I was shot at on New Years Eve. In Cape Town, South Africa. In a taxicab.
Not just me. My family were there too.
Victoria's Smurfit's taxi was shot at in Strand Street, Cape Town, by a gang. Police say the shooting was likely to have been part of an initiation ceremony.
Writing in today’s Irish Mail on Sunday, the 35-year-old actress says she was told by South African police the attack was likely to have been a gang initiation ceremony dubbed ‘Kill a Tourist Day’.
Victoria, who plays icy Roisin Connor in the ITV show, said memories of the attack have often left her tearful since returning home. Her mother, who was also in the taxi, had to be hospitalised for minor heart problems.
The shooting happened in Strand Street, one of Cape Town’s main roads, which will be thick with football fans when the World Cup begins in June.
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Ballykissangel star Victoria Smurfit shot at on 'Kill a Tourist Day' in South Africa
By James Tapper, Mail on Sunday Showbusiness Reporter
Last updated at 12:40 AM on 11th January 2010
 Lucky escape: The actress was injured by flying glass |
Actress Victoria Smurfit has revealed she came within inches of death when a gunman opened fire on a taxi she was travelling in while holidaying in South Africa – the nation that will stage the World Cup in just six months.
The glamorous actress, who has starred in ITV police drama Trial & Retribution and the BBC’s Ballykissangel, was injured by flying glass when the vehicle’s windows were shattered.
She felt a bullet whizz past her as it tore through the cab – ‘tangibly blowing the air’. It hit the passenger window ‘barely half an inch’ from the head of her sister-in-law, Charlie.
Writing in today’s Irish Mail on Sunday, the 35-year-old actress says she was told by South African police the attack was likely to have been a gang initiation ceremony dubbed ‘Kill a Tourist Day’.
Victoria, who plays icy Roisin Connor in the ITV show, said memories of the attack have often left her tearful since returning home. Her mother, who was also in the taxi, had to be hospitalised for minor heart problems.
The shooting happened in Strand Street, one of Cape Town’s main roads, which will be thick with football fans when the World Cup begins in June.
South African police say they are determined to ensure visitors’ safety – yet Victoria claims officers were not interested in investigating her incident.
She says the family were visited by detectives only because a relative happened to meet someone with police connections in a restaurant.
 “In the last 15 years, over 45 000 Afrikaners have been murdered and over 90 000 Afrikaner women have been raped. How can a you have a World Cup Soccer event in a country where one of its minority groups are being exterminated?” asks Bittereinder Boer, at his Boycott 2010 World Cup South Africa Facebook Cause |
The actress, whose family owns a £500million packaging empire in Ireland, had been in Cape Town to celebrate New Year with her advertising executive husband Doug Baxter, mother Caroline, brother Dermot and his wife Charlie.
The attack happened after the group had left a restaurant in Constantia, one of the city’s most exclusive suburbs, and were on their way to see in 2010 at a party also attended by British broadcaster Johnny Vaughan.
Charlie had been looking out the window at a nail salon they were passing and sat back just as the car slowed to pull off Strand Street. As the vehicle turned, Victoria heard a sharp crack as the bullet hit the window.
Horror: Victoria's Smurfit's taxi was shot at in Strand Street, Cape Town, by a gang. Police say the shooting was likely to have been part of an initiation ceremony
She writes: ‘We all felt it journey past us. Either in front or behind our faces, it tangibly blew the air as it crossed our paths.
‘Blood started seeping out of my collection of veins at the elbow joint. I could see Doug was shiny-eyed. I reached an arm out to him. Thank God, he was fine.’
Victoria, who was in the front seat, said she couldn’t immediately bring herself to turn round to see if the rest of her family were still alive.
 Horror: Victoria's Smurfit's taxi was shot at in Strand Street, Cape Town, by a gang. Police say the shooting was likely to have been part of an initiation ceremony. |
When she summoned the courage, she saw how close the bullet had been to hitting her sister-in-law.
‘Barely half an inch from her head was a spider web of shattered safety glass, and a hole,’ she said.
‘Had Charlie still been looking at her nail salon, the rest of us would be now wearing her brain.’ It took her several moments to realise that she had been injured by the shattered glass.
‘I picked out a lump of Doug’s window from my elbow,’ she added.
But when the family reported the incident, Victoria said police simply told them, ‘Yes, thank you’, and hung up the phone.
 Two German tourists Mr. Michael Wienands (49) and his wife Michaela (45), were robbed by three armed men wearing balaclava's, in their four star guesthouse: Laibach Vineyards Lodge. [November 2009] |
It was only following the chance meeting in a restaurant a few days later that two officers were sent to take statements.
Victoria said: ‘Apparently what happened to us was a gang initiation. A young man wants to feel he belongs to something, tries to attach himself to a group but has to prove his mettle.
