Seven years ago, their call to prayer was shattered by gunfire.
In the minutes that followed, 51 people were murdered, 40 more were wounded, and a nation watched in disbelief as hatred stormed two Christchurch mosques.
For the families of those killed – and for the survivors who still carry bullets in their bodies and trauma etched into memory – the anniversary is not a measure of time passed, but of time frozen.
Time has not dulled the edges of that day. It has simply reshaped the pain.
March 15 is not just a date on a calendar. It is a fault line – a stark division between life before and life after.
This year, as families prepare once more to gather, to pray, to remember, the man responsible is again thrust into the spotlight.
Brenton Tarrant is taking his case to the Court of Appeal, reigniting legal arguments that place his name – and his crimes – back at the centre of national attention.
For survivors and bereaved families, the renewed court action is not just another headline. It is a reopening. A reminder that while they have worked – quietly, courageously – to rebuild their lives, the shadow of that day has never receded.
How do you heal when the person who caused such devastation continues to command oxygen in the room? How do families carry remembrance and resilience side by side, year after year, as the legal process grinds on and the world moves forward?
Seven years on, the grief is less visible.
But it is no smaller.
Hisham Al Zarzour was shot three times by the terrorist.
After the bullets tore through his hip, he fell to the floor, the bodies of his brothers piling on top of him.
All he could do was lie there, trying to be still and silent, terrified the gunman would come back and finish him.
When the shooting stopped, Al Zarzour managed to wriggle free, and saw his best friend Khaled Mustafa lying lifeless beside him.
Mustafa’s 16-year-old son Hamza was also murdered. His other son, who cannot be named, was badly wounded but survived.
Hisham and Khaled were both born and raised in Syria near the capital Damascus, but did not meet until after they had both fled with their families to Jordan.
They forged a strong friendship – as did their wives – and when the two families were offered a chance to come to New Zealand as refugees, they did not hesitate.
They settled in Christchurch, and were so happy to be there.
The terrorist destroyed all of that happiness in minutes.
Seven years on, Al Zarzour remembers everything. Vividly.
His body has healed, somewhat. His mind is still raw and reeling.
“I still remember what happened daily. Not as much as before – and not in the same way. It’s become routine now, I am used to it,” he said.
“I have flashbacks … and it has been worse the last two weeks. I have had more stress, more anxiety and I have not been sleeping. I only got to sleep at 3.30am on Thursday.
“I try to avoid my wife and kids, I don’t want them to see me like that. They didn’t used to see me like this … now they ask ‘why are you not sleeping … why do do you look like that … is everything ok?’. I try not to engage them in this stuff.”
Al Zarzour had around 30 free sessions with a counsellor after the terror attack. After that, he had to arrange further help through ACC.
He also needs ongoing physio. Both his mental and physical health treatments require him to pay a surcharge – anything from $80 to $100 per session and sometimes twice a week.
“I stopped going. I still need physio and counselling but I find it difficult sometimes to pay $100 bucks or more every week,” he said.
“It’s frustrating because we now hear that this criminal [the terrorist] gets everything he needs for free in prison – medical, psychologist, psychiatrists … and still he complains.
“He is not being sent any debt, he is not suffering financially. And yet New Zealanders that he harmed are. We are paying our taxes to cover this guy – we pay for him, and then pay for ourselves.
“It makes no sense … it is not fair.”
Al Zarzour said while life had moved forward in some ways since the 2019 attack – including welcoming his fourth child – in other ways, he still felt stuck in the terror and trauma.
“Usually after something like this, things progress from hard to easy,” he said.
“But the problem for us is we had sentencing, the Royal Commission, the Coroner’s investigation and now this Court of Appeal … it feels like it has gone from easy to hard.”
He said his anger for the terrorist remains – and will never abate.
Hearing what he and his lawyers had to say in court this week only exacerbated Al Zarzour’s feelings of rage and injustice.
“I watched online and then [on Thursday] I went to the court. They were talking about stress and anxiety and I thought they must have been talking about the victims … but then I realised no, they were speaking about him,” he said.
“I was shocked … it’s just crazy, unbelievable.”
Al Zarzour was disappointed the hearing was granted and hopes that the terrorist’s bid for a full appeal will be rejected.
“I understand prisoners have rights but, this makes no sense,” he said.
“The government are spending who knows how much money on this – after they have cut so many other community services and funding for people because there is apparently no money.
“Mental health services and other services have been stopped – but they have found the money for this? I can’t believe it. This guy does not deserve one cent. Look at what he did, look at the harm he has caused.
“And if the judges tell him no – you cannot appeal? Then this has been a huge waste of resources. It never should have happened … he was past the deadline and all the evidence shows he did it.”
“I feel this hearing has been a mistake … there is no point.”
Al Zarzour said he had nothing to say to the terrorist. But he hoped “the criminal” would abandon the appeal and not embark on any further legal action.
“He does not deserve any message from me,” he said.
“He had the courage to kill all of those people and to hurt many more … now he needs to find the courage to accept his time.
“I just hope he dies … that’s what I want to happen.”
