On a sunny August Friday in Newport, Wales, Rachel Williams arrived at the hair salon where she worked. While rearranging client appointments, she noticed something blocking the sunlight at the door or window. She immediately recognized the towering 6ft 7in figure of her ex-husband, Darren, and instinctively rushed toward him as he pulled a sawn-off shotgun from his black duffel bag.
Rachel struggled with him for control of the gun and ended up on the floor next to Connie, a woman in her nineties who urged, “Go on, get out of here, get out of here.” (Rachel later remarked, “She was in the war, so made of steel.”) Rachel attempted to shield herself by pulling a table in front of her, but Darren kicked it aside. Instead, she curled into a foetal position, tucking her knees under her chin. “He stood four feet away, told me he loved me, and pulled the trigger,” she recalled. “My left leg took the first shot, and I remember it wasn’t pain, it was a force.”
The smell of gunpowder filled the air as Rachel looked down at the large hole in her jeans. “I remember looking and thinking, ‘Oh my God, he’s shot me.’ Then I felt a blast to my right that clearly missed my head.” With what she described as “supernatural strength,” she grabbed the gun and held on while he stomped on her head and punched her back. “My left ear had to be slit seven times to fix a huge cauliflower ear. A bruise from a black eye spread down my neck to my shoulder and collarbone. He beat me and then he was gone.”
The hours that followed were a blur of morphine. A local vet arrived to assist, followed by an ambulance and police. Rachel was taken to the hospital for treatment to her shattered shin and knee, with armed officers guarding her. By 7 p.m., she learned that Darren had been found dead in a nearby woodland; he had taken his own life. “The relief,” she said. “I wasn’t even thinking about my leg.”
Rachel first met Darren in March 1993 through a neighbor. She was a 21-year-old single mother to her two-year-old son, Josh. Darren was witty and made her laugh. What began with a coffee quickly turned serious, and looking back, she realizes he “love-bombed” her.
“Working in the sector and seeing the eight stages of domestic abuse or the homicide timeline, you can see how quickly perpetrators escalate after moving in,” says Rachel, who founded SUTDA (Stand Up to Domestic Abuse) in January 2021, a decade after the attack. “Darren was living with me within 12 months, and soon after, I was pregnant with Jack. It’s all about power and control, getting the victim where they want them.”
She explains, “Every day, from the moment you wake up, you’re strategically thinking, ‘How am I going to pacify my perpetrator today?'”
The honeymoon phase was short-lived before Darren’s abuse began. He would say, “Today I’m going to be Daniel, the nice side of me,” Rachel recalls, comparing him to Jekyll and Hyde. He quickly started belittling her, bringing up her past as a single mother with comments like, “I found you in the gutter.” After Jack’s birth, he bought her a car for errands, and she found it strange when he explained, “I don’t want blokes eyeballing you when you’re walking around with a pushchair.”
The first time she feared for her life was during an argument when she was seven months pregnant. Darren, who was “huge” and “weighed about 18 stone,” became physically violent. She can’t recall what triggered his anger, but he threw an apple at her and followed her upstairs where she hid beside the wardrobe. “He lifted me off the floor by my throat and said he only let go because my lips turned blue.””It was a red flag,” says Rachel.
“People might wonder, ‘Why didn’t she leave then?'” she explains. “But when you’re dealing with one of the most manipulative people you’ll ever meet—someone who falls to the floor crying like a baby, begging for forgiveness, and you know all about their struggles—you believe you can fix them and work things out. I was already a single mother, and I didn’t want to become a single parent to two children with different fathers,” she adds, feeling compelled to make the relationship work.
For the next 18 years, Rachel focused on surviving the cycle of abuse. “Every day, from the moment you wake up, you’re strategically thinking, ‘How am I going to keep my abuser calm today?’ It’s all about maintaining a peaceful home and avoiding any reason for an outburst. You’re constantly walking on eggshells, always assessing the situation.”
Rachel could sense the tension building before an attack, which ranged from him spitting in her face to strangling her, punching the back of her head, or slamming her against the wall. One of his favorite acts was to press his large hands against her face and squeeze. She made a few silent 999 calls, pressing 55 to alert the police without speaking, but when they arrived, Darren would stand behind her as they asked if everything was okay. This would be followed by about a week of remorse, with bouquets of flowers, chocolates, and apologies—all part of his mind games. Rachel and Darren married on December 29, 2005.
