On May 10, 2024, the high-security walls of HMP Frankland in County Durham bore witness to a chilling act of violence that shocked both prison staff and the wider public. Damien Bendall, a 36-year-old inmate already serving a whole-life sentence for the notorious Killamarsh murders, launched a brutal hammer attack on fellow prisoner Michael Mullaney—a calculated act that would later be revealed as a desperate bid for transfer to a segregation unit.
Bendall, whose name became synonymous with horror after he murdered his pregnant partner Terri Harris, 35, her children Lacey, 11, John Paul Bennett, 13, and Lacey's friend Connie Gent, 11, in Derbyshire in September 2021, had used a claw hammer in those killings. According to Teesside Live, he also admitted to raping Lacey as she lay dying, cementing his place among Britain's most reviled criminals. Sentenced in December 2022 to a whole-life order, Bendall was never to see freedom again. Yet, even behind bars, his violent impulses surfaced once more.
The events of that May morning unfolded in the prison workshop. Prosecuting barrister Jolyon Perks told Teesside Crown Court that Bendall and Mullaney were often seen playing dominoes together, suggesting a cordial relationship. But as the two conversed, Bendall suddenly armed himself with a claw hammer. Perks recounted: "[The victim] can recall nothing further until regaining consciousness on the floor. The attack was perpetrated by the defendant and witnessed by prison staff. An officer had become aware that the defendant had stopped to speak with the [victim]. As the conversation continued, the officer saw the defendant swing a claw hammer with full force. The blow made contact to his head from behind, rendering him unconscious and slumped in his chair. [Bendall] struck another three blows to his head, each with full force."
The severity of the assault was so extreme that a prison officer initially believed Mullaney had been killed. According to Express, Bendall immediately dropped the hammer and raised his arms in surrender as officers moved in, handcuffing him on the spot. When asked why he had attacked Mullaney, Bendall simply replied: "I don't know." That phrase, delivered with chilling nonchalance, would echo through the courtroom months later.
Mullaney’s injuries were grave. He was rushed to Newcastle’s Royal Victoria Infirmary, where he spent four nights being treated for two depressed skull fractures and bleeding on the brain. The injuries were described by the court as potentially fatal, and the psychological impact lingered long after the physical wounds began to heal. In his victim impact statement, Mullaney described how the attack left him anxious, reluctant to leave his cell, and struggling to sleep—a haunting reminder of the violence that can erupt even in the most controlled environments.
It soon emerged that the attack was not a spontaneous outburst, but a calculated move on Bendall’s part. Defence counsel Vanessa Marshall KC explained to the court that Bendall had planned the assault in order to engineer a transfer to the segregation unit, citing concerns over his deteriorating mental health. She stated: "He accepts it's something he did having actively made the decision to commit the offence so he could engineer a transfer to the segregation unit of the prison." Marshall also noted that Bendall suffers from a degenerative condition causing dementia, adding another layer of complexity to the case. She told the court, "He has no contempt for the complainant despite what he did. There is evidence they were friends. He regrets the offence and apologises."
Bendall’s criminal history is as harrowing as it is extensive. In addition to the quadruple murder and rape for which he was already serving a whole-life order, he had prior convictions for robbery, assault, and arson. The judge, Francis Laird KC, highlighted these facts in his sentencing remarks, stating that the attempted murder was "pre-meditated and planned," and aggravated by Bendall’s history of "the most serious violent and sexual offences."
The sentencing hearing, held via video link from HMP Wakefield’s segregation unit on February 24, 2026, was a somber affair. Judge Laird imposed a life sentence for the attempted murder, with a minimum term of 15 years. Yet, as the judge noted, this sentence is largely symbolic, given the whole-life order already in place: Bendall will almost certainly never be released from prison.
The attack and subsequent trial have reignited public debate about prison safety, mental health behind bars, and the management of inmates serving whole-life orders. According to BBC and other major outlets, the fact that Bendall was able to obtain and use a claw hammer in a prison workshop has raised questions about supervision and risk assessment procedures. Prison officers, already under strain in the UK's high-security facilities, must now grapple with the reality that even inmates with no hope of release—those believed to be "contained" by the justice system—can still pose a lethal threat to others.
For Michael Mullaney, the ordeal has left lasting scars. The court heard that, despite the brutality of the attack, Bendall harbored no personal animosity toward his victim. In a final gesture, Bendall expressed regret and offered an apology—though for Mullaney, and for many observing the case, such words may ring hollow in the face of such calculated violence.
As the dust settles on this latest chapter in the Bendall saga, the story serves as a stark reminder of the dangers lurking within even the most secure institutions. It also highlights the complex interplay of mental illness, criminal intent, and institutional safeguards—a mix that, when it fails, can have devastating consequences. For the families of Bendall’s original victims, for Mullaney, and for the staff at HMP Frankland, the scars of May 2024 will not soon fade.
Justice, in this case, has been served in the courtroom. But the questions raised by Damien Bendall’s actions—and the system that allowed them—are likely to linger far longer.