As the evening light ebbed away a handful of Ukrainian troops emerged from the treeline to face an unequal fight. Their mission – to shoot down 21st Century killer drones with weapons designed in the dying days of World War One.

In Ukraine's north-eastern region of Sumy, bordering Russia, this is a nightly battle.

Just after we joined the troops, there was danger in the skies, and tension and adrenaline on the ground.

The commander – codenamed Jaeger – was glued to a screen showing clusters of red dots, each indicating an Iranian-designed Shahed drone, one of Russia's key weapons. By early evening, there were already 30 in the skies over Sumy, and the neighbouring region of Chernihiv.

Two flatbed trucks were driven out into a clearing – on the back of each a heavy machine gun and a gunner, scanning the skies. The trucks were flanked by troops, light machine guns at the ready.

We could hear the whirring of the propellers before we could see the drone - barely visible as it sliced through the sky. The troops opened fire - all guns blazing in unison – but the drone disappeared into the distance. These low-cost long-range weapons are terrorising Ukraine.

As often in war, there were flashes of humour. "You'll know when the next drone is coming, when that short guy gets nervous," said Jaeger, pointing at one of his team.

As darkness closed in, the drones kept coming and the troops kept trying – sending tracer fire streaking across the sky. But how do they feel when these suicide drones get through?

"Well, it's not very good, "Jaeger says sombrely, glancing away. "You feel a slight sadness but to be honest - as you have seen - you don't have time for emotions. One comes in and another can come right behind it. You work in this rhythm. If it's taken down - good, if not, you know there are other teams behind you who will also engage it."

He and his men are a "mobile fire unit" from Ukraine's 117 Territorial Defence Brigade – all locals trying to defend not just their hometown but their country. Most Russian drones fly through this region and deeper into Ukraine.

"They come in massive waves, often flying at different altitudes," says Jaeger. "When there is heavy cloud cover, they fly above the clouds, and we can't see them. And it's very hard to detect them when it's raining."

A hundred Shahed drones a night is standard for Sumy.

His unit includes a farmer ("now I do something else in the fields," he jokes) and a builder. Jaeger himself is a former forest ranger, and mixed martial arts fighter.

Now he fights an enemy he can barely see.

"It's the same thing every single day, over and over again," he says. "For us, it's just like Groundhog Day."

"The worst thing is that years are passing by," adds Kurban, the builder, "and we have no idea how long all this is going to last".

Many of the drones in the skies over Sumy that night were headed for the capital, Kyiv. Jaeger and his men knew it. So did we. The knowledge was chilling.

An air raid alert warned the residents of Kyiv of incoming drones. Russia aimed more than 300 at the capital overnight, according to the Ukrainian air force, trying to overwhelm its air defences. By morning six locations had been hit, and the victims were being reclaimed from the rubble. In the days that followed the death toll climbed to 30.

In Ukraine's fourth summer of full-scale war the fields around Sumy are dotted with corn and sunflowers, not yet in bloom, and a crop of dragon's teeth - triangles of concrete which can stop tanks in their tracks.

The picture was very different last autumn. Ukrainian troops had turned the tables with a cross-border attack on Russia, capturing territory in the neighbouring region of Kursk.

By March of this year, most were forced out, although Ukraine's military chief said recently it still holds some territory there. By May, President Zelensky warned that 50,000 Russian troops were massed "in the direction of Sumy".

By June, more than 200 villages and settlements in Sumy had been evacuated, as the Kremlin's men slowly shelled their way forward.

President Putin wants "a buffer zone" along the border, and is talking up the threat to the city of Sumy.

"The city…is next, the regional centre," he said recently. "We don't have a task to take Sumy, but I don't rule it out." He claims his forces are already up to 12 kilometres (7.5 miles) inside the region.

Warning: The following section contains distressing details

The head of Ukraine's army, Gen Oleksandr Syrskyi, claims his troops have halted the Russian advance, but the war has already closed in on Margaryta Husakova, 37, menacing her village. She warned her sister not to come because there were explosions.

"She came anyway," Margaryta says, "and everything was fine for a month, quiet and peaceful, until we got on that bus".

On the morning of 17 May, the sisters set out with other relatives for a trip to the city.

"I remember how we came, got on the bus, how we laughed, were happy," says Margaryta. "Then we started to leave, and it happened."

The bus was ripped apart by a Russian drone, in an attack that killed nine people – all civilians - including her mother, her uncle and her sister.

Margaryta was pulled from the wreckage with a shattered right arm – now held together by steel rods.

She is tormented by what she lost, and what she saw. Her description is graphic.

"I opened my eyes, and there was no bus," she said, her voice beginning to break. "I looked around and my sister's head was torn off. My mum too, she was lying there, hit in the temple. My uncle had fallen out of the bus, his brain was exposed."

We met at a sand-bagged reception centre for evacuees in Sumy. Margaryta sat outside on a wooden bench, seeking comfort from a cigarette. She told me she was planning to leave for the home of another relative, but feared her eight children might not be safe there either.

"Maybe we will have to run away even further," she said, adding: "It's scary everywhere."

"I'm terrified, not for myself but for the children. I must save them. That's what matters."

As we spoke an air raid siren wailed overhead – the sound so familiar that Margaryta did not respond. Neither did anyone else around us. "We only run for explosions now," a Ukrainian journalist explained "and only if they are loud and close".

There's little talk in Sumy of a ceasefire, let alone an end to Europe's largest war since 1945.

