‘They’ve taken away my husband but I won’t allow myself to hate’
tel car park. He was one of 38 innocent victims of the massacre – 30 of them British tourists – as a gunman rampaged through the hotel and its surrounding beach.
Over the past seven weeks, the details of their deaths have been disclosed during the inquests at the Royal Courts of Justice. On Tuesday, Judge Nicholas Loraine-Smith, sitting as coroner, ruled that the British victims of the attack had been killed unlawfully.
Families of the victims, including Cheryl Stollery, are now launching legal action against Britain’s biggest tour operator TUI, which owns the Thomson and First Choice brands, for not adequately warning them of the dangers that lay in wait. This week, TUI expressed its “deepest sympathy” to the victims. Yesterday, sitting in the living room of her Nottinghamshire village home, Mrs Stollery called that apology: “too little, too late”.
Speaking in her first national newspaper interview, she insists she has been motivated to launch the legal claim in memory of her husband, whose ashes she still cannot bring herself to part with. As well as forcing travel agents to divulge clearer information to tourists, she wants the legacy of his death to broaden inquests’ legal powers.
“John was a fighter and did things for the right reason,” she says. “I truly be- that pursuing this civil action can bring about changes to protect other people.”
Cheryl and John Stollery married at Newark Registry Office in 1987. As well as being dedicated social workers, they both shared a passion for travel.
During the Eighties they had visited Tunisia several times. They had also been on trips together to Egypt, Morocco, Cuba and the Dominican Republic. Their son Matthew, who is currently studying for a masters in computer game design at Sheffield Hallam University, would always accompany them. In February 2015, she and John booked a trip to Tunisia through their local Thomson travel agents to stay at the Imperial Marhaba Hotel. During that holiday her father, Lionel, who had been battling Alzheimer’s, passed away. On their return they decided to book again for June, when Matthew had finished his second year at university.
“Because Matt was 21 we thought it might be our last holiday all together,” she says.
According to Mrs Stollery, when she booked the trip she was not given the Foreign Office advice about the terrorist threat in Tunisia. Even in March, after 21 tourists were killed in a mass shooting at the Bardo Museum in Tunis, the only emails she said she received from the tour operator were about passport and visa information ‘I knew straight away he was gone. After that I didn’t care about my own safety, I just wanted to protect my son’ and upgrading their seats on the plane. At the time she says they were so busy at work they completely missed the shootings on the news. Had she known the dangers, she would never have booked the holiday.
They landed on a Sunday and the week slipped by in a peaceful haze until 11.50am that Friday morning. The first shots they heard were when Tunisian student Seiffedine Rezgui – who had been inspired by Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (Isil) – opened fire on the beach. They ran from the pool in their swimwear and into the hotel.
They tried to hide behind reception but were forced out into the hotel car park by a hail of gunfire and a grenade explosion. Mrs Stollery says she felt her husband’s hand in hers, then when she turned around she saw him lying on the floor just a few feet away.
“I knew straight away he was gone,” she says. “After that I didn’t care about my own safety, I just wanted to protect my son.”
After hiding in a phone booth she followed a hotel gardener leading a traumatised English girl with pigtails by the hand. She was bundled into the laundry room. The only security she saw was a chef armed with a knife.
“All I can remember saying was: ‘John is dead. I need to find Matthew. I need to get out’.”
By the time Tunisian authorities had gained some control of the situation – the gunman was killed at the scene – television crews had already arrived. She and the other guests were moved to the large glass-fronted dining room and were forced to sit there as the hotel television screens beamed live footage of bodies littering the beach.
Eventually, after several hours, she was allowed upstairs to look for her son. “We met outside our room,” she says. “I saw the relief on his face then all he could say was, ‘Where’s Dad?’ That was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
After being interviewed by the British security services and driven to the hospital morgue in Tunis to identify her husband, Mrs Stollery and her son were put on a plane back home on Saturday evening.
“The worst part was leaving the hotel,” she says. “I left two red roses on the spot where John was killed – one for me and one for Matt.”
It was Sunday morning when they finally walked back through the front door. Two people holding three suitcases.
Despite the trauma, she returned to work at Nottinghamshire county council a year ago and is helping lead regional anti-terrorism workshops on top of her day job.
“They’ve taken my husband but they can’t take away my son’s future and everything I’ve worked for in life,” she says. “I won’t allow myself to hate.”