‘I confronted the Southport killer
Every morning that Alan Crowley pulls back his bedroom curtain, he relives the most traumatic day of his life.
Alanâs home lies directly opposite the Hart Space Dance studio where six months ago, Axel Rudakubana launched his murderous knife attack on children at a Taylor Swift dance workshop that saw three young girls brutally killed.
Today, passers-by would notice little sign of the horrific event that unfolded on this quiet Southport residential street. The only clues are a handful of pink ribbons still tied to lamp posts in honour of those dead and injured in the attack.
But Alan sees it differently. While the 41-year-old knows many suffered an ordeal far worse than his and are still struggling to cope with what happened, he remains haunted by what he witnessed that day.
Alan sees a little girl wearing an oxygen mask who had been badly stabbed on the floor at the end of his drive. The street dotted with blood. The parents desperately trying to kiss their children better as they waited for the emergency services to arrive. And what he himself saw when he rushed into the dance studio and saw Rudakubana crouched over a young girl.

Life was already difficult for Alan. He lost his father to suicide during lockdown and debilitating nerve damage meant he had to give up his job at the local warehouse.
He had been battling alcoholism and rising debt but on the hot summer morning of 29 July, Alan had a rare moment of feeling hopeful as he walked in the sunshine. He promised himself he would make a start on some jobs to pull himself out of his depression.
Alan was returning home from The Bridge Cafe at the top of the road when he realised something was wrong.
âYou could feel the air drop. The atmosphere just changed. As Iâm walking I can feel my sixth sense kicking into gear telling me to pay attention,â he recalls.
âI started to see silhouettes but there were shapes on the floor and it wasnât making sense. Then I start hearing screams and cries.â
Alan normally has to walk with a stick but adrenaline kicked in and he moved quickly towards the crowd.
âHeâs in there stabbing everyone,â a woman on the road told Alan. Some children were being shepherded into a neighbourâs home while others lay on the floor gravely injured.

Alan says he wanted to help but didnât know first aid, so instead he rushed towards the danger.
âViolence I can do. Patch children together I can not,â he says, trying to smile through the difficult memory.
Alan sped to the door to the studio. He saw blood on the walls. From the ground floor, Alan looked up the stairs that led to a landing which connected to the dance studio. He saw Rudakubana on top of what would later be found to be one of the murdered girls. Alan could see the killerâs hooded head.
Alan resolved to charge in but at that moment, the first two police officers arrived.
They ran through the door and jumped on Rudakubana. Alan was right behind them, with another local man named Joel following him inside.
He vividly remembers the bloodied knife had already been dropped to the floor. The tip of it pointed towards the stairwell.

âHe had given up,â he says. âAll I saw were his eyes. Iâm not going to say they were dripping with malice but he had really pale, white eyes. It was the main thing that stuck out to me about him.
âHis hands were covered in blood. I looked him in the eyes and said, âwhat have you done, you absolute ****â.â
While the police restrained the killer, Alan began to look for survivors to help. The door to the dance studio where most of the attack took place was ajar.
âOh God, you could feel the evil. You could feel the evil from the door. You could feel that something was wrong,â he says.
The police told him to stay away from the room. He spotted a locked toilet door next to the studio and realising somebody was hiding there he knocked on the door.
âI said itâs okay. Itâs all over. Weâre here⌠Heidi [one of the dance instructors] was so shocked she couldnât speak,â he says, before a small childâs voice replied simply âokayâ.
âTheyâre so brave. I just didnât want to leave them.â
Since that day, Alan struggles to sleep, battling with panic attacks amid constant flashbacks of what he witnessed. At Christmas he found himself sobbing in the supermarket as he thought of the girls who had been murdered.
The nerve pain in his right-hand side has grown worse since the attack and his doctor has increased his medication.

He says his home of eight years has become âa prisonâ. Alan doesnât have the money to move away. So he is stuck surrounded by the trauma he and all of those present that day endured.
âHow can you continue living with yourself when youâve witnessed one of the most horrific things ever known to man?,â he says. âYou just canât switch it off.â
Alan says many men in Southport, like his late father, donât want to discuss their feelings or reach out for help. Instead, many of the local men hide their trauma and sadness behind the scenes.
A week after the attack Alan was brought to A&E in crisis and kept overnight on a morphine drip and saline to help him recover from a mental crisis and alcohol abuse.

Alan says two weeks after the Southport attack, the police took his statement at his home and secured his agreement that he would testify if the case went to trial.
After speaking with the council, Alan managed to get a telephone assessment.
âDuring the telephone assessment, he was like âjust to let you know itâs perfectly fine all the things youâre going through Mr Crowley, itâll pass in about 30 days and weâll see how youâre feeling then,â says Alan.
He was offered counselling sessions known as talking therapy but he believed these werenât adequate to deal with the trauma he suffered.
Alan felt uncomfortable pushing for more as he worried he may be taking the place away from one of the parents, little girls or adults physically injured in the attack.
Alan says he eventually got himself together and âcaused a fussâ. Six months on from the attack and two days before this interview, he finally secured a trauma therapy appointment but was only given two dayâs notice. Heâs now been forced to delay the session for a week until he receives his disability benefit so he can pay for transport.
Meanwhile, Alan has found support with a mental health discussion group called ManCave that volunteers recently set up in the town to address the mental health crisis among local men.
A sign of the bonds that formed in July comes as Alan walks through Southport. By chance, he bumps into Joel, the man who ran into the dance studio alongside him to help the police tackle Rudakubana.
The men havenât seen each other since that day and are cheered at seeing each other almost exactly six months on from the horrendous attack.
They hug each other tightly.
As the community continues to grapple with the full horror of what happened in July, for Alan this embrace offers a fleeting moment of relief.
In a joint statement NHS Cheshire and Merseyside and Sefton Council said: âOn behalf of the various healthcare providers for Sefton, we are always sorry to hear of any negative experience in accessing care and support and will continue to work hard to support those who have been impacted by the tragic events in Southport last summer. While we do not comment on individual cases, individual concerns will always be addressed.
âThere remains a wide range of support available, with more information available via the Southport Together section of the Sefton Council website.â
A spokesperson for Merseyside Police said: âA detailed victim and witness strategy was developed by the investigation team, working closely with partners to signpost witnesses to the appropriate mental health pathway. We are satisfied that all of those identified as requiring mental health support were referred in line with this strategy.â