Assisted dying bill like tears, hope and fear passed.

On Friday, after weeks of intense and passionate debate, MPs began formal scrutiny of a bill that would allow older people dying within six months to get help to end their lives.

It was a day of tears, hopes, relief and fear. This is the story of how it unfolded in and out of Parliament – and how Labor MP Kim Leadbetter scored a historic win for her proposed legislation.

It is nine o’clock in the morning. The MPs debate has not yet started but campaigners from both sides are already gathering outside the Houses of Parliament.

People in favor of Leadbeater’s bill stand next to a statue of activist Millicent Fawcett on the west side of Parliament Square.

It’s a sea of ​​pink hats and pink jumpers, provided by the Dignity in Dying Group.

Amanda, whose last name we’re not using like many of our other interviewees, is visiting from Brighton. She has cared for people in their final stages of life, including a friend with cancer.

He remembers his friend begging him to “kill me now, kill me now”. “It’s a terrible thing for someone to hear their loved ones say.”

Another woman named Sue is here, she also wears a pink hat. “I think it could be a big day,” she says.

Around the corner, less than a minute away on College Green, opponents of the bill are also gathering.

They are accompanied by a 10-foot-tall puppet of a stern judge, holding a large syringe and pointing a condemning finger in the air.

“Kill the bill, not the sick,” they chant.

Hannah leans back a bit, looking at and puffing on a lemon meringue pie-flavored vape.

She fears the bill will change the way people with disabilities are viewed, but she’s also thinking about her father.

“He was given six months but he lived for four years,” she says. “Living those four years meant he could see his grandchildren.”

Almost everyone in both demonstrations has a personal story. A personal reason for being in Westminster on Friday.

Jane cared for her mother in her last years. She says the time was difficult but also “very valuable” to her.

She believes the bill will force people like her mother to seek assisted dying.

“I know a judge will have a hand in deciding these things, but how can they tell what’s in someone’s soul?” she says

“Someone can say with their mouth that they want to die, but how can a judge know what’s really going on in their head.”

Meanwhile, inside Parliament, after weeks of debate, Labor MP Kim Leadbetter began debating her bill.

Ledbetter is the MP for Aspen Valley, an area previously represented by her sister Jo Cox, the MP who was murdered in 2016.

The atmosphere is generally thoughtful, reflective and respectful, but tempers are beginning to flare outside Parliament.

The two sides have mostly kept to their separate constituencies, but at the gates of Parliament, some campaigners have begun to clash.

A woman, in favor of assisted dying, holds up painful pictures of her father who is still alive but dying and in pain.

She points to Parliament and then to the pictures. “I want someone out there to tell me why it’s okay,” she says.

Nearby, a woman holds up a placard opposing the bill. It read: “The NHS: it’s cradle to grave, not even old, painful or expensive.”

“Your mark is offensive,” the first woman yelled at the other side. “Are you telling me I don’t care about my father?”

A few steps away, another woman is wrapped in a thick scarf and a woolen hat pulled down, revealing only a small part of her face.

She is holding her placard opposing the bill, and holding a light blue rosary necklace in her fingers.

“How many people have you seen die,” a passing man asked him.

Away from the noise and drama, Dennis is smoking a cigarette, keeping warm in one of the last remaining bits of winter sunlight.

He has traveled from Northern England. Pointing to the sun, she says: “That’s a great idea, we need to get one of those in Manchester.”

Dennis is strongly against the bill but still sympathizes with MPs. “I wouldn’t want to be her,” she says. “Whatever they do, if someone is very unhappy.”

Lal, from London, agreed. “I think, I’m sure everyone who’s talking about this wants to be compassionate and not want people to get hurt,” she says.

“This is common ground.”

Back in the House of Commons, the debate is well underway.

Conservative MP Kit Malthouse argues against suggestions by others that the bill should be opposed because it would burden the NHS and the courts.

“Are you seriously telling me that there is no time for my death, my agony, the NHS?” He says

“That I drown in the vomit of my own feces because it’s too much trouble for the judges to deal with?”

A Labor MP decides to vote in favor of the bill during the debate.

“Kit Malthouse was very powerful,” he says.

“I reserve the right to oppose it at a later stage and I mean it.”

He adds that many MPs may change their minds later if “safeguards are not strong enough”.

The debate ends at around 2:15pm and MPs come out of the chamber to vote.

Ledbetter ‘Aye’ is banging on government benches, near one of the lobby entrances, giving final words of encouragement to wavering MPs.

She hugs Solicitor General Sarah Sackman and Mary Tidball, a disability campaigner who revealed during the debate that she was backing the legislation after long deliberation.

Sir Keir Starmer arrived in the chamber with Welsh Secretary Joe Stevens and his Parliamentary Private Secretary Chris Ward, both of whom voted in favour.

He went to the opposition benches to have a long and apparently impassioned conversation with Reform’s Nigel Farage. He was later joined by Conservative veteran David Davies.

MPs who file through the ‘A’ lobby know at the end of voting that they have won.

Thanks to a relatively recent innovation, a screen is thus updated in real time with the number of people who have voted.

It is surprising that there is complete silence in the Commons as the results are announced.

Lucy Powell, the leader of the House of Commons, Sarah Owen, one of those who said ‘come on’, has to stand on the right side to point out that Ledbetter’s bill has been passed.

Before the debate, Sir Kerr did not say how he would vote, although there was an assumption, given his past record, that he would be in favour.

A Labor MP who opposed the bill said it would have been a factor in how some members of his party voted.

“You can’t discount the power of the prime minister to follow his division lobby, even if it’s an independent vote,” he says.

“And a lot of people were watching to see which way the wind was blowing overall.”

Outside Parliament in the pro camp, everyone is glued to their phones waiting for the result.

Time lags mean some get the news before others. A quiet wave swells into a loud roar.

Big smiles and long hugs are exchanged between supporters.

“I was just crushed,” says Katie.

Others are thinking about deceased relatives. “Grandma would root for us,” Kate says. “She didn’t want others to suffer the way she did.”

Iona’s mother died when she was 13 years old.

There is joy but also relief, as well as the understanding that this is the first step in a long parliamentary process.

Katie also says that efforts need to be made to address people’s concerns about the bill.

As the campaigners celebrate, the bells of St. Margaret’s Church begin to ring.

Of course it has nothing to do with the vote. A couple just got married and are leaving the church.

But for the pro camp, it feels symbolic, and they cheer with every sound.

Anna stands alone on the other side of Parliament Square.

Her eyes are filled with tears and she struggles to speak. “I feel like a line was crossed today,” she says.

Jane is leaving the area. She is visiting her daughter and feels a little more excited than Anna.

“It’s sad, but not as bad as we feared – 270 MPs voted against it,” she says. “There was some resistance.”

Matthew is still in College Green. Using a tablet computer to communicate, he says he’s thinking about the other kids he went to school with who had severe disabilities.

“My friends deserve to live as much as anyone else,” he says. “Living slowly as my risk value diminishes. [The bill] Opens a very dangerous door.”

As he speaks, the vans have arrived and bits and pieces of the campaign are being packed around him.

A 10-foot puppet judge is crouched on the floor, finger pointing skyward.