The police chief in charge of controlling 130,000 Rangers at the 2008 Uefa Cup final talks effective policing

THERE are moments you do not forget, moments that shape your career, dwarfing all that came before and casting a shadow over everything that follows. For Justine Curran, the chief constable of Tayside Police, that moment came when she was in charge of policing 130,000 Rangers fans, many of whom ran riot through the streets of Manchester on the day of the Uefa Cup final in 2008.

As assistant chief constable at Greater Manchester Police, she already had a wealth of experience handling major events, but nothing could have prepared her for the tide of drunken violence that was about to descend on the city where she started her career.

"It was the most demanding day or my life, of my police career," she says. "I'd done a lot of large-scale events, a lot of football matches, I was very experienced. We had done as much as we could in terms of planning, but if that many people descend on one city, there is only so much you can do to try and ensure people are safe. When I look back it seems to be classic case-study material. We had beautifully sunny weather. We didn't know until a couple of weeks before which teams would be playing."

Widespread trouble flared after a big TV screen in the largest fan zone which was to show the game failed. The resulting violence saw groups of supporters clashing with police, with officers suffering dislocated shoulders, broken fingers, and bruising. In the ensuing chaos, individuals were even seen pulling others who had been arrested out of the back of police vans.

Curran says: "Even if we'd had every single one of our 8,000 officers on duty in Manchester that day, we would not have been able to control those 130,000 Rangers fans. Some officers faced a level of violence that was appalling."

She is of no doubt that alcohol fuelled the disorder. "I was walking the city during the afternoon – we were in full uniform – and people were coming up to us asking if we had a corkscrew. They drank the city dry. Gradually all the off-licences ran out of alcohol. So it was perhaps unsurprising the level of violence the officers faced. They were like a pack of wolves on one officer who had fallen over. I was watching from the control room – it was terribly hard to see that."

Those events helped shape her attitudes towards policing, which she brought with her when she became deputy chief constable of Tayside Police – a force with 1,234 officers responding to 200,000 incidents a year – in February 2009. Curran says: "You must always remember that you must always pay as much attention to detail as you possibly can if you are putting officers into difficult circumstances. And also that you have to give the public the best possible service."

It is the latter of those two lessons, which best defines her approach to the proposition of merging forces that currently dominates the debate on policing in Scotland. She admits to having been "stung" by media insinuations that chief officers – those of chief constable, deputy chief constables, and assistant chief constables – are being motivated by self interest, as many would lose their jobs if Scotland moved to a single force.

Curran refuses to back either a single force, a regional system of three or four, or the status quo of eight. However, she warns that centralisation will make it harder to maintain the quality of policing at community levels.

"For me, the jewel in the crown is the quality of our locally based neighbourhood policing," she says. "I'm not saying you can't do that in a bigger organisation, but it becomes harder. We need to have a debate about how we do that. The longer the line from the regional policing to the leadership, the harder it is to maintain that local leadership. How do we safeguard that? If communities are getting a great service, we don't want to change that."

Although it does not have the dense urban mixes of Edinburgh and Glasgow, or the rural extremes of the Highlands, Tayside's mix of a city, towns and countryside, as well as affluent and deprived areas, is a reflection of Scotland as a whole. Those in charge of the force have found a way of policing that mix – not to mention such events as T in the Park and the G8 at Gleneagles in 2005 – believe they have found a way of doing it successfully.

The latest survey found 71 per cent of the public thought local crime rates had either stayed the same or improved in 2009-10, up from 69 per cent in 2008-9. Whereas across Scotland, 67 per cent of adults felt safe walking through the streets after dark, that figure rose to 70 per cent in Tayside.

Public confidence in Tayside Police has risen across the board – 52 per cent now believe the police are good at preventing crime, 63 per cent said they were effective at solving crimes, and 61 per cent agreed their police were good at catching criminals.

Rather than support a specific number of forces, Curran argues that the debate should be about effective policing rather than structures, and she echoes David Strang, chief constable of Lothian and Borders, in suggesting some aspects of police work might benefit from a national set-up while others should be more localised. For example, she backs the idea that serious and organised crime, drugs and terrorism should be tackled by a national organisation. At the same time she is exploring merging firearms, road policing, legal services and training with neighbouring forces Lothian and Borders, Fife and Central Scotland. That collaboration work between the four forces could also be expanded to include special branch, professional standards, criminal justice and central ticket office.

Asked if that could help provide a blueprint for a regional structure, she replies: "It's got to be worth looking at."

She says the debate is complex. However, Scottish Labour has already backed a single force and the SNP's justice secretary Kenny MacAskill has privately told Pat Shearer, the chief constable of Dumfries and Galloway, that he also supports a Scottish force.

If the two biggest parties in Holyrood both support a single force it is hard to imagine any other eventuality, even after any changes in the Scottish elections on 5 May. "Ultimately, it's for the politicians to decide," she says. "What we, as professionals, should do is inform that debate to make sure it's as full as possible."

This brings us to a slightly sensitive subject. There are 28 chief officers in Scotland; under a single force as few as six may be required. And if restructuring is to save the money hoped for it will require shedding some of the biggest salaries.

So is it surprising if not all the turkeys are voting for Christmas? It does not have to be about money, chief officers to a man and woman have dedicated more than two decades, at least, to policing and done exceptionally well to rise as high as they have.

By their nature they are passionate about their work, and now the majority face being shown the door. With forces south of the Border facing financial pressures of their own, some successfully policing careers would undoubtedly be brought to an end with the creation of a single force.

When I raise this, Curran puffs her cheeks and then exhales slowly. "I don't know how it will happen," she says. "Scotland is lucky to have so many good people. But it's right to look at the managerial ranks rather than frontline officers on the streets.

"It's not about me. Do I worry I might end up without a job? Of course, but I'm paid to be professional. What would be positive would be if they look at running a process which selects the best (chief officers] they can get, that's what Scotland deserves."