Voices of 7/7: The survivors' testimonies form a searing but inspiring memorial to the 52 victims

Yesterday, after nearly five months, the Coroner's Inquests into the London bombings of 7 July 2005 finished taking evidence. It has been an astonishing process. The voices of 497 people, in court and in written statements, have not only told the full story of that shocking day, but have evoked in vivid detail the experiences of those caught up in the attacks.
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The Independent Online

Cynthia Chetty

Sitting a few feet from the bomber on the Circle Line train that was blown up near Aldgate.

"It was like a clicking sound and then there was just a bright white light that seemed to go on for quite a while and, during that white light, I thought it was only me affected, I don't know, maybe there was a power failure or something and I was being electrocuted, that's what I thought.

And I could hear screaming and I could smell smoke and I remember reaching out to try to stand up and I couldn't actually move. I was stuck in the chair and then everything just went black . . . When I woke up, I remember it was just – the carriage was full of smoke – completely dark – and it was just chaos everywhere, really. But my hearing had gone, so everything was really, really faint and I just remember looking round and some people were sitting, some people were on the floor . . .

[My seat] had come away from the carriage, but it was still kind of in the same place . . . I was still sitting in it. I hadn't moved from it. I remember there was someone right in front of me on the floor lying down and then there was loads of debris where my leg was trapped . . . There were a few people sitting in front of me just kind of staring blankly. There was a man . . . he had no face, but he was still sitting and that kind of urged me to get off the train really quickly . . . I remember asking somebody: 'Is that man dead?' And they said, 'Yes', I think they said 'Yes' to me and that's all I remember . . . "

Timothy Batkin

Underground train driver on the Circle Line train that was blown up near Aldgate.

"It felt and sounded like a loud thud. [I could feel it] through my body . . . It didn't appear to me at the time to be particularly loud, but that's just how I remember it happening . . . I think I attempted to make a mayday call using the train radio.

I could hear [passengers] crying for help; it was a chilling, haunting cry for help, something that, you know, still makes my blood run cold when I think about hearing it and it just made me think that a problem with the train is not necessarily – you know, shouldn't be my priority, I should maybe start thinking about what's happening to the people that need help on the train . . .

The first passengers who made their way towards the front of the train between the train and the tunnel wall, when they reached me, I could see that they were – their faces were blackened with soot and dirt and bloodied and their clothes were torn and shredded . . . "

Michael Henning

Insurance broker, 43; passenger in the bombed carriage at Aldgate

"It feels completely real to me now as we speak. I can . . . feel the right-hand side of my face because I was standing [with] my right side on to the explosion, I can feel it tense up now, I can feel heat. It is extremely real. One moment you had the sense of reality as you knew it – your everyday Tube travel – and the next it's all changed . . . I remember the questions in my head: 'What is this, what is this?' as I'm being twisted and thrown down to the ground. And then I realised it was a bomb and it's strange the thoughts that go through your mind, but I think it was one of obviously complete British understatement: 'Oh, this isn't good' . . .

Initially, I remember being on the ground and it was completely dark and I remember thinking that I must be dead. However, I do recall that I was staring out even, like, in a cartoon way, your eyes out on stalks, just trying to see a sign of something that you could see, but in those initial stages it was too dark. And that's when I felt the blood . . .

It was only when the lights came on that you could see the smoke as well . . . There was that initial silence . . . Then there was lots of panicked screaming from our carriage, and a few of us were still getting up – trying to get up from the ground. A few of us told people to calm down, perhaps in rather more forceful language than that, but to calm down, which they did, with great respect to them, they did very quickly . . .

At some stage, I was told to sit down, because there was a few of us that were very bloodied and injured and it was just – I felt I was going to pass out any moment, but there were a few voices started to talk to try to take leadership and there was a girl opposite me, just because she was closest to me, I think, I don't think I could say she was making any more sense than the others, but I said that just one person should speak and she did and did a good job . . .

There was people that may have survived if they'd got urgent medical response there and then . . . My view is, even if those who were too severely wounded to ever survive, some of them died in agony for 20, 30, 40 minutes and at least they should have had the dignity of having some morphine or something of that nature . . . "

Steven Desborough

Events manager, 33; was several carriages back from the Aldgate bomb, but went forward to help victims.

"As we made our way towards the carriages, the debris got larger and at one point we was having to actually climb over it while walking on the rails . . . I dropped my sports holdall that I had on my shoulder and walked over across the debris to the carriage and stood at the end of carriage 2 and looked in the doors and shouted out: 'Does anyone need any help?' . . .

There was a female voice that asked for help; a lady of around about 40. She was blackened. Yes, and she was standing in the corner of the carriage . . .

The step of the train as you would enter would be at my chest level. In front of me is what appeared to be a young chap laying . . . across the doorway . . . I believe he had a blue shirt on. It was hard to tell because of how dark it was and, also, they were lacking clothing . . . I . . . looked into the carriage and I saw things, but I just . . . At the time, it was very hard to comprehend. One minute I was going to work, going about my daily business on a routine day, like every Londoner does – keep their heads down – and then, all of a sudden, you're faced with this and you're trying to make head nor tail from it, and it was quite hard . . .

There was one person laying across seats 21 and 22 . . . She was drifting in and out of consciousness while I was with her, all the time that I was with her. Every now and again . . . she would let out a burst of energy, try and grab hold of me, and then I'd just try and calm her down and try and reassure her . . . And all this time, while I was holding this young lady in my arms . . . I was talking, to keep them going, to keep everyone going, so [she] knew that there was a voice there and so I was holding her, trying to reassure her . . . "

Martine Wright (now Martine Wiltshire)

Marketing manager, 38; lost both legs in the Aldgate blast; now hoping to compete in the 2012 Paralympics in volleyball

"I recall a white light in front of my eyes and a feeling of being thrown from side to side, but I don't remember a loud bang or anything like that, but it was just the light and the sensation of being thrown from side to side . . .

My recollection is I didn't pass out. I assumed that I was just thrown 90 degrees and then opened my eyes, and then that was it . . . I couldn't see a lot, so I just remember looking up and seeing the metal from the end of the carriage being over my legs . . .

I could hear lots of screaming behind me . . . I was trying to move and I couldn't get my legs out. It's quite hard to say who arrived, but it was someone, I'm sure, to do with the Underground, and it was a man, he was talking to me through the hole, and obviously we were all screaming and I think, at that point, I just kept saying: 'My name is Martine Wright', you know: 'Tell my family I'm OK' . . . I saw [Elizabeth Kenworthy, an off-duty police officer – see right] coming through . . . She gave me a tourniquet and she told me to wrap it round my left leg, I think it was . . . I know in my head that she saved my life."

Andrew Brown

Airport worker, travelling to Westminster; lost his leg in the Aldgate blast.

