To Keep a Bird Singing

by Kevin Doyle

  The pivotal event linking the two sets of crimes was probably the murder of Spitere, Copley and Egan. Noelie surmised that Robert Donnelly had learned about those killings and, calculating that the furore over the murders and what they were about – the existence of a ring of abusers operating around the Donnelly farm – would destroy his career in the gardaí, had decided to assist with the covering up of those crimes. He saw the potential to use Keogh as an informer and demanded that Albert give him one or more of the films that he had made of the gatherings at Ballyvolane to secure Keogh’s agreement.

  Father Boran’s transformation into Brian Boru had paid off handsomely for Robert Donnelly until Special Branch moved in to transfer control of the mole to Garda Headquarters in Dublin. For reasons not fully clear to Noelie, this change upset the uneasy balance at Llanes, reigniting the conflict between Robert and Albert.

  Don Cronin’s involvement and untimely death now made more sense. Noelie figured that Cronin could well have been one of the few people not directly involved in the conspiracy who knew its full extent and the degree of criminality involved. With Sugrue’s death in 1998, he was handed the poisoned chalice that was the Brian Boru file. He had probably worked out that its contents were far too incendiary to reveal. On the other hand if he held onto the information and hid it securely, it was capable of buying him long-term protection – the route he eventually took until his dispute with Ajax Dineen.

  Noelie’s accidental discovery of part of the Brian Boru file changed everything for Cronin. With the publication of the Sugrue statement, it became clear to all the interested parties that Cronin had had the Brian Boru file since Sugrue’s death in 1998. Branch probably felt that they had scored a significant success when they recovered most of the file following their raid of the lock-ups, but their celebrations would have been cut short when they realised that a key item in the file, the double-8 film, was still missing. When it emerged that Noelie hadn’t the film either, attention switched back to Cronin.

  Noelie wasn’t sure who had murdered Cronin. Branch had motive, means and opportunity. However the murder weapon – Noelie’s poker – had probably been stolen from Noelie’s flat during the break-in on the afternoon before Bonfire Night. That break-in was almost certainly the work of Albert and Big Ears, suggesting to Noelie that Albert had been an active agent throughout the period that Noelie and Hannah were looking at Dalton’s disappearance.

  For Noelie, Sugrue shone brightly, despite his wacky beliefs. As a committed Branch operative he had undoubtedly signed off on many unsavoury activities during the Troubles, but the murder of an ordinary citizen was unacceptable to him, as was the idea of protecting child abusers. Noelie didn’t know if Sugrue had worked out the extent of what had been going on at the Ballyvolane farm but he had certainly figured out enough to know that he had to act. To his credit Sugrue probably understood the danger involved in challenging the garda hierarchy and its intelligence wing.

  Tony Donnelly’s role and motivation was still something of an enigma. Noelie didn’t know the exact allegiance of the oldest Donnelly brother; if he was a stooge for Branch or an active member of Albert’s circle. It seemed more likely to Noelie that he had been trying to protect Robert Donnelly, or the Donnelly name or even the reputation of Let There Be Light; his motive had simply and conveniently overlapped with that of Branch.

  If nothing else, the death of Sean Sugrue did underline the intertwined interests that had made it so hard to get to the truth. Inasmuch as there were two crimes, there were in consequence two groups of criminals loitering with intent, watching developments and assessing how they impacted on their own interests. On the one hand, Branch was protecting its patch; on the other, the group that Cronin had referred to as ‘that crowd’ was also observing proceedings, looking for any sign that its existence would become known.

  Albert was a key figure, if not the key figure. Intelligent, well educated and ruthless, he was prepared to murder to get his way. Although Albert gave the impression of being a genteel, kindly Christian, Noelie knew that he and Meabh had only narrowly escaped death at his hands. Others hadn’t been so lucky.

  Looking across at Llanes, Noelie’s eyes rested on the area of the garden under which the cavern was located.

  If Noelie and Meabh had drowned there, Albert would simply have opened the sluice gate a day or so later – their bodies would have floated out into the Lee and downriver. They would have been found close to where Shane’s body was discovered.

