Death row killer's chilling last words as he's executed for murdering mum-of-two
A death row inmate who raped and bludgeoned a mother-of-two to death told the family of his victim "I hope my death brings you peace and healing" as he was executed by lethal injection in Florida. Anthony Wainwright was pronounced dead just after 6pm. His death was his sentence for killing married mum-of-two Carmen Gayheart, 23, after kidnapping her from a supermarket car park in the middle of the day in 1994.
"To the family of Carmen Gayheart, I hope my death brings you peace and healing", Wainwright said. He went on to accuse his lawyer of being the "worst" in Florida, adding that the court system there is "broken".
In a message to people fighting the death penalty, he said: "Please continue the fight. Because I can promise you they are not going to let up. They will continue to murder if we continue to let it happen."
But the bulk of his statement was addressed to fiancée Samantha Wainwright - who has taken his last name despite not being married. "You are the love of my life," he said.
"I'm so blessed we found each other. The years we have spent together have been beyond wonderful, they've been downright magical. Love is stronger than death and I know our love will last for eternity."
He concluded by quoting cult classic film The Princess Bride, specifically the statement uttered by Westley to romantic interest Buttercup. "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while," the murderer told his fiancée.
Wainright also turned on his attorney in his final statement, saying he hopes "nobody forgets how terrible of an attorney Baya Harrison has been to all of us guys on the row and how terrible he represented me for so many years". He added: "He might be Florida's worst attorney."
Carmen's older sister, Maria David, was sat front and centre as Wainright took his final breaths. The execution began at around 6.10pm local time at Florida State Prison near Starke.
His shoulders shuddered a few times, and he blinked and took several deep breaths before falling still at 6.14pm. At 6.22pm, 12 minutes after the execution began, Wainright was pronounced dead, according to Governor Ron DeSantis' spokesman Bryan Griffin.
"Carmen was so scared for her life in her final moments, thinking, 'This is it. I'm gonna die'. And I can only hope that fear is something he's feeling now too," Maria told the DailyMail. "She died in a horrific way... it kills me what they did to my baby sister. So I'm glad this is the last time I'll ever see him, and the last time I'll ever have to think about Anthony Wainright."
Nearly 30 minutes later, Gregory Hunt - who was put on death row nearly 37 years ago - was declared dead after being killed with controversial nitrogen gas in Alabama,
He was convicted of breaking into the flat of his victim Karen Lane, sexually abusing her and then beating her to death in 1988. The doctor who performed her post-mortem said she had sustained around 60 blunt force injuries, 20 of them to the head.
Jurors at his 1990 hearing found him guilty of capital murder, sexual abuse and burglary, and an 11-1 vote ruled he should be put to death. On Tuesday just before 6pm, Hunt was strapped to a gurney with a mask covering his face as nitrogen gas was released into the room. He didn't utter any words, but appeared to give a thumbs-up and a peace sign. He was declared dead just before 6.30pm.
