Visitors lay flowers at a makeshift memorial near the scene of a fatal siege in the heart of Sydney's financial district. Picture: AFP / Peter Parks Source: AFP

Even if she wanted to risk it, she couldn’t. She didn’t have the energy needed.

Stricken by multiple sclerosis and requiring a walking stick to get around, the 50-year-old hostage had to bide her time, her physical condition compounded by her sheer exhaustion from the humiliating role the gunman forced her to perform.

The 50-year-old was his human shield, dragged with the gunman every time he moved his position.

Even when his eyelids became heavy, his grip remained on Ms Hope.

A woman who couldn’t fight back. A woman who couldn’t run.

Proof, if there is any need, of his inherent evil.

Louisa Hope was shot in the Sydney siege at the Lindt Cafe in Martin Place. Picture: Mirror.co.uk Source: Supplied

The former Macquarie Bank executive came to the city to have a night out celebrating Christmas with her mother, with whom she lives in Emu Plains in Sydney’s west. The following morning was the first time they had visited the Lindt Cafe.

Her close friend and neighbour Dennis Maxwell said she would have been hand-picked as a shield because of her disability.

“She is a very strong lady, she has a brilliant mind. But she wouldn’t have been able to defend herself physically,” Mr Maxwell said.

“He’s picked her as the shield because she can’t fight back.”

There was another woman close by Ms Hope who chose not run. And she was more than capable. It was Robyn Hope, her mother, a vocal protagonist inside the cafe, her fury vented at the gunman, her compassion for his shield.

“While he was holding her, Louisa’s mother was screaming at him telling him to let her go,” Louisa’s ex-husband Tony told media.

“Louisa was saying, ‘Mum, stop it’, telling her to keep quiet. Her mum could have escaped apparently but refused to leave her daughter behind. What mother would? They are as close as mother and daughter can be.”

Robyn Hope was in Sydney with her daughter as a pre-Christmas treat. Picture: Mirror.co.uk Source: Supplied

Aside from his cruelty, the deluded self-appointed sheik frequently dipped between niceties and hostility, treating his hostages well at times — including providing food and water, toilet breaks led by a chosen hostage, and one hostage who was allowed to take her medication.

He also became enraged spontaneously.

Jekyll. Hyde.

When Robert Honan went to bed Monday, he had no idea his mother and sister were hostages in the Lindt cafe siege unfolding on TV, The Courier-Mail reports.

But at 2.30am, the Sunshine Coast father was woken by a shocking phone call that his elderly mother, Robyn Hope, had been “shot”.

Not only that, but his distressed mum did not know where his sister Louisa Hope was after they became separated in the chaos.

Robyn was filmed on television being carried out on a stretcher after she was injured on the shoulder.

They have since undergone surgery to remove shrapnel pieces and Mr Honan said his sister was expected to remain in hospital for a month.

Robert Honan pictured with his partner Danielle Svensen, did not know that his mother and sister were caught up in the siege. Source: News Corp Australia

When the siege ended, there was a period of about one hour when he was unsure if his older sister was still alive.

“We knew she was one of the last ones out and that three people had been killed so the chances of her being one of them was pretty high,” Mr Honan said.

“Mum was frantic not knowing what had happened in all the chaos. She was rushed to hospital in the ambulance and had no idea where her daughter was and vice versa.”

In the fearful dark of Tuesday morning Mr Honan and partner Danielle Svensen lit a candle in their Mt Coolum kitchen.

“We were helpless, and that feeling of being helpless is what the other families would have felt for the whole 16 hours,” said Ms Svensen.

Louisa Hope wasn’t the only one used as an innocent pawn in the oddball routine employed by Monis.

One of the Lindt Chocolat Cafe workers makes her escape. Picture: AP Photo/Rob Griffith Source: AP

Jarrod Hoffman was given the job of preaching the gunman’s somewhat bizarre demands, calling 2GB broadcaster Ray Hadley, the ABC and The Daily Telegraph, growing increasingly frustrated with every call, with every baulk.

Joining him in the sickening media relations role were Selina Win Pe, Julie Taylor and Marcia Mikhael, the latter carried out from the cafe after copping a bullet in the foot.

As the horror of their predicament dawned on them, the hostages realised that they were faced with one or two scenarios. Either make a daring escape and risk the wrath of a crazed gunman, or be “dead by the morning’’. Huddled together in the darkness, their captor showing signs of weariness, the group of brave hostages hatched an audacious plan to get the hell out of the Lindt Cafe.

Whatever the cost. They were dead anyway, they feared.

With the threat of imminent death ringing in their ears, spewed out by the self-styled sheik Man Haron Monis, who taunted them — “It will be in the morning’’ — the hostages made their move as the clock ticked past 2am.

With the gunman’s back turned and his eyes drooping, the group bolted for the exit, smashing the lock off the side door and escaping into the night.

Hostages break free from the cafe early Tuesday. Picture: AP Photo/Rob Griffith Source: AP

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Each tearing around the corner, arms raised, terror tattooed on their faces, a five-second sprint into the arms of heavily-armed police. More were meant to be coming. They didn’t.

Lindt staff member Joel Herat was front and centre of the scheming. But, bravely, not for the dramatic exit.

As his fellow hostages ran to freedom the 21-year-old paused, waiting for a co-worker whom he shielded to safety.

As they ran for their lives, Tori Johnson’s was taken away. Shot at close range. A wicked act of revenge that spurred the cavalry into action.

Just two blocks away Mr Herat’s mother Roma heard the eruption of gunfire and stun guns.

She screamed. All the parents and friends gathered at the Supreme Court screamed.

“We didn’t know what was going on. We could hear the guns and the stun grenades going off, we all screamed,” Mrs Herat said.

“We were thinking of our son Joel. My daughter got a text message saying he was out, but we couldn’t believe it till we saw a photo of him.’’

Condolence messages are written on the pavement as a sign of respect at Martin Place. Picture: Joosep Martinson/Getty Images Source: Getty Images

Back in the arms of her son, Mrs Herat was told of the courageous escape: “Joel said to us ‘Mum If we didn’t get out now, we were going to die.’ The terrorist said to them ‘it will be in the morning’. And they said, ‘no we’re going to get out now’.”

In the midst of terror and darkness the bond shared by the Lindt Cafe employees was shining, ever bright, evidence of the genuine care they held for each other.

A selfless act from a young man; his gallant protective instincts, the trusting of one’s life — all characteristics forged not just in the fire of this horrific moment but in sincere relationship. Over time.

In the monotony of work. At a Christmas party a week before their lives would change forever, a blithe occasion captured in a series of cheerful photos, Tori Johnson squarely in the middle. Poking out his tongue. And again, perhaps most manifest, a bond showcased at the colossal floral memorial on the grey stone of Martin Place, where they gathered, as one, arms linked to honour their boss Tori Johnson, and regular customer Katrina Dawson.

“Tori, a hero you shall be remembered, as by putting your life on the line for your fellow human beings. Katrina, your children will grow to know your strength, tenacity and love. Rest in peace. Soar with angels,’’ a tribute card exclaimed, dotted among the floral tribute.