Darren, who worked as a bouncer, was using steroids and a mix of antidepressants and sleeping pills, which Rachel believes worsened his temper. However, she emphasizes that alcohol and drugs didn’t cause the abuse, which was solely directed at her. “Abuse is a choice; it’s done with free will,” she states.
He often lost his temper in public. “He acted like he was above the law,” she recalls. Once, Rachel’s sister witnessed Darren pin her against a burger van at Newport Docks, where Rachel sometimes worked, after she was slightly late picking up bread rolls. “He threw all the rolls into the air and hurled a large diesel generator down the road. One man told my sister, ‘That man is an animal, and I’ll never come back here again,'” she says.
Another time, a neighbor asked her friend Sue if she’d heard from Rachel, mentioning, “I heard Darren dragging a wheelie bin down the steps at 2 am.” Rachel notes, “Clearly, he thought I was inside that bin.”
But no one confronted Darren, who was “a force to be reckoned with” and involved in various activities she knew little about. “His bedtime reading included books about Donnie Brasco, Al Capone, and the Krays,” she says.
On the morning of July 9, 2011, Rachel finally reached her breaking point. After an argument the night before, when Darren came home in the early hours, she was leaving to style hair for a wedding. He strangled her so hard by the kitchen door that she squealed “like a pig,” waking their children, then 20 and 16. Their eldest, Josh, ran downstairs and made a silent 999 call, while Jack held a baseball bat.
“When he saw the kids, he let go and started crying—they often turn themselves into the victim,” Rachel explains. After a while, the children went back to bed, but Darren dragged Rachel upstairs and threatened to slit his own wrists. Jack came back into the room.She walked into the room as Darren was frantically searching through a drawer of hunting knives, then watched him make shallow cuts on his own skin. That was the moment she realized: “I have to get out of this,” Rachel says.
On average, victims endure 50 abusive incidents and try to leave seven times before they finally succeed. Fortunately, Rachel had always worked—cleaning the doctor’s office before her day began, running a mobile hairdressing business, and working shifts at a salon. She had no savings but was confident she could manage and had already considered getting her own flat. She remained close to her mother and had a small, supportive group of friends. “Having a support network is important,” she says, “but in the end, it’s up to the victim—or survivor—to decide, ‘Right, I’m going to do this.'” Still, when it came time to leave, “you just have tunnel vision.”
Her son clearly felt ashamed because of the abuse. That’s the trouble with domestic violence—it creates a ripple effect.
Yet leaving seemed impossible. “At one point, I thought the only way out was suicide,” she admits. She drove to Amroth Beach, “but something came over me, and I thought: I won’t let him drive me to take my own life.” Darren had often told her, “There’s only one way out, and that’s in a wooden box,” and she refused to give him that satisfaction.
A few days later, she met with a lawyer and filed for divorce. She went to the police station and gave a statement detailing past abuse, including the most recent strangulation. Darren was charged with common assault, which carries a maximum sentence of six months in prison but is often suspended or results in a fine. “That’s why I pushed for non-fatal strangulation to be recognized,” says Rachel, who campaigned to have it included in the Domestic Violence Act of 2021. “It felt as dismissive as if he had slapped me or spat at me.”
Rachel believes the courts should take stronger action against perpetrators: “If he had done that to a stranger on the street, he might have faced up to five years in prison,” she notes. In domestic abuse situations, strangulation is often used to exert power and control. “The perpetrator grabs you by the throat and applies pressure—it only takes the force of a handshake to kill someone.”
Professor Catherine White, whose research helped change the law on non-fatal strangulation, explains that it cuts off oxygen to the brain and can cause internal bleeding, leading to death days later. It’s considered the second leading cause of stroke in women under 40. Women who have been strangled are seven times more likely to be murdered.
Darren received a restraining order prohibiting him from coming within three miles of their home. However, he continued using a nearby gym and began stalking Rachel, parking his Land Rover outside her workplace and staring at her for up to half an hour. “I’d call the police and say, ‘He’s outside again,’ and they’d ask if he was doing anything,” she recalls. It made her feel like a bother. “No one acknowledged that this was a dangerous pattern of behavior,” Rachel says.