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Daily Mail
9 hours ago
- Daily Mail
What really happens to your phone when it's snatched by a thief in the street? A new Mail investigation follows a stolen mobile from London's Baker Street to a teeming district of Hong Kong where there are MILLIONS for sale
A squat, shirtless man opens the door to a nondescript commercial unit on the 19th floor of a 25-storey building in Hong Kong. His expression is vacant, a bloated belly hanging over his shorts and flip flops. Behind him, his wife is cooking rice. Steam billows from the stove, engulfing the cramped, colourless room and raising the humidity to suffocating levels. The couple are as bemused by our sudden appearance as we are by them. There is no reason in the world why any Westerners would wind up at their door. But here we are. Somehow, our painstaking investigation into London 's phone-theft epidemic has led us to this: Yongyi Tong International Trading Co, 42 Hung To Road, Kwun Tong. This is the very building where an iPhone 11 Pro, snatched from the hands of a 41-year-old estate agent on London's famous Baker Street, has ended up. And it has company. Last year, around 80,000 smartphones were stolen in London, with an estimated 5,600 - or 7 per cent - ending up in Hong Kong. The vast majority make their way to the dizzying skyscrapers of Kwun Tong, a business district where traders from across the world gather to buy second-hand phones en masse, before selling them on at healthy profits. The Daily Mail tracked down these Del Boys of the Far East by following stolen devices on an odyssey from the streets of central London and through suburban British warehouses, before landing in the international markets of Dubai, Hong Kong and, ultimately, China. What we saw was mind-boggling. These desirable gadgets clock up more air miles than the Speaker of the House of Commons and pass through the hands of countless middle-men, thieves, hackers and 'dealers'. Yet everyone gets a slice of the pie. Scotland Yard says county lines gangs are now switching from the drugs trade and ordering British youths to snatch thousands of phones. With the estimated 'street value' of devices stolen in the capital alone topping £20million last year, it is no wonder the gangs are changing tack, particularly when the potential punishment pales in comparison. The victims are the vulnerable teens they recruit for the job, often plucked from council estates. But also, of course, the ordinary Londoners - terrorised by the moped gangs and pickpockets who swipe a phone every 15 minutes on average. Today, our investigation reveals exactly how, ripped from your hands on a British street, your phone will swiftly appear on the other side of the world. So, who is behind it, and what can be done to stop this tsunami of crime? Dawn was breaking as Dylan James, 41, strolled down Baker Street in central London. It was January 2022 and the estate agent was checking his messages on the way to work, scrolling through his iPhone 11 Pro. That's when, out of nowhere, a thief on an e-bike veered on to the pavement from behind, snatching the phone out of his hand before hurtling off at speed. Mr James was able to use Apple's FindMy tracking app to follow its movements. Ten days later, he was surprised to find the iPhone had come to rest at 42 Hung To Road, Kwun Tong - about 6,000 miles away. 'It was pinging from this commercial district in Hong Kong,' said Mr James. 'It was truly incredible.' Getting the police to investigate a theft is hard enough, let alone a phone. And if the stolen goods have ended up halfway across the world, forget about it. But the Daily Mail won't. We promised to investigate what had happened to Mr James's phone and many thousands like it, which vanish from British towns and cities - then mysteriously reappear in the teeming streets and workshops of Hong Kong. It is a sultry summer's morning when our reporters arrive in Kwun Tong, posing as businessmen seeking a large order of second-hand phones. Here, shabby concrete office blocks are squeezed into impossibly tight spaces, providing precious shade for the throngs of people making their sweaty way to work. As we enter the building at 42 Hung To Road, the last known resting place of Mr James's iPhone, we are greeted by a quizzical, uniformed woman at the reception desk of a marble-clad lobby. When we explain what we're after, her suspicions are aroused. Speaking in Cantonese, she says: 'Selling second-hand phones is a little bit…', before tilting her hand from side-to-side in the universal language that means 'dodgy'. Nonetheless, she directs us to several units in the building that are in the trade. Yongyi Tong International is one of the few open for business at this early hour, but the shirtless proprietor doesn't seem to be the talkative type. We want some cheap phones that work in the UK, we explain, and understand that this is the place to get them. The man tells us he is 'out of stock', but if we place an order, he could ship a batch back to the UK. He tells us nothing of his suppliers (although when later contacted by the Mail, Yongyi insisted its phones were legally