When Martyn Hett was killed in the Manchester
terror attack, his online presence ensured his memory lived on. Dan Hett sifts through a prolific archive
When my phone used to light up with my younger brother’s name, I always knew I could safely ignore it if I wanted to – whether it be a self-indulgent video of his latest attempt at Z-list fame or a harsh tweet about a celebrity I’d never heard of. Whatever. I even coined a sarcastic hashtag when replying to him: #nobodycaresmartyn.
But then one nondescript morning in May 2017, my phone lit up with his name on all the notifications – hundreds of them – and there was no way I could ignore any of them.