Dan Barr, a former soldier, has been hailed as a hero for jumping into the car of the man who drove into crowds of pedestrians at the Liverpool FC parade, Paul Doyle, and bringing the rampage to a halt. His “exceptional courage” was commended with a High Sheriff award by judge Andrew Menary KC. Here, the 41-year-old from Birkenhead, Merseyside, describes what happened.
I just remember seeing an opportunity of his car being there. I was about five paces away. There was a perfect gap from me to the door. So I ran in as quick as I could.
There were other people around the car and they were desperately – and rightfully so – trying to get [to it]. I ran up to the window with the full intention of punching it … because I assumed all the doors were locked.
At the final moment I tried the door and it opened. I crawled inside. Bear in mind all the screaming and shouting and panic. As soon as I got into the back seat, he accelerated and the door slammed immediately behind me.
Some things are very blurry but I do remember other things vividly – the change in noise being one. The contrast between the screaming and shouting and then almost silence. It was really, really strange.
I remember looking for the keys and anything to stop him. I’d have more than likely attempted to grab the wheel, stick the handbrake on.
I can see all the horrendous things going on. You can feel people. You can feel them going over. The lack of resistance sticks out in my mind. It was just like sailing through and there was no resistance at all from the people. Like it was gliding through indiscriminately.
Eventually – this could be two seconds, I don’t know – I remember seeing the automatic gear stick so from the back seat I reached through and I’ve pushed it as far as I could, as hard as I could, into “P”, which brought the car to the stop.
He wanted to carry on – he was revving the car still. I kept my hand there as strong as I could. He had no chance, he wasn’t going to move my arm.
I managed to bring my right hand forward and squeeze on to his button on his seat belt. As soon as I pressed that he was gone. The crowd were trying to get him out.
I remember thinking, “I hope I don’t get too much of a kicking”. That’s what I honestly thought … because of what it looks like: I’ve just got out of that car.
Walking up the street, I remember seeing three casualties but they had two or three people around them so I thought I could be no more help. I met up with my brother and I imagine I told him at a million miles an hour something roughly that made sense, and then went for a pint.
If he was a terrorist with a bomb, I was already dead. It’s just: get amongst it, do something. You can alter things.
If you could somehow find the truth off most of the men I saw on that street, they were all trying to do the same thing. Not like “hero” or “brave”. It’s standard that you do what you can. I don’t think it’s anything special. I know it sounds mad. It hasn’t sunk in – maybe it never will.