US President Donald Trump no longer claims he can deliver peace in Ukraine in a day. He's become embroiled in a newer war, bombing Iranian nuclear sites.

Talks between Russia and Ukraine have delivered only prisoner exchanges, and the return of bodies. President Putin appears emboldened and has been upping his demands.

With the Summer sun still overhead, those trying to save Ukraine expect more Winters of war. We followed a bumpy track deep into a forest to meet troops fresh from the front lines. They were getting a refresher course in weapons skills at a remote training ground. A battle-hardened 35-year-old with a shaved head and full beard was among the group - call sign "student".

"I think the war won't end in the next year or two," he told me. "And even if it does end in six months with some kind of ceasefire, it will start again in four or five years. President Putin has imperialist ambitions."

War inflicts wounds – seen and unseen.

"Student" sent his family abroad for safety soon after Russia's full-scale invasion in February 2022 and has been unable to see his two daughters since then.

He and his wife are now divorced. Other soldiers we met also spoke of broken relationships and marriages that have buckled under the strain.

Student sums up war as "blood, dirt and sweat" and does not try to conceal the cost. "We joined our battalion, as a platoon of 30 neighbours," he told me.

"Today, only four of us remain alive. "

Additional reporting by Wietske Burema, Moose Campbell and Volodymyr Lozhko

Kenyan President William Ruto says he is building a church at the presidential residence in Nairobi that he will pay for himself - and says he has nothing to apologise for.

"I am not going to ask anyone for an apology for building a church. The devil might be angry and can do what he wants," President Ruto said on Friday.

That statement alone has angered Kenyans already frustrated with his style of leadership and what they regard as the entanglement of the state and the church.

The BBC has asked the government for comment.

It is not clear who Ruto was referring to as "the devil" in his comments at state house, but he says nothing will stop the project from going ahead.

On Friday one of Kenya's leading newspapers - the Daily Nation - published architectural designs showing a large building with stained glass windows and capacity for 8,000 people.

The paper questioned whether the project was in keeping with Kenya's secular constitution.

There has also been criticism of the cost, estimated at $9m (£6.5bn), at a time when many Kenyans are struggling with the rising cost of living.

Ruto said he would pay for the church out of his own pocket, however that raises the question of whether he has the right to build such a large structure on state-owned property.

In an open letter, one MP said Kenya was not a Christian state and belonged to people of all religions.

While some 85% of Kenyans are Christian, there is also a large Muslim population of about 11%, along with other minority faiths including Hinduism and traditional African religions.

There is no mosque or temple at the presidency.

"I did not start building this church when I entered the State House. I found a church but one made out of iron sheets. Does that look befitting for the State House?" a defiant Ruto told politicians at a meeting he hosted on Friday.

You may also be interested in:

• El Chapo & Deputy Jesus - why Kenya's president has so many nicknames
• Why Kenya's evangelical president has fallen out with churches
• How African popes changed Christianity - and gave us Valentine's Day
• Ghana to investigate ex-president's controversial $400m cathedral project

Go to BBCAfrica.com for more news from the African continent.

Follow us on Twitter @BBCAfrica, on Facebook at BBC Africa or on Instagram at bbcafrica

Former Arsenal footballer Thomas Partey has been charged with five counts of rape and one count of sexual assault.

The offences are reported to have taken place between 2021-2022, the Metropolitan Police said.

The charges involve three women with two counts of rape relating to one woman, three counts of rape in connection to a second woman and one count of sexual assault linked to a third woman.

The contract of the 32-year-old footballer, from Hertfordshire, ended with Arsenal on Monday after playing with the team since 2020. BBC News has contacted the team for comment.

The charges follow an investigation by detectives, which started in February 2022 after police first received a report of rape.

Det Supt Andy Furphy, who is leading the investigation, said: "Our priority remains providing support to the women who have come forward.

"We would ask anyone who has been impacted by this case, or anyone who has information, to speak with our team. You can contact detectives about this investigation by emailing CIT@met.police.uk"

Mr Partey is expected to appear at Westminster Magistrates' Court on Tuesday 5 August.

He joined Arsenal for £45.3m from Atletico Madrid in October 2020, made 35 top-flight appearances last season and scored four goals as the London club finished second in the Premier League.

He also played 12 times in the Champions League as the Gunners reached the semi-finals before being knocked out by eventual winners Paris St-Germain.

Overall, he made 130 Premier League appearances for Mikel Arteta's side, scoring nine goals.

Moments before the explosion, artists, students and athletes were among those gathered at a bustling seaside cafe in Gaza City.

Huddled around tables, customers at al-Baqa Cafeteria were scrolling on their phones, sipping hot drinks, and catching up with friends. At one point, the familiar melody of "Happy Birthday" rang out as a young child celebrated with family.

In a quiet corner of the cafe overlooking the sea, a Hamas operative, dressed in civilian clothing, arrived at his table, sources told the BBC.

It was then, without warning, that a bomb was dropped by Israeli forces and tore through the building, they said.

At the sound of the explosion, people nearby flooded onto the streets and into al-Baqa in a desperate search for survivors.

"The scene was horrific - bodies, blood, screaming everywhere," one man told the BBC later that day.

"It was total destruction," said another. "A real massacre happened at al-Baqa Cafeteria. A real massacre that breaks hearts."

The BBC has reviewed 29 names of people reported killed in the strike on the cafe on Monday. Twenty-six of the deaths were confirmed by multiple sources, including through interviews with family, friends and eyewitness accounts.

At least nine of those killed were women, and several were children or teenagers. They included artists, students, social activists, a female boxer, a footballer and cafe staff.