‘It was Kill a Tourist Day. And we were in the way. It is frustrating not knowing who the shooter was. Not as frustrating as it must be for him, unsure if he is now a murderer. Maybe he is only 12.’
She said the incident has had a lasting impact on her family.
Her brother has become obsessed with researching criminal violence in South Africa, while Victoria has been plagued by thoughts of what could have been ‘if the car had gone two miles an hour faster, if the shooter had raised his arm slower, if we had not looked out the window, if we had not tried to turn a corner’.
‘I cry a lot,’ she added. ‘If my mind is allowed a fallow moment, it plays back those last 20 minutes of 2009.
‘But it re-edits for different endings – certificate 18 endings. Not the Parental Guidance one we luckily had. This year could have started as a horror story for us.’
» » » » [Daily Mail (PDF)]
Victoria Smurfit: 'It was kill a tourist day in South Africa - and we were in the way'
By Victoria Smurfit
Last updated at 8:19 PM on 10th January 2010
 Victoria Smurfit had a terrifying ordeal when her cab was shot at in Cape Town, South Africa |
I was shot at on New Years Eve. In Cape Town, South Africa. In a taxicab.
Not just me. My family were there too.
With 20 minutes to go on the clock before midnight struck 2010, my husband, brother, sister-in-law, my mother and I were giggling in a car.
Having left a fancy restaurant out in Constantia, a smart suburb, we were heading to a club.
Very VIP tickets in our hands, courtesy of a TV pal of mine, it was to be the perfect place to ring out a tricky old year.
The mood in the taxi was light as we had narrowly avoided a collision during dinner between Doug, my husband, and my wonderfully expressive Mum.
An explosive topic had come up over the main course and we were all a bit smug that with a distraction move, a full argument had been avoided. That was close shave!
It was pitch black out there.
The lights of Cape Town in all its glory only lit up the shop names as we travelled in our people carrier cab.
Charlie, my sister-in-law is a stunning six-foot natural beauty whose only vice appears to be a manicure obsession.
 Four elderly Dutch tourists were shot at enroute to their Marloth Park holiday cottage near the Kruger Wildlife Reserve and robbed of about R100,000’s worth of electronic equipment and personal documents. Their rental car was hijacked and they were left stranded at the roadway in the pitch-dark. The attack happened at 20:30. [December 2009] |
I pointed out a nail salon to our right as we came up Stand Street (think O’Connell Street).
The salon was next door to ‘Caroline's wine cellar’ we noticed.
‘Mum, an entire cellar with your name on it!'
We had spent the day at a vineyard called Delaire in Stellenboch. It is a Graff owned plaything and through copious wine tasting, we had found a bit of heaven.
‘I love it!’ she chuckled, if they re-named the nail bar Charlie's, life would need nothing more!
Charlie turned away from staring out the window at her spiritual Mecca, and placed her head back against the headrest.
Crack! Or pop? I can’t really work out exactly which sound is correct as it happened so fast. Maybe it was a crack and a pop as the bullet entered through Charlie's window. Crashing through the taxi, which had slowed down to turn right in to the street where the nightclub was.
Everything became very slow. No one looked at each other. It was not the sound of the copper bullet that told us we had been shot at, at point blank range, it was that we all felt it journey past us.
Either in front or behind our faces, it tangibly blew the air as it crossed our paths. The cab had taken a violent intake of breath. With the air in the vehicle sucked out, it left us in no doubt. That was not a stone that hit us.
Blood started seeping out of my collection of veins at the elbow joint. I could see Doug, next to me, was upright and shiny eyed. I reached an arm out to him. Thank God, he was fine.
The balloon we had nicked from the suburban restaurant bobbed behind his ears. He touched my solar plexus. Had I been hit? No, it was my heart trying to beat out.
 Mr. Peter Burgstaller, an Austrian Footballer was murdered at the Selbourne Hotel Spa and Golf Estate in KwaZulu Natal, on the eve of the 2010 Soccer World Cup Preliminary Draw in 2006. Soon after landing on South African soil, Mr. Burgstaller teed off on the golf course. A few hours later, a security guard discovered his body on the 12th tee. He had been shot dead and robbed of cash and a cellphone. [2006] |
Seconds ticked in silence. ‘Turn around and look, turn around and check your family are alive’ I told myself.
I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring myself to swivel to potential carnage.
The seats behind me held precious people. Mum, My brother Dermot and his wife Charlie. Still quiet.
‘Is everyone OK??!’ I shrieked. Well I think I shrieked, in my head I did.
‘Wow’ said Charlie.
‘Go driver, Go Go,’ Dermot instructed with the power of a man not used to being disobeyed.
The car started to slow down. ‘Llandudno. Now!’ Dermot had slid down his seat.
Trying to drag Charlie and Mum with him, out of range of this random attack.
My brother was the only one of us whose brain had taken in the outside. What and who was out there? The rest of us were in a clear fog of disbelief. No further shots rang out; no one had a chance to rob us.