obtained). And, given that Yongyi is just one of around half a dozen units at 42 Hung To Road selling second-hand phones, there is no sure-fire way of knowing which one contains Mr James's phone. It's a needle in a haystack. But that's nothing compared to what we find just a little further down the road. At 1 Hung To Road is a 31-storey building, home to 130 businesses, at least a third of which are used mobile-phone wholesalers. This place is notorious. Online messaging boards are inundated with people from the UK and US posting screenshots of their Find My App showing their stolen phones have ended up at 1 Hung To Road. Even the smallest shops or units here have thousands of second-hand phones in stock, with some of the larger ones offering hundreds of thousands of devices wholesale. On the day the Mail visited, there were easily more than one million used phones of varying origin, condition, brand and model for sale around the building. Some units were clearly fly-by-night operations - budget-looking businesses cramming boxes of phones into little more than 100 square feet of office space. One man was lying in his 'shop' on a dirty mattress. Others appeared to be doing well from their enterprise. One unit had neon signs leading buyers to high tables displaying second hand iPhones, mimicking a high street Apple store. Many second-hand phone sales are legitimate. Apple and other manufacturers use markets such as this to off-load customer returns. But most of the sellers we find are cagey and bristle when asked about their supply lines. One wholesaler does claim to have sourced some from the UK and leads us to a box of around 30 iPhones. As we continue around the labyrinth of dealerships - now beginning to blend into one - we notice that boxes are often marked as 'iCloud locked' and 'unlocked', or 'has ID' and 'no ID'. Buyers say that this differentiates between phones that had been remotely locked through the FindMy app - most likely following a theft. This suggests that, at a glance, there could be hundreds, if not thousands, of phones snatched from the streets of London spread across this one complex alone. But why are they all here? Demand for second-hand smartphones is high in emerging markets for the simple reason that the locals don't have the money to buy them new - particularly if hefty import duties are applied. It's also the case, however, that many Asian, African and Middle Eastern countries sit beyond the reach of the GSMA - the Global Systems for Mobile Communications Association - an organisation that provides network blocking if a phone is reported stolen. Around 80 per cent of phones stolen in London end up abroad. Find My data suggests the most common destinations are Algeria and China as well as Hong Kong. With its simple customs system and history of open trade, the ex-British territory is an ideal midpoint in the supply chain. Merchants from across the developing world come to Hung To Road to buy second-hand phones in bulk. A used iPhone 16 Pro - the latest model - is available here for as little as £500. Buying a new one in the UK would cost you double that. The Mail met a group of traders from India, who said they came to Kwun Tong every quarter to order hundreds of devices for resale at their second-hand phone shop. They explained that the margins on resale were small, so profits relied on picking out the best-value models from the plethora of options available - and buying in volume. A trader from West Africa leaving the building with two boxes of phones hinted at another cog in the chain. 'It is impossible to sell locked phones,' he explained. 'Unless you have the passwords.' If a phone is locked, it is effectively unusable. So, criminals will go to extreme lengths to unlock one. Foreign resellers will often use local 'hackers-for-hire' for a fee of around £40 a phone, but many at home and abroad are not afraid to deploy more rudimentary methods. 'Phishing' attempts (where victims are duped into parting with passwords and other sensitive data) are common, while death threats to the original owners are often reported to police. The rewards are significant. A thief who stole a locked iPhone 15 in London, for example, could sell it to an initial handler for about £100. This could then be sold on to a smuggler for £200, who will try to flog it to a reseller abroad for around £400. But if anyone in this supply chain can find a way to unlock the device, they could double their money, as the resale value of the phone will rocket. In many cases a phone is impregnable. Yet there is an answer for this, too: chopping it up for parts. A hop, skip and a jump over the Hong Kong border lies the city of Shenzhen. Once a small fishing town, today it is known as 'the Silicon Valley of China'. At its southernmost point lies the subdistrict of Huaqiangbei, home to sprawling malls selling every bit of second-hand tech under the sun. Stolen phones end up here in vast numbers because traders can find buyers for every component of a device, from screens and circuit boards to chips and copper, once it is stripped for parts. Resourceful merchants will even buy unwanted plastic to melt down and use in bottles, while some