UNA: Questions surround shootings of mosques in New Zealand (Part 4)

We publish unedited, a major article written by the United Nationalists Australia media group on the Christchurch murders.  That the blogsite upon which this article was written was taken down – suggests the State reaction to simple truths and questions.  We make no other comment upon the article and leave the reader to assess.   

(Refer to this website’s strict Conditions of Use).


[Other Parts to this article]

PART 4:   ‘Let’s get this Party started: The Video’

by United Nationalists Australia, March 21 in 2019.

‘Tarrant has made a right into the farther right-side driveway of the Al Noor mosque, turned his silver Subaru around, muttered some, and then sped back up the driveway stopping a metre shy of its mouth.

From there he gets out and lifts open the hatch-back revealing two rifles festooned with white-stencilled writing bearing names we cannot read but which articles we’ve linked to have deciphered in part.

There is already a semi-automatic weapon slung over his shoulder via a strap which, from what we can gather, is an AR-15 assault rifle. Tarrant has a Kalashnikov stashed in his boot but reaches for a shotgun. There are two red-plastic jerry-containers which are later revealed to have contained petrol and what looks like a black sports bag stamped with a silver fern logo. Leaving the hatch open, Tarrant makes his way around to the Deans Ave entrance of the mosque.

It is a pleasant afternoon. Outside the mosque, a short distance away, an Indian-looking man in black slacks and a white shirt stands to talk to another. Beyond them, a man in a similar style dress leans against a fence as he enters the front gates of the mosque with the Grenadiers still audible, which we assume is somehow operating wirelessly from either his headset or a Bluetooth device.

The carpark is full, and to his left is a small silver runabout with its right rear-door ajar. Two men stand in the mosque’s doorway with their backs to the shooter as he approaches. It is widely reported that the man to the left of the screen turns and says “Hello brother”, but we’ve reviewed this footage over and over, and although the streaming quality isn’t of HD value, it remains unclear whether he has craned his neck that far around and is, in fact, addressing Tarrant.

Dismissing this assumed courtesy, Tarrant fires a total of nine times, dropping the man to his left while the other crawls up the corridor towards the main prayer room.   As he enters the building, Tarrant discards the shotgun, raising the AR-15 strapped to his body.

The light from the torchlight affixed to his rifle dances off surfaces ahead of him as he advances. He shoots the crawling worshipper three times. A body lies sprawled to the right of the screen at the entrance to what we speculate may be the women’s prayer room. We can see what looks to be a woman fleeing through a doorway just ahead to the right of this entrance and Tarrant takes four shots but we cannot tell whether he hits her.

Up ahead in the main hall a figure dashes to the left of the doorway as sounds of surprised voices are heard from inside. While moving forward, Tarrant shoots four times.

On the GoPro cam, we can see that the shooter injured but has not killed the man who rests groggily on his knees with his head bowed. The gunman takes six shots that spray in his direction.

Either side of the prayer hall there is what appear to be large floor-to-ceiling windows. Directly ahead are a set of wood-panelled doors that open to what is either the outside world or another window.  On the left side of the carpeted-hall, a worshipper lays while another survivor slumps over him. The gunman turns and unloads a number of rounds into the bodies huddled against the wall to his right, one standing with his back to the rifleman.

The shooter then jerks right, shoots quickly at his flank, then turns back to the pile of bodies he was shooting at seconds before.

So far, it’s only been seven minutes from the time he uttered the words “Let’s get this party started”, till now.

Momentarily facing the corridor, a figure who is either an idiot making a foolhardy dash past the gunman or else attempting to wrestle with him is nonetheless shot at point-blank range for his troubles. Turning for a moment and shooting him some more, the gunman makes sure the wannabe hero is kaput.

Re-entering the hall, he once again unleashes a hail of lead into the bodies piled to his right. As he adjusts his rifle magazine, a figure can be soon through the doorway on the left leading to the women’s prayer room.  The person sprints as he moves to the corridor where they have reached the exit and drops them just before they make freedom. Transferring his attention to the left, he inspects the pile of bodies; we estimate there are about 20. He shifts along that side, having been so far shooting from the centre of the room, and just behind one of the pilasters either side of the doorway where there are white bench-seats a survivor huddles moaning. He shoots the person in the back then fires at the piled bodies writhing to his left.

