The city bubbled with early morning shoppers, international and interstate tourists and business people daydreaming about Bondi Beach.

Police commissioner Andrew Scipione’s force was investigating a number of relatively minor incidents from the night before.

A tall, medium built man attempted to hold up a Surry Hills convenience store that Sunday night but “fled empty-handed after the attendant’s wife entered the store,” according to police.

It was 10 days before Christmas.

Whispers about police terror raids in the suburbs remained unconfirmed.

The first tweet sent out by NSW Police on the morning of December 15, 2014 featured the message: “Merry Christmas … Have a safe, happy and peaceful festive season.”

It included a garish YouTube video of uniformed police officers singing Christmas carols.

A female cop warbled “All I Want For Christmas Is You”. Andrew Scipione was grinning.

“Christmas and New Year are traditionally times to take a break from work and spend time with family and friends,” he told the camera.

“Please spare a thought for all the emergency services and volunteers who’ll be working throughout this period keeping our community safe.

“On behalf of more than 20 thousand officers and staff of the NSW Police Force, my very best wishes to you and your family for a safe, a happy and a peaceful festive season.”

Hours later the police commissioner found himself in the middle of his greatest test.

By 11.30am, roughly 90 minutes after Sydney changed forever, Scipione had spoken to premier Mike Baird about an escalating situation in the middle of the city.

The premier’s staff, from their Martin Place offices, could see the terrified faces of human pawns in a demented game of chess staring back up at them. They were forced to hold a black-and-white banner up to the window.

The bureaucrats felt their veins go to ice as police ushered them out of the building.

The police commissioner, along with the brass executive, had been briefed and Operations Pioneer and Eagle were initiated.

The codenames refer respectively to the police response to a terrorist attack both on the ground and on the intelligence gathering front.

Special Ops: As the day unfurled

Scipione and premier Baird held a press conference together at 1.30pm at the police headquarters on Elizabeth Street.

“We are being tested today in Sydney. Police are being tested, the public is being tested, but whatever the test, we’ll face it head on and we will remain a strong, democratic, civil society,” the premier told reporters.

Through pursed lips and gritted teeth, he spoke the unspeakable.

Commissioner Scipione’s language had changed dramatically since his joyful Christmas message to New South Wales.

Through pursed lips and gritted teeth, he spoke the unspeakable.

“I can confirm for you that we have an armed offender in a premises holding an undisclosed number of hostages in the city in the Martin Place area,” he said.

“We want this matter resolved peacefully and we will do all we need to to ensure that … the officers that are there are well trained and professional they know what they’re doing.

A timeline of events on that painful day

“They are trained for this and I know that they will get through and this will be an outcome that will be positive.”

Chillingly, he was forced to tell the state not to be alarmed about police cars driving down any street, suburb or shire.

They were not related to the terrorist attack at the Lindt Café, he promised.

Details tiptoed into light throughout the afternoon.

Police established the identity of the evil gunman. Man Heron Monis. They knew him well.

Messages from inside the cafe began to trickle. The hostages told reporters around the country a crazed religious fanatic with a set of political demands was holding them at gunpoint.

He was wearing a backpack and boasted of bombs.

The premier and his police commissioner held a conference call with Islamic leaders.

“We are in this together,” premier Baird said at an 8.30pm press conference with Scipione.

There was a slight urgency in the language of Andrew Scipione when he next spoke.

He passed on a message to the media gathered in a room on Level 14 of police headquarters.

“If people are being contacted by hostages, particularly the media, we’d ask that you … ask them to ensure that the man inside speaks to police, speak to our trained negotiators,” he said.

Though Baird and his constituents had “complete faith” in the NSW Police working tirelessly to achieve a bloodless conclusion, there was a palpable dread to that Monday sunset.

At midnight, it seemed Australia was still awake.

Baird and Scipione remained squarely focused on the coffee shop at the intersection of Phillip Street and Martin Place.

The two men, both devout, prayed for peace.

They felt the weight of the world on their shoulders, their every move analysed and picked apart by a desperate chorus of global commentators.

Peace proved painfully elusive.

Shortly after 2am, a tornado of gunfire and explosions plunged Martin Place into chaos.

Less than three days later that same female cop was singing “Silent Night” on Martin Place.

She was soothing head-bowed Sydneysiders mourning the deaths of two of their own.

Her smile was gone.