WILSON NEATE / BEYOND WORDS
I
I was doing my best not to attract attention.
I tried to find a time when there were definitely no youngsters about.
I waited until it was quiet, less busy.
I had to do it somewhere privately. With no one around, I mean.
It’s not really the sort of thing you’d want to do in front of everybody, for show.
I definitely couldn’t do it if there was kids about.
*
The chance of it not turning out as you’d want or expect was a bit off-putting.
I was trying to appear normal, to make it look like I had some purpose.
I was afraid of being stopped and arrested again, so I made myself look as normal as possible.
I tried to make it seem like I had a reason to be there, so no one would stop me, when actually I was there to do it.
*
I wanted to do something right for once.
I wanted to create a narrative, something that was special. Meaningful to me.
I definitely wanted to make a spectacle of it, to make it theatrical, so I created a playlist, a sort of accompaniment to it. I had lots of mostly classical music. Beethoven and Puccini. Theatrical, dramatic, you might say.
*
Since I was a kid, I’d always wanted to work in that field. I applied for lots of jobs, but they wouldn’t take me, so it I felt like it would be like a big fuck you to them for passing me over.
I’ve experienced delays caused by other people doing this, so there was definitely an element of grudge involved.
*
I thought about it and made the choice on the basis of five criteria: 1. access to the means of doing it 2. accessibility of location 3. likelihood of success 4. duration and intensity of pain 5. I didn’t want my wife to find me.
The speed and the violence is quite attractive to me. I think that’s one thing that you hope it can provide.
You know, the idea of physically destroying myself was appealing. In a way, it seemed it would be quite cathartic.
The idea that I wouldn’t feel nothing, and that nobody would be able to find what was me, would help people get over the fact that I wasn’t coming back. That was what I thought.
To me the isolation and the anonymity were positive factors; the idea that no one else would be involved.
*
I’ve had this happen to me three times as a driver. It really pisses me off. Why drag others down with you in your misery?
When I did it, I felt guilty that all these people coming home tired after a day at work was going to be late and they wasn’t going to see their families and people would be disrupted.
I have to confess, I felt resentment: why are you involving me? What have I done to be involved in your problems?
Ultimately, I just couldn’t go through with it because I felt as if I was making somebody else complicit.
*
He was looking straight at me.
The involvement of eye contact makes the treatment of patients more difficult.
He was waving and smiling at me.
He just came out in front of me.
He wouldn’t move. He just wouldn’t move.
Eye contact can have the effect of making patients believe they were chosen by the victim.
If treatment goes well, the imagery will eventually fade, but it won’t ever disappear completely.
*
If they act the fucking fool and stand up, it’s terrible.
I only saw him for two or three seconds.
At first, I thought it was a bin liner.
You’re trained to look down and cover your ears. But that doesn’t work. It’s impossible.
What was left of him landed on my windshield. My immediate reaction was to switch on the wipers. You have to be pragmatic in situations like that.
*
Travelling at a speed of 120 kilometres per hour, it takes 600 metres to come to a complete stop.
600 metres translates to 18 endless seconds.
It’s certain to work because when they’re coming at you really fast, you know they won’t be able to stop.
It’s a helpless feeling, sitting there in the cab, waiting for it to come to a halt.
*
A mother and her kid came and stood by me on the platform. The kid would have been about seven. I thought, the kid doesn’t need to see this. So that stopped me.
I heard a baby screaming on the platform, that’s what stopped me.
*
I killed two boys, a three-year-old and a six-year-old.
They were playing on the tracks.
They froze.
It felt like a hundred seconds before we came to a standstill.
The driver followed procedure and went back to look for them.
He located both boys with catastrophic injuries.
The older one asked me if I had a plaster for his brother. God knows why, but I went back to the cabin to get my first-aid kit.
When I got back, they were trying to run away, with these terrible injuries, because they thought they were in trouble.
II
We heard it and got down on the floor straight away.
I was too scared to look out of the window. When I did, I couldn’t understand.
We threw down blankets and pillows from the window. Everyone in the building was doing that.