"As soon as I was conscious, I became aware of people moaning and calling for help and at the time I felt – I wasn't feeling any pain, I felt as if I was fine and I tried to stand up to help them and at that point I just fell forward into the debris.

I managed to regain my seat and lifted my right leg to find out why I'd fallen over, and my leg had gone, and then, inevitably then, I was just resigned to sitting there and waiting to be rescued . . .

Elizabeth Kenworthy . . . appeared in the central doors at the rear of the carriage and, because of the debris, her ability to move into the carriage was very limited, but she tended to the people in the immediate vicinity as much as she could . . .

She was talking to us and . . . engaging in conversation and telling us to stay awake. . . I asked for water at one stage, but she sensibly didn't give me any water, but put some water on my lips just to ease the discomfort a bit . . .

As I was aware that I had lost my right leg and the amount of blood I was losing, I . . . asked Liz if she had anything that we could use as a tourniquet and she removed her jacket and passed it in and, between us, we tied it tightly around my right leg . . . It was a Marks & Spencer jacket."

Dr Gerardine Quaghebeur

Consultant neuroradiologist, caught in the Circle Line bombing at Aldgate

"I was reading a book and I think the first thing was that it went dark, and there was a very – like a whoosh, a very strong wind. It almost felt like something electrical, because my hair just went up on end . . . It was very dark, but there was lots of like sparks, just funny feelings. I don't know if that was just, you know, eyes getting used to it being dark. There was a noise, but the noise wasn't the main thing I remember. There was a bang, but the first thing was the darkness, I think, and the train stopped. . .

It was very dark, so it was quite difficult to see anything and then there was somebody that came down the track and said: 'If you can walk . . .' – I seem to think they were saying – 'If you can walk, come to the doors and, you know, come out', basically. And then I noticed some people were going out to the door to my left and then a group of us went to the door to my right and the chap with the torch was very polite and sort of helped everybody – sort of was helping other people to go first and I was staying with him so we – I think we sort of shepherded a little group towards the door.

Well, we got to the doors and people had got off and this chap was waiting to help me down because it seemed like quite a long drop and that was the first time that I actually looked to my right. I think I'd really – I sort of knew something had happened but I hadn't really realised what had happened, and then I looked to my right and I saw that there were people sat on seats trapped by other people and that there was rather a mess really . . . And the lady who was sat in seat 22 sort of looked and said – I think she said something like: 'You can't be leaving us, you're not going to leave us?' And so I said: 'No, no, I'll stay', and I asked – he said: 'Are you sure you want to stay?' or something like that and I said: 'Yes, can I have the torch?' So he left me the torch and he went away."

Elizabeth Kenworthy

Off-duty police officer travelling on the Circle Line at Aldgate. PC Kenworthy, 49, was made an MBE in 2008 in recognition of her response to the bombing.

"I was standing in the middle of the carriage with my bag between my feet. We hadn't been going for hardly any time, really, and suddenly there was a loud bang and the train came to a stop . . . I didn't fall over, nobody else seemed to be hurt. It just came to a very abrupt stop and there was the bang. But people were grumbling to begin with and then we noticed that there was a sort of dust or smoke coming in through the door and I said to my fellow passengers around me, you know: 'Keep calm, you know, we'll be all right, but we mustn't go out on the track because it might be live, or it will be live' . . .

I could hear people shouting and I heard something like 'Doctors, nurses', and I thought: 'This is going to be something much more serious' . . . and that's when I got my warrant card out . . .

I said: 'I'm a police officer, let me through', and I walked up through the carriage . . . People were coming towards me with cuts and, you know, dazed, really, and very dirty . . .

As I approached [the bombed carriage], I could see that, although the side walls of the carriage seemed to be there, the door was twisted and something had obviously happened to the door. . .

[A young man] was lying – he was spreadeagled out . . . I think with his head towards the middle of the carriage and his feet downwards, and he was on a big sheet of metal, and he was moving about on it and moaning and writhing . . . I spoke to him, I said, you know: 'Stay calm, help is coming', you know, 'help is coming, you're going to be all right.' But I weighed up the situation and between me and him there seemed to be like a ravine of metal . . . And I decided that, if I went to him, I would have to leave these people here and I didn't know if I could get back to them, so I decided – he seemed to be the least injured, as far as I could see, so I had to leave him . . .

I could see two figures, black faces, and whites of their eyes, looking at me, and I – again, I shouted to them, you know: 'Help is coming', but they didn't respond to me at all. I just saw their eyes and their bodies sitting there, sitting upright. And they were quite a long way from me . . . across the other side of the carriage . . .

I was talking to [the young man on my right], and he told me his name . . . and he said: 'I've lost my leg, haven't I?' and I said: 'Yes, you have, but you're going to be all right', and all I had was my jacket, so I took it off and I tied it round his leg . . . It wasn't very good, but it was the best thing I could do. I wouldn't even really describe it as a tourniquet, it was more of a dressing or a binding just to stop him from bleeding to death . . .

A young man came down and he was standing outside the doors, and he said: 'What shall I do? What can I do?' and I said: 'Can I trust you?' and he said: 'Yes', and I gave him my goods, I had my rucksack and my mobile phone and my warrant card and I'd lost my pockets because I'd lost my jacket, so I gave them to him and I told him to look after them and I said: 'Go and get me some T-shirts and some stuff from the other passengers' and I sent him off down the train and he went away and after a little while he came back with some T-shirts and things and ties . . . "

Philip Duckworth

Investment banker, caught in the Circle Line bombing at Aldgate

"There was a very bright white flash.It wasn't like a flash, sort of, in the normal sense. It was completely – I was sort of inside it. It was an all-enveloping flash and it seemed to go on forever . . .

After that, I woke up, in the very loosest sense of the word, on the rails of the – and I had had the fleeting thought at the time that I had fallen out of the train and it was just me and the train had sort of gone and I was sort of left on the rails . . .

I was aware of being very uncomfortable, I had a rail sort of under the back of my legs. . . all I could think about was I wanted to get to Aldgate station . . . a sort of ludicrous idea, but I could see the station in the distance . . . I wasn't really aware of any people around. It sounded very sort of quiet and muffled and probably a little bit smoky, but I was just thinking about how I could get to – onto the platform. So eventually I tried to sort of get up, it was very difficult, but I eventually managed to get to my knees and then I got to my feet and I sort of staggered over to the wall of the Tube and put my hands on the wall to sort of catch my breath. I just couldn't breathe; it felt like being winded, you know, really badly winded . . .

I was sort of laid there just sort of just trying to will myself – you know, I couldn't really move and then I just remember some guys went past. I can't remember how many there were, but there was a guy with a torch and I think he just sort of – they sort of looked down and he said: 'Oh no, this one's gone' and then sort of moved on. But, yes, that – at that point, I was like: 'No, I'm not. Hang on a second, you know, I'm not gone' . . . That's when I sort of forced myself on to my knees and got up."