Abdelfattah Qasem, 60, was killed during the Al Noor rampage.
Qasem was born in Palestine and had studied in Canada and the United States before migrating to New Zealand with his wife Siham and their three daughters Dana, Lulu and Sara 2002.
Sara said she thought of her father every day.
“I remember him as just incredibly empathetic. I remember him as hilarious, always making jokes and pulling pranks on us … and just being this beaming light of joy and laughter,” she said.
“He was very value-orientated so he always spoke up for what was right – he certainly would not be quiet in the presence of anything wrong that was going on.
“He was intelligent … and just above all – he was the best dad … the character that he was, has unfortunately meant that the pain of his loss has been tremendous.
“But I’m also so lucky, because the depth of that loss hurt so much because the love that I had was like no other.”
Sara said she had ever properly grieved her father.
Navigating the terrorist’s sentencing, the Royal Commission of Inquiry, the still-ongoing Coronial Inquiry and now the Court of Appeal hearing left little real space for breathing let alone healing.
“There is no moving on from what happened,” Sara said.
“There is certainly moving forward from what happened, but how do you expect us to move forward, without no more disruptions … nearly seven years of constant re-triggerisation? It’s really hard.
“I’m not sure I’ve really ever had a pocket of time to fully grieve my dad.
“I have done so much work out into the community – I do a lot of public speaking, and presentation … I talk about the importance of not leaning into hate and leaning into love, and I’m trying to be a part of the solution, like so many different people are in different ways.
“And I’ve channeled that grief and that pain into literature and into writing … But with all of this happening, when do we get the time to actually just sit and acknowledge the fact that, you know, my dad as a person has passed, let alone just have to constantly be in the space of remembering how he passed?“
Sara said the Court of Appeal process had been “incredibly challenging”.
“It’s really triggering and re-traumatising,” she explained.
“We are super resilient and it’s no secret that the worst has already happened for us – this is certainly not, not worse… and we’re strong, but it doesn’t mean that it’s a pleasant experience to be constantly back in these kinds of spaces.
“Especially when you’re in the presence of someone so evil. It’s quite revolting, to be honest.”
Sara said the constant legal and government inquiries, hearings and processes had become “a normal” for her.
“A kind of normal that I wish I didn’t have to adjust to,” she said.
“Not normal in the sense that it’s not tricky leading up to it – because leading up, there’s really only one way that you can actually feel leading up to it, which is grief and trauma and anticipation and anxiety.
“And you’re also in this dichotomy of like strength and resilience and not wanting to be brought down by something so dark and hateful and wanting to oppose that with your determination to heal.
“But it is just such a disruption to life … it’s not something that you can ever fully adjust to.”
Hearing the terrorist’s words in court including claims he has been poorly treated in prison has been jarring for Sara.
“How ironic it is to hear about the deterioration of the mental health of the murderer of the 51 members of my community, beyond the loss of my dad, including the loss of people that I considered uncles and aunties, and my dad’s best friend,” she said.
“How ironic to hear that he is disappointed in the lack of resourcing within the facility that exists only due to the consequences of his his violent and, and inexcusable actions.
“It’s infuriating because we also have had those same experiences, but we have had those experiences because of the actions that he decided to perform and meticulously planned out.”
When she is in court, Sara braces herself for all possibilities – except one.
“I refuse to prepare for the outcome in which the terrorist gets what he wants,” she said.
“I’m trying to place my hope and trust in the fact that that is not something that we are going to have to consider, and I will be incredibly disappointed on so many fronts beyond the ill feelings I have towards the terrorist.
“It’s really awful that it is ongoing … it would be abysmal to see an outcome that we are all not expecting.”
Sara believed there was only one reason why the terrorist had pushed forward with the current application
“He’s just after some airtime. He’s bored,” she said.
“He has a life sentence, he has nothing better to do and this is just his way of spreading that propaganda to, I believe, incite other people to act on violent extremism.”
She called on everyone in the community to stand against the killer – described by his own lawyers as “the most reviled person in New Zealand”.
“I think it’s our responsibility as citizen – whether you’re directly impacted or you’re a member of the public, or you’re a member of the media, or whatever – I think it is our responsibility to minimise the use of his name and his image, purely because that is simply what he’s after,” she said.
“I would love to see people standing with my community, particularly if, God forbid anything was to happen and he was allowed an appeal.
“We need to have our voices united in order to make sure that the right decision is made.
“In the presence of this game and this act that he’s trying to play – to incite other people in a circle that are also so hateful tto spew that into the world – I’d encourage people to do the opposite of that, to drown that out, to connect with your communities, to speak in aroha, to speak up for what is wrong, to be mindful and aware of what is happening in the world right now globally.
“I think it’s important now more than ever, to speak up around these things – to speak up and to speak in love.”
Anna Leask is a senior journalist who covers national crime and justice. She joined the Herald in 2008 and has worked as a journalist for 20 years with a particular focus on family and gender-based violence, child abuse, sexual violence, homicides, mental health and youth crime. She writes, hosts and produces the award-winning podcast A Moment In Crime, released monthly on nzherald.co.nz