If we find danger, we run toward it, we don't run away
On a Wednesday afternoon in Golders Green, north London, the ordinary rhythms of neighbourhood life were shattered when a man with a knife attacked two members of the Jewish community, wounding them before continuing down the street armed and unhurried. It fell not only to police, but to a community volunteer named Isaac, to close the distance between danger and safety — a reminder that civic courage often arrives not in uniform, but in the form of an ordinary person who simply refuses to look away. The suspect, a 45-year-old with a history of violence and a prior referral to the government's counter-extremism Prevent programme, now sits in custody, while questions linger about what systems of intervention failed to hold.
- Two men — one 34, one 76 — were stabbed in broad daylight in Golders Green, leaving blood on the pavement and a community suddenly confronted with violence in its midst.
- The attacker did not flee but walked slowly, knife in hand, as though daring the world to stop him — a display of deliberate menace that made the threat feel all the more chilling.
- Isaac, a Shomrim volunteer, shadowed the suspect for roughly 100 yards, shouting bystanders clear while police raced to the scene, threading the needle between intervention and escalation.
- When a Taser brought the suspect down but failed to break his grip on the blade, Isaac threw himself to the ground and seized the man's ankle, holding on until the knife could finally be wrested free.
- Both victims are stable, the suspect is in custody on suspicion of attempted murder, and the revelation that he had been referred to the Prevent programme in 2020 — and that referral closed — is now drawing hard scrutiny.
Isaac was pulling away from his north London office when the sound of chaos drew him out of his car. A man with blood streaming down his face told him everything he needed to know about what had just happened in Golders Green. When Isaac met the suspect's eyes, he later said, he felt something close to pure malice looking back at him.
Two men had been stabbed — Shloime Rand, 34, and Moshe Shine, 76 — and both were rushed to hospital in serious but stable condition. The attacker, 45-year-old Essa Suleiman, was still on the street, still armed. Isaac, a volunteer with Shomrim, the community security organisation, chose to follow.
For about 100 yards along Golders Green Road, Isaac trailed the suspect at a careful distance, struck by the man's eerie calm — a slow, deliberate walk, the knife visible in his hand. Isaac shouted warnings to clear bystanders from the path ahead, carving a corridor of safety around the moving threat.
When police arrived near the North Circular and deployed a Taser, Suleiman went down but refused to release the blade. Isaac dropped to the ground and grabbed the suspect's ankle, using his full weight to pin the leg and prevent any sudden movement, while a passerby and officers worked to force the knife loose. When it was finally over, Isaac described the feeling not as triumph but as purpose — the fulfilment of a covenant he had made with his community to run toward danger rather than away from it.
Suleiman's history added a troubling dimension to the afternoon's violence. He carried a documented record of serious violence and mental health difficulties, and in 2020 had been referred to the government's Prevent counter-extremism programme — a referral that was closed the same year. Now in custody on suspicion of attempted murder, his case has reignited questions about whether the systems designed to catch people like him had held.
Isaac was driving away from his office in north London when the sound of commotion pulled him out of his car. What he saw next—a man with blood streaming down his head—told him something had gone badly wrong in the Golders Green neighbourhood on Wednesday afternoon. The moment he locked eyes with the suspect, Isaac felt the weight of pure malice. "If eyes could kill, I'd be dead," he would later tell the BBC, trying to find words for the intensity of that stare.
Two men had been stabbed in the area: Shloime Rand, 34, and Moshe Shine, 76. Both were rushed to hospital and stabilized, but the danger was far from contained. The suspect—a 45-year-old named Essa Suleiman—was still on the street, still armed. Isaac, a volunteer with Shomrim, a community security organization, made a decision in that moment that would define the next few minutes of his life. He would follow.
For roughly 100 yards along Golders Green Road, Isaac kept pace behind the suspect, maintaining a careful distance. What struck him was the casualness of it all—the man walked slowly, deliberately, as though he had nowhere urgent to be. But Isaac could see the blade in his hand, glinting and real. He began screaming at bystanders to clear the area, to get away, his voice cutting through the afternoon to create a buffer of safety around the moving threat.
When the sirens arrived and police descended on the scene near the North Circular, something shifted in the suspect. The casual walk became frantic. Officers deployed a Taser, bringing him to the ground, but Suleiman refused to release the knife. His grip held. That was when Isaac and another volunteer moved in. Isaac dropped to the ground and seized the suspect's left ankle, using his body weight and leverage to pin the leg down, to prevent any possibility of escape or sudden movement. He held on, muscles straining, while a passerby and police officers worked to pry the blade from the man's clenched hand.
When it was over, when the knife was finally secured and the immediate danger had passed, Isaac felt something shift inside him too. He described the sensation as amazing—not in a celebratory sense, but in the sense of purpose fulfilled. His role as a volunteer, he explained, meant running toward danger, not away from it. That was the covenant he had made with his community. He believed his actions had mattered, that they had protected lives.
The suspect's background, as it emerged, was complicated. Essa Suleiman had a documented history of serious violence and mental health struggles. In 2020, he had been referred to the government's Prevent programme, which aims to intervene in cases of radicalization and violent extremism. That referral was closed the same year. Now, arrested on suspicion of attempted murder, Suleiman remained in custody as the two victims recovered in stable condition and the community processed what had happened on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon.
Notable Quotes
If eyes could kill, I'd be dead— Isaac, describing the moment he saw the suspect
If we find danger, we run toward it, we don't run away, we never run away— Isaac, on his role as a community security volunteer
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When you say his eyes felt like they could kill—what was actually happening in that moment? Was he looking at you specifically, or was it something more general?
I think it was directed at me. I was the one who had locked onto him, who was tracking his movements. He knew I was there, that I was a threat to whatever he was trying to do. That intensity—it wasn't random. It was personal.
And when you grabbed his ankle, were you thinking about the knife, or were you just reacting?
Both, I suppose. You know the knife is there. You've seen it. But in that moment, you're not thinking in sentences. You're thinking in movements, in pressure points, in what keeps him from moving. The ankle was the leverage point. It was the thing that would keep him grounded.
Did you feel afraid?
Not in the way you might expect. Fear would have stopped me. What I felt was clarity—this is what I'm here for. This is the moment the training and the commitment actually mean something.
The suspect had been referred to Prevent in 2020 and then closed. Does that sit with you?
It raises questions, doesn't it? I'm not a policy person. I'm a volunteer who holds ankles when it matters. But yes, it makes you wonder what happened in those four years, what interventions might have prevented Wednesday from happening at all.