Jayne Dowle
Published27th May 2025, 16:45 BST
I’d been to watch the triumphant Premier League parade of Liverpool FC with my daughter, who studies there, my son, a lifelong Red and his girlfriend.
Despite the pouring rain, we’d had the most wonderful day around the city, everywhere resplendent in red and white. As we walked back up Bold Street after watching the players’ bus go along The Strand, I remarked to my daughter how incredibly good-natured and trouble-free this huge event had been. Covering about seven miles, we hadn’t seen one aggressive incident.
It's estimated that up to one million people thronged the streets, a life-affirming positive sight, all ages, so many nationalities, people travelling from all over the world to share the moment.
Police officers stand on duty at a cordon at the entrance to Water Street, at the scene of an incident, on the sidelines of an open-top bus victory parade for Liverpool's Premier League title win, in Liverpool, north-west England on May 26, 2025. (Photo by Darren Staples / AFP)Police officers stand on duty at a cordon at the entrance to Water Street, at the scene of an incident, on the sidelines of an open-top bus victory parade for Liverpool's Premier League title win, in Liverpool, north-west England on May 26, 2025. (Photo by Darren Staples / AFP)
Police officers stand on duty at a cordon at the entrance to Water Street, at the scene of an incident, on the sidelines of an open-top bus victory parade for Liverpool's Premier League title win, in Liverpool, north-west England on May 26, 2025. (Photo by Darren Staples / AFP)
Lads were climbing on top of traffic lights. Kids were hoisted onto shoulders. When the players’ bus finally passed by we couldn’t see the likes of Mo Salah and Virgil van Dijk for the wreaths of red smoke from celebratory flares. Everyone was singing, dancing and jumping up and down to Liverpool anthems.
Little did we know that around 6pm, as we made our way back to my daughter’s flat, horror was unfolding less than a mile away on Water Street.
Fast forward to 7pm. Our train back to Sheffield was at 20.19pm, but as it was so busy, I insisted we should get to the station in good time. We quickly realised there was no access to the platforms and joined the massive queue.
Then a WhatsApp arrived from my daughter, shared by her friend, saying something terrible had happened. It showed a car driving into crowds of people, red and white flags all around, bodies flying into the air, or being dragged along. I replied saying, ‘surely this is a fake’. And thought, ‘what a horrible thing to mock up’. Then my son said he was receiving similar messages from friends too.
A discarded child's octopus soft toy, and a Liverpool flag lays in the road behind a police cordon on Water Street in Liverpool on May 27, 2025, after a car ploughed in to crowds gathered to watch an open-top bus victory parade for Liverpool's Premier League trophy parade on May 26.. (Photo by Paul ELLIS / AFP)A discarded child's octopus soft toy, and a Liverpool flag lays in the road behind a police cordon on Water Street in Liverpool on May 27, 2025, after a car ploughed in to crowds gathered to watch an open-top bus victory parade for Liverpool's Premier League trophy parade on May 26.. (Photo by Paul ELLIS / AFP)
A discarded child's octopus soft toy, and a Liverpool flag lays in the road behind a police cordon on Water Street in Liverpool on May 27, 2025, after a car ploughed in to crowds gathered to watch an open-top bus victory parade for Liverpool's Premier League trophy parade on May 26.. (Photo by Paul ELLIS / AFP)
It quickly became apparent the video was not a fake. The joyful atmosphere of just hours before turned to terror. My daughter phoned and begged me to go back to her flat; she was frightened something else might happen on the streets.
Trouble erupted at the station. People stormed barriers, threw missiles, fought with police. Trains were arriving and leaving empty because it wasn’t safe. Our train was cancelled. The station kept closing, opening, only for more trouble to break out, then closing again. It soon became apparent that we were going nowhere. We tried to find an Uber (quoted £160), but none were available. The atmosphere, as darkness fell, was edgy and volatile.
So four of us crammed into my daughter’s room with blankets and pillows, switched on the TV and tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Will we ever make sense of it? Only in the fullness of time when the facts are established might we begin to understand exactly what propelled the series of events that prompted such carnage, caused so many injuries, and absolutely, indelibly ruined forever all memories of that wonderful day.
We counted ourselves extremely fortunate that we were not on Water Street at the time it happened. But we so easily could have been.
My children are 19 and 22, adults. It’s the first time they have ever been so close to such a major incident, and it has thoroughly shocked them both.
As we watched the news and scoured social media, they both shed tears, realising that by one act, lives can be irrevocably changed.
It’s shook my daughter’s faith in the city she has come to love, living an independent life as a young woman, studying, working, enjoying the nightlife. She’s always felt safe, but doesn’t now, although I’ve tried to reassure her it was a one-off incident.
It’s shook my son’s faith in football as a unifying force; he works in the community as a coach and loves the fact that football brings everyone together. Until it doesn’t, scattering them across the street.
And it’s shaken my faith in humanity. Dozens of people were injured by that car, countless others traumatised by what they saw. The abandoned scarves and teddy bears strewn on pavements in the aftermath tell their own heartbreaking story.
As adults, at least we have the language to talk about it, to discuss what happened and try to somehow rationalise and come to terms with what it means for our own view of the world. We might also consider how those in charge of such large-scale events should devise ways to ensure it never happens again.
For the children however, who started out that day so full of hope and excitement, how do they process such violence? I keep thinking of a little lad I saw waving a red and white flag on the parade route, his face an absolute picture of happiness. He shouldn’t have to live in world where the proud red of his football team became associated with blood.