Knife terror: But who was behind the mask?
Masked robbers left me traumatised. Would anything stop the nightmares?
Stacking the last of the shelves, I glanced at the clock.
It was nearly 8pm one evening in October 2017, and almost the end of my shift.
I was the manager at a local newsagent’s and I loved my job.
I knew all of the regulars by name, and I liked seeing the same kids coming in for treats after school.
Then there were the stay-at-home mums, the little old ladies and the workmen who popped in.
The job wasn’t exciting, but my little newsagent’s felt like the heart of the town.
That night, I’d just finished cashing up the takings and putting the money in the safe.
Pulling out my phone, I texted my hubby Steve, 50. Pick me up just after 8?
He replied, Sure thing! See you soon. I’d just grabbed the broom for a final sweep round when I heard the shop door open... Typical! I thought, feeling a blast of cold air swoosh around my ankles. Moving back behind the till, I expected to see a familiar face. Instead, three masked figures stood in front of me. As I took in the skull, Guy Fawkes and balaclava masks, my blood ran cold. I couldn’t see their faces, just cold, dark eyes staring out. ‘Open the till,’ the one closest to me spat. Frozen with fear, I couldn’t move or speak. Then he pulled out a knife. ‘I said open the till!’ he hissed at me. ‘I can’t,’ I stuttered, lying – although the till was empty, and I was scared, I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
Suddenly, the thug was jumping over the counter.
And, as he tried to force the till, the clinking of the knife on the metal made me choke back a sob.
The knife was real, alright.
I backed away, wanting to put as much distance as possible between me and it.
But one of the other lads stopped me. He pulled out a knife, too...
I was so scared. By now, the blood was whooshing in my ears.
I wanted to shut my eyes, too afraid to see what would happen next, but terror kept them wide open.
The horrible, menacing grin of the Guy Fawkes mask
I couldn’t see their faces, just cold, dark eyes staring out
seemed to be leering at me.
After a few minutes, the ringleader let out an exasperated huff. There was no getting in that till.
Instead, he turned to the cigarettes behind him.
Grabbing a few packets, he tossed them to his mates.
Then the three of them bolted from the shop. And so did I. Screaming in the street, I begged a passer-by for help. Police car sirens were soon sounding nearby.
The officers arrived at the same time as Steve.
‘What happened?’ my hubby cried, concerned.
I told him – and the police officers – everything.
About the three hooded men. The failed robbery…
And, as I did, I started to feel sick, dizzy.
I suffered from Addison’s disease, a rare disorder of the adrenal glands.
Once triggered, my body doesn’t know how to produce adrenaline.
After the events that had just unfolded in my shop, I was in adrenal crisis.
Paramedics arrived and administered medication, but I felt shaky and weak.
I was taken off to hospital for treatment.
Later, as I lay in bed, masked faces danced in front of my eyes.
And, when I finally fell asleep, they haunted my dreams.
The next morning, I was too scared to go to work.
‘What if I bump into them?’ I sobbed to Steve.
‘I doubt they’d be stupid enough to come back,’ he soothed.
He was probably right, but I couldn’t face it.
So I stayed indoors, the robbery playing over and over, like a horror film. Then… Police made a breakthrough, matching DNA on an abandoned rucksack stuffed with masks, knives and cigarettes. Soon, three people were arrested. Or, should I say ‘kids’..? Two 17-year-olds and their 16-year-old mate.
None could be identified publicly for legal reasons. My head spun. The monsters behind the masks were just teenagers.
It seemed beyond belief that three children had turned my life upside down.
But not only had they put me through a terrible ordeal, they’d ruined their own lives too. Risking their futures on a few packets of cigarettes. I felt angry and sad for them all at once. But knowing that it was three young lads who were responsible didn’t make things easier. I struggled at work, jumping at the slightest sound. I couldn’t work after dark, or be alone in the shop. So a month after my ordeal, I quit. In September 2018, I went to court to see all three lads plead guilty to robbery. Two of them also admitted possessing a bladed article. For the first time, I got a good look at their faces.
Without their masks, they didn’t look menacing or even thuggish.
Barely any stubble on their spotty chins, they looked like they should be doing a paper round, not getting criminal records.
Judge Andrew Easteal forced them to watch CCTV footage of their crime.
I expected them to be let off with a slap on the wrist, but the judge had different ideas…
Ryan Hughes-morris, now 18 and able to be named, and one of the younger lads were sentenced to two years, four months in a young offender institution.
The other boy got two years, eight months. Then… ‘Gentlemen, please stand and look at Mrs Shaw,’ instructed Judge Easteal.
All three did as they were told. Then the judge turned to me. ‘Three immature young men, not monsters behind masks, Mrs Shaw. I hope that helps,’ he said.
The three lads said sorry, then were led away.
Afterwards, I had counselling and it helped a bit.
Now, I work miles away, in an office.
I miss lots of things about my old job, my old life. Don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.
I can only hope those stupid boys have learnt their lesson.