At 14:53 local time on April 7, 2017, a Friday afternoon when Drottninggatan buzzed with shoppers and tourists, the hijacked brewery truck accelerated into the pedestrian zone. The driver had chosen his moment deliberately, later admitting he selected a time when the maximum number of people would fill the street. Witnesses reported the vehicle zigzagging as it plowed forward, with some describing attempts to target children. The attack ended when the truck crashed into the Ahlen's City department store at the intersection with Master Samuelsgatan. The vehicle caught fire, but firefighters quickly extinguished the flames. Inside, investigators later discovered a homemade explosive device that had failed to detonate, found in a bag in the driver's seat. The attacker, burned by his own device, fled on foot into the panicked crowds.

Stockholm's emergency response was immediate and sweeping. The Parliament House locked down. The metro system halted. Stockholm Central Station evacuated as all train traffic to and from the capital ceased. Police from across the metropolitan area converged on the scene, while medical professionals working nearby ran toward the chaos rather than away. King Carl XVI Gustaf spoke for the nation when he addressed the Royal Family's condolences: 'Our hearts go out to the victims of this terrible tragedy, and to their families.' Swedish border controls tightened, though notably, the Security Service maintained its threat level at 3 out of 5, the same assessment held since 2010. The Swedish response was measured even in crisis, balancing security with the open society the nation valued.

Two days after the attack, more than forty thousand people gathered at Sergels torg, Stockholm's central square, to honor the victims. The gathering transformed Drottninggatan and the square into what reporters described as a 'sea of flowers.' Candles flickered alongside bouquets as Stockholmers refused to let fear claim their public spaces. In Gothenburg, Sweden's second city, flowers accumulated at Gotaplatsen in solidarity. Across Europe, the response echoed this defiance. The Eiffel Tower went dark on the evening of the attack. Nice, which had suffered its own truck attack eight months earlier, raised the Swedish flag at half-mast. In Brussels, still healing from bombings the previous year, buildings displayed animated Swedish flags. The international community recognized what Stockholm already knew: terror had tried to break them, and failed.

The perpetrator, Rakhmat Akilov, a 39-year-old rejected asylum seeker from Uzbekistan, was apprehended in Marsta, north of Stockholm, roughly five hours after the attack. He had sworn allegiance to the Islamic State in a video recorded the day before. The trial confirmed what investigators suspected: this was a deliberate act of terrorism, driven by jihadist ideology. Akilov was sentenced to life in prison. The attack prompted policy debates across Scandinavia, discussions about immigration enforcement, urban security, and vehicle barriers on pedestrian streets. But perhaps the most lasting legacy remains the community response, the way Stockholm transformed grief into solidarity, and fear into determined normalcy.