Thelma Stober

Former head of legal services at the London Development Agency and legal adviser to the London 2012 Olympic bid. (The city had been awarded the Olympic Games the previous day.) She lost part of her leg in the Aldgate attack.

"I wasn't going to go to work on the 7th because, apart from Ken Livingstone, the Mayor of London, not very many people actually genuinely believed we were going to win the Olympics, and when we did, I decided, although I had taken the day off, to actually go to work . . .

I found myself lying on the train tracks . . . I could see metal stuck on my left thigh . . . There was blood coming from my left and right foot, profusely, and there was a hand on my head like this . . . and I lifted the hand and it fell – and I thought that people had died and I could see people on the train screaming. From the part where the door had been removed, I could see a few people lying on the floor [in the carriage] . . .

My brain went into gear and I thought, in disasters, it's reasonable or natural for people to look after those who are alive before they look after the dead . . .

And I thought of my son, who was seven years old, and, silly enough, I thought I wanted to continue my work on the Olympics. So I tried to see if I could get up so that people could see I was alive, to ask for help. So I tried . . . to wriggle myself out of the train.

I put one hand, my left hand, on the train, and I dragged myself up, and I put my right hand up, I could see people coming from the tunnel wearing the orange, I think it was, and I assumed that they were working there, and I put my hand up, saying: 'Help me, help me – I don't want to die.'"

Stephen Eldridge

Metropolitan Line train operator waiting for train at Aldgate station.

"It was getting towards the end of the detrainment and he – out of the corner of my eye, he staggered past me, someone that I now actually know as Phil Duckworth who, it turns out, lives just round the corner from me, but he staggered past me and he went and leant up against the tunnel wall, and then the passenger who was with me, he went and steadied him, but his weight started to fall then.

So the two of us managed to stand him back up again . . . Two firemen came along carrying a ladder and I just called them over and we put Phil on to the ladder, and then, after that, another passenger had come along the track who was covered in blood, who had got quite serious injuries and he said: 'Can I wait here with you?' And I said: 'Well, you would be better off going upstairs and getting some help', because the hardest thing I found that morning myself, personally, was I spent the whole of the time there, kept looking along the tunnel to – I kept thinking: 'The paramedics must be here soon. They must be coming.' And because there was – I did hear a female that was screaming in pain, but I couldn't locate her. I didn't know where it was coming from and I just felt that I was helpless, really . . . and I thought: 'If the paramedics come, they can perhaps tend to her.'"

Stephen Hucklesby

Policy adviser for the Methodist Church; 48; was on the train going in the opposite direction to the bomb train at Aldgate. Made an MBE in 2008.

"Two people said: 'Let's smash a window and see if we can get into that carriage', and they found some large wooden implements, and together smashed the window . . .

When they started talking about getting access to the other train, because I had had first aid training, I was convinced from that point that I would go through . . .

There were four people went through the window . . . [The gap between the trains was] about half a metre . . .The first thing I saw [in the bombed train] was a very large crater in which there was one person trapped in the wreckage . . . and I believe three people crouching at the edge of the crater trying to deal with this person . . . [To get past the crater] I used the rails above . . . I went hand over hand . . .

In the area of double doors . . . was a body of a young woman. The body was very, very pale. Most of the clothing had been blown off . . . She was motionless. Her eyes were open. Jaw was open and relaxed. I then examined her more closely . . . [Her eyes] were not moving and I placed my head very close to hers to try to get a response . . .

I then put my hand to her nose and mouth to try to detect if there was breathing. I think I may have done the same with my cheek to detect breathing. I couldn't detect any breathing.

I then attempted to provide CPR [cardiopulmonary resuscitation] . . . I think I did three rounds of two breaths and 15 compressions . . . I was fairly certain while doing it, I couldn't imagine anyone managing to shock this person back to life. However, the decision to stop was, in fact, taken out of my hands because, in applying two rescue breaths, the mouth and throat and nose area filled with blood and I was then blowing blood – air through blood, and oxygen and blood into the lungs. It was quite clear at that point that, very sadly, nothing more could be done, at least it was clear to me . . . "

Professor John Tulloch

Was sitting 3ft from the bomber on the Circle Line train at Edgware Road, but was protected by the case he was carrying.

"There was a very strong yellow-to-deep orange colour, the whole carriage was of this colour, and I briefly saw the carriage – the best way I can describe it, it seemed it was being stretched and pulled. I don't recall seeing anything flying about. I just saw this kind of disassembling, stretching, pulling of the carriage with this very deep and unpleasant yellow-to-orange light.

[Then] I seemed to be lying on my back . . . on some remnant of a seat or rubble. I was still in the same place and I was just aware of a lot of glass and darkness . . . Strangely, the first thing, I thought something had just happened to me personally, and I had a lot of pain in my head . . . and I could feel blood all over my face, and . . . I clearly remember rolling to my left to ask for help. . .

I seemed to have some sort of obsession . . . that I was seeking my glasses, but I think it was possibly to do with the fact that . . . one eye was totally closed . . . and the other one was only half open, so possibly, the fact I could see so little wasn't to do with my glasses, but it was to do with that. And I then did feel my body again. Quite a strange reaction. I gather it's totally normal for this wonderful human organism we've got . . . I started feeling my legs and I seemed to have forgotten all about the pain and my head and I could see that my legs were there and I won't say it was a feeling of euphoria, but it was a very good feeling; a very positive feeling, which focused me on those legs and got me up from my seat . . .

I can't remember seeing anyone and I certainly don't remember anyone speaking to me, until Craig Staniforth [a passenger from another carriage] came in . . . He dragged me back into the real world, frankly. He . . . asked me what I did and he worked out I was an academic and what I do remember is that he talked to me about what his daughter was doing in A-levels and the universities that she was thinking of applying to and this was so deeply embedded and grabbed me so strongly that I can almost reel off to this day what four universities those were."

Julie Gruen

Passenger on the Piccadilly Line train that was blown up near Russell Square

"I saw a huge fireball explosion as though it was coming towards me and I looked at that and then I just looked to my left and literally thought that would be it . . . [After that] it was just blackness, just darkness. Very, very smoky. I could make out shapes. I could make out sort of bodies opposite me and in front of me. I couldn't make out any faces at that time. It was very, very smoky, and the smell was just awful.

At first it was very, very quiet, just nothing . . . and then . . . very slow gradual moaning started from the injured people and that moaning continued. And then I think more people started to get hysterical and some lady I think started screaming and saying: 'We're all going to die, we're all going to die', and started getting, you know, rather upset.

