The minicab door opened and Mark Duggan jumped out at pace.
I was convinced that Duggan was trying to escape.
It's like a freeze-frame moment. In my head the world had stopped.
My focus was on what was in Duggan's hands, a gun in a sock.
I was now facing Duggan broadly square on
The only thing I was focused on was the gun.
There is a tipping point, because he's moved it away from his body
I now have an honestly held belief that he is going to shoot me
Duggan had now crossed a line in the sand
I brought my weapon up and I discharged one round.
It struck Duggan in the right of his chest.
I fired a second time, hitting him in the right bicep.
It's something I'll never forget.
He fell backwards...
and other armed officers...
converged on the suspect.
My focus is glued on the gun.
I reassessed the situation and…
the gun was not there.
Suddenly the gun disappears.
The Duggan family didn't start the riots,
I didn't start the riots,
but you can't ignore the fact
that London and the country's burning,
to a certain degree
because of what I've done.
© Mark Mace Smith
Mark Mace Smith, poet, painter, photographer, journalist based in Manchester UK.