The conduct of the strike and the scale of civilian casualties have amplified questions over the proportionality of Israel's military operations in Gaza, which the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) say are aimed at defeating Hamas and rescuing the hostages still being held by the group.

Family members in Gaza and abroad spoke to the BBC of their shock and devastation at the killings.

"We were talking with each other two days ago. We were sending reels to each other. I can't believe it," said a young Palestinian man living in the US whose 21-year-old "bestie" Muna Juda and another close friend, Raghad Alaa Abu Sultan, were both killed in the strike.

The numbers of deaths analysed by the BBC were broadly consistent with figures given by the Hamas-run Civil Defence Agency, a senior local medic and the Palestinian Red Crescent in the days after the strike.

Staff at Shifa Hospital, which received the bodies, said its toll as of Thursday had reached 40 deaths, including people who had succumbed to their injuries, and unidentified bodies.

An official at the hospital said some of the bodies had been "blown to pieces", and that 72 injured patients were brought there - many having sustained severe burns and significant injuries that required surgery. He said many were students.

In a statement after the strike, the IDF said it had been targeting "terrorists" and that steps were taken to "mitigate the risk of harming civilians using aerial surveillance".

"The IDF will continue to operate against the Hamas terrorist organization in order to remove any threat posed to Israeli civilians," it added, before saying the "incident" was "under review".

The IDF did not directly respond to multiple BBC questions about the target of the strike, or whether it considered the number of civilian casualties to be proportionate.

Al-Baqa Cafeteria was well-known across the Gaza Strip, considered by many to be among the territory's most scenic and vibrant meeting spots.

Split over two floors and divided into men's and mixed family sections, it had views out to the Mediterranean Sea and television screens where people could watch football matches. It was a place to gather for coffee, tea and shisha with friends, and was a particular favourite with journalists.

Al-Baqa had remained popular even during the war, especially because of its unusually stable internet connection. The cafe, which had until now survived largely unscathed, also served up a reminder of the life that existed before the bombardments.

A cafe manager told the BBC that there was a strict entry policy. "It was known to our customers that if any person looked like a target, then they were not let inside the cafeteria - this was for our safety and the safety of the people there," he said.

On the day of the strike, the port area of Gaza City where the cafe is located was not under Israeli evacuation orders, and families of those killed on Monday say they had felt as safe as is possible when heading there.

Staff told the BBC that the strike in the early afternoon - between the Muslim prayers of Zuhr and Asr - was outside of the cafe's busiest hours.

The strike hit a section of the men's area where staff said few people were at the time.

BBC Verify showed several experts photos of the crater left in the wake of the explosion and the remaining munition fragments. Most said that they believed it was caused by a bomb, rather than a missile, with a range of size estimates given, at a maximum of 500lb (230kg).

The IDF told the BBC it would not comment on the type of munition used.

A journalist who was in the area at the time of the strike and spoke to eyewitnesses immediately afterwards told the BBC the munition that hit the cafe "was launched from a warplane - not from a drone that would usually target one or two people… It looked like they were very keen on getting their target". His account was consistent with others we spoke to.

Twenty-seven-year-old Hisham Ayman Mansour, whose deceased father had been a leading figure in Hamas' military wing, the al-Qassam Brigades, was among those in the men's section by the sea.

His brother was previously killed by Israeli forces, and one social media post mourning his death suggested the brother had taken part in the 7 October 2023 attacks.

A local Hamas source said Hisham was the target of the strike, and described him as a field commander with the group, a "mid-ranking role".

Tributes posted on social media also referred to him as a "fighter" and "member of the resistance". His cousin also described him to the BBC as a "fighter" with the proscribed group, but said he thought he was "low-level" and not currently active.

It is unclear what he was doing in the cafe that day, with two sources telling the BBC he was believed to be there for a "money drop", while another suggested he was there for "coffee and a short respite" and that he had not been involved in "militant activities" during the war.

A photo shared on social media purported to show Hisham at the same spot in the men's area of the cafe the day before the strike, wearing a cap and sports t-shirt. Photos of his body after the strike in the same outfit were shared by family and friends.

Two members of his family - one of them a child - were also killed.

The IDF would not confirm whether Hisham was the primary target, or one of a number of targets of the strike.

One former senior IDF official told the BBC he understood that "multiple Hamas operatives" were hit at the cafe, but that a so-called battle damage assessment was still ongoing. A source with Israeli intelligence connections pointed towards a social media post naming Hisham as the target.

Sources in Gaza gave the BBC the name of a more senior Hamas commander who was rumoured to have been seated on a nearby table, but posts on social media said he died the following day and did not mention the cafe.

The Hamas source said Hisham was the only person within the group killed at al-Baqa, while the IDF did not respond to questions about the commander.

An anti-Hamas activist told the BBC that "many Hamas people" were injured in the strike, including one who worked with the group but not as a fighter, who lost his leg in the explosion.

Medics could not confirm this account, but said that they dealt with many people with severe injuries, including those arriving with missing limbs or requiring amputations.

Israel does not allow international journalists access to Gaza to report on the war making it difficult to verify information, and Hamas has historically ruled the territory with an iron grip, making speaking out or any dissent dangerous.

The remainder of this article contains details some readers may find distressing.

Among the bodies and the debris in al-Baqa were traces of the civilian lives lost - a giant pink and white teddy bear, its stuffing partially exposed, a child's tiny shoe, and playing cards soaked in blood.

A displaced man who was in the area seeing family at the time of the strike was among those who went running into the cafe to try to find survivors.

