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She finishes by asking everyone to turn on their phone torches, shine them up to the sky and to “remember her and every other woman killed at the hands of male violence”. All 300 of us point our phone torches up into the night. There is no sound except someone quietly crying.
Courtesy of Ella Alexander
Something shifts and someone walks to the front of the bandstand to lay down their flowers. Before long, tulips, daffodils, and roses encircle the railings. Everyone files down the paths, back to homes, restaurants, gyms or supermarkets. This group of people might have been largely strangers, but in that moment, where phones were shone into the sky, there was a mighty strength. This vigil was all of us; a place for anger, grief, fear, trauma and solidarity.
Sarah Everard was not just a political tool or a case study. She was a young woman, and her life mattered.
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