They Came to Pray — and the Street Became Battlefield: A Community Reels After the Manchester Synagogue Attack
It was supposed to be a morning of reflection. Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar, had drawn worshippers to the modest building at Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation in Crumpsall — a north Manchester neighbourhood where generations have kept ritual and community alive.
Instead, the quiet was shattered. A car ploughed into the kerb outside the synagogue and a man armed with a knife tried to force his way in. Screams, the crunch of metal, then the decisive crack of gunfire as armed police engaged the attacker. By the end of it, three worshippers lay dead or dying and the entire city was left holding its breath.
What Happened
Counter Terrorism Policing North West (CTPNW) leads the fast-moving investigation. Authorities say the assailant — identified in court papers as Jihad Al‑Shamie, 35 — was shot dead at the scene after police officers confronted him. Officers discovered a device attached to his torso that, after analysis, was confirmed to be a hoax.
Two civilians — reported in initial accounts as Adrian Daulby, 53, and Melvin Cravitz, 66 — were killed as they tried to stop the man from entering the synagogue. A number of others were seriously injured and are being treated in local hospitals.
In the days since, warrants were granted to allow investigators extra time to question four people arrested on suspicion of preparing acts of terrorism. Two further suspects remain in custody while inquiries continue. Police say those held were arrested in residential locations across Manchester, including Prestwich and Farnworth.
Official Lines and Local Voices
“Our investigation into the appalling terrorist incident that took place outside the Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation Synagogue is continuing at pace,” Greater Manchester Police said in a statement, underscoring the scale of the counter-terror resources now engaged.
Laurence Taylor, head of counter‑terrorism policing, told reporters investigators believed the attacker “may have been influenced by extreme Islamist ideology,” while also confirming that the explosive device was fake. The Independent Office for Police Conduct (IOPC) has opened a separate probe into the use of lethal force by firearms officers — including whether police action may have contributed to the death of one of the men who intervened.
National political figures arrived in Manchester to offer condolences and to gauge the mood on the ground. Prime Minister Keir Starmer urged restraint, writing that this “is a moment of mourning” and pleading with anyone planning protests to “respect the grief of British Jews.” Conservative Party leader Kemi Badenoch, who visited the scene alongside Greater Manchester Mayor Andy Burnham, struck a sterner tone, saying Jewish families were telling her they were “leaving to go to Israel” because they felt unsafe.
“Jewish people right now are telling me that they are leaving to go to Israel,” Ms Badenoch said. “Israel is at war. How can people be leaving the UK to go to a war zone and think that they’ll be safer there? We need to bring back safety to our streets.”
Grief, Anger and the Weight of History
Walk the cordon now and you will see flowers, prayers scribbled on torn paper, candles that will keep guttering until someone cleans them up. A grey-haired neighbour I spoke with held a plastic bag of challah bread and a stunned look that said what words could not.
“I’ve lived here forty years,” she told me. “We look out for each other. To think someone would come to hurt people while they pray — it’s beyond belief.”
Another local, a shopkeeper who’d known one of the victims, squeezed my hand and said, “He would stand at the door on holidays and greet everyone. People like that are the heart of our streets.”
For Manchester’s Jewish community — already on edge after a year marked by international tensions and a surge in antisemitic incidents — this attack landed as both shock and confirmation of their fears. Dave Rich, director of policy at the Community Security Trust (CST), told national broadcasters that incitement and anti‑Jewish rhetoric had intensified since the events of October last year, leaving many to ask: “OK, the sympathy is great, but where’s the action?”
On the Ground: How a City Responds
There are practical, visible changes: patrols have increased around synagogues, community centres and schools. Security guards are being briefed; places of worship have temporarily altered service times and access points. Old Trafford — an emblem of Manchester’s cultural life — will observe a minute’s silence at the next Manchester United match, players expected to wear black armbands.
“We want to show support,” said a football fan outside the stadium. “Sport brings people together; it’s where we can mourn and also say we stand with those targeted.”
Questions That Won’t Easily Go Away
How does a free society balance the right to protest with the duty to protect vulnerable communities? When does political debate slip into dangerous incitement? And perhaps most urgently, what does it take to prevent someone radicalising in plain sight?
“Radicalisation is rarely a sudden conversion,” explained Dr. Naomi Feldman, a terrorism researcher at a Manchester university. “It’s usually a process — social media echo chambers, personal grievances, criminal behaviour that isolates a person. Intervention is possible, but it requires intelligence, community trust and early action.”
Statistics from groups that track hate crime and antisemitism show a worrying upward trend in the years following major international flashpoints. Community organisations urge more robust responses not only from police but from social platforms and civic institutions that can spot and counter online harm before it becomes offline violence.
Beyond Manchester: A Mirror for the Times
This isn’t just a Manchester story. It’s a story about fracture lines that are widening across many democracies: the intersection of terror, identity, community security and the politics of protest. It’s about how a single, violent act instantly ripples across neighbourhoods, national debates and international headlines.
Many here want to preserve the finer details of communal life — the synagogue teas, the elderly man who always saves a place for newcomers, the volunteer who locks the doors after services. Their actions are small, stubborn defences against a world that sometimes feels big and hostile.
“We will still pray,” said a rabbi, voice taut with sorrow. “We will still light the candles. That is what they would have wanted — not fear, but continuity.”
What Comes Next
Investigators will piece together motives and connections, the IOPC will examine police conduct, and the courts will take their slow, exacting course. Meanwhile, families bury their dead, worshippers return to altered services, and a city wrestles with grief and the work of reassurance.
As you read this, ask yourself: what role do we play in preventing hatred from seizing public life? How can communities be safer — practically and spiritually — without surrendering the freedoms that allow us to gather, to pray, to protest?
Those questions do not have neat answers. But in a small synagogue in Crumpsall, amid candles and floral tributes, a community is beginning the long work of answering them together. That, perhaps, is where the story of resilience and recovery must begin.
