It was a sunny Friday in August when Rachel Williams arrived at the hair salon where she worked in Newport, Wales. As she was shuffling clients around, she remembers “looking at the shop door or window and thinking something was obscuring the sunlight”. She quickly recognised her ex-husband Darren’s 6ft 7in frame, and instinctively ran towards him as he pulled a sawn-off shotgun out of his black duffel bag.
She fought him for the gun and was soon on the floor beside a woman in her 90s called Connie, who was shouting: “Go on, get out of here, get out of here.” (“She was in the war, so made of steel.”) Rachel tried to pull a table across herself for protection but Darren kicked it away. Instead, she rolled into the foetal position, pulling her knees up under her chin. “He stood four feet away from me, told me he loved me, and pulled the trigger. My left leg took the first shot and I can remember it wasn’t a pain, it was a force.”