‘Oh it's fine!’ said my mum. She hates to make a fuss. It is the small things in life that worries my mum.
Lost tweezers could send her stratospheric, but a near death experience? She was calm and as elegant and unruffled as Catherine Deneuve on a red carpet.
‘Let's go clubbing’ said an adrenalised Charlie. All eyes were on her as she had clearly taken her leave.
To her left was the bullet's entry-way. Barely half an inch from her head was a spider web of shattered safely glass, and a hole.
Had Charlie still been looking at her nail salon, the rest of us would be now wearing her brain. The bullet would not have had the chance to scare anyone else.
A minute in to our trip back to the safety of the rented house, each of us became, CSI Cape Town.
 The French and Belgian governments are incensed at how the South African Police Services botched investigations into the gang rape of a French tourist and an attack on her Belgian boyfriend, the Belgian Swimming Coach, on the Durban beachfront, during the International Paralympic Committee Swimming World Championships, in December 2006. |
What was the trajectory? A .22 pistol you say. At a 6 foot range. Doug knows this kind of stuff. Dermot presses record on his omnipresent iPhone. I wonder where the shooter was. Mum is blasé. Charlie wants to dance.
So does Doug as it occurs to us that the exit for the nub of death was just behind his ear. How it missed us all and particularly the two in-laws was simply a miracle.
‘Our names were not on that bullet’ quipped Doug.
I feel a desperate need to know our taxi driver's name. Alvin he says. So unperturbed is our cabby I asked if this happens all the time in Cape Town. Well we have all read the stories.
‘Not to me.’ His voice was steady. Odd. Maybe he is thinking about the state of his car or policy.
‘I am bleeding!’ strangely thrilled that I have a war wound, I picked out a lump of Doug's window from my elbow. Schrapnel.
‘Hospital?’ questioned flat Alvin.
It was a couple of minutes to midnight and we wanted to get to the bosom of our rental. It was only a surface bleed.
 Victoria Smurfit with husband Doug and their daughter Evie. Doug was with her in the taxi when it was shot at. |
Alvin kindly slid open the door on Doug's side of the car and the window, which had taken the exit of our bullet, collapsed and smattered on the ground.
At the very moment we all gratefully stepped out of the taxi, a chorus of ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR!’ could be heard around the Camps Bay coastline. Dermot raised an ironic eyebrow. Never had any of us had such a sober end to a year.
We called the police. We felt it was our civic duty to inform them that someone with a gun was roaming the main street.
‘Yes, thank you,’ and a hang up. Well, we were interrupting celebrations I suppose.
A few days later, Charlie's mother, was at a lunch locally and happened to be sitting next to a lady involved in the police.
The next day two cops were discharged to our rental to take statements. It turns out Alvin was on a scam and had logged the incident for his insurance.
 Dingaan ‘The Rose of Soweto’ Thobela with WBA lightweight world champion Paulos ‘Hitman’ Moses and trainer Nestor Tobias, who were robbed at gunpoint after they arrived at OR Tambo International Airport yesterday. They were attacked by four bogus policemen while en route to Parktown in Johannesburg shortly after 11am. [November 2009] |
He had quoted ’a shotgun came into the window. No passengers. Car was worth 40 grand'. Hmm, not the one we were in.
I can't blame Alvin. It’s a tough town. Apparently what happened to us was Gang Initiation.
A young man, wants to feel he belongs to something, tries to attach himself to a group but has to prove his mettle.
It was kill a tourist day. And we were in the way.
It is frustrating not knowing who the shooter was. Not as frustrating as it must be for him, unsure if he is now a murderer. Maybe he is only 12.
I could be writing this in mourning. If the car had gone two miles an hour faster. If the shooter had raised his arm slower. If we had not looked out the window. If we had not tried to turn a corner. If if if.
This story would not be a dinner party tale but a life altering tragedy. All to go partying with Johnny Vaughan.
Each one of us in the taxi that night has dealt with it differently.
Dermot, an information junkie, has immersed himself in Youtube. Ploughing through every ‘Violence in South Africa’ video.
Doug refused to say ‘Goodbye’ to me a couple of days later as he went overnight to the desert. He was off to photograph the German horses of Namibia. A deep hug and a determined ‘see you later, see you later’ replaced the traditional sentiment.
Charlie, a resolutely upbeat woman, admitted to mortality and held her son and mother close, kissing Dermot at every opportunity.
Mum had a heart flutter and ended up in hospital on New Year's Day. So much for internalising being better for you. She was given the handsome doctor's mobile number though, so elegance can pull you through.
I cry a lot. If my mind is allowed a fallow moment, it plays back those last 20 minutes of 2009. But it re-edits for different endings. Certificate 18 endings. Not the Parental Guidance one we luckily had.
2010 could have started as a horror story for us. Phew.
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