phones go to recycling plants, where batteries and metal elements are re-used. As with the local cuisine, not a shred of the 'beast' will go to waste. Locked or unlocked, there is money to be made from stolen phones. Most of the traders to be found at Hung To Road are from Shenzhen. One Chinese merchant told the Mail that she goes to Hung To Road every week to buy thousands of phones to bring back across the border. The vast electronics malls of Huaqiangbei bear little resemblance to the sleek, futuristic architecture of the real Silicon Valley. The Feiyang Times building, the primary market for second-hand phones, is a drab, 29-storey tower block plastered with Chinese propaganda. On the fourth floor, frenzied trading takes place under a banner carrying a quote from President Xi Jinping: 'The Chinese race is one that is diligent in labour and skilled in creation. It is through labour and creation that we achieved historical glory.' There are also clear signs that the authorities are alert to what is really going on here. Another banner warns of 'strict crackdowns on smuggling and illegal activities', while stalls bear signs that declare a refusal 'to recycle used phones with ID password locks, activation locks, and those of unknown origin'. Perhaps it is just for show. Last year, the Daily Mail's Associate Features Editor, Clara Gaspar, saw that her iPhone 15 had turned up at the World Trade Plaza, a skyscraper housing a giant mall in Shenzhen, after her pocket had been picked in Kensington, central London. And only last month, another iPhone 15, this time belonging to our Executive Science Editor, Xantha Leatham, had been taken to Dongguan, a city north of Shenzhen. Remarkably, this was after it had initially been shipped to a sleek-looking second-hand phone store in Dubai - although staff here denied having any UK phones when approached by the Mail. So, if you've ever wondered why you suddenly can't walk around the West End without seeing a moped thief cruising the streets for a mobile to snatch, the answer lies thousands of miles away, in the explosion of these bewildering markets of used phone bartering. Metropolitan Police Commander James Conway says phone theft is surging in London today because foreign demand has made it profitable again. Scotland Yard has made it clear that, while it is ramping up enforcement, it cannot arrest its way out of the problem. Police chiefs and ministers are calling on cloud providers - Apple and Google - to build a 'kill switch' into smartphones that would stop them connecting to cloud services if reported stolen. This would perform the same function as the GSMA in parts of the world without coverage, destroying the resale market. But there is growing frustration that, after 18 months of discussions, the tech giants are still mulling the proposals over - and are yet to act. Meanwhile, it is the rest of us who suffer. Xantha's story The Mail's Executive Science Editor Xantha Leatham writes: Anyone who has ever had a phone stolen will be familiar with the gut-wrenching moment you realise it's gone. One minute you've got your friends, family, photos and emails at your fingertips and the next you feel completely cut-off from the world. It happened to me recently, at a festival in Brighton when my iPhone 15 was taken out of my handbag from right under my nose. The thieves timed it perfectly – it was busy, the main artist was playing and I had my arm around my fiancé, meaning my cross-body handbag had been repositioned out of my sight. I had no idea anything was amiss until I went to get my phone out to take a picture. Kindhearted festivalgoers started to look on the floor in case it had fallen out of my bag, but I knew it was a lost cause. Despite being immediately switched off by its captors, my phone's 'Find My' location kept pinging, allowing me to track it for weeks. It meant I could watch my devices' epic 8,000-mile journey across the world. Within two days of being taken, my phone had made its way from Brighton to a Costco car park in Watford, north London. I assumed it would change hands, that the system would be wiped and my monitoring brought to an end. But nine days later, to my surprise, I spotted it was in Dubai. Surely, I thought, this would be the end of its travels. But no – a month later I saw it had reached the Chinese city of Shenzhen. Having grown up in Hong Kong, I knew there was no getting it back now. The electronics mecca is Ground Zero for the black market in iPhones. It's now been more than six weeks since the last location update, and it's likely reached the end of the road – either being completely wiped or broken down for parts. What was most concerning about the whole ordeal was the extreme lengths the criminals went to in their attempts to gain access to my phone and its data. Some of my contacts even received a text claiming that my phone had been 'found' and asking them to provide the passcode to reveal the location. Luckily, I was savvy to the scam – but it was very convincing. While I can't help but feel annoyed at myself for allowing my device to be taken, I'm thankful for two things - phone theft insurance and an up-to-date iCloud backup.
