Dhani Harrison's account of the night of his parent's attack.
He managed to keep George safe after.
On December 30th, 1999 a mentally Ill man broke into Friar park he Aggressively and violently attacked George and Oliva Harrison.
Their son Dhani lived in a cottage on the property. This is his account of the attack.
"I was woken by Rachel, our housekeeper shouting, ‘Get up, get up! Something has happened.’ I have always been aware that something could happen to my parents, due to their fame and fortune. I am also aware of past circumstances involving other members of the Beatles. I got dressed immediately and I remember asking, `Are my parents OK?’ Rachel said nothing.
“At the front door, I was aware of the pace of my own heart beating. As I went into the main hall my mother was lying at the bottom of the stairs. I recall one of the brass fire sets, from her bedroom, was in close proximity to her. I ran up to her and she said, ‘It’s OK, Dhani. It’s OK, honey.’ I noticed her lips and mouth were very dry and I shouted at one of the police officers, ‘Please–get her some water.’ I then asked, ‘What happened?’ She said, ‘Daddy is upstairs, he is badly hurt’ or something similar. She then said, ‘I’m OK. Go to him.’ I knew that what was upstairs was much worse. I put my hand on my mother and said repeatedly, ‘I love you.’ She replied, ‘Go!’ I began to run up the stairs. I cannot remember getting up the stairs. I was carried by adrenaline.”
“On the landing, I saw two police officers kneeling over a body and a police officer standing. I was not sure then if the person on the ground was the attacker being detained or my father.
I then realised it was the attacker. He looked up at me and I looked straight into his eyes. I made direct eye contact. I was immediately guided from him towards my father. I could see my father down the landing just inside the bedroom door. I went up to him, entering the bedroom and kneeling to assist him. Due to the amount of blood, which I find hard to describe, I was immediately covered in it.
There were two pools of blood on the floor, blood on the walls and lots of broken glass. I saw small fragments of glass on my father’s face and around the floor. It took me some time to realise it was ruby-coloured glass and not flesh or bones. The ruby glass was the remnants of a smashed lamp base. My father said something like, ‘It’s bad Dhan, it’s bad. He stabbed me up a lot.’
“I supported him with one hand on his back and the other on his stomach. I could hear blood and air bubbling from his chest. He was moaning and trying to get into a more comfortable position, which obviously was not possible. I rendered first aid as best I could and with a bottle of water wetted his lips and tried to clean him up. I used a white towel and numerous tissues. I was trying to avoid the tissues sticking to his wounds. His head was bleeding heavily – his lips and teeth were covered in blood. He had multiple stab wounds to his chest and clearly other injuries which I could not see. He was clearly in an extremely bad way and he was in agony.”
“I recall the police officer saying we had got to find the knife. He started looking around the room. He asked for my assistance and so I helped. But after a brief look around the room, I realised that I had my father there in the room at death’s door. I had said to him that I would be two seconds but the stupidity of looking for the knife rather than being at my father’s side, had dawned on me and I returned to him. I honestly believed he was going to die. He was so pale. I looked into his eyes and saw the pain. Dad kept saying, ‘Oh Dhan, oh Dhan.’ When I gave him first aid I had opened his jacket and pyjama top to inspect the wounds. At one point the police officer was trying to help my father to move. I took control of that situation. I told the police officer to leave him. I said, ‘Sit still, you must stay still.’ My whole thought process was to keep my father alive. I have experience of a collapsing lung myself. My father was still bleeding heavily and he kept closing his eyes and drifting. I kept flicking my fingers and saying loudly, `Listen to my voice.’
“I held his hand and the police officer held the other. He kept saying, ‘Open your eyes Mr. Harrison.’ He was now drifting, he looked even paler in the face, and was groaning and saying, ‘I’m going out.’ He made little sense and I knew he was losing consciousness. It seemed like a lifetime – before the paramedics arrived. When they did, I felt that my father had already passed away. When the paramedics arrived, he seemed to perk up, but drifted away again and complained of being cold. The paramedics and I lifted him into a stretcher-type chair. He was clearly in agony.”
“He lifted his head, but it made him dizzy and he said, ‘Dhani, I’m going, I’m going.’ His eyes were rolling. I could only see the whites of them and he said, ‘I love you Dhan.’ He was strapped in and covered in blankets and we manoeuvred him towards the stairs. By this time the attacker had been removed. We got to the top of the stairs and at that point my father looked at me. He said, ‘I love you Dhan.’ One of his eyes rolled back independently of the other eye. Throughout his ordeal, my father’s words were broken with coughing and spluttering. Then he said, ‘Hare Krishna’and he closed his eyes.
“At this point he drew a very strange, deep breath. His mouth puckered, he drew his cheeks in and he sucked in his bottom lip. This breath made me react immediately. I shouted, ‘Dad, you’re with me, listen to my voice. It is going to be OK. Stay with me.’ His face was contorted and he had not taken a breath for some seconds – an alarmingly long period. As I finished shouting he breathed out and opened his eyes. I have never seen another human being dead or alive – and I have seen my grandfather in his coffin – look so bad. My father was now back with us and I kept up the encouragement, hoping he would stay conscious.”
“We were nearly halfway down the stairs when he went again. I again screamed at him, ‘Dad, stay with me and listen to my voice.’ I vividly remember saying, ‘This is the worst it gets. From now on, it’s only getting better.’ ‘I want you to focus on getting better. We have hit rock bottom, it is only getting better.’ I kept repeating this so he could focus on my voice. At the bottom of the stairs it happened again and again I repeated the process and thankfully he came back. My mother was still at the bottom of the stairs with a blanket wrapped around her. She was covered in blood and had a very nasty head wound. She was saying, ‘I’m cold, I’m cold.’ She said to my father, ‘It’s OK, honey. You are going to be all right.’
“We got to an ambulance. The paramedics put my father inside and I was not allowed in while they treated him. I wanted to see him, so I pulled myself on a bumper. Gripping with my fingernails I could see my father. I did not want to let him out of my sight.”
About the author
Hi, I'm Paige and I love to read and write. I love music and dogs. I mostly will write about my favorite things like dogs and music. I've been a writer for a few years now and I love it so much. :)
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