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The Life and Death of Olof Palme: A biography
Stockholm in late November. It gets dark not much beyond lunchtime, this far north, this time of year. It was now three pm and the sky was pitch black. I strolled alone in the snow, huddled figures around me, down the main road of the Old Town, full of souvenir shops: I bought a Viking plastic helmet with artificial Helga pigtails attached to the rim for my colleague at the newspaper back in London. I crossed a bridge into Kungsträdgården, a park-like large square that used to be the King’s Garden, hence the name, with Christmas stands, cradles of lightness and family in the inky late November darkness, selling fluffy toys, glazed peanuts; amber jewellery, tombola tickets, soft toy Santas and Swedish straw goats. I walked up Sveavägen and stopped. Pedestrians flowed past, ignoring the plaque on the ground which shone dully in the bright lights of a nearby shop. Here, at the junction of Sveavagen street and Tunnelgatan street, the assassination of Olof Palme, Swedish prime minister, took place at 11.21 pm on 28 February 1986. A short timeline: At around 11.10 pm, leaving the Grand cinema, where they had seen a Swedish art house film called the Brothers Mozart, the Palme couple turned right down Sveavägen, one of the main streets of Stockholm. His wife Lisbet was with him. No bodyguards: he didn’t need them, this, after all, was Sweden, a country that had been at peace for two centuries and had for some decades been one of the world’s most renowned democracies, the very epitome of harmonious utopia. One hundred and fifty metres from the Grand Cinema, the couple passed a grill kiosk whose owner recognised the couple and saw the couple followed by a thickset man in a dirty grey coat. The couple crossed the street because Lisbet wanted to look in at the window of a shop that sold Indian clothes. They walked another 150 metres arm in arm until they reached the junction Tunnelgatan- Sveavägen. There, folded just inside the narrow side street Tunnelgatan, his silhouette visible in the glare of the window, stood the killer: He stepped out and killed Palme with one bullet and fired another at Lisbet, missing narrowly. He then turned on his heels and ran into the dark depths of Tunnelgatan, disappearing up some outdoor steps, gone forever