Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, commonly known as the former Duke of York, spent his 66th birthday in police custody, a stark contrast to the grandeur of his usual residence, the Grade II-listed Royal Lodge. The opulent 30-room mansion in Windsor Great Park, with its attending staff and potential birthday celebrations, felt a world away as the heavy police cell door clinked shut behind him. Instead, he faced the far less ostentatious reality of a police cell, marking his latest orbit around the sun without even a small gesture like a birthday cake.

His ordeal began shortly after 8 am when police descended on Wood Farm in Sandringham, Norfolk, where he had been living for the past fortnight. He was arrested on suspicion of misconduct in public office. Unmarked police vehicles were later seen exiting the gates of Royal Lodge after carrying out searches at both properties linked to him. Although he has since been released, the initial experience involved being driven to an unspecified location for questioning, with the clock starting the moment he arrived at the police station.

Upon arrival, Andrew was brought before the custody sergeant. The arresting officer explained the reason for his arrest – suspicion of misconduct in public office – and stated the time and location. He was then asked if he understood the reason for his arrest and was read his rights, which included the right to a solicitor, free legal advice, and to have somebody informed of his arrest, typically a next-of-kin. Given his public profile, it was unlikely anyone remained unaware of his temporary incarceration.

Andrew was entitled to speak with a duty solicitor if he couldn't summon his own counsel. Following this, he underwent a thorough search and a medical and welfare assessment. Unlike a private consultation with a Harley Street professional, the police station assessment was rudimentary, involving questions about medication, physical problems, and mental health issues posed by the custody officer. During the search, items like belts, ties, and shoelaces were confiscated for his and the staff's protection, a standard procedure even if no risk is immediately apparent. Due to the nature of the offence, a strip search was deemed unlikely, and he would not have been required to change into a paper suit as forensic evidence was not needed.

Refreshments offered were far from a lavish affair. Royal biographer Andrew Lownie once noted Andrew's 40th birthday bash in 2000, which cost £30,000 and featured video messages from Elton John and canapés served around model ships. In custody, the fare was decidedly less grand: a plastic cup of water or builder's tea, followed by microwaved food in his cell. Although suspects have the option to have food brought in from outside, this is subject to the custody sergeant's approval.

The cell itself was bare. It contained only a bench, about knee-high, with a three-inch-thick vinyl-covered mattress, and a blue blanket for warmth. A toilet, obscured by a half-height wall offering only a modicum of privacy, was also present, though modern custody suites often feature CCTV. The heavy cell door, known for its loud bang when shut, reinforced the solitude. As a retired Met Police sergeant, Graham Wettone, author of 'How To Be A Police Officer', described it, “It's a lonely experience. It's quite levelling, because the door slams and you're in there on your own, four walls to look at. There's no entertainment or anything. You haven't got your phone with you. You've normally got nothing to read apart from the Codes of Practice if you want something to read.”

This solitude was broken when Andrew was summoned for an interview. He had the opportunity for a consultation with his lawyer, after which investigating officers joined them. Most new suites are equipped with cameras, meaning the interview would have been recorded digitally. Andrew would have been cautioned and asked to introduce himself for the recording. Defendants have various options during interrogation: offering no comment, cooperating fully, or providing a prepared statement outlining their position. After the interview concluded, Andrew would have returned to his cell for the remainder of his time in custody. A suspect is then either charged, released on bail, or released with no further action. Upon release, it is routine for individuals to make their own way home, as police do not provide a taxi service.

Despite it being his birthday, there was no special recognition from those encountering Andrew in custody. As Mr. Wettone noted, “Not at all – no cake, no card. There might be a passing recognition on booking in when asked for his date of birth. But I doubt though this was a time for levity or humour.” The experience served as a stark and humbling reminder of standard police procedure, devoid of any royal privilege.