"Shrapnel was everywhere… there were many injuries," he told the BBC.

He said when he entered part of the men's section that he found the bodies of waiters and other workers, and saw as one "took his last breath".

"It was crazy," said Saeed Ahel, a regular at the cafe and friend of its managers.

"The waiters were gathered around the bar since it was shady and breezy there. Around [six] of them were killed," he added, before listing their names. More were injured.

The mother of two young men who worked at the cafe screamed as she followed their bodies while they were carried on a sheet out of the wreckage on Monday.

A distraught man pointed at a dry patch of blood on the floor, where he said bits of brain and skull had been splattered. He had put them in a bag and carried them out.

Meanwhile, the grandmother of 17-year-old Sama Mohammad Abu Namous wept.

The teenager had gone to the cafe that afternoon with her brother, hoping to use the internet connection to study. Relatives said the siblings were walking into the beachside cafe when the bomb hit. Sama was killed, while her brother was rushed to hospital.

"She went to study and they killed her," she said. "Why did she have to return to her grandmother killed?"

The coach of young female boxer Malak Musleh said he was in shock at the loss of his friend of more than 10 years, having first learned the news of her killing through social media.

"She believed that boxing was not just for boys but that girls should have the right too," Osama Ayoub said. "Malak was ambitious. She didn't skip any training day."

He said he last saw Malak about 10 days before the strike, when he dropped off some aid to her and her father.

"We sat together for nearly an hour. She told me that she was continuing her training with her sister and wished I could train them. I told her unfortunately because my house got demolished I live now in Khan Younis [in southern Gaza], but as soon as I hear that there is a ceasefire I will try to go back to training," he said.

"She said to make sure to keep a space for them… She had passion in her eyes and her words."

When Osama saw the Facebook post by Malak's father announcing her death, he "didn't believe it".

"I called him and he confirmed it but I still don't believe it," he said over the phone from a displacement camp.

Artist Amina Omar Al-Salmi, better known as Frans, was also at the cafe with a well-known photographer friend.

Since the 35-year-old's death, one of her pieces depicting a dead woman with her eyes closed and covered in blood, has been shared widely online alongside an image of her after her death, with people noting the striking similarities.

Her sister, now living in Sweden, told the BBC that the last time they spoke, Frans had said that she was sure "something good was going to happen".

"She was happy and said: 'We'll meet soon. You'll see me at your place.'"

Additional reporting by Riam El Delati and Muath al-Khatib

Verification by Emma Pengelly and Richie Irvine-Brown

As the evening light ebbed away a handful of Ukrainian troops emerged from the treeline to face an unequal fight. Their mission – to shoot down 21st Century killer drones with weapons designed in the dying days of World War One.

In Ukraine's north-eastern region of Sumy, bordering Russia, this is a nightly battle.

Just after we joined the troops, there was danger in the skies, and tension and adrenaline on the ground.

The commander – codenamed Jaeger – was glued to a screen showing clusters of red dots, each indicating an Iranian-designed Shahed drone, one of Russia's key weapons. By early evening, there were already 30 in the skies over Sumy, and the neighbouring region of Chernihiv.

Two flatbed trucks were driven out into a clearing – on the back of each a heavy machine gun and a gunner, scanning the skies. The trucks were flanked by troops, light machine guns at the ready.

We could hear the whirring of the propellers before we could see the drone - barely visible as it sliced through the sky. The troops opened fire - all guns blazing in unison – but the drone disappeared into the distance. These low-cost long-range weapons are terrorising Ukraine.

As often in war, there were flashes of humour. "You'll know when the next drone is coming, when that short guy gets nervous," said Jaeger, pointing at one of his team.

As darkness closed in, the drones kept coming and the troops kept trying – sending tracer fire streaking across the sky. But how do they feel when these suicide drones get through?

"Well, it's not very good, "Jaeger says sombrely, glancing away. "You feel a slight sadness but to be honest - as you have seen - you don't have time for emotions. One comes in and another can come right behind it. You work in this rhythm. If it's taken down - good, if not, you know there are other teams behind you who will also engage it."

He and his men are a "mobile fire unit" from Ukraine's 117 Territorial Defence Brigade – all locals trying to defend not just their hometown but their country. Most Russian drones fly through this region and deeper into Ukraine.

"They come in massive waves, often flying at different altitudes," says Jaeger. "When there is heavy cloud cover, they fly above the clouds, and we can't see them. And it's very hard to detect them when it's raining."

A hundred Shahed drones a night is standard for Sumy.

His unit includes a farmer ("now I do something else in the fields," he jokes) and a builder. Jaeger himself is a former forest ranger, and mixed martial arts fighter.

Now he fights an enemy he can barely see.

"It's the same thing every single day, over and over again," he says. "For us, it's just like Groundhog Day."

"The worst thing is that years are passing by," adds Kurban, the builder, "and we have no idea how long all this is going to last".

Many of the drones in the skies over Sumy that night were headed for the capital, Kyiv. Jaeger and his men knew it. So did we. The knowledge was chilling.

An air raid alert warned the residents of Kyiv of incoming drones. Russia aimed more than 300 at the capital overnight, according to the Ukrainian air force, trying to overwhelm its air defences. By morning six locations had been hit, and the victims were being reclaimed from the rubble. In the days that followed the death toll climbed to 30.

In Ukraine's fourth summer of full-scale war the fields around Sumy are dotted with corn and sunflowers, not yet in bloom, and a crop of dragon's teeth - triangles of concrete which can stop tanks in their tracks.

