After 25 minutes of Leeds United’s match against Swansea City last Saturday, play was halted, supporters turned their backs as they did in Istanbul a quarter of a century ago, and the usually raucous Elland Road gave way to the poignant sound of applause.
On Thursday, the entire first-team squad, led by manager Daniel Farke, attended a memorial and laid wreaths beneath the plaque at Elland Road that simply reads: “In memory of Chris Loftus and Kevin Speight who died tragically in Istanbul. April 5th 2000. They will never be forgotten.”
The passing of time might be symbolised in the happy news that Speight’s son George – seven at the time of his father’s murder – is due to become a dad himself next month but the scars, both physical and mental, of Leeds’s most horrifying night can never fade.
“I got p---ed for seven years because I couldn’t face going to sleep due to the dreams and the flashbacks,” says Mark Valentine who, while trying to resuscitate Loftusas he lay dying from multiple stab wounds, recalls being beaten across the head with batons by police. “I didn’t really talk about it for about 16 years. I can remember everything clear as day – I can see the images now.”
Valentine was 30 when he travelled to Turkey in support of David O’Leary’s vibrant young team against Galatasaray. Now 55, he is still uncomfortable sitting with his back to the entrance of a bar or restaurant.
“It just gets a little bit too much at times,” said Andy Loftus, Chris’s brother, shortly after attending Thursday’s gathering at Elland Road with the current players. Like Valentine, he carries memories that no one should bear but is willing to speak for two reasons. He wants to honour his brother’s memory and address “lies” which have suggested that Leeds fans somehow provoked the carnage that night.
“My brother Daz was cradling our Chris as he was dying on the floor and the police were still beating them with batons... just beating the hell out of Leeds fans,” he says. “We had to go and identify the bodies. I was out of my mind obviously.
“Chris was just a daft joker. One of my last memories was him pulling faces across the bar – just being daft. I can see it now. I’ve gone full circle: Drinking, getting into trouble myself. I got diagnosed with PTSD [post-traumatic stress disorder]. I was in a really bad place. I’m obviously a lot better than that now. But it’s really draining.”