I threw some bottles of water. Plastic bottles.
My brother went down there.
*
There were maybe about ten people down there.
It was a fine day, really clear. The view was spectacular.
We’d just stopped for lunch. We got back in the car and I was driving when she said she’d seen something.
We pulled over. We left the car and we started running down. There were other people who had seen it. We were all running down there.
*
I was too stunned to move.
People were running. They dropped everything and ran. Shoes, bags, coats. Everything.
They were all running in different directions. Trampling on each other.
The people didn’t know which way to run.
*
I was on the road coming home from work, and I stopped for a smoke. I always do that. I was on the phone, talking to my wife. That’s when I saw it.
We started shouting to them, but they couldn’t hear us. They were too far away. It was pointless.
I told her to call the police. I ran down there, shouting to them.
There was a group of about 12 people when we got here. They were very distraught.
*
The director of emergency services testified that he didn’t know what to do first, because of the sheer scale of it.
A few of us put on latex gloves that we got from a paramedic and did what we could. We tried to help the least injured and just did what we could for the rest.
They opened up a nearby sports centre. Lots of them were just lying there on the floor. The floor was blue. Most of them were unconscious.
It was easy to see who was dead. We just covered them with anything we could find. Coats, scarves, towels, newspapers. Anything.
*
When I got there, his friend was in shock and he was being given oxygen.
We always knew about the risk but we didn’t think it could happen. You just don’t think that.
I heard people saying they would never come back there.
*
We started putting them in cars. I can only describe them as statues. It was impossible to get them to respond.
The police cleared the roads ahead of us, all the way. I’ve never driven so fast.
Many of the patients there showed incredible generosity, discharging themselves in order to free up beds.
*
There was a black shape.
I caught sight of it, and I can still see it now. That image will never leave me.
It was so close. I could have reached out and touched it with my hands. I knew I was going to die.
When it happened, it was like an explosion, and I knew immediately what had happened.
*
Human beings could not have done this.
These were working people.
This cannot be anything to do with politics. This is horror.
It was cut open like a can of tuna.
I saw lots of things in the air.
It was blown through our next-door neighbour's window.
I could see all these holes.
They found it on the roof of the building opposite ours.
The recovery was extremely difficult. We just didn’t know what to pick up. I’ve never seen anything like it.
*
I heard him calling out to his brother. His brother couldn’t do anything. There was a man who tried, though.
He was taken twice. The first time, we couldn’t see any blood. When he was taken for the second time, there was blood.
*
It’s a cliché, I know, but it was Dantesque.
You don’t know what it’s like to see people on fire, missing limbs.
Young people. Children.
I saw legs and arms. I won't forget this.
We tried to help them.
Some of the people were still in their seats. They were just carbonised in their seats.
I won't forget this.
*
I tried twice. He was screaming. By the time I got there, half of him had been taken. But I couldn’t reach him. I had another go, but he took the rest of him.
I tried. I just thought about his family and if he had kids. I gave it everything I had.
It was as if the water was boiling.
When it turned from turquoise to red, I was still on the phone to my wife.
*
One woman was lying there naked. Her clothes had been blown off. Or burned off. I don’t know. She was all black and she was obviously dead. There was a young girl lying near her. I thought she was dead too, but she moved her arm.
We rang his cell phone at 8:30 and a policeman answered.
Groups of people were wandering the streets seeking news.
We saw an elderly man. He said he was looking for members of his family. He said he couldn’t see their names on any of the lists, that he didn’t know where to look or who to ask.
I didn’t know what had happened. I was stunned. I couldn’t see or hear. I felt my arms and legs to make sure they were still there.
He was physically unhurt but over the next few weeks realised something was wrong when he found himself repeatedly getting up in the middle of the night to make sure that his three-year-old son was still in one piece.
*
He was offered treatment at the scene, but he declined. He waited for his father and was comforted by friends.
It’s something I never thought I’d witness. It’s a terrible thing to witness. It’s an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
I’ve been trying to get it out of my head, but I don’t think I’ll be able to.