The picture was very different last autumn. Ukrainian troops had turned the tables with a cross-border attack on Russia, capturing territory in the neighbouring region of Kursk.

By March of this year, most were forced out, although Ukraine's military chief said recently it still holds some territory there. By May, President Zelensky warned that 50,000 Russian troops were massed "in the direction of Sumy".

By June, more than 200 villages and settlements in Sumy had been evacuated, as the Kremlin's men slowly shelled their way forward.

President Putin wants "a buffer zone" along the border, and is talking up the threat to the city of Sumy.

"The city…is next, the regional centre," he said recently. "We don't have a task to take Sumy, but I don't rule it out." He claims his forces are already up to 12 kilometres (7.5 miles) inside the region.

Warning: The following section contains distressing details

The head of Ukraine's army, Gen Oleksandr Syrskyi, claims his troops have halted the Russian advance, but the war has already closed in on Margaryta Husakova, 37, menacing her village. She warned her sister not to come because there were explosions.

"She came anyway," Margaryta says, "and everything was fine for a month, quiet and peaceful, until we got on that bus".

On the morning of 17 May, the sisters set out with other relatives for a trip to the city.

"I remember how we came, got on the bus, how we laughed, were happy," says Margaryta. "Then we started to leave, and it happened."

The bus was ripped apart by a Russian drone, in an attack that killed nine people – all civilians - including her mother, her uncle and her sister.

Margaryta was pulled from the wreckage with a shattered right arm – now held together by steel rods.

She is tormented by what she lost, and what she saw. Her description is graphic.

"I opened my eyes, and there was no bus," she said, her voice beginning to break. "I looked around and my sister's head was torn off. My mum too, she was lying there, hit in the temple. My uncle had fallen out of the bus, his brain was exposed."

We met at a sand-bagged reception centre for evacuees in Sumy. Margaryta sat outside on a wooden bench, seeking comfort from a cigarette. She told me she was planning to leave for the home of another relative, but feared her eight children might not be safe there either.

"Maybe we will have to run away even further," she said, adding: "It's scary everywhere."

"I'm terrified, not for myself but for the children. I must save them. That's what matters."

As we spoke an air raid siren wailed overhead – the sound so familiar that Margaryta did not respond. Neither did anyone else around us. "We only run for explosions now," a Ukrainian journalist explained "and only if they are loud and close".

There's little talk in Sumy of a ceasefire, let alone an end to Europe's largest war since 1945.

US President Donald Trump no longer claims he can deliver peace in Ukraine in a day. He's become embroiled in a newer war, bombing Iranian nuclear sites.

Talks between Russia and Ukraine have delivered only prisoner exchanges, and the return of bodies. President Putin appears emboldened and has been upping his demands.

With the Summer sun still overhead, those trying to save Ukraine expect more Winters of war. We followed a bumpy track deep into a forest to meet troops fresh from the front lines. They were getting a refresher course in weapons skills at a remote training ground. A battle-hardened 35-year-old with a shaved head and full beard was among the group - call sign "student".

"I think the war won't end in the next year or two," he told me. "And even if it does end in six months with some kind of ceasefire, it will start again in four or five years. President Putin has imperialist ambitions."

War inflicts wounds – seen and unseen.

"Student" sent his family abroad for safety soon after Russia's full-scale invasion in February 2022 and has been unable to see his two daughters since then.

He and his wife are now divorced. Other soldiers we met also spoke of broken relationships and marriages that have buckled under the strain.

Student sums up war as "blood, dirt and sweat" and does not try to conceal the cost. "We joined our battalion, as a platoon of 30 neighbours," he told me.

"Today, only four of us remain alive. "

Additional reporting by Wietske Burema, Moose Campbell and Volodymyr Lozhko

A man has been sentenced after he "repeatedly and persistently" encouraged a vulnerable woman he met online to kill herself.

Tyler Webb, 23, connected with his victim on social media before asking the woman, who cannot be named, to harm herself for his own "sexual gratification".

Police said the victim's bravery was "profound" in reporting the offence, which led to Webb being the first person in the country to be charged with encouraging serious self-harm online under section 184 of the Online Safety Act 2023.

Webb was given a hybrid order of nine years and four months, which will see him detained at a mental health facility and if deemed fit to leave, he will serve the remainder in prison.

Although Webb being charged was a legal first, the Crown Prosecution (CPS) said other cases brought since then had already concluded.

Webb, of King Street in Loughborough, Leicestershire, admitted encouraging suicide and one count of encouraging or assisting someone to seriously self-harm at a hearing in May.

Alex Johnson, from the CPS, described the case as a "watershed prosecution" and said "as far as he is aware", this is the only case this offence has been used to prosecute someone targeting a vulnerable person via social media.

At Leicester Crown Court on Friday, prosecutor Louise Oakley said Webb first met the victim on a social media forum - where mental health difficulties were being discussed - and, after their contact, started encouraging her to harm herself on the Telegram messaging app.

He then asked her to send him pictures of injuries, and the court heard he would use them for his own sexual pleasure.

Webb later encouraged her to kill herself and told her to carry out the attempt on a video call so he could watch.

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This breaking news story is being updated and more details will be published shortly. Please refresh the page for the fullest version.

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Moments before the explosion, artists, students and athletes were among those gathered at a bustling seaside cafe in Gaza City.

Huddled around tables, customers at al-Baqa Cafeteria were scrolling on their phones, sipping hot drinks, and catching up with friends. At one point, the familiar melody of "Happy Birthday" rang out as a young child celebrated with family.