I called out and I said to everyone: 'Look, everything's going to be OK, you know, we're on a very busy Tube on the Piccadilly Line; somebody's going to know something bad's happened to us. They will be sending help on the way.' So I was trying to reassure people and I was trying to stay as calm as possible, because I knew, if I started getting hysterical, I knew I'd obviously work myself up . . . And that's when, after I said that, then I realised . . . I was touching [the leg of a fellow passenger] and he introduced himself as Paul Mitchell, as in the hairdresser, so I've made a little bit of a joke and I sort of pressed my hand against his leg and I felt quite a lot of it started crumbling away . . .

I then took off my coat and tied that around Paul's leg. I took my cardigan off and I put that over my nose because I knew that what we were breathing in might not . . . I didn't know if it was poisonous gas . . . Then I tied the coat around Paul's leg and I was trying to reassure him and, you know, say that everything would be OK and help would be on its way."

Yvette Newton

Injured in the blast on the Piccadilly Line train near Russell Square

"I didn't feel any pain, but I kind of instinctively just touched, you know, my face and my body, and I felt a wet patch on my face, so I knew I'd been cut . . .

[There was a man who] had kind of his head on my knees . . . He was on the floor . . . I just kind of reached my hand out, just to grab someone else's and his was there and so I just held on to his hand . . . I couldn't really see him properly, no, because there was a dim light and at one point he did look up and I . . . suddenly saw the state of his face. He had, like, blood on his teeth and – I mean, I had felt that his hair was matted, like it had been burnt or something, was congealed . . .

I asked what his name was and he said: 'Phil.' I don't really remember having a conversation, really. I just remember saying, you know: 'We're going to get out.' I remember saying what was happening and 'We'll be all right' sort of thing, but mainly it was just a physical holding his hand and, like, stroking his hair and stuff . . . "

Gillian Hicks

Events manager at the Design Council; lost both legs in the Russell Square attack; made an MBE in 2008

"I remember feeling that: 'Well, we don't know what dead is, so is this dead?', and I could hear screams around me and thought that people were panicked over my death or me dying because I was having a heart attack . . . But it was only when, I think, I opened my eyes and realised that the blackness was indeed everywhere – it wasn't just for me – and hearing everybody scream, that we are all in this together, so it wasn't my death: it was a shared experience and, strangely, found that comforting for the moments that followed . . .

I was holding myself up; holding on to a broken window and deliberately so to try to keep myself awake, because I was able to see the extent of my injuries from the light that was coming through and knew that I was losing a lot of blood, so I was trying to keep myself awake by holding myself up . . .

I was able to see that I had very much almost lost both legs. They were literally hanging by a sinew of skin . . . the ankles and feet were separate to the calf and length of the legs and my first thoughts were how it looked very odd and very strange – and trying to assess that, because you're seeing yourself in a way that isn't right, so I was trying to assess what exactly had happened, and what can I do about it . . .

It was a very serene and calm and quiet time within the carriage, except for the very few that perhaps were passing away or severely injured around us, but we were able to hold conversations and I remember at one stage having to say: 'I can't talk any more', because I needed to conserve as much energy as possible, because I was worried about fading and slipping into a state of unconsciousness, which then I understood as being – you know, I would die . . .

I still had a scarf on and I remember ripping the scarf and tying my left leg first above the thigh and then I went to move to my right leg and I put my hand into my thigh and my hand went right in, and I was – I remember feeling extremely worried at that point, in a strange way, because I had already assessed that, from the knee down, the legs were gone – I wasn't prepared for my hand going into my right thigh.

So I tied the rest of the scarf up above that point and then . . . pushed my legs over the handrail, or over the bench seat that still had a handrail there and twisted my body round so I was elevated up . . . "

Jude Obi (now Jude Onyeze)

London Underground signal operator, travelling on the Piccadilly Line train

"Being a signalman, I thought maybe the train had derailed. That was my first thought . . . People were screaming: 'My leg', 'My head', 'I've lost a leg'. I did not actually comprehend what was happening. I was thinking . . . 'If there's a derailment, why would people be screaming about: "Leg, I've lost my leg" and all that?' But actually . . . when I thought about the smoke and I thought about fire and all that and I was thinking: 'How do I get out of here?'

I started saying for people to not panic, to try and form a single line . . . I was starting to move forward then and somebody grabbed hold of my leg. There was a woman saying: 'Please, help me, please help me.' I said: 'Come on, get up, get up, let's go', and she said she couldn't: 'I've lost a leg', and I said: 'What do you mean, lost a leg?' I did try to lift her, but she was in so much pain I had to leave her . . .

Up ahead, there was like a big pile of people . . . I had to climb over – it was like walking through them, but it was – it wasn't, like, hard, it was, like, soft . . . There was somebody already leading the group of customers or passengers down the tunnel, walking towards Russell Square . . . Somebody . . . said: 'Russell Square is just a short walk down', that we'd have to make our way to the next station.

There was a man that was hobbling and I think – I can't remember, he was wearing a suit, bigger than me, definitely and, as we were walking, because people were walking in single file, he was actually holding back the queue because he was struggling . . . So I made my way towards where the man was, and I said – I asked him if he was all right, and he said: 'No', he couldn't, and he pointed to his leg, and I could see . . . half his leg was missing. And I said to him, does he want help, and he just rested on me. And then I helped him . . . he had his hand on my shoulder and we were trying to make it down towards Russell Square station . . .

There were people that was ahead of us that had already got there . . . I used to be a station assistant at Russell Square before, so there was a person I particularly recognised, a man called Ian Purcell. He was on the platform. He did not recognise me because I was covered . . . in blood and everything else.

I can't remember if it was Ian or I just helped the man stay on the platform and I remember there was somebody that was resting by the tunnel wall as well, so I had to walk back . . . It wasn't really far to walk back . . . And the man said he couldn't walk any more and I had to carry him on my back and I got him into the platform as well and sat him on the platform. I think this was the time I started asking Ian, and I said: 'Ian, what's happening?'"

Paul Dadge

34, former firefighter; passer-by at Edgware Road (written statement).

"The street corner was congested and it was becoming difficult to establish who was passing public and who was involved in the incident. At this time, the only police resource on the scene was busy restricting access to Chapel Street and guiding passengers towards the street corner . . . I made the decision to speak to a male member of staff at Marks & Spencer who was standing in the doorway and asked if we could use their store as a rendezvous point, which he immediately agreed to . . . This was without any consultation with the emergency services on scene, who I felt at the time were busy performing other tasks.

I then made the following announcement to those standing outside Marks & Spencer: 'Attention, please, if you were involved in the incident at Edgware Road Tube station, please make your way into Marks & Spencer. Do not leave until you have spoken to a police officer' . . .

I felt this action was important, as passengers required direction and instruction. Most were in a state of shock . . .

