Nick Gazzard remembers only flashes of the day that he lost his daughter Hollie. He remembers two police officers arriving at his home in Gloucester and telling him that Hollie had been stabbed at the hairdressing salon where she worked. He remembers that the consultant at the Gloucestershire Royal hospital was shaking when he told Gazzard, his wife and their older daughter that they had been unable to save her, and that Hollie was dead.
The family weren’t allowed to see Hollie that day – her body was a crime scene now. Later, he remembers being driven by police, along with his wife and dog, in an armed convoy of three vehicles to his mother-in-law’s house in the Cotswolds because Hollie’s killer was still on the run, and police judged their home unsafe, believing Gazzard might also be a target. The car was virtually silent as it weaved through country lanes, and there was one clear thought in Gazzard’s head: “Am I in a movie? Is any of this real?”