In a quiet corner of the cafe overlooking the sea, a Hamas operative, dressed in civilian clothing, arrived at his table, sources told the BBC.

It was then, without warning, that a bomb was dropped by Israeli forces and tore through the building, they said.

At the sound of the explosion, people nearby flooded onto the streets and into al-Baqa in a desperate search for survivors.

"The scene was horrific - bodies, blood, screaming everywhere," one man told the BBC later that day.

"It was total destruction," said another. "A real massacre happened at al-Baqa Cafeteria. A real massacre that breaks hearts."

The BBC has reviewed 29 names of people reported killed in the strike on the cafe on Monday. Twenty-six of the deaths were confirmed by multiple sources, including through interviews with family, friends and eyewitness accounts.

At least nine of those killed were women, and several were children or teenagers. They included artists, students, social activists, a female boxer, a footballer and cafe staff.

The conduct of the strike and the scale of civilian casualties have amplified questions over the proportionality of Israel's military operations in Gaza, which the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) say are aimed at defeating Hamas and rescuing the hostages still being held by the group.

Family members in Gaza and abroad spoke to the BBC of their shock and devastation at the killings.

"We were talking with each other two days ago. We were sending reels to each other. I can't believe it," said a young Palestinian man living in the US whose 21-year-old "bestie" Muna Juda and another close friend, Raghad Alaa Abu Sultan, were both killed in the strike.

The numbers of deaths analysed by the BBC were broadly consistent with figures given by the Hamas-run Civil Defence Agency, a senior local medic and the Palestinian Red Crescent in the days after the strike.

Staff at Shifa Hospital, which received the bodies, said its toll as of Thursday had reached 40 deaths, including people who had succumbed to their injuries, and unidentified bodies.

An official at the hospital said some of the bodies had been "blown to pieces", and that 72 injured patients were brought there - many having sustained severe burns and significant injuries that required surgery. He said many were students.

In a statement after the strike, the IDF said it had been targeting "terrorists" and that steps were taken to "mitigate the risk of harming civilians using aerial surveillance".

"The IDF will continue to operate against the Hamas terrorist organization in order to remove any threat posed to Israeli civilians," it added, before saying the "incident" was "under review".

The IDF did not directly respond to multiple BBC questions about the target of the strike, or whether it considered the number of civilian casualties to be proportionate.

Al-Baqa Cafeteria was well-known across the Gaza Strip, considered by many to be among the territory's most scenic and vibrant meeting spots.

Split over two floors and divided into men's and mixed family sections, it had views out to the Mediterranean Sea and television screens where people could watch football matches. It was a place to gather for coffee, tea and shisha with friends, and was a particular favourite with journalists.

Al-Baqa had remained popular even during the war, especially because of its unusually stable internet connection. The cafe, which had until now survived largely unscathed, also served up a reminder of the life that existed before the bombardments.

A cafe manager told the BBC that there was a strict entry policy. "It was known to our customers that if any person looked like a target, then they were not let inside the cafeteria - this was for our safety and the safety of the people there," he said.

On the day of the strike, the port area of Gaza City where the cafe is located was not under Israeli evacuation orders, and families of those killed on Monday say they had felt as safe as is possible when heading there.

Staff told the BBC that the strike in the early afternoon - between the Muslim prayers of Zuhr and Asr - was outside of the cafe's busiest hours.

The strike hit a section of the men's area where staff said few people were at the time.

BBC Verify showed several experts photos of the crater left in the wake of the explosion and the remaining munition fragments. Most said that they believed it was caused by a bomb, rather than a missile, with a range of size estimates given, at a maximum of 500lb (230kg).

The IDF told the BBC it would not comment on the type of munition used.

A journalist who was in the area at the time of the strike and spoke to eyewitnesses immediately afterwards told the BBC the munition that hit the cafe "was launched from a warplane - not from a drone that would usually target one or two people… It looked like they were very keen on getting their target". His account was consistent with others we spoke to.

Twenty-seven-year-old Hisham Ayman Mansour, whose deceased father had been a leading figure in Hamas' military wing, the al-Qassam Brigades, was among those in the men's section by the sea.

His brother was previously killed by Israeli forces, and one social media post mourning his death suggested the brother had taken part in the 7 October 2023 attacks.

A local Hamas source said Hisham was the target of the strike, and described him as a field commander with the group, a "mid-ranking role".

Tributes posted on social media also referred to him as a "fighter" and "member of the resistance". His cousin also described him to the BBC as a "fighter" with the proscribed group, but said he thought he was "low-level" and not currently active.

It is unclear what he was doing in the cafe that day, with two sources telling the BBC he was believed to be there for a "money drop", while another suggested he was there for "coffee and a short respite" and that he had not been involved in "militant activities" during the war.

A photo shared on social media purported to show Hisham at the same spot in the men's area of the cafe the day before the strike, wearing a cap and sports t-shirt. Photos of his body after the strike in the same outfit were shared by family and friends.

Two members of his family - one of them a child - were also killed.

The IDF would not confirm whether Hisham was the primary target, or one of a number of targets of the strike.

One former senior IDF official told the BBC he understood that "multiple Hamas operatives" were hit at the cafe, but that a so-called battle damage assessment was still ongoing. A source with Israeli intelligence connections pointed towards a social media post naming Hisham as the target.

Sources in Gaza gave the BBC the name of a more senior Hamas commander who was rumoured to have been seated on a nearby table, but posts on social media said he died the following day and did not mention the cafe.