Next, he moves towards the carcasses heaped to the right of the room on the corridor side and blasts away again in case there are survivors. Then, scurrying back through the passageway he pauses to retrieve a discarded magazine which he loads into his rifle. Checking behind him, he faces the main hall once again. The rising moans of the injured and terrified can be heard from inside.

Pausing to momentarily review the women’s prayer room he exits the mosque taking aim over a small compact but there are no targets. Inspecting both to his left and right of the carpark, he pantingly runs to the gates where he glances either side of the avenue before aiming and firing at a person in the distance who is leaning casually with his back against the fence.

Taking many shots at the figure, the angle of the GoPro obscures our field of vision so we can’t tell what the result is. Remarkably, traffic keeps moving past as though oblivious to the carnage occurring outside. Quickly switching to his left side, he shoots twice ahead of him downwards of the pavement, but again we cannot make out his mark or what are the results of his shots.

Over the sound, we can hear music coming from his rental car waiting with the rear hatch open. Apparently, nobody had the idea to grab the Kalashnikov and take him out while he was unaware, but then again, in this sort of situation putting as much distance between yourself and the shooter is probably the wisest course of action. Nevertheless, it means more fun time for gun-boy, who unstraps the AR-15 and casts it aside on the ground, grabbing the Kalashnikov.

Pausing to rustle about the contents in the boot he tentatively grabs one of the red-plastic canisters while mouthing “son of a bitch”. Abandoning whatever great plan that he had in mind he hurries back onto Deans Ave, aims to his left, but holds his fire. There is nothing to shoot at. Turning to his right, he frantically darts past the mosque’s gate entrance and to the opening of the driveway on the left. Using his scope, he trains his sites on a faraway target momentarily indistinct to our eye beside the right flank of the mosque, but then we see the figure collapse to the ground.

Minding what’s happening on his left, there is no sign of the person that he shot at earlier, so presumably, they survived and got away. His breathing heavy on the audio, he peeks right, then tells the viewers, “That looks about all today, boys.”

Despite this seeming absence of prey, he shoots five more times towards the range of his previous quarry, before dashing back inside the mosque, poking his head into the women’s prayer room, looking to his right at a closed door with a green printed sign tacked to it beside a fire-extinguisher, then returning to the main prayer room where we’re 100% certain those inside are groaning not so much from the pain anymore but from the nagging fact that this guy just won’t give them a break.

Craning his neck first left then right he fires three more times at the pile of stiffs before advancing to get a closer look. A chair tipped over to the left of the viewer lays at the feet of a grey-robed worshipper whose prayers, it would appear, weren’t answered. Firing three more shots, he knocks the skullcap off the head of one of the deceased Moslems pressed up against the glass of the window. A body writhing from either the brief life remaining in him or else undergoing death spasms undulates among the dead.

Wandering back to those bodies piled along the right side of the passageway, shooting as he goes, he hits what may be a woman cowering on a bench-seat pressed up beside the pilaster on the right-side of the hall. Another bench-seat lays overturned, as though for a brief instant someone believed it might provide cover, or else they just grabbed for it in desperation. The body of a young Indian man in a white top and loose red pants lays barefoot with his knees curled up to his chest and his head resting against it.

Not one to be accused of under killing his game, Tarrant fires into the bodies a few more times, then negotiates his way to the corridor, out of the entrance, and stops when he notices a woman (or what may be two) in black standing on Deans Ave visible in the gap between the curving wall and the gate pillar. Levelling his rifle, he shoots.

The luckless daughter of Allah slumps to the pavement never again to feast on his joyous gifts of sheep eyes, felafels, hummus or tabouli. Not many prayers are being answered at the Al Noor mosque today it would seem and the ironically named Christchurch is more like Mohammed’s Mortuary. Still, she has a chance for survival, but that won’t last long since gun-boy is nothing if not thorough.