It was my assumption that Marks & Spencer would be used purely as a holding area for the Metropolitan police to obtain names and addresses before releasing passengers from the scene. I made a police sergeant aware that the rendezvous point had been set up within Marks & Spencer. This enabled emergency workers on scene to utilise the side entrance to Marks & Spencer which was behind the cordon line . . . Working closely with the floor supervisor of Marks & Spencer and the police sergeant, staff brought bottled water to the front of the store to hand out to people as they entered . . . Marks & Spencer staff had collected a number of first aid boxes and they began treating passengers with minor lacerations.

It became obvious as the incident progressed that . . . the space we were in was becoming congested and more seriously injured passengers were being brought in . . . I made an announcement asking those who were not seriously injured to move further into the store so as to keep the entrance clear.

This was followed shortly afterwards by another message from a police officer asking us to now move even further back inside due to a possible further blast that would send shattering glass into Marks & Spencer. It became apparent that the medical resources arriving on scene were being directed straight into Edgware Road station and none of this arriving at what was now a casualty rendezvous point.

I approached an ambulance officer . . . and made her aware of the rendezvous point and asked for medical assistance. She arrived shortly afterwards with two paramedics who emptied their ambulance and medical supplies, including burn packs and oxygen. These supplies were soon consumed by the rapidly rising number of casualty passengers now entering Marks & Spencer, which I approximate to be a minimum of 150 . . .

A plainclothes Metropolitan police officer arrived on the scene and asked me how he could assist. I advised him that the store had been sectorised with seriously injured casualties located towards the front of the store and walking wounded towards the rear and that comforting and gaining name and address details would be of great assistance.

Shortly afterwards, the same police officer came across a suspect device. This was a laptop bag that had been left unattended next to a supporting column within the Marks & Spencer store. He asked who the bag belonged to and received no answer. He then made the immediate decision to evacuate Marks & Spencer. I was instructed by the police in Chapel Street to make my way over to the Hilton Metropole Hotel . . .

Louise Barry

On her way to a job interview; evacuated from Edgware Road station at the time of explosion before getting on the No 30 bus that was blown up in Tavistock Square.

"I remember being totally conscious the whole time . . . I did not hear a loud 'Bang!' . . . Actually, it was almost the total opposite . . . like, all sound shut down, as if I was deeply, deeply, deeply underwater, so the hearing was all muffled. It was all like distorted sounds, but of a very low tone, flashes of white light and flashes of green light and my neck felt like – my head felt like it was being like twisted off and, as all this is going on, I'm consciously thinking: 'I'm having an epileptic fit, possibly, I've gone into some sort of psychosis.'

And then I heard these voices: 'Everything's fine. Tell her everything's going to be OK, everything's fine' . . .

I was trapped inside [the wreckage] . . . My head was between my knees and that's when I could feel . . . the person in front of me's body. I could feel bodies . . . beside me – I could actually feel, like, limbs, human limbs . . . I felt like there was something holding me down and it was kind of dark or whatever, and then . . . boiling water was, like, starting to drip on my arm, and that brought me back into reality. . . I later found out it was the boiling water from the radiator . . . I thought: 'I've got to get out of here', but I couldn't move. I couldn't move for – well, I just couldn't move.

So then I started – I wanted to feel my legs and then I sort of could feel my legs – well, I actually didn't worry about my arms, I thought: 'I just need my legs, got to get out of here', but I thought I was surrounded by – well, I was, I was surrounded by bodies, and so I crawled through them, through the legs of people . . . I lost my shoes, and my bag ripped off. I had a shoulder bag and then I sort of staggered up and suddenly, you know, it was, like, gone. It was daylight and then I was just standing at the back of this bus. I was looking around and I couldn't scream. I wanted to scream, but no voice came out and I could see a gentleman just walking in circles on the footpath and I went – trying to scream for help and I didn't know how I was going to get down. And then some guy got out of his car and he came up to me and he, like, took my hand and I just walked down the back of this, like, panel, you know, like, and then I was on the ground."

George Psaradakis

Driver of the No 30 bus.

"[The explosion] was very loud but not piercing. It was blunt. I thought: 'What did I hit?' But this is seconds, less than seconds, you know, hundredths of seconds, these thoughts, because then I saw the windscreen blew away, debris is falling all over me. I was stunned, shocked; and I remember I touched my head and I could only feel dust. Shocked as I was, I got out of . . . my cabin.

Immediately after I seen that I'm OK, I thought: 'What happened to my passengers?' So I come out of the bus and, on the wall opposite . . . I've seen a leg stuck on that wall; a leg or an arm, but I think it was a leg, a whole leg, I was so shocked but, you know, I keep going at the back of the bus, to explore, to see what happened. And everywhere I looked there were bodies, torsos, two heads, two piles of human flesh. So, you know, I was getting so shocked, so shocked.

I kept looking if there is anybody who I could help, but again, people were dismembered and . . . or dying.

If somebody will prove to me that I was there 20 seconds, I will believe him; if somebody proves to me that I was there two hours, I still believe him, because, you know, I felt – I never felt that way, never in my life. You know, a few minutes before . . . you know, people talking, and before that even laughing, you know, the normal chatting the passengers have on their mobiles – and then seeing my passengers in such a state . . . it really shocked me."

Neville Lazenby

British Transport Police officer, based at Force HQ on Tavistock Place.

"I noticed the bus was coming towards us. The first thing I noticed was the bus – literally, the top deck filling up with a white smoke, dark smoke. Then the roof just peeled open. There was a – quite a significant signature explosion and it was just like a party popper going off, a lot of debris coming out of the top, yes, and human remains, or a torso, being tossed out to the left-hand side and, yes, that was it, really.

I started linking it in to what had actually gone on previously at the three other locations where devices had gone off . . . By the time I had left Force Headquarters, certainly I was aware that there were incidents, ongoing problems, as a result of detonations of bombs, so I had a really good idea of probably what was actually happening at those three locations.

As I approached the bus, certainly I was aware that there were a lot of people standing about. In particular, one individual, I think it was a woman, who was standing by the railings adjacent to the bus and, when I looked at her, I could see that her face and the side of the hairline had actually sort of been scalped, there was obviously red tissue there.

While proceeding down [the side of the bus], certainly as I approached the second set of doors on the right-hand side as I looked at it, I was met by two individuals who came off the bus. One was a male person wearing what I think was a light blue or greyish suit carrying a brown briefcase, just stood there, he was covered in debris: human remains; I got my hand on to his arm and just got him off the bus as soon as I could, because I didn't realise which part of the bus he'd come from and directed him to go in the direction of Tavistock Place.

