By 7pm, the Polair One helicopter was circling the Trains’ two-bedroom weatherboard, a camera capturing their movements. It filmed as Gareth, standing by his HiLux, pointed his rifle into the sky and fired at them.

At 7.31pm, the camera captured Stacey as she emerged from the house carrying two coffee cups. She sat down at an outdoor table to share a drink with her husband, who put down his gun to join her.

And there they sat, in the middle of a siege, with police watching them from above and more mustering nearby, to share a drink.

In the darkness, they filmed themselves, the couple’s faces filling the frame, nightmarish and ghoul-like.

“They came to kill us and we killed them,” Gareth said into the camera.

“If you don’t defend yourself against these devils and demons, you’re a coward.”

Afterwards, they uploaded it to YouTube – a message for fellow conspiracy theorist Donald Day Jr.

At 7.52pm, 19 SERT operatives, a tactical commander, two intelligence officers and two technical support officers gathered at the police forward command post.

They’d travelled by road and by air, bringing the tank-like heavily armoured BearCat and three light armoured vehicles.

Operative 114, a team leader whose role of “Sierra One” was to manage the containment of the Trains’ stronghold, had flown to the western downs in a helicopter, along with the tactical commander and two snipers.

Their mission was to get in contact with the gunmen and ask for their surrender, to safely place them under arrest.

Were they holding the woman hostage? Or was she one of them? Nobody was sure.

They had concerns about vehicles on the property. They could not risk the Trains escaping. If they tried to leave, SERT operatives were to take steps to prevent it – even if that meant killing them.

Snipers were put in each of the light armoured vehicles and two were sent off into the darkness, without lights, to begin forming a loose blockade around the house. Operative 114 did not want the gunmen to hear or see them.

Polair One was hovering above. A second helicopter was ready to take over when fuel ran low. A camera on board would normally feed back to officers on the ground but the poor reception made that impossible.

Instead, an officer on board the helicopter was forced to take screenshots showing the positions of each of the Trains which he sent to those below. It wasn’t as good as a live feed, but it was better than nothing.

Operative 114 climbed inside the BearCat, sitting in the front, next to the driver. Behind him were two police negotiators and other operatives.

It was dark and the long dirt drive snaked around to the right and then to the left, eventually leading to the fenced-in house yard and then the house itself.

The police car inside the front gate was still burning but beyond that, the bush on their left hand side was ablaze. Smoke filled the air, blocked their view, and blocked the Trains’ view of them.

At 9.10pm, the SERT commander gave the order to begin negotiations. At the forward command post, negotiators had six mobile phone numbers linked to Gareth, Stacey and Nathaniel. They tried them all, every five minutes, on repeat. Every number either did not connect or went to a phone that was switched off.

The BearCat moved down the drive on approach to the house. Above them, the Polair crew saw movement and relayed to teams on the ground that one of the gunmen was on the move.

It was Gareth. He approached a Toyota HiLux parked outside the house and switched on a powerful spotlight, pointing it directly at the big, black armoured vehicle.

Operative 114 gave the order for a negotiator to begin talking over the loudspeaker.

“To the occupants of 251 – this is the police,” the negotiator said. And the BearCat rocked as a volley of shots came at them. They were shocked that the weapon was so powerful that it moved the nine-and-a-half tonne tank-like vehicle.

Shot after shot hammered the windscreen with alarming accuracy.

The negotiator tried again, keeping his tone commanding but casual.

“Guys, we need you to stop firing your weapons,” he said.

“Nathaniel, Gareth and Stacey. This is the police. Guys, we need you to put your firearms down. Put your weapons on the ground. For your own safety, we need you to follow these instructions, guys.”

The shooting forced their retreat and Operative 114 shouted instructions at the driver to help him stay on the path while reversing blindly back through the smoke.

“They can obviously shoot,” one remarked.

The big vehicle waited in position while the three light armoured vehicles hid themselves in the darkness, surrounding the stronghold but not so close as to bring attention and draw fire.

The BearCat made a second stand, travelling back down the drive where the negotiator tried again. And again, they were met with a volley of gunfire.

For the experienced operatives inside the BearCat, it was a bizarre situation. Normally people who found themselves in a standoff with police were emotional, distraught or even aggressive. They screamed and shouted, paced or waved their arms. The Trains were like robots. They moved like it was a military training exercise.

At 10.04pm – after taking fire from the Trains for 52 minutes – a shot rang out from the team three vehicle on the right hand side of the house. The round hit the water tank and possibly Gareth, but if he was injured, it did not appear to hamper his movements.

Without a live feed from the helicopter, the light armoured vehicle shone a light at the house, attempting to get a better understanding of the positions of the Gareth and Nathaniel. They knew it would give away their position and they were right. The Train brothers unleashed an onslaught of shots at the car, the high powered rounds pushing it on its wheels.

For 30 minutes, Gareth lay behind a water tank, firing rounds at the police. Nathaniel lay on a mattress behind a log barricade beside the house, his Tikka T3 resting on the thick timber.

The negotiator inside the BearCat continued his marathon efforts, assuring the Trains they would not be hurt if they co-operated.

At 10.32pm, Gareth fired again at the team three vehicle. He paused to reload. SERT operatives from team three returned fire. One of the shots struck him in the head. He fell to the ground.

As Stacey emerged to join Nathaniel to fire at the BearCat, the negotiator inside continued his pleas.

“To the female in the building,” he said, his voice booming from the loud speaker, “place your hands up and weapons down. We cannot guarantee your safety if you do not listen.”

Four minutes after the death of her husband, Stacey walked out onto the landing of the home they shared, lifted her CZ .22 rifle and fired a shot.

The team three sniper fired back. Stacey, a bullet in her head, fell to the ground.

The next two minutes would be Nathaniel’s last stand. Discarding his rifle, he picked up the Glock they’d pilfered from Constable Matthew Arnold’s body.

“Mate, it doesn’t have to be this way. We don’t want to hurt you,” the negotiator pleaded.

Nathaniel got to his feet, relinquishing his barricade, levelled the pistol and pulled the trigger.

Then, another voice. Booming, commanding.

“Show me your hands!” one of the operatives in the BearCat screamed.

“You behind the couch – show me your hands!”

Nathaniel fired. SERT fired back.

READ CHAPTER VI: NEVER AGAIN