The Hamas source said Hisham was the only person within the group killed at al-Baqa, while the IDF did not respond to questions about the commander.

An anti-Hamas activist told the BBC that "many Hamas people" were injured in the strike, including one who worked with the group but not as a fighter, who lost his leg in the explosion.

Medics could not confirm this account, but said that they dealt with many people with severe injuries, including those arriving with missing limbs or requiring amputations.

Israel does not allow international journalists access to Gaza to report on the war making it difficult to verify information, and Hamas has historically ruled the territory with an iron grip, making speaking out or any dissent dangerous.

The remainder of this article contains details some readers may find distressing.

Among the bodies and the debris in al-Baqa were traces of the civilian lives lost - a giant pink and white teddy bear, its stuffing partially exposed, a child's tiny shoe, and playing cards soaked in blood.

A displaced man who was in the area seeing family at the time of the strike was among those who went running into the cafe to try to find survivors.

"Shrapnel was everywhere… there were many injuries," he told the BBC.

He said when he entered part of the men's section that he found the bodies of waiters and other workers, and saw as one "took his last breath".

"It was crazy," said Saeed Ahel, a regular at the cafe and friend of its managers.

"The waiters were gathered around the bar since it was shady and breezy there. Around [six] of them were killed," he added, before listing their names. More were injured.

The mother of two young men who worked at the cafe screamed as she followed their bodies while they were carried on a sheet out of the wreckage on Monday.

A distraught man pointed at a dry patch of blood on the floor, where he said bits of brain and skull had been splattered. He had put them in a bag and carried them out.

Meanwhile, the grandmother of 17-year-old Sama Mohammad Abu Namous wept.

The teenager had gone to the cafe that afternoon with her brother, hoping to use the internet connection to study. Relatives said the siblings were walking into the beachside cafe when the bomb hit. Sama was killed, while her brother was rushed to hospital.

"She went to study and they killed her," she said. "Why did she have to return to her grandmother killed?"

The coach of young female boxer Malak Musleh said he was in shock at the loss of his friend of more than 10 years, having first learned the news of her killing through social media.

"She believed that boxing was not just for boys but that girls should have the right too," Osama Ayoub said. "Malak was ambitious. She didn't skip any training day."

He said he last saw Malak about 10 days before the strike, when he dropped off some aid to her and her father.

"We sat together for nearly an hour. She told me that she was continuing her training with her sister and wished I could train them. I told her unfortunately because my house got demolished I live now in Khan Younis [in southern Gaza], but as soon as I hear that there is a ceasefire I will try to go back to training," he said.

"She said to make sure to keep a space for them… She had passion in her eyes and her words."

When Osama saw the Facebook post by Malak's father announcing her death, he "didn't believe it".

"I called him and he confirmed it but I still don't believe it," he said over the phone from a displacement camp.

Artist Amina Omar Al-Salmi, better known as Frans, was also at the cafe with a well-known photographer friend.

Since the 35-year-old's death, one of her pieces depicting a dead woman with her eyes closed and covered in blood, has been shared widely online alongside an image of her after her death, with people noting the striking similarities.

Her sister, now living in Sweden, told the BBC that the last time they spoke, Frans had said that she was sure "something good was going to happen".

"She was happy and said: 'We'll meet soon. You'll see me at your place.'"

Additional reporting by Riam El Delati and Muath al-Khatib

Verification by Emma Pengelly and Richie Irvine-Brown

When the gunfire started outside her home in the Damascus suburb of Ashrafiyat Sahnaya, Lama al-Hassanieh grabbed her phone and locked herself in her bathroom.

For hours, she cowered in fear as fighters dressed in military-style uniforms and desert camouflage roamed the streets of the neighbourhood. A heavy machine gun was mounted on a military vehicle just beneath her balcony window.

"Jihad against Druze" and "we are going to kill you, Druze," the men were shouting.

She did not know who the men were - extremists, government security forces, or someone else entirely - but the message was clear: as a Druze, she was not safe.

The Druze - a community with its own unique practices and beliefs, whose faith began as an off-shoot of Shia Islam - have historically occupied a precarious position in Syria's political order.

Under former President Bashar al-Assad, many Druze maintained a quiet loyalty to the state, hoping that alignment with it would protect them from the sectarian bloodshed that consumed other parts of Syria during the 13-year-long civil war.

Many Druze took to the streets during the uprising, especially in the latter years. But, seeking to portray himself as defending Syria's minorities against Islamist extremism, Assad avoided using the kind of iron first against Druze protesters which he did in other cities that revolted against his rule.

They operated their own militia which defended their areas against attacks by Sunni Muslim extremist groups who considered Druze heretics, while they were left alone by pro-Assad forces.

But with Assad toppled by Sunni Islamist-led rebels who have formed the interim government, that unspoken pact has frayed, and Druze are now worried about being isolated and targeted in post-war Syria.

Recent attacks on Druze communities by Islamist militias loosely affiliated with the government in Damascus have fuelled growing distrust towards the state.

It started in late April with a leaked audio recording that allegedly featured a Druze religious leader insulting the Prophet Muhammad. Although the leader denied it was his voice, and Syria's interior ministry later confirmed the recording was fake, the damage had been done.

A video of a student at the University of Homs, in central Syria, went viral, with him calling on Muslims to take revenge immediately against Druze, sparking sectarian violence in communities across the country.

The Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, a UK-based monitoring group, said at least 137 people - 17 civilians, 89 Druze fighters and 32 members of the security forces - were killed in several days of fighting in Ashrafiyat Sahnaya, the southern Damascus suburb of Jaramana, and in an ambush on the Suweida-Damascus highway.

