At 12:45 a.m. on February 1, a gunbang sliced through the midnight air above Juhu’s glass‑clad skyline. Five shots rang out toward Shetty’s nine‑storey apartment; one ricocheted off the gym’s heavy screen, leaving no injuries but a splinter of broken glass.
Deepak Sharma, the hitman who answered Anmol Bishnoi’s call, spent the hour before in the shadows of the residence, crouched near the first‑floor balcony. He held his breath while the wind whispered past the glass panes, then panicked when the alarm crackled in his ear and he fled. No bullet flew that night.
After the failed shoot, Bishnoi—who’s currently serving time for a different crime—beat the phone. He scolded Sharma, “Make this one slick. No more excuses.” He then hatched a fresh timetable for the second try—late midnight on 1 February. The emir was all in.
The night of the attack was cold, the stars hushed over the Arabian Sea. Sharma rode in on a battered scooter, his mask worn thin from the chill. He stood at the glass door, aimed, and then fired. Five salty rounds splashed
