Words: Kurt Bayer
Editor: David Rowe
Design: Paul Slater
Cover illustration: Rod Emmerson
Video: Ella Wilks
Motion graphic: Phil Welch
Additional reporting: Anna Leask, Claire Trevett

Click here to read:
Chapter One
Chapter Two

Dawn breaks over a grey Garden City. Moody clouds touch the CBD’s few remaining tall buildings. Ordinarily, coffee-clutching parents would be rushing kids to Saturday-morning sport or jogging the trodden trails of Hagley Park. But it’s eerily quiet. Any sounds travel far. Crumpled homeless people stir. In South Hagley Park, and near the city’s hospital, more figures emerge in the gloom. They huddle in tight groups, in black abayas, tan and white dish dashes, and puffer jackets, streaming down the treeline, among the oaks and plane trees, from a makeshift crisis centre at Hagley College to the hospital. Halal food and snacks are ferried in with hugs and consolations. Just as the dark skies suggest rain at any time, the rustled inhabitants fear bursting into tears again.

It’s been a long night. Many haven’t slept, and some still don’t know if their loved ones who had been inside either Al Noor Mosque or the Linwood masjid are alive or dead. Almost 50 gunshot victims had been admitted to hospital the previous afternoon. A full list of the dead and injured is still being prepared. The majority of victims are migrants or refugees from Pakistan, India, Indonesia, Malaysia, Turkey, Somalia, Afghanistan, Bangladesh and the Middle East.

At the crisis centre, John Milne speaks through tears of his "brave little soldier" - 14-year-old boy Sayyad gunned down at Al Noor. "I know where he is, I know he's at peace."

In Islam, dead or alive, the human body – created by God in the perfect shape – must be given dignity and respect. In the Qur’an, where Cain was unsure how to deal with the body of his brother Abel, who he had just murdered, God sent a message in the form of a raven. The bird dug into the ground to bury a fellow raven, showing Cain the path he must take.

The burial of the dead is a collective obligation on the Muslim community. Failure to do so is to bring guilt and shame on the community as a whole. The Prophet Muhammad suggested that it’s preferable for the dead to be buried quickly. Most agree it should be done within 24 hours. But with the biggest criminal investigation in New Zealand’s history now underway, that was looking unlikely.

While armed police patrolled wide cordons around both murder scenes, and handfuls of heartbroken Cantabrians started making pilgrimages to the sites to lay flowers and offer condolences and sympathies – starting what would become an unprecedented national outpouring of grief and a solidarity not seen since World War II – many dead bodies still lay inside. Hearses would come and go all day while specialist police and forensic investigators pieced together the carnage.

Meanwhile, Naveed Shahid was on a plane from Sydney. He still had no news on his younger brother Suhail. Late the previous night, he’d spoken to one of his brother’s neighbours who’d been shot in the neck. He’d been patched up and discharged from hospital. He hadn’t seen Suhail, 36, at the hospital. He would ask around too.

The three-hour transtasman flight seemingly took forever. Naveed dreads to think how Suhail’s wife Asma was getting on. He needed to be there. Unable to sleep or concentrate on any in-flight entertainment, 40-year-old Naveed thought of his brother. He'd had a well-paid job at ICI Pakistan Limited (Imperial Chemical Industries), his own house and car and "everything you could dream of growing up in Pakistan". But in 2017, he made the decision to up sticks and move his family from Lahore to Auckland. Suhail wanted to give them every opportunity he possibly could to get ahead in life.

"He saw New Zealand as a secure, safe environment with better education for his children. This was his basic objective," Naveed says.

At first, they lived in Auckland, where Suhail got a job at Watercare. But they moved to Christchurch in 2018 after getting a position at resin manufacturer Hexion in Hornby as production manager. Life was good.

"He was a brilliant man, very professional," says Naveed, a trained chemical engineer like his brother.

“Suhail was very loving and caring, especially with his two daughters. He was humble and honest - a man of his word."

Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern’s day began with a telephone conversation with US President Donald Trump. A stunned world – shocked that peaceful little New Zealand, at the bottom of the globe – had been sending condolences through the night, including Queen Elizabeth II who was “deeply saddened by the appalling events in Christchurch”. Her son Prince Charles called the shootings an “appalling atrocity” and “an insult on all of us who cherish freedom”.

After the Trump call, Ardern attended an 8am briefing. It was led by Brook Barrington, head of the Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet, and included Police Commissioner Mike Bush, SIS head Rebecca Kitteridge, Civil Defence director Sarah Stuart-Black and Director-General of Health Ashley Bloomfield. Each spoke on their area of responsibility. Bush updated on the arrests and investigations, while Bloomfield gave death and injury numbers, as well as how Christchurch Hospital was coping. New Zealand’s national security threat level was lifted from low to high for the first time in the country's history.

The night before, Ardern started asking police top brass about firearms, and first raised the prospect of gun law reforms. Police Minister Stuart Nash had handed her a copy of the most recent report that police had prepared on the Arms Act, its loopholes and gaps. It dated back to November last year.

At the 8am briefing, Ardern told officials she intended to pursue the gun reforms and to start work on them. She also ordered them to report to Cabinet on Monday on the gunman’s actions with a range of potential changes in mind – firearms, border control, information sharing with Australia, and the watch list processes.

Then, at 9.30am – with the death toll at 49 – Ardern spoke to the media again. With some anger in her voice, she highlighted how gun reform had failed in the past.

"I can tell you right now, our gun laws will change. Now is the time for change,” she said, before jetting to Christchurch, about the time the alleged gunman was due to appear in court.

By late afternoon, family members and friends had gathered at Christchurch Hospital for a briefing with police and other officials. Many had spent most of the last day at the hospital, occasionally meeting up at a downstairs café inside, trying to swap tidbits of information, piecing together what had happened. There were around 10 people still unaccounted for – unknown if they were dead or alive. Tensions were simmering. The families were told by hospital officials that a list of deceased and a separate list of injured victims still being treated would be made available. Others were desperate to bury their dead but identification was required for many still. The police process was ongoing.

Some family members wanted their imam to identify all of the bodies because they knew who they all were. They were told a criminal process had to be followed by the book.

When the list of people being treated at either Christchurch Hospital or Burwood Hospital across town was read out, it wasn’t clear what it meant if names weren’t on that list. Were they to be assumed dead? Some people who’d fled the shooting had gone into hiding and were only now resurfacing.

The meeting gave no answers to Suhail Shahid’s family. He wasn't on a list of the injured. It would be another day before his name was read out on a preliminary list of the dead. Suhail's name was halfway down page two.

"Then I knew my brother was no longer in this world," Naveed says.

Meanwhile, emotions were high at the temporary crisis centre. One Muslim described the scenes there as “incredibly jumpy”. Strangers were given hard stares. Some of the younger ones started finding posts online from local racists and white supremacists. Some of it was historical, others were reacting to the alleged shooter’s livestream video. Several sources have spoken of the anger in the room and some grieving elements wanting retribution.

“It threatened to spill over,” one local Muslim man said later. “They were hurting and angry and wanted to bury their dead but were told it was out of their hands. People tried to calm them down, saying we all needed to stick together. The perpetrator of this attack wanted to divide us, he wanted this. And some of the younger ones, they were close to breaking. They were going to take it to the streets.”

End of Chapter Three
Tomorrow, Chapter Four:
THE FALLOUT

Where to get help
If you or someone else is in danger, call 111. If you need to talk, these free helplines operate 24/7

Depression helpline: 0800 111 757
Lifeline: 0800 543 354
Need to talk? Call or text 1737
Samaritans: 0800 726 666
Youthline: 0800 376 633 or text 234