Shot at by neighbour

He shot at me as I tried to get my rabbit

Tucking my daughter Nina, then 6, into bed, I tried to ignore the racket. But the loud banging on the walls and shouting from next door wasn’t letting up.

‘Is the monster coming to get us, Mummy?’ Nina asked me, terrified. In a way... The monster she was referring to was our neighbour Paul Booth.

He’d bang on the walls at night, scream vile abuse.

Our dispute had begun in 2004 after Nina’s dad moved out.

Now I was a single mum, and as my family lived in Yorkshire, they’d often visit and stay for a few days. But Paul and his parents moaned about the extra cars on the street. ‘They’re cluttering up the place,’ Paul’s dad would moan. And if someone parked their car near to Paul’s home, he’d go mad. ‘How do you put up with it?’ my mum Anne, 75, said. ‘What choice do I have?’ I replied, frustrated. Of course, I wanted to keep the peace. But then Paul began calling me awful names. And, whenever my cats walked across his fences, he’d make threats to kill them – he was a keen gun-club member, owned many firearms.

‘Please don’t let him, Mummy,’ Nina would plead, terrified.

Most nights, Paul would hammer on the walls for hours, chanting disgusting insults.

I reported him to the police, but my complaints were brushed off as noise pollution.

Years passed, and things got worse. Shortly after Nina turned 16 in 2014, I began dating Richard, now 54 and opened up to him about Paul Booth.

‘I’m so sorry you’ve had to cope with all that,’ he said.

Then, in March this year – as I cleaned Nina’s bedroom – I saw Paul in his garden – cleaning, loading and aiming a firearm. It made my blood run cold. Don’t ask me why, but for some reason I felt I needed to take a photo of him.

‘Just proof of what he’s up to,’ I told Richard.

Two weeks later, I was washing the dishes when Nina came crashing down the stairs.

‘Mum, the rabbit’s escaped into Paul’s garden!’ she wailed frantically.

Oreo, Nina’s beloved lionhead rabbit, was forever escaping. But he’d never made it into Paul’s before.

And I remembered Paul’s sickening warning about how he’d shoot the cats…

In a panic, I dashed to Paul’s,

He’d bang on the walls at night, scream vile abuse

hammered on his front door.

When there was no answer, I ran around the back, hoping his garden gate would be open. But it was locked. My only option was to sneak through a gap in the fence.

‘Be careful!’ Nina squeaked, as she and Richard stood guard.

As I frantically chased Oreo around Paul’s garden, I felt a presence behind me.

‘What the f*ck are you doing?’ Paul’s voice demanded coldly.

‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled, ‘Let me just get the rabbit and I’ll be out of your way.’

‘If you don’t leave now, I’ll get a firearm,’ he spat. ‘Calm down, Paul,’ I reasoned. I heard his conservatory door slam, assumed he’d accepted my explanation. But, moments later, there was a loud bang.

Something whizzed with almighty speed past my head.

‘I’m calling the police!’ I heard Richard shout.

Shaking, I turned to find Paul facing me, clutching a gun. My blood ran cold. ‘You won’t get away with this,’ I trembled, crawling back towards the safety of home. I had to leave Oreo but, thankfully, she eventually followed me back.

I told the police what Paul had done – and showed them the photo I’d taken of him with his gun.

Two weeks on, he was arrested. Officers confirmed the canister he’d fired belonged to the same gun I’d snapped him with weeks earlier.

I’d been right to follow my gut instincts, take that photo.

This August, at Manchester Magistrates Court, Paul Booth, 52, admitted threatening behaviour.

Turns out the gun was an air pistol, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying. And he claimed he didn’t aim at me, but it sure felt that way.

Paul Booth got 10 weeks imprisonment, suspended for 12 months, was also ordered to pay £250 in prosecution costs, a £115 victim surcharge and £100 in compensation.

I was disappointed he didn’t get a tougher sentence. After the years of hell he put me through, it didn’t seem enough.

Paul still lives next door, but I’m desperate to move.

They say neighbours can become good friends...

Obviously they’ve never met Paul Booth.

I’d been right to follow my instincts, take that photo