We saw the father and son sitting with a body bag. They were waiting for a police photographer. What could we to say to them?
*
We formed a human chain and we started passing the bodies along, over our heads, to each other. It seemed like hours. No one said a word. As we were passing the bodies, the only sound was all the cell phones ringing in their pockets.
What I remember most was the silence and the phones.
As they were unloading them and bringing them in, all we could hear was cell phones.
There was a terrible silence punctuated only by the sound of cell phones ringing.
III
We could hear the screaming before we saw her.
People were running up the street in front of her. Away from her.
It was only as we were about to go into the subway station that we saw the woman running straight toward us on the sidewalk.
*
It’s difficult to remember exactly. It began with the man screaming. There was even some nervous laughter bordering on hysteria. To be honest, that’s what it sounded like to me.
We just thought he was some idiot. Just messing around, really.
But he started calling out for help.
*
She was screaming.
She was running fast, but I noticed that she had a large birthmark on her left cheek.
She was waving a handbag at everybody.
She had blood on her shoes and her skirt.
She was so close to me that I could have reached out and touched her.
*
I saw it happen.
I knew right away.
They just kept coming at him time and time again.
It seemed to go on and on.
It just ended up in a terrible frenzy.
*
She pulled it out of a bag.
She was screaming and she was waving something in her right hand. I don’t know why, but I thought that it was a wig. She was waving this.
It was as if she was drawing wild shapes in the air with it. As she passed us, I could see that it wasn’t a wig.
*
There was a particular woman who tried to help him. But it was so bad that there was nothing that could be done.
I remember two people who were very brave. They deserve national recognition.
It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. There was so much confusion. It was impossible to tell what was happening.
There was a woman who held an umbrella to keep the sun off him. She gave him some water. I think she was speaking to him. I did not hear him talk.
*
We saw her near the subway station. People on the street were running from her. There was panic.
She was going into the shops and screaming. Running in and out.
I saw her run into the café. They say she was screaming something like “It is all of you.”
CCTV footage we’ve obtained exclusively from the café shows the terrifying moment the woman entered.
*
He was in total shock.
He was not focussing and his eyes were glazed over.
I didn’t want to get too close. I thought I saw a saline drip. Some tubes.
A lady, who might have been a doctor, brought a huge yellow umbrella to protect him from the sun. I remember thinking that this gesture seemed pointless, ridiculous even. But at the same time, it was a gesture full of humanity.
*
Some people told us that they saw her earlier in the day, going into shops and screaming and waving it.
Some people also said they thought it was fake. But everyone was frightened and no one tried to stop her.
I heard her shouting “I am your death.”
I ran, but I felt such shock that I had to stop and smoke a cigarette, just to try to get my breath back.
*
He was sickeningly pale.
We were trying to keep any children from witnessing what was going on. This was all we could do, really.
I and four other people carried him and placed him in the back of a pick-up truck. I could see the bone of his thigh.
I could see that he had almost no stomach. I went to the restaurant and asked to call for help.
*
No one tried to stop her.
The security guard at the clothing store ran away.
There were two policemen, but they ran away also.
The policemen only jumped on her when she started to set herself on fire.
*
We saw that a man was doing chest compressions. He did this for about fifteen minutes. Then he just stopped.
There was no proper equipment, and I couldn’t revive his heart. Despite all my best efforts.
My family and I are deeply shocked. This is something we will never forget, for as long as we live. And please remember, I am saying this as a surgeon.
I held the man’s hand and stayed with him.
Wilson Neate is the author of Pink Flag (Bloomsbury), Read & Burn (Jawbone), and Tolerating Ambiguity (Peter Lang) and has contributed to the books Vagabond Holes (Fremantle Press) and A Life of Reilly (Burning Shed). His interviews, profiles, and reviews covering literature, music, and film have appeared in magazines including Publishers Weekly (Críticas), The Quietus, Blurt, Amplifier and PopMatters. He has creative nonfiction in Faultline Journal of Arts and Letters and fiction in The Brussels Review. He lives in California.