Shortly after that, another individual came off the bus, who was a female. She was quite hysterical, obviously didn't know what had happened, probably in a state of shock. I put my arms around her, got her off the bus and, by this time, there were people turning up at the bus and, basically, one individual took the person away from me and again walked away towards Tavistock Place.

Well, obviously, looking inside the bus, it was absolutely total carnage, there was a lot of twisted metal, human remains, and certainly that [a pair of legs in pinstriped trousers] was quite a prominent feature. They were sort of pointing towards me. I think it was a pinstriped suit and certainly, by the type of shoes and that, I presumed that was a male person, because that's all I had in view, because the remainder of the torso disappeared into the wreckage."

Dr Andrew ("Sam") Everington

London GP; then deputy chair of the British Medical Association, whose offices are in Tavistock Square.

"I was in the chairman's office, which is on about the third or fourth floor in the quadrangle of BMA House. I knew exactly what it was, partly because of [a] text, but partly because I'd been in Whitehall a few years earlier when I think it was a mortar that hit Downing Street. I just tore downstairs and then straight out the front entrance of BMA House and saw the bus and everything . . .

It was a very funny mixture of quietness, stillness, a few sirens in the background, pigeons cooing, really strange in many ways, and then lots of casualties and clearly lots of people dead, and one straight outside BMA House . . .

A lot of the leadership of the BMA had left about 10 minutes before I think, to go to the Law Society, and so I felt very quickly that it was actually quite important, because I knew everybody, because I knew a lot of the doctors, to actually take on a coordinating role and, in particular, just make sure there was a doctor – and two doctors actually, that was my aim – with each of the casualties.

. . . I was involved in getting the makeshift stretchers, which was basically tables from [a] cafe. [We had] a lot of offers of help, but it was also about ensuring that, ideally, people who couldn't help were out of the way so we had lots of space to do what we wanted to do.

I sent the security guards off to find any first aid stuff and, obviously, we didn't have much, because this is – I know we were all doctors there, but fundamentally, it's an office building. I remember, in the end, actually, we even used tablecloths from the canteen and cafes to bandage and, you know, stop the bleeding."

PC Christopher Mitchell

On traffic duty on Euston Road; one of the first police officers to the scene at Tavistock Square.

"It filtered down to us what was going on around us – with the other incidents – and we were very concerned . . . We were told about this potential suspect package within the bus and we were very concerned and believed this to be a very real threat . . . So basically, to try to prevent losing more people . . . I asked for public order shields to come down so we could use them as stretchers. Somebody got some tables . . . from the local hotels, and we just started to move, as quickly and as easily as we could, the people away from the bus so they could be treated safely.

We started moving people into the courtyard of the BMA, which offered us protection from any further explosions, where the doctors started to triage the patients and treat them . . .

One that stuck out in my mind was a pinstriped suit gentleman who I helped off the bus with some colleagues and members of the Fire Brigade . . . We moved him down by the County Hotel where he was given some more treatment. His leg was in quite a bad way and we managed to – somebody got hold of some Sellotape, we used Sellotape and some bits of wood we found in the road to make a splint and we Sellotaped his leg together."

Daniel Biddle

Lost both legs, an eye and his spleen in the attack on the Underground at Edgware Road.

"I was supposed to get off at Baker Street, but I was typing in a text message into my phone. I was supposed to get off at Baker Street but, because I was typing in the text, I missed the stop . . . I saw a young Asian guy get on the train at King's Cross, sort of walked along the carriage, sat down, but didn't think anything of it and was just looking at where I could get off to get my connecting train.

There was nothing about him [Mohamed Sidique Khan] that made me think he was dangerous in any way or anything like that. If there would have been, I would have got off the train and got help . . . He looked like a normal guy going to work . . . He had a rucksack, like a small, black camping rucksack . . . I remember it being on his lap . . . The train pulled out of Edgware Road. I looked at the Tube map and . . . as the train entered the tunnel, I looked round, as I looked round, he looked up, I just saw a quick movement, then there was just a big, white flash, the kind of noise that you get when you tune a radio in, that kind of white sound, and it just felt like the carriage I was standing in filled – just expanded at such a vast rate and contracted quickly and, with that, it blew me off my feet and through the carriage doors into the tunnel.

Literally, as soon as his arm moved, I was outside the carriage. Before he set the device off, he looked up and along the carriage and then he just looked down. He didn't say anything, he didn't shout anything that I can remember hearing. He just put his head down, moved his arm and, the next thing, I'm outside the train.

. . . My initial thought was: 'Jesus Christ, the doors have given and I've fallen outside the train.' It was then when I tried to move, and couldn't, and as the dust and smoke settled and the noises started, that I realised something bad had happened . . .

[There was] a big piece of metal, I don't know if it was one of the side panels or one of the doors, was across my lower limbs and sort of up to my chest. I pulled my arms out from underneath it, and there was, like, a bluish flame on both my arms and my hands which, it went out on its own, it was like a flash flame, it just went over my body and went out, and it extinguished on its own. I didn't do anything. Just looked at it and thought: 'Fucking hell, I'm on fire'.

I had a metal-linked watch on, and as my arm started to swell, the watch was really hot, and as it started to swell, it started to cut into my wrist, so I just took the watch off and threw it.

As I was trying to move myself around on the rocks to try and sort of get up, trying to basically work out what had happened, I had something digging in my back, and, as strange as it sounds, it was incredibly uncomfortable, so I repositioned my shoulders, reached behind me, and I pulled a leg and a foot.

Because I was on the floor, I could see under the carriages where the train had moved along. I saw two bodies sort of on the floor on the other side of the train from where I was and, where I was lying, the way I was positioned, where my legs should have been was facing Edgware Road station and my head was looking back at the carriage I had come out of, and there was a body about two feet away from me as I was lying on the floor.

When I was shouting for help, there was obviously a lot of noise in the tunnel. I just kept shouting: 'For God's sake, somebody get me out of here, somebody help'. Then a voice shouted back, asked me my name, I shouted out my name, he then shouted back his name was Adrian [Heili]. Within a very short space of time, Adrian was with me and then Lee [Hunt, London Underground employee] appeared. Adrian told Lee to sit behind . . . where my head was. Adrian then lifted the doors off of my body just to – so we could see what damage had been done, and I just remember Adrian saying to me: 'Hold Lee's hand'. I said: 'Why's that?' And he said: 'Because this is going to fucking hurt'.

I later found out that, when I hit the floor, my left leg had been blown clean off and my right leg had been blown round at 180 degrees and shattered all the bones in my shins and my feet. I had no feelings in my legs whatsoever. When Adrian said it was going to hurt, I just gripped Lee's hand, but I didn't feel anything."

Professor Philip Patsalos

Consultant clinical pharmacologist and Professor at University College London Institute of Neurology, caught in the Piccadilly Line explosion between King's Cross and Russell Square.

