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Tomorrow marks 10 years since the��Ashburton Work and Income murders. Two innocent women were shot and killed, 170 pellets struck the body of another and a fourth avoided what would have been a fatal bullet by millimetres. The��man pulling the trigger��was someone they all knew. Someone they’d tried to help. Senior journalist��Anna Leask�������ǰ��ٲ�.��

Lindy Curtis��saw the barrels of the gun and thought it was all over.��

Scrambling under her desk at the��Ashburton Work and Income��office, Curtis wondered who was going to look after her family as a gunman carried out his deadly rampage.��

Wearing in a black balaclava,��John Russell Tully��had already murdered receptionist��Peggy Noble��- shooting her point-blank in the chest with a crudely cut-down pump action shotgun.��

Noble, a 67-year-old grandmother, was blasted off her chair near the entrance of the Cass St office. Her injuries were unsurvivable.��

From her hiding place, Curtis watched Tully approach her.��

“I saw the barrels of the gun ... [pointing] towards my head… the gun went off,” she would later reveal in court.��

“I looked down at my leg and I could see the red ... blood.”��

She saw Tully look at her leg - which he’d fired 170 pellets into - and was terrified he would shoot her again.��

“It was clear that the shooter wanted to kill.”��

She decided to “play dead”. Tully moved away.��

CCTV image of Russell John Tully entering the Winz building. Photo / NZ Police��

Tully had been a regular, demanding and problematic client��who had been trespassed from the Winz offices��the month before his shooting spree on September 1, 2014.��

The Winz team had done everything they could to help him, but he wanted more.��

When he did not get his own way Tully became angry and aggressive, frightening and intimidating the staff.��

He only left when the assistant manager told him she was going to call the police.��

The next day she and security guard Neville Tahere met Tully outside. She handed him the trespass order and told him not to come back.��

Peggy Noble. Photo / Supplied��

When Tully returned to the offices the following month - at 9.51am on the first day of spring -��Kim Adams��was standing by a filing cabinet when she heard an “explosion”.��

She thought Noble had dropped something out at reception but realised what was going on when Tully emerged in the main office, his shotgun pointed straight at her.��

She ran. He fired.��

“It felt like somebody blowing on my cheek, really quite windy ... like ... phew past my face,” she said later.��

Tully missed Adams but was undeterred.��

He stalked��Leigh Cleveland, 55, who had been his case manager before he was trespassed.��

She had put up with his constant demands, complaints, manipulation, and aggression.��

She had tried her best to help him.��

Susan Cleveland, known as Leigh. Photo / Supplied��

Cleveland’s desk was in the corner of the office and she was trapped as Tully moved towards her.��

She pleaded with him not to shoot her.��

“Please, I beg you, I beg you, you don’t have to hurt us,” she said.��

But Tully ignored her and discharged the shotgun at close range.��

He began to walk away but suddenly turned back towards Cleveland and shot her another two times.��

He then stepped calmly back through the carnage he’d created, got on his bike and rode off.��

He’d been in the Winz building just 61 seconds.��

David Cooze, a Winz client who’d been waiting in the office to deliver documents, ran after Tully and tried to stop him. Cooze had fled after Noble was killed but when he saw the gunman unlocking his bike at the stop sign he’d tethered it to - he decided to take him on��

He crossed the road to confront him. Tully flashed the butt of his shotgun.��

Evidence shown to the jury during Tully's trial in the High Court at Christchurch. Photo / NZ Herald��

Cooze retreated back across the street and started “yelling and screaming” calling Tully a “f* bastard”.��

“He started freaking out. I rattled him that much that he dropped his helmet and bike lock on the ground,” said Cooze��

He chased Tully, got close to him, but could not stop his escape.��

Within minutes emergency services converged on Cass St - and news of the shooting began to spread.��

Tully was arrested hours later��and charged with murdering Noble and Cleveland and attempting to murder Curtis and Adams.��

He pleaded not guilty to all charges - maintaining he was not the balaclava-clad man and that the case against him was “fixed”.��

In 2016, a jury found him guilty of the murders and the attempted murder of Adams. He was found not guilty of the charge relating to Curtis.��Tully was sentenced to life in prison��with a minimum non parole period of 27 years.��

A decade on, the attention has shifted from Tully and his actions and is firmly on his victims, the survivors and their families.��

Curtis and Adams have always been reluctant to speak about the day and this anniversary is no different.��

The women have worked hard to overcome their injuries and trauma and don’t want to revisit the day that was almost their last.��

The��Herald��understands Adams still works at Winz, alongside many of the same colleagues who were there in 2014.��

Curtis said she, too, was still employed by MSD.��

Russell Tully in the Ashburton Winz office during his 61-second murder rampage. Photo / Supplied��

Paula Bennett tries to see the women every time she’s in or near Ashburton. She��was the minister who oversaw Winz��at the time of the murders and arrived in the town within hours of the tragedy.��

“I heard about it very early, and we didn’t really know what was happening - and, equally, we didn’t know where he was. It was very traumatic,” she said.��

“Hearing about the loss of life… I remember just being so absolutely shocked and it was hard to comprehend.��

“And then I was trying to be professional and keep my head about me and think - well, actually I’m going to be needed to be strong at this point.��

Bennett, then-police commissioner Mike Bush and MSD head Brendan Boyle were taken to a room where the survivors were gathered.��

“They were extremely traumatised.”��

Police and forensics officers at the Ashburton Winz office where Russell Tully allegedly killed two women and injured another. Photo / Ashburton Guardian��

Bennett said all the staff wanted to do was go home but they were scared of being photographed by the media gathered outside.��

“It was just like the worst nightmare to be photographed. At that point, I thought ‘I know something I can do’.��

“I called a media briefing out the front and we went out there - and the staff were able to leave privately out the back.��

“Over the next few days - the next few months really - I spent a lot of time with staff, with their families. I was invited into their homes, I got to know them very, very well.��

“And as you can imagine, as much as it’s quiet and solemn, they equally want to talk about it and talk about their experiences.��

“I still go and see them, because we formed a really strong relationship.”��

Bennett said she found a “kindred spirit” in Adams - someone who helped her navigate the “darkest” moments.��

“I had a lot of time with Kim… even in your darkest hours you need to have a bit of relief how heavy and intense it is… and she was pretty awesome”.��

The darkness came for Bennett when the guilt hit.��

Then-Social Development Minister Paula Bennett, with then-chief executive Brendan Boyle, and Rakaia MP Jo Goodhew, arriving to place flowers outside the Ashburton Winz office. Photo / Mark Mitchell��

“I was emotional because - and I’m actually getting teary now because it’s still so shocking - people were just going about their daily business and I felt like I was their employer, asking them to do a job and they lost lives, and it changed their lives.��

“It’s always stayed with me. It was certainly the most challenging and horrific thing that I went through as a minister.��

“Whenever I hear ‘Ashburton’ - it’s immediately where I go to. But I do it with a smile on my face as well, because I feel like I met some really incredible women. I think about the strength of those women.”��

Bennett said the anniversary “brings it all back” and she will never forget the slain women and their colleagues.��

Bennett rushed to Ashburton as soon as she heard about the shooting. Photo / Mark Mitchell��

Brendan Boyle was the head of MSD at the time and was alongside Bennett in Ashburton.��

He was stunned when he got the call from then-deputy commissioner Viv Rickard about the situation in Ashburton.��

“He said, really upfront: I’ve got some bad news. You’ve had a shooting in your Ashburton office, and you’ve got two staff have been killed’.”��

“I said ‘What? Are you sure?’ And he said ‘Unfortunately, I am. I can confirm the two staff have been killed’.��

“In any leadership role, but particularly as a chief executive with a public-facing organisation of the size and scale of MSD you always think in the back of your mind ‘what’s the worst thing that could happen?’. And the worst thing that could ever happen is the loss of staff.”��

Arriving in Ashburton and meeting the survivors and victim’s families was “very traumatic and emotional for everyone”, Boyle recalled.��

Lindy Curtis was shot in the leg but survived Tully's attack. Photo / Supplied��

At the same time, police were bringing Tully in, after finding him hiding in a hedge.��

“That was quite a moment for everyone; not that we were face-to-face with him but, we could hear as they were bringing them in.��

“Then there was a bit of a regroup and then it was just listening to them. There wasn’t much to say - this was the most horrendous experience for them.��

“There was seven or eight people in the office at the time including the security guard… and they were just in awful shock, as you can imagine, trying to understand what the heck had happened and coming to grips with the fact that they lost two colleagues.��

“That first week was pretty heavy going and extremely difficult. And if it was difficult for me, I cannot get my head around how difficult it was for the people that were in the office.��

“It was difficult, it was emotional, but it was also quite humbling because they had accepted what had happened. You could have forgiven them for all sorts of emotions but they had accepted it and we just did everything we could do to support them.”��

Boyle said that support continued throughout the investigation, trial and even during the prosecution and conviction of MSD for failing to take all practicable steps to ensure the safety of its employees,��

In particular, it was important to give wraparound care to Curtis and Adams.��

“Lindy was remarkable - she came to Leigh’s funeral days later. She needed some assistance, but she turned up and she was incredibly brave.��

“To be honest, there’s probably not a week that goes by without it touching my mind in some form. Sometimes that’s as a result of other events that happen - other shootings, other workplace tragedies. Sometimes I’ll just see something in the media that mentions Ashburton and it all comes back.”��

Boyle said he ran into Adams recently while on holiday in Central Otago.��

“I had a nice chat to her, just catching up with where she was and what was happening. She’s still at the office and we were talking about some of the other people there.”��

On the anniversary he will no doubt reflect on the day and said his “thoughts and sympathies and love” were always with the survivors and the victim’s families.��

“This is really something that we never want to see again,” he said.��

Boyle speaking to media after Tully was found guilty of the murders. Photo / Joe Morgan��

Stu Oldham was just wrapping up the daily news meeting with his team at the��Ashburton Guardian��when the shooting happened - around the corner.��

Information started to land with journalists and they knew something big was unfolding.��

They dispersed quickly - some to the Winz building and others to various sites where they knew police were hunting for Tully.��

Tully was known to Oldham and his staff - he had been showing up to the paper’s office regularly, wanting to tell his story and air his grievances with Winz.��

The building went into lockdown but by then the newsroom was empty, every reporter and photographer out in the field.��

“I think, in the cold light of day, if you were to hear that something significant and dangerous happened you would probably take a pause and consider whether you ought to be going to where that thing is,” he said.��

“But we pretty much dispatched ourselves to different places where there was something happening because we felt the community needed to know what was going on.��

“There’s adrenaline for sure - but you have a sense of responsibility. While that’s happening, you kind of go into a mode, which is: I want to get things first, I want to get it right, and I want to do right by the people that I’m reporting for.��

The tragedy impacted Ashburton - and continues to - in ways Oldham still can’t find words for.��

Russell John Tully in the High Court at Christchurch. Photo / Joseph Johnson��

“It’s quite difficult to describe that sense of absolute shock as to what happened… there was a genuine sense of devastation and shock that it happened here because the people in that Winz office were the same people that we would see at the supermarket, they’re the same people that may jostle for the car parks in our area of town, they’re involved in the community groups.��

“And in a town the size of Ashburton, you are only a couple of people removed from somebody. So it wasn’t necessarily a ripple that went through the community - it was much more a tsunami of shock at what happened.”��

Oldham said Ashburton - like many other small towns in New Zealand - is a place that “runs on goodwill and the kindness of people in the community.��

“Winz was a place full of people that were doing their best - within the confines of the rules that a Government department operates under, but doing their best by people that they live alongside to help them.��

“So it was an absolute blow to that sense that people doing good are going to be allowed to continue to do good, unimpeded or unhurt.”��

The candlelit vigils, the huge turnout at the civic remembrance service and the support offered for the Winz team showed the impact the tragedy had on the town.��

“I was recently at an event speaking to a couple of older fellows who were tearing up, talking about the impact that this had on the town… that naivety or that innocence taken away from you by an act like that.”��

Police Armed Offenders Squad members returning to the Ashburton Police Station minutes after Tully was located and arrested. He was taken into the building while his victims were in another room. Photo / Mark Mitchell.��

Like so many others, Oldham often thinks about September 1, 2014.��

“I can’t see the word Winz without thinking about it… for me, it’s now a byword for tragedy,” he said.��

“I hope that they (the victims’ families and survivors) know that what happened that day - an entire community was alongside them as they had to go through it, and as they tried to come to terms with it, and I think that continues today.��

“It has affected a lot of people, but at the very core of that impact is the people affected. I know that there’s family and friends that carry the absolute burden of this, and they probably will continue to so my heart continues to go out to them.��

“I just hope that eventually they get to the stage where, you know, these anniversaries aren’t the sort of thing they end up having to share with other people anymore.”��

Thousands attended a memorial service in Ashburton to pay tribute to Winz shooting victims Leigh Cleveland and Peggy Noble. Photo / Martin Hunter��

Anna Leask is a Christchurch-based reporter who covers national crime and justice. She joined the��Herald��in 2008 and has worked as a journalist for 18 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��