We might have been right in assuming there were two persons on the other side of the fence because he fires off in the distance but we cannot see what he was trying to hit. The other perhaps made it across the roadway and into the bushes. A spent magazine is visible lying wasted on the footpath at his feet beside a bicycle chained up to the bars of the mosque’s fence. Quickly making sure his right flank is clear, he heads to the woman he has hit who is pleading “help me” as she lies shoeless on the curb with her footwear neatly placed on the path ahead of her.

Two shots in the head silence her cries for help, which is the kind of help she didn’t need, and PewDiePie’s biggest fan then whooshes around the silver Subaru, just as the lyrics of Andrew Wilson’s song Fire, “I am the god of hellfire”, come wafting out right on cue. Tarrant then slams shut the hatch, the AR-15 still lying where he dropped it, leaps inside his mobile Xbox and off to his next destination, which, if reports are true, is Linwood Mosque. Strangely, though, this time he doesn’t require the Sat Nav.

Showing very little respect for the dead, as is a habit he has established over the past six-minutes, Tarrant rolls over the woman who only seconds before had been pleading for help; proving once and for all that you can’t get good help when you need it.

One thing we did notice, though, with the exception of his final victim for the moment, was that the horror inside the mosque was allayed by the fact there really wasn’t any blood. Well, at least our writer is pretty sure one guy had bloodstains on his shirt, but by and large… Elsewhere news reports made much of medics having to deal with rivers of blood flowing over tiles, but not here. They may have hit a synagogue by mistake since this lot was being so stingy with their blood.

That’s a joke, off-colour and ill-timed, but nonetheless a joke.

Continuing up Deans Ave he says something we cannot make out and aren’t really interested in hearing anyway.  However, it may just have something to do with his next activity, when, seconds later he grabs the shotgun resting beside him on the passenger seat and fires at what he must recognise to be a foreigner stepping into a compact vehicle.

Yet, his two shots have no impact, and the windshield fails to shatter. The driver doesn’t even notice how lucky his stars are and drives off oblivious to the fact that today would be a very good day for him to splurge on a lottery ticket. Still, that’s the sturdiness of windscreens for you: once upon a time, they’d crumble if a pigeon pooped on one, but not now. They’re guaranteed to crack open the head of any beltless passenger who flies headfirst into one after breaking too hard.

Also, it gives hope to anyone who is being shot at from the front of their vehicle. You can pat the missus on the lap and soothe her with the words, “Safest windscreen on the road, luv” as the random shooter curses and gives up in a pathetic display of defeat.

Not one to learn from mistakes, Tarrant accelerates towards new game but for a third time in a row firing out the windscreen proves a loser. Why he’d want to anyway is just another question to add to the already mountainous pile of queries since technically he has a chance to get away, but if the cops are too dopey to check his number plate, they’ll sure pull him over for a shattered windscreen.

Not that there is anything resembling police in the city of Christchurch; the doughnuts must be yummy down that way.

Advancing again, this time he tries his luck by aiming at his victim through the side passenger window, lining up what looks like an old Pakistani bloke and finally he gets satisfaction as the shell blasts the window to smithereens and takes down the object of his derision.  It turns out, in later reportage, that it was a father and son together, but the son had it on his toes yelling out to his old man, who was either deaf or too slow. Apparently, both survived, although worse for wear.

Not a solitary siren is heard as he weaves up the roadway stopping for two pedestrians which he lets pass before blasting them with his horn for yet another reason that nobody will ever know much less care about.

Over the soundtrack he can be heard complaining wistfully, “I should’ve stayed longer. There was time and fuel…”

Ten seconds later he regrets, “I left one full magazine back there, I know for sure, possibly more.”


Twelve seconds further onward he continues his internal debriefing by adding, “Still… to run along in the middle of a firefight and pick up the mag that fell out, pretty much fucking instantly, there isn’t even time to aim given there are so many targets. There were so many people. The carpark was full so there was no real chance of a kill.”

At the 15:20 mark of the video the first siren can be heard. At 15:43 is the next. We can’t be sure if it’s a police car or ambulance.

His final words before the stream go dead are: “A lot of them survived, unfortunately. They all ran pretty quickly. The noise scared them. The women weren’t in yet. I got the men first.

He talks as if he’s self-analysing his performance at a tennis match.

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