Tears, hope and fear when the euthanasia law was passed

On Friday, after weeks of heated and passionate debate, MPs began formal consideration of the bill that would allow terminally ill adults who are due to die within six months to seek help to end their own lives.

It was a day full of tears, hope, relief and fear. This is the story of how it played out inside and outside Parliament – and how Labor MP Kim Leadbeater secured a historic victory for her proposed legislation.

It’s nine in the morning. The MPs’ debate has not yet started, but activists from both sides are already gathering outside parliament.

Supporters of Leadbeater’s bill are on the west side of Parliament Square, by the statue of activist Millicent Fawcett.

It’s a sea of pink hats and pink sweaters, provided by the group Dignity in Dying.

Amanda, whose last name we are not using like many of our other interviewees, has traveled from Brighton to be here. She has cared for people in the final stages of their lives, including a friend with cancer.

She remembers her friend begging her, “Kill me now, kill me now.” “That’s a terrible thing to hear someone say to their loved ones.”

Another woman named Sue is here, also wearing a pink hat. “I think this could be a momentous day,” she says.

Around the corner, less than a minute’s walk away, on College Green, opponents of the bill are also gathering.

They are joined by a 10-foot-tall puppet of a stern judge, holding a giant syringe and pointing a condemning finger in the air.

“Kill the bill, not the sick,” they shout.

Hannah is further back, watching and puffing on a lemon meringue cake flavored vape.

She fears that the bill will change the way people with disabilities are viewed, but she also thinks about her father.

“He was given six months but ended up living four years,” she says. “During those four years he was able to get to know his grandchildren.”

Almost everyone at both demonstrations has a personal story; a personal reason to be in Westminster on Friday.

Jane looked after her mother in her final years. She says the time was difficult for her, but also “very precious”.

She believes the bill would encourage people like her mother to seek euthanasia.

“I know a judge would be involved in deciding these things, but how can he tell what’s going on in a person’s soul?” she says.

“Someone can say with their mouth that they want to die, but how can a judge know what’s really going on in their head.”

Meanwhile, in Parliament, after weeks of discussions, Labor MP Kim Leadbeater opens the debate on her bill.

Leadbeater is the MP for Spen Valley, an area previously represented by her sister Jo Cox, the MP who was murdered in 2016.

The atmosphere is generally contemplative, thoughtful and respectful, but outside Parliament tempers are beginning to fray.

The two sides mostly stayed in their separate areas, but clashes broke out between some campaigners at the gates of parliament.

A woman campaigning for euthanasia holds up harrowing images of her father, still alive but dying and in pain.

She points to Parliament and then to the pictures. “I want someone there to tell me why this is OK,” she says.

A woman nearby holds a placard against the bill. It says: “NHS: From cradle to grave, not to old, inconvenient or expensive.”

“Your mark is offensive,” the first woman shouts to the second. “Are you telling me I don’t care about my father?”

A few steps away there is another woman, wrapped in a thick scarf and a wool hat pulled so far over her face that only a small part of her face is visible.

She holds her own placard opposing the bill and holds a light blue rosary chain.

“How many people have you seen die,” asks a man passing by.

Away from the noise and drama, Dennis rolls a cigarette and warms himself in one of the last remaining patches of winter sunlight.

She traveled from the north of England. She points to the sun and says: “That’s a good idea, we need one of these in Manchester.”

Dennis is strictly against the bill, but still has sympathy for the MPs. “I wouldn’t want to be like that,” she says. “Whatever they do, someone is going to be very unhappy.”

Lal from London agrees. “I think I really believe that everyone who has spoken about this wants to be compassionate and wants people not to suffer,” she says.

“That’s the commonality.”

The debate is already in full swing in the House of Commons.

Conservative MP Kit Malthouse argues against suggestions from others that the bill should be rejected because it would burden the NHS and the courts.

“Are you seriously telling me that my death, my torment, is too much for the NHS to have time for?” he says.

“That I should drown in my own feces because it’s too much trouble for the judges?”

A Labor MP makes his decision to vote for the bill during the debate.

“Kit Malthouse was very powerful,” they say.

“I reserve the right to object to this at a later date, and I mean it.”

They add that many MPs may change their minds later if “protections are not strong enough”.

The debate ends at around 2:15 p.m. and MPs leave the chamber to vote.

Leadbeater lingers on the government benches near one of the entrances to the Aye lobby and gives final words of encouragement to the reeling MPs.

She welcomes Attorney General Sarah Sackman and Marie Tidball, a disability activist who revealed during the debate that she supports the legislation after much consideration.

Sir Keir Starmer arrives in the chamber flanked by Welsh Minister Jo Stevens and his Parliamentary Private Secretary Chris Ward, who both voted in favour.

He goes to the opposition benches to have a long and seemingly heartfelt conversation with Reform’s Nigel Farage. They are later joined by conservative veteran David Davis.

MPs who register via the “yes” lobby know towards the end of the vote that they have won.

Thanks to a relatively new innovation, a screen is updated in real time with the number of people tuned in this way.

It is noticeable that there is complete silence in the House of Commons as the tellers come in to announce the results.

Lucy Powell, leader of the House of Commons, needs to nudge Sarah Owen, one of the Yes sayers, to get on the right side to show that Leadbeater’s bill has been passed.

Ahead of the debate, Sir Keir had not said how he would vote, although given his previous record it was assumed he would be in favour.

A Labor MP who opposed the bill said it was a factor in the vote by some members of his party.

“Don’t underestimate the power of following the prime minister into his division’s lobby, even if it were a free vote,” they say.

“And a lot of people were watching to see which direction the wind was blowing overall.”

Outside parliament in the pro camp, everyone is sitting on their phones waiting for the result.

Time delays result in some receiving the messages before others. A quiet ripple becomes a loud roar.

Big grins and long hugs are exchanged between fans.

“I just collapsed,” Catie says.

Others think of deceased relatives. “Grandma would support us,” says Kate. “She didn’t want others to suffer like she did.”

Iona’s mother died when she was 13 years old. “It wasn’t the death she wanted,” she says, adding that her mother would have been so proud of the outcome on Friday.

There is joy, but also relief and the realization that this is only the first step in a long parliamentary process.

Catie also says efforts need to be made to address people’s concerns about the bill.

As the activists celebrate, the bells of St. Margaret’s Church begin to ring.

Of course it has nothing to do with the vote. A couple has just gotten married and is leaving the church.

But for the pro camp it feels symbolic and they cheer with every chime of the bell.

On the other side of Parliament Square, Anna stands alone.

Her eyes are full of tears and she finds it difficult to speak. “I feel like a line was crossed today,” she says.

Jane leaves the area. She sets off to see her daughter and is a little more optimistic than Anna.

“It’s sad, but not as bad as we feared – 270 MPs voted against it,” she says. “There was some resistance.”

Matthew is still at College Green. He communicates via a tablet computer and thinks about the other severely disabled children with whom he went to school.

“My friends deserve to live as much as anyone else,” he says. “There is a gradual risk that lives like mine will be devalued. (The bill) opens a very dangerous door.”

As he speaks, transporters have arrived and the bits and pieces of the campaign are being stowed away around him.

The 10-foot-tall puppet judge lies crumpled on the floor, his finger pointing to the sky.