Daily Mail
13 hours ago
- Daily Mail
My hell in the Gaza tunnels: British hostage Emily Damari tells of being held in a cage like an animal and how a surgeon called 'Dr Hamas' left her in constant pain - and demands: Now let my friends go
For almost four months of her 471 days in captivity, Emily Damari was incarcerated in the Hamas terror tunnels under Gaza, where the stench of human waste permeated the fetid wet air and the floor crawled with cockroaches. Throughout it all she was in constant, searing pain after gunmen shot off two of her fingers the day she was kidnapped on October 7, 2023, while the remains of another bullet was lodged in her right leg. But there was something even worse than the hunger, the stench, the pain and the lice that infested their clothes and hair: the cages. Describing for the first time the inhumane practice in which they were treated like animals, Emily says: 'Sometimes there would be up to six of us at a time, squeezed in a tiny cage just two metres by two metres.' The 29-year-old was finally freed alongside 32 fellow hostages in a ceasefire deal in January and propelled to international fame after an image of her posing defiantly with her wounded hand went viral – a symbol of freedom and courage. Ever since she has tried to rebuild her life as she undergoes multiple complex surgeries on her fingers and to remove the bullet from her leg. But today, the only Israeli hostage with dual British citizenship bravely takes the Daily Mail back to her harrowing time in Gaza in a world exclusive newspaper interview from her new home near Tel Aviv, Israel. The last place Emily wants to return to is the tunnels. But she reveals the full horrors of what she suffered there for one reason: while she got out, there are others who still remain. These include her best friends, twin brothers Gali and Ziv Berman, 27, with whom she was snatched from their kibbutz, before being separated in the early days of captivity. 'They are probably in a cage,' Emily tells me. 'They are abusing them. There isn't a lot of water. It is probably unimaginably hot for them.' Visibly angry, she adds: 'Come on already! What is taking so long?' Some 50 hostages remain, of whom 20 are confirmed to be alive, including the twins, and Donald Trump, who helped secure Emily's release in January, said this week he should secure the release of ten more 'very shortly'. But tonight Mr Trump has said Hamas don't want a deal and it appeared the latest Gaza ceasefire talks are on the verge of breaking down, with Washington accusing Hamas of not 'acting in good faith'. Emily is urging the US President and her own Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu 'to do everything in your power to bring my Gali and Zivi home'. She says: 'You saved my life, now you must do the same for the last 50 hostages. Only then can we start to heal.' That Emily survived at all is in large part to her astonishing strength of character that meant she refused to be cowed in the face of the worst of humanity. Today she reveals she grabbed the barrel of a Hamas terrorist's gun and pointed it at her own face, begging him to kill her rather than be taken hostage. And how, on another occasion, she persuaded a guard to give her his weapon and debated killing her captors – knowing she too would be killed. She also talks about having to hide the fact she is gay from her captors who said they would kill their own family members if they found out they were homosexual. Emily credits her mother's British stoicism, manners, and sense of humour with making her 'resilient'. Her Surrey born mother, Mandy, 64, was in southern Israel on a gap year in her 20s, when she met and fell in love with charismatic Yemeni-Israeli Avihay, now 66, from whom Emily says she has inherited her energy. Emily enjoyed a '95 per cent perfect' childhood at the Kfar Aza kibbutz, though endured '5 per cent hell' from rockets and threats from neighbouring Gaza. Mandy taught at the nursery and Avihay coached football, with her three older siblings Sean, 32, Tom, 35, and Ben, 38. Proud of her Anglo roots, and football mad, she supports both Maccabi Tel Aviv and Tottenham Hotspur. Then there were her 'other' brothers – Gali and Ziv. Life on the kibbutz meant they were rarely apart from the very first day they met at kindergarten. 'It was always us together,' she said. 'I love them both, and I miss them.' Indeed, on October 6, 2023, Emily threw one of the barbecues she loved to host for her friends, attended by the twins. Just hours later, at 6.30am, the rockets started and it soon became apparent terrorists were inside the kibbutz. Emily, at home alone, was terrified. 'I sent Gali a message: 'I'm not ok.' I couldn't move because my body was just ice. I was shaking – it was insane.' Such is their friendship Gali risked his life to sprint to be with her. Three hours later they heard Arabic voices approaching. Then, a window smashed. Within seconds about ten terrorists stormed into her room, where Emily and Gali were lying arm-in-arm face down on the bed praying, with Choocha her cockapoo between them. 'I hugged Gali and both of our faces were on the pillow,' Emily said. 