Praise for those who turned towards danger, not away, in Bondi Westfield attack

Brave members of the public confronted Joel Cauchi during his Bondi Junction Westfield rampage.

There is a moment in the many hours of footage of the attack at Bondi where a man – presumably a father – turns to face the knife-wielding assailant.

He puffs out his chest and holds his arm out, wide. He’s making himself as large as he can, and his message will instantly be understood, by men everywhere.

“You want my family? You’ll have to get through me first.”

There will always be those, in times of crisis, who turn towards, and not away from danger. There will always be courage, and there will always be love.

Powerful force, love.

“Please take care of my baby.”

Ashlee Good – a vibrant young professional, and a new mother – could feel the strength draining from her, and she used her final moments to say those words, to strangers. That is hope, for the ­future. That is an ongoing belief, in the goodness of human beings. That is love.

“Drop the knife.”

Inspector Amy Scott said those words to the attacker, and when he did not drop the knife, she did not hesitate. She shot him dead.

That is courage.

Look for the people who are helping. There are always people helping.

It’s an old saying, the spirit within which ever dims, because it’s true: there are always people helping.

Bollard Man. He was helping. The Apple store employees, who brought down the shutters. They were helping.

Bondi – even before this, known for its rescues – is derided, sometimes, for its gold Lamborghinis, and its tiny bikinis.

In reality it is a beachside village, a place where all are welcome to enjoy the ocean breeze, and the whale fins as they stand perpendicular to the horizon.

In Bondi, you will find blokes in budgie smugglers – some are billionaires, and some are backpackers – sitting side-by-side on the sand.

You will find mega-mansions on Ben Buckler, and studio apartments where the fridge barely fits under the kitchen bench.

The list of victims of this atrocity include the fine young daughter of one of the nation’s most successful multi-millionaires, and a security guard, making a good and honest living.

Westfield Bondi Junction – the Junga, or the Jungle, to locals – is one of the nation’s most luxurious shopping centres. It has polished marble floors and valet parking and a Gucci store, but you can also just get a Boost juice, and maybe see a movie.

Into this gentle space on Saturday came fear, and confusion, in the form of a man with a long history of mental illness. He had been living in a car, and his family has sent a message in support of the woman who shot him; their grief must be palpable.

And into that space came those who turned toward, and not away, from danger.

You will have heard about the Bondi Rescue lifeguard, Andrew Reid, who happened to be in Myer, trying out new beds. He asked for permission to duck under the security screen, to perform first aid on a woman he could see bleeding.

He turned toward, and not away.

“I had to go and help because that’s what we’re trained to do, as lifeguards,” he said.

Yes, it was a frightening situation: “I have never seen so much blood, we were just looking for clothes, trying to stem the bleeding.” Bondi being so small, he knew Ashlee Good personally.

“She just wanted to be a mum you know? She just wanted to be. And she was a beautiful person,” he said.

He was hailed a hero, but wouldn’t have it, saying: “You know, for me, some of the real ­heroes are the police officer woman that brought him down, and the guy with the bollard.

“Like, are you kidding me? Like he kept him at bay. You know, that would have given time for more police to get there, for more people to get out of there.

“Like, he’s an absolute legend.”

Ah yes, Bollard Man, hailed on the internet as a “gold-tier legend”.

You will have seen him in the footage. He’s holding a bollard high, the base pointed toward the attacker. He’s at the top of the ­escalator, and again, he is moving toward him, not away, allowing others to escape.

Oh no, buddy, you won’t be getting past me.

There is something of an Australian precedent forming here: ­remember the milk crate? The one used by a bystander to pin down an attacker in Sydney’s CBD in 2019? Milk crate, shop bollard, whatever, it seems there is always someone prepared to give heroism a crack.

You will surely know by now about NSW Police inspector Amy Scott, who just happened to be there, alone, when a frightened shopper said: “He’s got a knife.”

“Which way?” she said, and the shoppers pointed, and she started to run. Towards, not away.

And while she did not have her colleagues with her, she was not alone. Behind her, on the footage, you can see two men following. One of them armed with a white-painted metal cafe chair, like he’s prepared to use it, like you might fend off a lion.

This attacker, though, he was no lion.

He was outside Woolies, waving a knife. He went past Zara, and Kmart. That’s some distance. He was not shouting as he covered the ground. He was not yelling. He was moving at a slow jog. These were not crazy scenes.

Unmistakably, he walked past men, steered around them, to ­attack women and children instead.

A mother.

A baby in a pram.

On the fifth floor, Inspector Scott said just one thing when she saw him – “Drop the knife” – and when he did not, she shot him in the chest.

And when he fell, she dropped beside him, to administer CPR.

Realising that she would not be able to save him, she turned to shoppers, bleeding on the floor, and tried to save them, too.

In the footage, she’s calm, and deliberate. She is making life-or-death decisions in microseconds, never losing her cool.

A witness said of the scene: “He just kept coming. He wasn’t going to stop.” She had no choice. She had to take a life; in so doing, she saved countless others.

The online world was quick to express its gratitude.

“Inspector Scott, if this were the 17th century, I would bow my head on bended knee to you,” said one.

“If I was in the force, I would salute you. Instead, I put my hand on my heart, and thank you.”

Then there is also the footage of the father, leading his children in eyemasks past the blood and horror.

“Amazing Dad.”

Yes. There is nothing they need to see; nothing he wants them to remember.

There are countless other nameless heroes, people you’ve probably heard and know much more about in your WhatsApp groups, and on Instagram.

There are those who hid the little kids in toilet cubicles; those who bought the shutters on the shops down; those who shielded the bodies of their family members under their own fast-beating hearts.

An hour or so before her life was taken, Ashlee Good posted a photo to Instagram with nine-month-old Harriet in a car seat.

She set the clip to the song My Girl.

My girl, my girl, talking about My Girl …

You can feel her happiness, at being a mother.

Outside the shopping centre, Sky News reporter Laura Jayes was struggling to report her death.

“A new mum having to hand over her newborn to somebody she did not know … The most precious thing in her life,” she said.

“It’s hard to know what to say in these circumstances because you want to do her life justice … and you want her baby to know one day what an incredible mother she was.”

She was the kind of mother, feeling her life force seeping from her, handed her baby to a stranger and said: “Please look after her.”

Up they stepped, to staunch the blood. Towards, not away.