the Criminal Law Act 1977 it is a criminal offence to use violence or a threat of violence to gain entry to a property if someone, such as a squatter, is present. But it is not a criminal offence to go in yourself, if you do it peacefully, or to break back in and change the locks if no one is there. That is why squatters lock doors and keep one person in at all times.

Different rules apply if squatters move into a house that is occupied. In that case, the householder can force a way in or the police can evict the squatters. However, the police can be reluctant to act.

Sometimes a squatter acquires ownership of a property by “adverse possession”. Until 2003, if a squatter could show that he or she had occupied land to the exclusion of the landlord for more than 12 years, he or she was able to apply to the Land Registry to be registered as the owner.

The law was changed by the Land Registration Act 2002. The qualifying period to acquire title is now ten years but the process virtually rules that out. If a squatter claims ownership, the Land Registry now has to notify the registered owner, who can object. Unsurprisingly, the landowner always objects and the claim is usually thrown out. There are exceptions: the old rules still apply to unregistered land (some mainly rural areas) and to squatters who have already accumulated 12 years’ occupation before October 13, 2003.