'Then they shot my left hand.' Seconds later they shot Choocha dead, the same bullet smacking into the back of her right leg. The terrorists dragged them outside and made them sit on a sofa while they tried to find her car to take them into Gaza. 'I just sat there and I said, 'Oh my God, what are they doing to us?'' She saw Ziv marched out of his apartment blindfolded; her peaceful kibbutz had 'become hell'. 'There was fire all around, doors open, everyone dead,' she said. 'We saw RPGs. We saw submachine guns. They were so happy in what they were doing.' One of the terrorists turned to Emily, who was bleeding heavily and in shock, and said he was going to take her to hospital. 'I understood this was not going to be an Israeli hospital so I told them, 'No, no, no, shoot me!' I didn't want to be kidnapped, I would prefer to die. I took his gun, put it to my head and said: 'Shoot me! Shoot me!' 'Then someone put his gun on Gali's head, so I immediately said, 'No, no, don't kill him.'' On arrival in Gaza, Gali was separated from them. She has not seen him since. While Emily and Ziv were kept together, within minutes Emily was driven to Al-Shifa Hospital after the terrorists informed her she was worth more to them alive than dead. She was in a hospital room surrounded by 15 fanatics armed with Kalashnikovs when a tall bespectacled doctor entered and, with a smirk, addressed Emily: 'Hi, I'm Dr Hamas.' Dr Hamas amputated her damaged fingers under general anaesthetic then stitched the nerves in her hand together. Whether he did so intentionally, or through incompetence, she will never know. But it left her in excruciating pain. Returned to Ziv and other hostages in the house of a Hamas member, his wife and their six children – including a 14-year-old who carried a gun – the weeks that followed were hellish. Emily says she only had the clothes she'd been kidnapped in and was allowed to shower just once, leaving her caked in grime. Their stay in this house was terminated when it was hit by a bomb and flattened – 'I thought I was in heaven. I saw one big fireball, and then I didn't see anything any more. Everywhere was dust.' But at least she and Ziv were still together. Then, after 40 days in captivity, a commander told her she was going home, but that the boys and girls were being separated. It was the last time she saw Ziv: 'I gave him a hug and said, 'Zivi, keep safe', and then they took him.' Ordered to cover her clothes with traditional dress while she was moved, she heard the sounds of Israeli planes and drones above and it quickly became clear the war was not over – she was being driven to a tunnel entrance, not being released. Of the network built by Hamas that stretches for hundreds of miles she recalls her first impression: 'It is like a city. I walked in and said: 'Oh my God, it's huge!'' Herded down the narrow passages, she had to feel her way in the half-light of her guards' headtorches, until they came to a clearing. There, illuminated by the dim glow of battery-powered lanterns, she saw something utterly chilling. 'There was one cage, a very small cage,' she recalls, 'and there were five girls sat in the cage.' Then, as she approached the bars, a familiar voice shouted: 'Two fingers?' Among the group, which included an eight-year-old, was 24-year-old Romi Gonen, shot in the right arm as she was kidnapped from the Nova festival on October 7 and whom Emily had met briefly while they were both being treated in hospital. Emily's time underground has blurred into one single nightmarish memory, punctuated by periods incarerated in cages, but she says: 'It was stinky, hot, humid, damp. You don't get used to it.' The details are haunting. She recalls the floor of the cages was sandy, wet and crawling with cockroaches. Everything, in fact, was wet from the humidity underground. 'They let you go to the bathroom once or twice a day – you have a hole in the ground. It stinks. 'There is no running water, just a gallon jug with water in it.' At times, there would be six of them crammed into a crate, making it impossible to lie down, and they could barely see. 'The battery lamps give you light, but it's a very low light,' Emily recalls. 'It makes your eyes water.' All the time, they were under the gaze of at least three armed terrorists. Worse than the guards, though, was the silence. 'It makes you deaf, Emily says. 'It murders the ears… You go crazy in it.' Initially, Emily was among a group of 11 women and girls and a week later the first November ceasefire was agreed. Six of the group were freed. Unfortunately, the ceasefire ended before any more could be released. Asked how she got through, Emily said they had no choice but to accept it: 'We just continued to survive. 'We were totally surrounded by terrorists. Five girls. They have weapons. They are stronger than you. They can do whatever they like, whenever they like.' For Emily there was the fear that her sexuality would be uncovered: 'I hid that about myself because I knew it was worse than them knowing I was Jewish or Israeli – they would kill me.' She had to fend off advances from guards, enquiring why she wasn't married. 'I told them I have three brothers, they don't allow me to go out on dates with guys – I need to wait for the one,' she joked. But she was under no false impressions over what would happen if they discovered she was gay. On one occasion she asked a guard what he would do if he discovered his brother who he loved was gay. 