My son, Martyn Hett, was one of 22 people murdered in the Manchester Arena terrorist attack on 22 May 2017. That day, my whole world came crashing down. I knew instantly that life as it was before had changed completely and forever.
At the time, I was a busy psychotherapist with my own private practice. Family life was also quite hectic with five children, four grandchildren and a house to run. Life was frantic at times, but good – until the day of the attack, when numbness, shock and disbelief took over.
Three days after the bombing, I saw the face of Martyn’s murderer for the first time. I was shocked at his young age. Salman Abedi was 22 years old; just seven years younger than Martyn. Over the next couple of weeks, I reflected a lot on what happened on that fateful day and why. Four weeks after the attack, I decided to go on national TV to publicly forgive the terrorist.
I was never angry with Abedi, the young man, the terrorist, the foolish boy who allowed his soul to be hijacked by the devil
People called me deluded, mad or superficial, but I knew exactly what I was doing. The
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