Westminster terror attack: Gunshots heard at parliament - we ran towards them
Westminster-based Senior Political Correspondent Robert Nisbet tells how he rushed into the streets as the terror attack unfolded.
Thursday 23 March 2017 10:25, UK
Often when I take the Tube to work I use the "James Bond" entrance - the nickname for the high-security portal to Parliament tucked away in Westminster Station.
As usual, I waved briefly to the police officer watching staff, MPs, peers and journalists present their ID cards and enter their pin codes to gain access.
To be honest, I was preoccupied, paying little heed to the daily commute and those police who keep the Palace secure.
My mind - like those of my colleagues - was on Brexit, and next week's historic events.
Safe at my desk, I watched Prime Minister's Question and was eating lunch when a tweet from Guido Fawkes was spotted by a colleague.
"BREAKING: Gunshots outside parliament".
A crackle of electricity coursed through the newsroom as people ran to the windows to stare at the street below, pulling on jackets and grabbing phones.
I've covered several terror attacks in France and was at Kings Cross on 7/7, so clicked into mode and together with a melee of cameramen, producers and reporters, charged down the stairs.
As we emerged onto Millbank, there was immediate confusion: raised voices, sirens, people running both towards and from Parliament.
A police officer bellowed at people to stay off the road. The barked tone had a panicked edge: this was serious - no false alarm.
A group of builders in high-viz jackets and hard hats half-jogged away from the Palace of Westminster holding their phones aloft, unsure whether to film the commotion, check Twitter for the latest or just run for cover.
It might seem odd, but I felt little apprehension as I headed as close as possible to Parliament and blue flashing lights.
Your mind is trying to focus on absorbing and observing detail as well as the more mundane technical aspects of the job: microphones, cameras and 'comms' with the director and output editor.
I fired up an app on my phone which we use to broadcast, plugged in my headphones and went through to the gallery, shouting at them to come to me live.
In the blurry swirl, I was on air almost immediately. I just said what I saw, trying to avoid speculation. At the early stage of an event like this, we are pieces in mosaic: eventually a picture emerges.
As we were pushed further and further and back behind an expanding cordon, my phone was pinging with texts from friends, urgent newsroom requests. Banal, but even a cold call from a car dealership got through.
The day compressed, hours passed like minutes as I was called back to an edit suite to sift through the pictures and videos sent in by viewers as well as those gathered by our own cameras.
There were images which will be difficult to eradicate.
But as I climbed into bed before midnight, my reflections settled on the police officer I'd waved to earlier that morning.
A casual encounter with a person whose work I'd taken for granted.
No longer.