  It had occurred to Noelie that Shane could have encountered Albert and Big Ears at his flat on the afternoon he vanished. Noelie wasn’t sure but he thought he might have told Shane that he should come over sometime to listen to the punk collection. It was something that Shane would have done too; the kid loved music. Noelie hadn’t pursued that scenario, in part because Shane’s body showed no signs of having suffered violence and his death was judged to be by drowning. Detective Byrne’s report had confirmed all of this. But Noelie now knew that Shane’s death could be consistent with incarceration in Albert’s garden prison.

  Something else was bothering him. If the break-in at his flat on the day before Bonfire Night had been carried out by Albert and Big Ears, how had Albert found out so quickly about the Sugrue file? How did he know about Noelie’s involvement or where he lived? It led Noelie back to his belief that there was someone inside the gardaí passing information to Albert.

  Later, at the apartment, they held a wake for Hannah. The Hegarty family were there, along with Irwin, Garret, Black Gary and Martin. They told stories about Hannah and Irwin talked about his early years in Australia and his life there. At one point they talked about Danesfort and listened to Black Gary’s accounts of his time there.

  Around 10 p.m. Noelie called Meabh to give her an update and to get her final agreement to go ahead with the release of the film at 2 a.m, if there had been no word by then about Jim Dalton’s remains. Meabh remained unhappy about the prospect of publication but she reluctantly agreed and told Noelie some news of her own.

  ‘I’ve been coming and going through Schiphol airport for about seven years. I’ve never had the slightest problem and it’s normally just a cursory passport check. This time, though, I was thoroughly searched. I didn’t have a lot of luggage but everything I had was examined in detail. They also insisted on doing a full body examination on me, which was gross I might add.’

  She told Noelie that she had kicked up a fuss and asked for an explanation but none was forthcoming.

  ‘I guess we both know why you were searched.’

  ‘I guess we do.’

  After the call ended Noelie told the others what Meabh had just told him. It was sobering news, confirmation for them all that behind the scenes a lot was still happening. A while later they ordered pizzas and, as these were being delivered, the call came through from Ethel Dalton.

  48

  In the late afternoon of the next day Noelie, Black Gary, Martin, Irwin and Garret arrived at woodland near Mitchelstown, on the low slopes of the Galtee Mountains. Noelie had walked in the area a few times and knew that there was a range of trails, for beginners through to advanced hill walkers, at the location.

  They drove for a long distance along a narrow country road, eventually reaching a gated entrance into a forest conservation area. Conveniently, a garda car was parked at the turn-off and they were able to confirm that they were going in the right direction. They continued along the track for another two kilometres, finally arriving in a clearing under a canopy of tall pines.

  Some patrol cars, two Special Detective Unit 4x4s and a forensics van were parked beside a command centre that had been established in a large mobile vehicle. Noelie tried ringing the Daltons in advance of their arrival but he couldn’t get a signal. He approached a garda and was instructed on the route to take, which ran along the side of a steep gully. The investigation site was about two hundred metres in.

  ‘You’ll see blue tents below you,’ the garda told the
m.

  They walked carefully. There was a strong smell of pine in the air and the ground underfoot was soft. Eventually they came to an older stretch of deciduous forest. Noelie could see up a bare featureless mountainside. A short distance on, by a large lichen-covered rock, the gully abruptly turned at a right-angle and descended downhill. It was inhospitable terrain. The garda tents, two placed side by side, were positioned in a clearing.

  A digger had been in use but was now parked beside the covered area. Noelie didn’t recognise any of the gardaí; there were both uniformed and plain-clothes police present. At the entrance to the tent he saw a person in a white protective suit.

  Ethel Dalton was with her daughters and her son, close to the tents. A temporary rope-aid had been erected to make movement up and down the slope easier. When she noticed them, Mrs Dalton came towards them immediately. She was in tears as she spoke.

  ‘It’s him, Noel. Part of his jacket is visible. There’s lime in there with him.’

  The older daughter came up. She too had been crying. Noelie introduced everyone and they hugged. Irwin broke down and they found him a place to sit for a while.

  Ethel told them that she’d been up all night. She had received an anonymous call just after eleven and had called Noelie immediately and then the police.

  ‘He wouldn’t say who he was. He was abrupt and rude. “Write down these coordinates,” he said. “This is where Mr Dalton is.” He described the area generally and that was it.’ Ethel took Noelie’s hands. ‘Thank you.’

  Lighting units had been moved into position down near the tents. Noelie watched a contractor running electrical cable up the slope.

