Hands up, to hands held, Amen –
Dec. 18, 2020 – “There was no sun, it was a dull dark day, I knew his routine, everything about him,” he says. “He was another drug dealer, just like me.”
Mick was a well-established underworld fixer in the North West of England. He was the man others would ring to clear drug debts, and by the time he got the call it meant someone was heavily in debt to equally dangerous people. They were about to get hurt, and badly.
“My gun was in a plastic carrier bag, on the passenger seat, wrapped tight. You could see the shape of the gun, no DNA or prints would be left behind. Six bullets, spring loaded, it never fails.”
He didn’t have to wait long.
“I watched him walk out of the gym. But this time was different. He had two kids with him, two young children, blonde girls, around five years old.
“I got out of the car, and walked, my hand reaching into the plastic. But then I looked again at the children, again at their faces, their blonde hair, innocent kids.
“Then it happened.”
Mick describes in detail seeing a blinding light coming from one of the children’s hands.
“It was white, brilliant white. For 15 seconds I couldn’t see,” he says. “It was like looking into the sun and I was paralysed by it.”
Mick doesn’t know what really happened to him that day, but one thing he is certain of – this was the moment that changed his life forever.
“I collapsed, then struggled back to the car. I felt sick, I was shaking, sweating, heart beating fast. I could hear my pulse as if it was in my head. I didn’t know what was happening to me.”