The day before the shooting, a lay magistrate lifted all bail restrictions, despite Darren’s history of death threats, a firearms conviction, and being a repeat offender. Police came to warn her and offered to install a panic room in her house, reinforcing her doors with metal brackets and a bar in case he showed up.
Rachel reflects, “We have a criminal justice system that is broken, shattered. It needs to be rebuilt from scratch.”
The horror didn’t stop with Darren shooting her in the salon that summer day. Even after Rachel was released from the hospital…In September, Rachel’s 16-year-old son Jack died by suicide. They had been very close—she describes him as “my shadow.” But he struggled deeply after his mother survived an attempted murder and his father died. Jack had visited the salon to apologize for his father’s actions and was staying with Darren’s family at the time.
He became overwhelmed. Rachel reflects, “Sixteen is such an impressionable age, with all the hormones and everything. He clearly felt shame because of what happened.” She adds that this illustrates the problem with domestic violence: “It’s a ripple effect.”
For the past ten years, Rachel has worked tirelessly to end domestic abuse, which she calls “a national emergency.” In memory of her son, she hopes to establish The House that Jack Built, a refuge for children and young people. She believes everyone should be educated about domestic abuse and violence, teaching both boys and girls what a healthy relationship looks like. She also wants restraining orders to be enforced strictly and abusers to face real consequences. “Our criminal justice system is broken, shattered,” she says. “It needs to be rebuilt from scratch.”
Rachel endured not only the emotional agony of losing her son but also severe physical pain from the abuse she suffered. During her recovery, her home was fitted with a commode and a new toilet seat. When her mother suggested adding a stairlift, Rachel refused, insisting, “I will get up those stairs, even if I have to crawl on my backside.” Her determination was clear: “I’m not staying like that.”
She applied the same resolve to her personal life. She met her current husband, Mike, in November of the year she was shot, and he has been the steady support she needed. “My attitude was, I’m not going to let someone ruin the rest of my life,” she explains.
In the UK, the Samaritans can be reached at freephone 116 123, and the domestic abuse helpline is 0808 2000 247. In the US, the suicide prevention lifeline is 988, and the domestic violence hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). In Australia, Lifeline is available at 13 11 14, and the national family violence counselling service is 1800 737 732. For other international helplines, visit www.befrienders.org.
Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of FAQs about the topic framed from the perspective of someone trying to understand the event and its aftermath
General Beginner Questions
1 What exactly happened in this situation
A former romantic partner entered a hair salon and shot the person they were previously in a relationship with at close range
2 Is this a common occurrence
While any instance is one too many targeted violence by an expartner in a public place is statistically less common than domestic violence occurring in a private home However it represents an extreme and tragic form of intimate partner violence
3 What is the immediate goal of such an attack
The immediate goal is typically to cause fatal or severe injury It is an act of extreme violence often motivated by a desire for control revenge or the mentality of if I cant have you no one can
4 Why would someone do this in a public place like a salon
A public attack can be an act of ultimate humiliation and a demonstration of power showing that the perpetrator can strike anywhere It may also be because the perpetrator knew the victims work schedule and location making it an easy place to find them
Advanced Aftermath Questions
5 What are the potential legal charges for the perpetrator
Charges would be severe and could include attempted murder aggravated assault with a deadly weapon illegal possession of a firearm and potentially additional charges for committing a crime in a public business
6 What are the longterm impacts on the victim
The impacts are profound and can include severe physical disability chronic pain PTSD anxiety depression and a complete loss of personal safety and trust in others
7 What are the psychological impacts on the witnesses
Witnesses including coworkers and clients can also suffer from PTSD anxiety and trauma They may experience flashbacks fear of public spaces and guilt about not being able to prevent the attack
8 Were there likely warning signs before this happened
In most cases of extreme violence there are preceding warning signs These can include a history of domestic abuse stalking obsessive behavior extreme jealousy threats of harm or suicide and an escalation of controlling behavior
Practical Support Questions
9 How can someone protect themselves from a violent expartner
Key steps include obtaining
