It’s taken me a couple of days to decide if I wanted to post something about Bondi and what I wanted to say. I am here in Sydney for a friend’s wedding that was on Saturday and taking time to see the sights before heading on to Melbourne later in the week.
Three of my friends and I arrived on Bondi Beach on Sunday afternoon just before 6:45PM local time. As we started to walk down the hill toward the iconic Iceberg’s Restaurant from where the Uber dropped us off, a mass of people started screaming and running in every direction. Struggling to understand what was going on, it became very clear when a group of police officers yelled to everyone to seek cover indoors. You could see they were concerned. Fear gave way to panic as everyone ran toward any door that was open. Two friends wound up in the apartments of strangers while myself and one other took shelter in the restaurant, the owner deadbolting the glass door behind us and urging everyone downstairs to the lower level bar with a commanding view of the beach. We were told to stay away from the glass, not an easy feat in a space dominated by floor to ceiling windows.
What unfolded over the next several hours as we were in lockdown was dystopian. First several police cars appeared, then ambulances, then more of each and multiple helicopters and police boats until the entire little horseshoe shaped beach was ringed with flashing red and blue lights as far as the eye could see. All the while several surfers on eFoils expertly navigated the waves just offshore as if nothing was happening. Complete strangers were handing each other their phones to share social media posts of the most horrific images and video as we all struggled to understand and process what was developing before our eyes. Misinformation was rampant with reports of shootings in other locations that all turned out to be false.
Eventually the police signaled that we could leave the restaurant in a group and began to usher us up the hill from Iceberg’s to the main road. No cars being allowed into the area meant we had no way to get back to our hotel over twenty kilometers away. Michael, one of the people that I was to meet at the ill-fated dinner offered to drive us out of Bondi even though his family was trapped elsewhere in an area he was not allowed to drive to. He patiently navigated the snarled traffic and endless stream of emergency services vehicles still racing to the scene hours after the initial incident until we ultimately arrived back at our hotel. Being the definition of a good samaritan, Michael invited us to dine with him at his home the following night as he dropped us off, even though he had only met us a few hours earlier.
Two things stand out in my mind as I reflect on the events of the last 48 hours. First, the look of sheer terror in the eyes of so many young people as they tried desperately to seek shelter in the opening moments of the incident, not knowing where the shooters were or how many there were. A day at the beach, a holiday celebration, turned into unspeakable, unimaginable, unforgettable horror.
The other thing I will never forget is the kindness of a stranger in the midst of such gruesome circumstances. We went to Michael’s home for dinner last night where we met his family and ate an incredible meal al fresco overlooking tony Rose Bay from one of the most beautiful homes in the neighborhood. Michael could not have been more gracious or accommodating and then he and his youngest daughter serenaded us while we talked and laughed like old friends. We’ll all be friends for a very long time, a friendship catalyzed by absolute tragedy but forged in the common bond that tragedy and his good will seared into each of our hearts. I weep for the victims of the Bondi Beach massacre and for the loss of innocence that the wonderful Australian people experienced in it, but I am also heartened by the boundless kindness of a stranger who took us in and showed us the best of what humanity was all about in the face of the very worst that it is capable of. Here’s an excerpt of Michael and his daughter Ruby, performing for strangers a day after they lost people they knew on that horrible day on Bondi Beach.
Lou — thank you for writing this while the experience is still raw, and for resisting the urge to turn it into anything other than what it was: lived terror, followed by very human grace.
Lou, your description of the first moments — the screaming, the confusion, the way panic spreads faster than understanding — is chilling in its ordinariness. That sudden flip from a Sunday evening at the beach to lockdown and misinformation feels like the part that lingers longest. It’s the loss of assumed safety, not just the event itself.
And then Michael. That quiet, instinctive generosity — not performative, not polished — just someone deciding to take care of the people in front of him. Those moments matter more than we often know at the time. They don’t undo what happened, but they do anchor us back into the world.
We’ll actually be headed to Sydney ourselves for a month, starting in about a month or so, and reading this sharpened my own thinking about how we move through places after something like this — how to stay present without becoming fearful, how to hold awareness without letting it calcify into suspicion.
I just wrote a piece that tries to articulate that balance — not alarmist, not numbing, just attentive. Tomorrow’s follow-up goes a bit deeper and more practical, but this is the starting point if you’re interested:
https://thebenthalls.substack.com/p/sun-free-moving-through-the-world
Thank you again for documenting both sides of that day — the unspeakable terror, yes, but also the kindness that still found a way through it. That duality feels important to remember.
– Kelly
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