### 7/7 Bombing Survivor Calls for Public Inquiry as 20th Anniversary Approaches
Nearly two decades have passed since Dan Biddle’s life was irrevocably changed during the 7/7 bombings on London’s transport network. Once a healthy young man working in construction, Biddle is now one of the most identifiable survivors from that fateful day—bearing both visible and invisible scars left by the atrocity.
At just 26 years old, Dan was commuting to work on 7th July 2005 when he came face-to-face with one of the suicide bombers, Mohammad Sidique Khan, on the Edgware Road Tube. “He was so close I could have reached out and touched him,” Dan recalled, describing that morning that would alter the course of his life. Within moments, the normal rhythms of the city were shattered when Khan detonated his device, unleashing chaos and horror across London’s transport system.
The immediate consequences for Dan were devastating. He lost both legs and one eye in the explosion, survived severe burns, and his body sustained a litany of life-threatening injuries: lacerations to organs, punctured lungs, and a burst spleen, among others. Doctors estimated that his chances of survival stood at only two percent. In spite of such overwhelming odds, through the intervention of a courageous ex-Army medic and hospital staff, Dan defied expectations.
However, survival has come at a significant cost. “The physical wounds were just the beginning,” Dan says. He continues to wrestle with Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), complicated by anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and the suffocating grip of survivor’s guilt. Night after night, Dan finds himself reliving the traumatic events, haunted by memories of the blast and Khan’s unblinking stare—visions that replay relentlessly in his mind.
Speaking from his home in Abergavenny, Wales, where he lives with wife Gem, Dan shared the debilitating impact the attack has on his everyday existence. “I dread sleeping—because each time I close my eyes I’m back on the floor of that train, surrounded by suffering, the screams and the smells never leave,” he explained. Triggers as simple as a sudden noise or certain smells can force him to relive those moments up to fifteen times a day.
As the 20th anniversary of the attacks approaches, Dan’s focus has shifted from personal survival to a collective quest for recognition and accountability. He is urging the government to recognise the gravity of the tragedy by launching a full-scale public inquiry—something he believes is long overdue. “Fifty-two people lost their lives. Why isn’t that enough to warrant a proper investigation into what happened and why it wasn’t stopped?” he asks.
Dan’s call is especially poignant given that, at the time, MI5 had been monitoring Khan and one other perpetrator. Previous inquests cleared security services of direct fault, but for Dan and many others, questions linger. “A public inquiry won’t give me my legs back, and it won’t bring back my eye. But accountability and justice would mean something substantial—it would be proof that the victims have not been forgotten,” he states.
Despite ongoing advocacy, the psychological burden is unremitting. Dan describes suffering from disturbing hallucinations, sometimes waking in terror convinced that his attacker is still present. These episodes serve as relentless reminders of the enduring psychological cost of terrorism—effects which ripple through survivors’ lives long after headlines fade.
With the upcoming release of his memoir, “Back from the Dead: The Untold Story of the 7/7 Bombings,” and his participation in a Netflix documentary series, Dan hopes to bring renewed understanding to the human aftermath of terror attacks. His resilience is a testament to the strength of survivors, but his campaign also highlights the ongoing need for societal and governmental support.
Ultimately, Dan’s story is a powerful reminder that while time marches on, the wounds of tragedy endure. As Britain marks two decades since that devastating July day, his plea is clear: survivors and victims deserve not only remembrance, but answers—and the assurance that lessons have been learned.