"I put everything away and closed my briefcase which was set across my lap, and I looked at my watch and it was about 11 minutes to, or nine minutes to nine, and I thought: 'Great, I will be getting to my 9am appointment on time', and the doors shut and the train began to leave the station.

A few minutes later, I felt this shock, this electricity, going through my body, which required me to stretch backwards, I was shaking, I remember seeing my brain, my skeleton, I could see peculiar things. I remember thinking to myself: 'When is this going to finish?', and it finished soon afterwards. It probably only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed like eternity.

. . . I was still in my seat, but not seated as normal, but I had somehow slipped down the seat so that my back was on the seat of the seat and my head was against the back of the seat.

. . . When I came to and I opened my eyes and there was a dim light and I could see this hole and these wires hanging from this hole, I thought it was an electrical discharge of some kind . . . I was unaware of any smoke or dust, although subsequently I was told that I was covered in soot and dust and unrecognisable.

Indeed, when I was admitted to hospital, they thought I was a burns victim . . . But I was not able to see it.

. . . When I became aware of what was happening, the first thing that I heard was screaming and shouting, crying and a lot of groans, and there was a man standing in front of me, peculiarly still holding on to a rail, and there was still people around . . . There was a lady to my right, who appeared to be on top of another person. I had a body across my legs . . .

. . . I was lying rather low in the seat, so you can imagine the body – the lady, who was on top of the body below, was quite high up, so all I could see was her back, and I was aware that she was alive at the time because she would occasionally swing her arm over on to me and I would gently put it back on her, and she did that two or three times . . .

After some time, I heard a voice. It appeared to be somebody standing outside the carriage on the side of double door D5, and he said: 'I'm a policeman. Stay calm everybody, help is on the way.'

. . . I felt – the position I was in, I couldn't actually move, and I could not see what had happened to me, but I felt down with my left hand my left leg, which is actually the leg that was particularly damaged, as it was closest to the bomb, and it was rather mushy, and I thought: 'That's not good', and I started thinking to myself: 'I've got to stay alive, I'm going to die here.' And as time went on, I thought: 'OK, I must survive, I must not die, and if I need to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair, so be it'.

. . . My first reaction, when I heard all the screaming and shouting, I thought: 'This is not the way to deal with this.' Obviously, you stress yourself out, and you need to stay calm, and that's what I did. I stayed calm and breathed as slowly and as – as slowly as necessary, and my number one priority, as I could not do anything for anybody else, was to stay alive."

Peter Taylor

The first paramedic to reach the Piccadilly Line train

"I asked a member of the Underground staff whether he knew the power was off . . . I asked him to phone his control to double-check. He told me that there was other emergency service personnel on to the train. He said that he would phone back and check. He did that, he came back with a vague answer. I asked him again to check and at that time he jumped on the track and put his foot on to the live rail and said: 'Is that good enough for you?', and I said: 'Yes, that's good enough'.

[After walking down the tunnel,] I boarded the train at the side, through the side doors, at the back of the train.

. . . I believe there was four bodies [on the tracks]. Two of them were triaged as deceased and then there was another two patients, one of them was a young lady who was lying supine next to the train and then another patient was lying underneath the train and that was a male patient.

It was – the patient was a middle-aged male, appeared to be Afro-Caribbean in origin. They had a severe, catastrophic head injury and they were lying face down when I found them . . . He was trapped underneath the train. The train was on top of him . . . I heard him shouting.

. . . My job is just to find out what priority they are and then just to move on. I discovered that he was 'priority 1', going through the triage sieve and the extent of his injuries, so I prioritise him as 'priority 1' [the most serious] and then I moved on to the next patient . . . [The young lady] also had very severe injuries, and I could ascertain that she was 'priority 1' . . . She had severe multiple injuries. She had an amputation . . . She couldn't respond to my speech but she was able to talk, as she just kept on repeating the phrase: 'I can't hear you'.

[After classifying one passenger as dead,] I saw the deceased being taken out into the next carriage. I asked the fire officers there to make a makeshift mortuary because of the number of casualties, and the number of deceased that I could see at that moment."

Timothy Coulson

Teacher, 55; on the Circle Line train blown up near Edgware Road; was made MBE in 2008.

"Soon after leaving Paddington station . . . I experienced an incredibly large sound I now know to be the explosion of an incredible magnitude. I do faintly recollect an amount of light, but I couldn't describe it as a blinding light or any particular colour, and it was also accompanied after the immediacy of the blast with what sounded like a very heavy rain shower which I now can recognise as pieces of debris landing on the train that I was on. It stopped within a very short space of time and from my recollection the lights went out . . . There were some [passengers] that fell against one another. I don't recollect anyone actually landing on the floor.

I became almost immediately aware of a large amount of screaming from the outside . . . I knew they were coming from my left, but I wasn't able to see them.

A further announcement was made by a member of the London Underground staff that, if any of us possessed any first aid, could we move towards the rear of our train.

I moved through a set of interconnecting doors to the next carriage [along with] two other members of the public . . . The three of us arrived at a set of doors [and] made an attempt to open those doors . . . and managed about nine, 10in only . . .

I saw a shoe and a leg wedged into the small space that we'd created and a person, a male, covered in large amounts of blood asking for help. He wanted to get in to where we were [but it was impossible because of the narrowness of the gap] . . . I explained to him: 'We're unable to open these doors, we'll attempt to break the window to get out'.

[We] found a long metal pole in a secure storage cupboard . . . and we used it to attempt to break the window. [We] climbed out of that window [and into the bombed carriage. We were confronted by] a scene of carnage. I became very aware of pieces of metal. There were people who were injured, and there were people who were not moving or bodies that were not moving.

I [could only see] to the second person in front of me, a distance of maybe 4ft, 5 ft. [I saw a man with a head wound]. I actually asked him to sit down and to keep his head tilted backwards with his hand to it – I'm not sure what was in his hand, a piece of cloth or clothing – to try to – he'd got a head wound.

I felt, rather than leaning forward, leaning backwards might release the pressure on that. [I tried to stem the flow of blood from the cut above his eye?] By moving his hand, which already had some cloth in it, up to his head.

[I saw another man lying on the floor of the carriage] I was aware he had severe leg injuries. I was also dimly aware of someone else who had already reached him. I spoke to the man.

I also, for his own comfort, reached forward and picked up – it was a burnt – but it was a paperback book, and placed it under his head to ease the strain of his neck on the hard floor. [I became aware of another man.] He was calling for help . . . He was actually half in and half out of the carriage floor.

He wasn't responding when I moved towards him and I told him my name and that I – could I check his injuries, as I was a first aider. He did not respond . . .

