On Friday, after weeks of fierce and passionate debate, MPs began their formal scrutiny of the bill which would allow terminally ill adults who are expected to die within six months to seek help to end their own lives.

It was a day of tears, hope, relief and fear. This is the story of how it unfolded inside and outside parliament – and how Labor MP Kim Leadbeater scored a historic victory for his proposed law.

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

Those in favor of Leadbeater’s bill are on the west side of Parliament Square, by the statue of activist Millicent Fawcett.

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

Amanda, whose last name we are not using as with many of our other interviewees, came from Brighton to be here. She cared for people in the final stages of their lives, including one friend with cancer.

She remembers her friend pleading with her to “kill me now, kill me now”. “That’s a terrible thing for someone to hear their loved one say.”

There is another woman called Sue here, also wearing a pink hat. “I think this could be a huge day,” she says.

Around the corner, less than a minute’s walk on the College Green, those against the bill are also gathering.

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

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

Hannah is a little further back, watching her and puffing on a lemon meringue pie flavored vape.

She fears the bill will change the way disabled people are viewed but she is also thinking about her father.

“He was given six months but ended up living for four years,” she says. “He lived those four years so he could meet his grandchildren.”

Almost everyone at both shows has a personal story; a personal reason for being in Westminster on Friday.

Jane had cared for her mother in recent years. She says it was a difficult time but also “very valuable” for her.

She thinks the bill would put pressure on people like her mother to ask for an assisted death.

“I know a judge would be involved 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 inside their head.”

Meanwhile, within parliament, after weeks of discussion, Labor MP Kim Leadbeater opens the debate on her bill.

Leadbeater is the MP for Spen Valley, an area previously represented by her sister Jo Cox, the MP who was killed in 2016.

Generally the atmosphere is reflective, considerate and respectful, but sentiment outside Parliament is beginning to cry.

The two sides mostly kept to their separate areas but at the gates of the parliament, some campaigners are starting to fight each other.

One woman, in favor of assisted dying, keeps striped pictures of her father who is still alive but dying and in pain.

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

A woman nearby holds a placard against the bill. It reads: “SNS: It’s from cradle to grave, not to old, difficult or expensive.”

“Your sign is offensive,” the first woman shouted at the second. “Are you telling me I don’t care about my father.”

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

She has her own placard, opposing the bill, and a light blue rosary necklace.

“How many people have you watched die,” asks a man who was passing by her.

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

She traveled from the north of England. Pointing at the sun, she says: “That’s a good idea, we need to get one of those in Manchester.”

Dennis is strongly against the bill but still sympathizes with the MPs. “I don’t want to be with them,” she says. “No matter what they do, someone if it’s going to be very happy.”

Lal, from London, agrees. “I think, I believe that everyone who was talking about this is trying to be merciful and want people not to suffer,” she says.

“That is the common ground.”

Back in the House of Commons, the debate is in full swing.

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

“Are you really telling me that my death, my pain, is too much time for the NHS?” he says.

“To drown in my own fecal vomit because it’s too difficult for the judges to deal with?”

One Labor MP makes his decision to vote for the bill during the debate.

“Kit Malthouse was very powerful,” they say.

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

They add that many MPs may change their minds later if the safeguards are not strong enough.

The debate ends around 2:15pm and MPs file out of the room to vote.

Leadbeater waits on the government benches, near one of the entrances to the ‘aye’ lobby, giving final words of encouragement to the MPs who are mocking him.

It includes Solicitor General Sarah Sackman, and Marie Tidball, a disability campaigner who indicated during the debate that she was supporting the legislation after a long period of consideration.

Sir Keir Starmer arrives in the room with the British Secretary Jo Stevens, and his parliamentary private secretary, Chris Ward, who both voted in his favour.

He walks over to the opposition benches to have a long heated conversation with Reform’s Nigel Farage. Next comes Conservative veteran David Davis.

The MPs who file through the ‘aye’ lobby towards the end of the vote know they have won.

Thanks to a relatively recent innovation, a screen updates in real time with the number of people who voted that way.

It is remarkable that there is total silence in the Commons as the tellers come in to announce the results.

Lucy Powell, Leader of the House of Commons, has to nudge Sarah Owen, one of the ‘aye’ tellers, to stand on the right side to indicate that Leadbeater’s bill has been passed.

Before the debate, Sir Keir had not said 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 says this would be a factor in how some members of his party voted.

“You can not underestimate the power to follow the prime minister into his division lobby, even if it was a free vote,” they say.

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

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

Time delays mean that some get the news before others. A quiet ripple grows into a loud roar.

Huge grins and long hugs are exchanged between supporters.

“I just shrank,” says Catie.

Others are thinking about deceased relatives. “Grandma would be rooting for us,” says Cáit. “She didn’t want other people to suffer like she did.”

Iona’s mother died when she was 13. “It wasn’t the death she wanted,” she says, adding that her mother would have been so proud of Friday’s outcome.

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

Catie also says that an effort must be made to address people’s concerns about the bill.

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

It has nothing to do with the vote, of course. A couple have just got married and are leaving the church.

But for the pro-camp, it feels symbolic, and they cheer as well as all bells.

On the other side of Parliament Square, Anna is standing alone.

Her eyes are full of tears and she struggles to speak. “I think a line has been crossed today,” she says.

Jane is leaving the area. She is out to meet her daughter and feels a little fresher than Anna.

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

Matthew is still at the College Green. Using a tablet computer to communicate, he says he thinks about the other children he went to school with who had severe disabilities.

“My friends deserve to live as much as anyone else,” he says. “Gradually lives like mine are in danger of being devalued. [The bill] it opens a very dangerous door.”

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

The 10-foot puppet judge is lying on the floor, his finger pointing up at the sky.