John Milne stands on the South East corner of Colombo and Brougham Streets.

It’s a noisy part of Christchurch on the main route between the port at Lyttelton Harbour and the shipping container parks in the West of Christchurch. Truck after truck after truck rumbles by. The ground shakes. It’s dusty and loud. 

And John Milne stands there. High-viz jacket and wide-brimmed hat. He holds a simple hand-written sign with two words.

‘Love Everyone.’ 

It’s very easy in life to judge someone in a moment. I think for some of us – and I’ll put myself at the top of the list – you see someone standing on the side of the road with a sign like that, and you dismiss them, right? It’s easy to. You don’t pause and ask yourself, who is this person? What’s their story? Why are they standing on the side of the road for hours and hours every day, waving at the traffic with a sign that says ‘Love Everyone’?

John was at Eastgate Mall waiting for a bus when he first heard the sirens. Police cars heaving through an intersection. Someone said there had been a shooting at the mosque near Hagley Park... and John knew it. In that moment, he knew it. He just knew his son Sayyad, was dead. 

What does it do to a father when he loses a 14-year-old son? John went to a dark place. Yeah, he went to a dark place. It’s more than losing a loved one... losing a child. Losing a child. I don’t know that anyone can articulate the darkness that brings on a person, or a parent. Can you be happy? Can you be truly, properly, wholly joyful, even just for a bit?

John thinks you can. That’s why he chooses, day after day, to stand on the side of the road with a sign saying ‘Love Everyone.’ Take nothing for granted. Life is short. To stand on the corner of Brougham and Colombo Streets is to believe those words. 

I called him up last night, just for a couple of minutes, and asked him how he is, and how he’s doing with everything.

“I know where my boy is,” said John.

“He speaks to me.”

John’s going to go to the Christchurch High Court for the sentencing this week. He’s already checked out the security. He feels safe. He thinks they’re all doing a great job.

I asked him what he wants? What will help him? What will soothe him? A life sentence? No parole?

“Well,” said John.

“I’d really like to see him get sent back to Australia.”

“Most importantly, it’s essential he’s never allowed out of prison.”

John Milne is used to standing at busy intersections by the trucks and the muck, holding his sign.

‘Love Everyone.’

But his week he has a message to deliver in a very different setting.

For this occasion, John Milne has considered his words carefully. He’s not really supposed to say what’s in his Victim Impact Statement, but he told me I could share with you this much:

“I’m not gonnna’ call him ‘terrorist.’ I’m not gonna’ call him ‘Tarrant.’” Said John.

“I’m gonna’ look him in the eye and say ‘Brenton, you are unconditionally forgiven.”