I attempted to find two pulses; one in his neck and one in his arm. They were very weak. . . [After climbing out of the carriage and approaching the victim from underneath the train] I saw . . . the remains of the lower half of his body, not all in one piece . . . No, there was a leg . . . There was a leg that was not connected and, also, I was aware that the rest of his torso may also not have been connected. That was done by feel, not by sight.

He shortly after began to fall through the hole in the floor. I recall actually feeling myself that that was the point at which he had died, due to the fact that, when the brain dies, the muscles relax and he was collapsing through there. I remember lowering him to the floor, to the track below, and becoming acutely aware that his eyes were open. I reached forward and closed them, and, as I did so, I said a prayer for him, whether he be a religious man or not, because I felt that he'd finished with this world and he shouldn't be staring at it, and I wished him the very best in this world to take with him into the next."

All witness statements have been reproduced from the website of the Coroner's Inquests into the London Bombings of 7 July 2005; most of them have been edited for reasons of space. Full transcripts of all the proceedings can be found at http://www.independent.gov.uk/7julyinquests/

Timeline: 7 July 2005

7.25 Four men, each with a large rucksack containing 1-5kg of high explosives, catch a train from Luton to London's King's Cross Thameslink station.

8.30 CCTV footage at King's Cross shows the men hugging each other, before splitting up and going towards different sections of the Underground.

8.50 The first bomber, Shehzad Tanweer, sets off his device between Liverpool Street and Aldgate stations on the eastbound Circle Line. Initial reports are of either an explosion or a collision between trains. The second bomber, Mohammad Sidique Khan, detonates his device at Edgware Road. The third is set off by Germaine Lindsay on the Piccadilly Line between King's Cross and Russell Square.

8.52 London Underground reports power surges on the network.

8.55 The fourth bomber, Hasib Hussain, is seen on Euston Road, outside King's Cross station. He tries to contact his friends by phone, but gets no reply.

9.00 Hasib Hussain goes back into WH Smith at King's Cross mainline station, where he buys a 9-volt battery.

9.15 Emergency services confirm they have been called to Liverpool St after reports of an explosion. Transport for London says a power failure may be the cause. It begins shutting down the entire network.

9.19 A man fitting Hasib Hussain's description is seen on a number 91 bus from King's Cross to Euston station, where he switches to the number 30 bus travelling east from Marble Arch.

9.29 The Metropolitan Police confirms it is dealing with a major incident in London, but says it is too early to know what has happened.

9.30 Cabinet Office Briefing Room A (Cobra), the government's national crisis management facility, is activated to co-ordinate a response to the unfolding events.

9.47 Hasib Hussain's bomb explodes on the number 30 bus at Upper Woburn Place/Tavistock Square.

9.49 London Underground system is shut down.

9.55 The first pictures from members of the public caught up in the explosion are emailed to the BBC.

10.21 Scotland Yard says there have been "multiple explosions" in London.

10.23 British Transport Police confirms there has been an explosion on a bus in Tavistock Square.

10.40 All London hospitals are put on "major incident alert".

11.08 Bus services are suspended across central London.

11.18 Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Ian Blair confirms fears that it is a coordinated terror attack, saying he knows of "about six explosions".

11.25 The first fatalities are confirmed.

12.05 Then-Prime Minister Tony Blair breaks off from the G8 summit in Gleneagles and speaks out on the incident, calling it a coordinated series of "barbaric" terrorist attacks.

12.10 A website linked to al-Qa'ida carries a statement, saying it has carried out a "blessed raid" in London "in retaliation for the massacres Britain is committing in Iraq and Afghanistan".

14.58 Sir Iqbal Sacranie, secretary general of the Muslim Council of Britain, joins other religious leaders in condemning the attacks.

15.25 Police reveal that at least 33 people have been killed.

16.35 The Union Jack flying over Buckingham Palace is lowered to half-mast.

17.32 Having flown back from the G8 Summit in Scotland, Tony Blair emerges from a meeting in Downing Street and says the "slaughter of innocent people" will not intimidate Britain.

18.13 The number of confirmed dead rises to 37. (It will ultimately reach 52.)

22.19 The emergency casualty bureau receives a call from the family of Hasib Hussain, reporting him missing.

23.40 A police officer tells investigators cash cards in the names of Sidique Khan and Shehzad Tanweer have been found at the scene of the Aldgate blast. Authorities begin to profile the bombers.

The 7 July bombings inquest in numbers

309 witnesses, ranging from survivors to paramedics to members of the public

188 statements from witnesses read in court

73 days of testimony

26 lawyers representing families, transport bodies and emergency services

£4.76m estimated cost in pounds*

2 anonymous witnesses. One from MI5 and one an ex-girlfriend of bomber Shehzad Tanweer

1 High Court judge presiding over proceedings, Lady Justice Hallett of the Court of Appeal

*Worked out using an average daily total for the in-court days of the inquest based on HM Coroner's figures for 2010

The dead

Fifty-two innocent victims died in the 7/7 attacks; many of their relatives made statements at the inquest. Here are some brief fragments from a few of them...


"My father, Arthur, worked as a police officer on the island [Montserrat] for almost 32 years. He is remembered for his jovial nature and his calypso singing. He became well known for his calypso record 'Signs of Christmas'."



"Lee and Sammy [Lee's fiancée Samantha Badham, who was also killed at Russell Square] were always together. When they were able to get time off, they loved to go to Wales and go walking in Ffestiniog, where they would take a lot of photos. As far as their future was concerned, it was to be together and to get married and have children."



"Ojara was born in Achara Ihechiowa village in Nigeria. She was a philanthropist. In 2003, she made education free for the 500 pupils in her village school. For her services to the village, the village has made her a chief posthumously and named the primary school after her."



"Like ripples in a pond, one solitary event has repercussions which continue to be experienced. The only real thing of value any of us possess is our capacity to love one another and Adrian's love was limitless – a big man with an incredibly big heart. Our love can never be destroyed."



"The loss of my mother has shattered our family. As I watch my friends have their own families and develop adult relationships with their mums, I crave all that has been cruelly taken away from me. We will forever miss her walking through the door... and shouting in her fake American accent: 'Hi, honey, I'm home'."

SABA MOZAKKA (daughter)


"The changing face of Jamie, from the exuberant child who seemed to fear nothing, to the long-haired, rock star teenager – all hair, nail varnish, black mascara and guitars, to the mature, but still quirky, young man . . ."



"She was born in University College Hospital, graduated from University College London and lost her life in Tavistock Square, all within one square mile."



"Benedetta Ciaccia was a beautiful, sweet Italian girl who greatly loved life. On 11 September 2005, she would have got married. But the time stopped at 8.50am on 7 July 2005."



"Philip was a great gatherer of friends. They have said many times that he was the hub around whom they all spun."



"Ironically, Jon used to pick up a packet of cigarettes and announce: 'These will never kill me.' He was right."