'He said, 'Well, I would kill him.' I said, 'Ok, but it's your brother?' He said, 'No, he's sick.'' After around three months without seeing daylight, their routine changed and they were switched between the tunnels and houses, staying in almost 30 different locations and moving without warning lest the IDF discover their position. Car dash cams were used as improvised security cameras to monitor them, and later the terrorists lined the homes with explosives that could be activated in case a hostage rescue was attempted. Emily stayed with dozens of different male, female and child hostages, but the one constant for nearly all her time in captivity was Romi. She has spoken powerfully of the 'twin-like' bond they formed, as Emily's left fingers had been shot while Romi's right arm did not work. They used their working limbs in synchronicity to wash their clothes, eat, and dress one another. Both woman had to tend to their agonising wounds which festered in the tunnels. Emily tried to stay sane with a routine she started in the first days with Ziv. 'I would do sit ups every morning,' she said. 'The most sit ups I did was 600. But most days it was 400, 450.' It caught the attention of her guards, who nicknamed her John Cena, after the Hollywood actor and wrestler, for her physique. 'The terrorists would call me Sajaya, it means you are very confident, very strong,' she recalls. 'I did everything just to survive. If they sat with me now and I could kill them – of course, I would be happy to do it.' Emily even once managed to convince a tunnel guard to give her his gun 'to play with'. 'Then he walked away,' she said. 'I said to the girls, maybe I should kill him? I started getting really excited about the idea. 'But then the girls said, 'yeah, but then what? Then we're all going to die.' ' While she didn't care about her own safety, she backed down. But while Emily outwardly appeared strong, inside she was in turmoil, not only over the fate of the twins but her mother, brothers, and father who had been diagnosed with advanced Alzheimer's 12 years ago. She feared they had been killed on October 7. 'I didn't want to talk about my family because it would break me,' she says. 'But you start thinking about all the people, especially at night when you are trying to fall asleep.' At night, though, she often had agonisingly vivid dreams of returning home. 'Then I woke up, and I was still in Gaza,' she said. 'It was s**t. But what can you do?' When they were being held above ground, she occasionally caught glimpses of television and often saw images of Romi's family protesting – but never any of her own. Then, one morning, Romi said there was a woman holding a picture of Emily in the Israeli parliament on television. 'I didn't recognise her for a second and then I was like…. Mum!' Emily said. 'Then I started to cry. I was shaking. It was the opposite of an anxiety attack. It was this relief, my mother is alive. Everyone was crying. ' But with no sign of any chance of release it was a rare high point. In particular, there was one family in whose house they were billeted for a period who pushed Emily to the brink of suicide. 'They were the worst people,' she said. 'The worst family. They would make fun of us and laugh at us. They would tell us: 'Nobody cares about you.' They would hide food from us and tell us we were never leaving Gaza.' When, after 13 months in captivity, she was returned to them, Emily could take no more. 'I said I'm not staying here. Either I'm going to escape, or I'm going to kill myself.' She and Romi made a suicide pact. Typically strong-willed, Emily grabbed the least cruel guard and demanded he bring his commander, telling him: 'If you don't do something and get us out of here, you are going to have two dead hostages.' The commander assured her she would be moved but two months passed and nothing happened. But at the beginning of January this year Emily had a premonition they would be released. She remembers adamantly saying to her fellow hostages: 'I'm telling you. We are going to get out.' She even shaved her legs and made Romi do her eyebrows in preparation. On January 19, Emily was proved right. She was not quite done with bossing her guards around, however. When they handed her a red top to wear for the release ceremony, Emily refused to wear the colour of her Israeli football team's rivals. 'Tell your commander, Emily Damari doesn't wear red,' she insisted. They agreed to give her a green top instead. Images from the handovers shocked the world, with released hostages stumbling out in the sunlight surrounded by a baying mob of Hamas supporters. Pictures of Emily staring into the faces of Hamas and smiling in defiance as she was released were a defining image of the day. She was handed over to the IDF in Israel who confirmed all three of her brothers and her parents were alive, and tried to get her to talk to psychologists and therapists on standby. 'I said, 'fine, fine, but where's my mum?'' Emily recalls. 'They said this is your room, and I said 'great, whatever, where is my mum?' 'And then she came! I said: 'Mum, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.' ' Incredible footage shows the moment they embraced.
