The

Bees Images of Shakira before she fell under your influence show her full of life, healthy and smiling.

Holbeck Rho sits quietly in the Walpole-Walled of Ealing in West London.

It's residential crescent just far enough from the clamour of the city to feel like its own self-contained world.

Nestled between treeline streets and the occasional hum of the Elizabeth Line in the distance,

it's a place where people know their neighbours.

If not by name, then at least by face.

This part of Ealing is upmarket, tidy and well cared for. It carries that comfortable, settled

in kind of charm that's hard to manufacture. It's a patchwork of post-war terraces, modern semis,

and a newer wave of flats that were built in recent years.

Among them stands Lambert House, a four-story brick building completed in 2019 as part of a regeneration initiative to provide affordable homes for key workers and council tenants.

Children often play in the communal courtyards between the buildings, and to most people,

Holbeck Row feels safe. It's the kind of place where nothing too extraordinary ever really happens.

But then, on the 25th of September 2022, something did happen, something horrific.

It was Sunday, unremarkable in every way, at least at first.

At Lambert House the day had passed quietly. Residents went about their routines.

Groceries were unpacked, windows were cracked open to lead in the breeze.

But on the third floor of the building, one woman sat alone in her flat, increasingly troubled by a feeling she couldn't quite shake. For two weeks she hadn't seen her neighbour. There were

no sounds from the unit next door, no movement behind the drawn blinds. At first she had told

herself that it was nothing, that people often come and go.

Perhaps her neighbour was staying with family, or maybe she'd gone away on holiday.

But now something had changed.

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