The Syrian government said the security forces' operation in Ashrafiyat Sahnaya was carried out to restore security and stability, and that it was in response to attacks on its own personnel where 16 of them were killed.

Lama Zahereddine, a pharmacy student at Damascus University, was just weeks away from completing her degree when the violence reached her village. What began as distant shelling turned into a direct assault - gunfire, mortars, and chaos tearing through her neighbourhood.

Her uncle arrived in a small bus, urging the women and children to flee under fire while the men stayed behind with nothing more than light arms. "The attackers had heavy machine guns and mortars," Lama recalled. "Our men had nothing to match that."

The violence did not stop at her village. At Lama's university, dorm rooms were stormed and students were beaten with chains.

In one case, a student was stabbed after simply being asked if he was Druze.

"They [the instigators] told us we left our universities by choice," she said. "But how could I stay? I was five classes and one graduation project away from my degree. Why would I abandon that if it wasn't serious?"

Like many Druze, Lama's fear is not just of physical attacks – it is of what she sees as a state that has failed to offer protection.

"The government says these were unaffiliated outlaws. Fine. But when are they going to be held accountable?" she asked.

Her trust was further shaken by classmates who mocked her plight, including one who replied with a laughing emoji to her post about fleeing her village.

"You never know how people really see you," she said quietly. "I don't know who to trust anymore."

While no-one is sure who the attackers pledged their allegiance to, one thing is clear: many Druze are worried that Syria is drifting toward an intolerant Sunni-dominated order with little space for religious minorities like themselves.

"We don't feel safe with these people," Hadi Abou Hassoun told the BBC.

He was one of the Druze men from Suweida called in to protect Ashrafiyat Sahnaya on the day Lama was hiding in her bathroom.

His convoy was ambushed by armed groups using mortars and drones. Hadi was shot in the back, piercing his lung and breaking several ribs.

It's a far cry from the inclusive Syria he had in mind under new leadership.

"Their ideology is religious, not based on law or the state. And when someone acts out of religious or sectarian hate, they don't represent us," Hadi said.

"What represents us is the law and the state. The law is what protects everyone…I want protection from the law."

The Syrian government has repeatedly stressed the sovereignty and unity of all Syrian territories and denominations of Syrian society, including the Druze.

Though clashes and attacks have since subsided, faith in the government's ability to protect minorities has diminished.

During the days of the fighting, Israel carried out air strikes around the Ashrafiyat Sahnaya, claiming it was targeting "operatives" attacking Druze to protect the minority group.

It also struck an area near the Syrian presidential palace, saying that it would "not allow the deployment of forces south of Damascus or any threat to the Druze community". Israel itself has a large number of Druze citizens in the country and living in the Israeli-occupied Syrian Golan Heights.

Back in Ashrafiyat Sahnaya, Lama al-Hassanieh said the atmosphere had shifted - it was "calmer, but cautious".

She sees neighbours again, but wariness lingers.

"Trust has been broken. There are people in the town now who don't belong, who came during the war. It's hard to know who's who anymore."

Trust in the government remains thin.

"They say they're working toward protecting all Syrians. But where are the real steps? Where is the justice?" Lama asked.

"I don't want to be called a minority. We are Syrians. All we ask for is the same rights - and for those who attacked us to be held accountable."

Additional reporting by Samantha Granville

A hugely popular K-pop musical animation has seen songs by its fictional bands zoom to the top 10 of music charts, rivalling the success of real-life K-pop groups.

KPop Demon Hunters, produced by Sony Pictures Animation, is currently the most streamed movie on Netflix globally, clocking up more than 33 million views in just two weeks.

The song Your Idol by a boy band in the film, Saja Boys, has reached number two on the chart. This makes them the highest charting male K-pop group in US Spotify history, according to reports - surpassing kings of K-pop BTS.

Golden, a track by the film's fictional girl group Huntr/x, hit number three on Spotify in the US, equalling Blackpink as the highest-charting female K-pop group.

The film's soundtrack shot into the top 10 of the Billboard 200 in the US, making it the highest debut for a soundtrack so far this year.

Golden is being released as an official single by Republic Records, and Netflix is submitting it for awards consideration, according to Variety.

KPop Demon Hunters follows the adventures of superstar band Huntr/x.

The three members of the all-female group - Rumi, Mira, and Zoey - are secretly "badass demon hunters" who protect their legions of fans from supernatural dangers.

During Huntr/x concerts, their music is used to protect the human world from the forces of darkness.

But rival band the Saja Boys, who are demons in disguise, are their arch enemies.

Jinu, Abbs, Romance, Baby, and Mystery have been sent by demon king Gwi-ma to steal the souls of Huntr/x's fans.

KPop Demon Hunters was directed by Maggie Kang and Chris Appelhans and was based on a story by Ms Kang.

Its success should perhaps not be too surprising as top producers including Teddy Park, who has worked with Blackpink, and BTS collaborator Lindgren were part of the team that created the album.

The huge success of KPop Demon Hunters comes as South Korean mega-stars BTS are set to make their highly-anticipated comeback.

The seven-strong group announced this week that it will head to the US this month to start working on new music.

The band is due to release a new album and go on tour next year after all of its members completed their mandatory military service.

Meanwhile, Blackpink is set to start its first all-stadium world tour on 5 July.

The band, which has not released an album together since 2022's Born Pink, is due to reveal a new song at the start of the Deadline World Tour.