  ‘It might be tomorrow before he’s out,’ Ethel explained. ‘They’re saying that they want to gather every bit of forensic information they can. It seems the lime is the problem and they may opt to take it away spoonful by spoonful.’

  Ethel Dalton’s son and younger daughter had arrived up too. There were more introductions. A while after Noelie went down the slope to see what was happening.

  It was an out-of-the way place, well away from the walking paths. It appeared that the body was deeply buried; certainly not a job done in a hurry.

  Irwin joined him. ‘It’s the strangest thing to be happy about finding out where someone is buried, isn’t it?’

  ‘Very odd.’

  ‘I was the same when I heard about the remains in the Glen. I mean I didn’t know that they were Egan’s, although I suspected they were.’

  ‘When you suspect someone is dead, I suppose it’s different. Then it really is about bringing closure.’

  Irwin asked Noelie about Jim Dalton. They talked about the web of deception that had been spun around Dalton – the false information that he was an informer who had been spirited away into a witness protection programme.

  ‘The family never bought that?’

  ‘No, and when I met Mrs Dalton she said something that convinced me too. It was about Jim being an orphan and never having his own family until he had his own children. She said he’d never leave them and I believed her.’

  A plain-clothes female detective approached Ethel Dalton and asked to speak to her and the family. Noelie watched from a distance. The Daltons were clearly unhappy about what they were being told but eventually they seemed to reach some kind of agreement with the detective.

  When the conversation was over, Ethel Dalton came back to speak to Noelie. She was upset – the exhumation was being suspended until the following morning. Experts from a unit with experience with limed remains were in transit but wouldn’t arrive until around 8 p.m.; work would begin early the next day. The children were going to get some sleeping gear and return to the site: they didn’t want to leave their father alone for even one more night.

  Noelie and the others said their goodbyes. It was very difficult. Ethel Dalton held Noelie for a very long time.

  49

  Nearly a week later, on a sunny Friday afternoon, a crowd gathered at the cemetery to attend the unveiling of Egan’s headstone. The entire Dalton family – their father’s remains finally recovered though not yet buried – were present along with a range of other people connected to Danesfort Industrial School. Ellen was there along with Hannah’s extended family. Detective Byrne was present as was Ajax Dineen with his son.

  Noelie, Meabh, Black Gary and Martin were thanked by many of those who came. In particular, Noelie enjoyed meeting the men and women who had attended industrial schools and who had turned up to pay their respects to one of their own. They shared a bond and Noelie witnessed hearty handshakes and hugs. It was a privilege to be there and to be in their company. He knew that Hannah would have felt the same and he was suddenly overwhelmed by her absence.

  Before the unveiling Noelie had visited Shane’s grave. Most of the wreaths were showing their age although a few new ones had been placed at the head of the plot. One was from Ellen and Arthur, another from Irwin and Garret. Noelie told Shane that he loved him and missed him.

  Irwin spoke about coming out of the past and fighting to understand your soul. Everyone, he said, had their own journey to make and he reminded them that not everyone got the opportunity to make it. He called for silence so they could remember those who had fallen due to depression, drink, emigration and loneliness. He asked for a moment of silence for those who had had their childhoods stolen and blighted by sexual abuse. He extended a hand of friendship to a representative of the Magdalene Laundry women, also present, and finished with a few words about getting on with life, and making peace with it by finding companionship and love.

  As the ceremony concluded they all gathered in a tight semi-circle around Egan’s plot, which was no longer bare. The mound of earth was heaped with flowers and bouquets. Hands around shoulders, they stood together and listened as Garret read Patrick Galvin’s poem ‘Song For A Poor Boy’.

  As he said the final lines, the drape over the new headstone was pulled away to reveal a granite stone with the inscription that Irwin said described the character and spirit of Michael Egan perfectly.

  But in the dark he learned to creep

  When all the guards were fast asleep

  And in his house of spinning pearls

  He hopped about in loops and whirls …

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Sheila Mannix for essential advice at an early stage; and to Dominic Carroll for his support and for picking over the ‘first fifty pages’. I would particularly like to thank my editor Patsy Horton at Blackstaff Press for all her work on this manuscript and for making it a much better book. My gratitude to all at Blackstaff Press for their work and for taking me under their wing. Finally and most of all to Mary Favier for her unstinting encouragement and support – this book could not have been written without you.