Daily Mail
14 hours ago
- Daily Mail
Trans migrant sticks nose in the air as she appears in court accused of raping child in NYC park bathroom
A transgender migrant appeared in court yesterday after being arrested for raping a 14-year-old boy in a park bathroom. Nicol Suarez, 30, allegedly followed the boy into a bathroom at Thomas Jefferson Park in East Harlem back in February at around midday, police told the Daily Mail. The boy reportedly left the bathroom and flagged down people nearby, who called the police. The migrant was then charged with first-degree rape and stalking. Suarez wore head-to-toe beige prison garb and a full face of makeup as she stuck her nose up at her court appearance on Thursday. She scowled as officers led her into the courtroom, her expression even more pronounced due to her heavy contour, penned eyebrows and bright pink lip. As she sat down for the court proceedings, Suarez's neck tattoo peaked out from underneath her beige crewneck. She had spent the entire day waiting in Department of Corrections custody after the building was put on lockdown due to unknown reasons. Suarez required an interpreter to understand the proceedings as the two sides went back and forth over the status of her case, a court attendee reported. Suarez required an interpreter to understand the proceedings as the two sides went back and forth over the status of her case Her lawyer asked for more time to file her motions, but Judge Michele Rodney declined the request. After 10 minutes of deliberation, the Judge set a date for a pre-trial hearing in mid-September and Suarez was escorted back to the holding cells. The accused rapist is being housed at Rikers Island, a large jail complex in New York City, located on a 413-acre island between the Bronx and Queens in the East River. Originally from Colombia, Suarez was also wanted in New Jersey and Massachusetts and US Immigration and Customs Enforcement had a detainer on her. After her alleged crime in February, a source told the New York Post that they blamed New York City's sanctuary laws for the attack and said: 'ICE could just pick this person up and deport them back, but due to our sanctuary laws we can't do anything.' 'I feel really bad for the kid that has to go through this because his life will never be the same,' the source added. 'We worry about the migrants but what about the victim? This is a true victim.' A nearby deli owner, Azid Haime, described the incident as 'disgusting.' 'All my body is shaking; I want to sit. I can't explain how I feel. I'm more than angry,' he said, adding that many young kids come to his shop from the park. Suarez wore head-to-toe beige prison garb and a full face of makeup as she stuck her nose up at her court appearance on Thursday Prosecutors initially asked for $500,000 bail and a $1.5 million bond, but the amount was lowered by Democratic Judge Elizabeth Shamahs. Both of the crimes Suarez is accused of are felonies in New York. First-degree rape is a Class B felony with a minimum prison sentence of five years, and a maximum of 25 years. It is also a violent felony, requiring registration as a sex offender. Stalking in the first degree is a Class D felony with a maximum sentence of seven years in prison. It's also a violent felony, meaning a minimum sentence of two years is mandatory for those without prior felony convictions.
